#I had to say this bc I remember their excuse in the past for why Mike didn’t have anything of el in his room

[chirpsythismorning]

I just remembered something hilarious that happened a while back. I was arguing with a milkvan about how the phone calls Mike was making to the Byers were for Will and not El bc they couldn’t communicate as a result of government surveillance after the mall fire and Owen’s being removed from the program officially, and they basically insisted El’s anonymity was not an issue in s4, so Mike could call her, which meant to them that when Dustin said Mike was always whining, he was referring to Mike not being able to reach El. I followed that up with, well then why does El have a shrine of Mike in her room, but there isn’t a trace of El anywhere in Mike’s room or basement or house in general (besides the crumpled up letter)? And you can’t say it’s to keep up the front that she doesn’t exist for her safety, bc according to y’all that wasn’t an issue and the Wheeler’s know all about El… so… again the point stands, why do we get this contrast of El having a Mike shrine and Mike having absolutely nothing connecting to El in his space? As you can probably predict, it was crickets after that 🤣😭

[fanged-fanfics]

HIHIHIHIHHII I LOVE YOUR WORK!!!

Can I request TFP Megatron and a femme autobot reader who’s super duper sweet and literally the complete opposite of him. He secretly loves her dearly because they knew each other back on cybertron before he even became Megatron. She’s also maybe stronger than him (bc we love strong women) 😋

TYSM!!!🫶🫶

☆ Contrasting Clashing — TFP Megatron x Fem Autobot Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || she/her pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ��˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Megatron always claimed to his Decepticon allies that you were just as much an enemy as any other, that you were a scraplet in his side and someone he wanted to annihilate just as much as any other Autobot

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The truth was a lot more complicated than he always claimed it to be. He couldn't keep you out of his processor, your faceplates deeply familiar. He remembered every smile you gave him, present and past. To be back now, of all times, must've been a punishment from Unicron himself

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He stayed focused on hating you, trying to see you like another faceless Autobot. He'd see you before fights chatting with your fellow soldiers, and his spark would get an uncomfortable wrench knowing those grins were no longer for him

ᯓᡣ𐭩 One of the first things that solidified your spot in his processor was how you bested him in battle. He wasn't anything close to happy about losing, but your sheer strength was something he'd always found attractive. Someone who could make him feel like he had a fair match frustrated and delighted him

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You could've sworn there were moments in battle where he was holding back. Where he'd miss a shot that should've been easy for him, or the Decepticons deflected away from you under his command. You felt bewildered, yet oddly curious. What were his intentions here? Why did it almost feel like he was looking out for you?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Deep down, Megatron hated how he couldn't stand to see you hurt. He loathed how the smile leaving your faceplates hurt him as well, and what he hated the most was he felt anguish when hearing that his armies had been what did it to you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 As a show of good will, you once lifted Megatron with great ease when he got heavy injuries during a battle. Megatron felt his faceplates heat up embarrassingly quick, and he scrambled to try and say he was fine, but you at least got him somewhere safe first

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Decepticons of course also got curious after a time, subtly inquiring what their boss was thinking when matching against you so often. Megatron would assure them that it was all a part of his plan, but really he just wanted any excuse to be close to you again

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Me: don't make Charlie's habit of twirling / spinning Vaggie into a THiNG it can just be CUTE with no other headcanons behind it-

also me: what if Vaggie always loved dancing but took being an exorcist very seriously bc of the whole "learned to trust people on the battlefield" thing so the only time she felt she had an excuse for dancing with a partner was when she called it "training" or "unarmed sparing" and goaded Lute into doing it with her (Lute being Adam's second and Vaggie one of his best girls) (what, is Lute scared of not being able to keep up with her-?)

Lute: "This, is stupid."

Vaggie: "It's just like sparring."

Lute: "Then why can't I use a sword."

Vaggie: "The point is learning to read your opponent's body and move with it. A weapon only gets in the way."

Lute: "Or maybe you know which on of us would win in a real fight."

Vaggie: "OR maybe it's nice to practice WITHOUT someone losing feathers over it."

Lute: "Only losers lose feathers. If they don't like it they should start WINNING."

Vaggie: "Just put your fucking hand on my waist and do a box step."

Lute: "A what? Put my hand- where!?"

Vaggie: "Forget it. We'll dance like we're in a damn period piece ballroom scene. You can at least survive spinning me, right?"

Lute: "SPIN you?"

Vaggie: "Just hold up your hand and-"

Lute: "We look dumb enough as is! I'm not making myself look SILLY just so you can do a stupid spin."

Vaggie: "Fine."

Lute: "You need to watch yourself. Exorcist are heaven's first line of defense- we are the divine blades guarding the pearly gates. We need to keep ourselves sharp, focused- If you slip even once-"

Vaggie: "I said fine! I get it! Alright? God let's just, let's just get this over with..."

And then she's in hell, a year or so after Lute grabbed her wrist and pulled her eye-first onto a sword instead of a dance,

and it turns out the princess of hell is an eager and willing dancer, even if she's maybe not the most graceful or easy to follow- but it's the kind of challenge Vaggie loves-

(and not the only thing Vaggie loves)

-especially when Charlie's the one who cleared out a space, put on a playlist, and waved her into the middle of the room so they could laugh and bow / curtsy before making tracks across the carpet-

all of this, even though Charlie's still rusty at dancing, never was into it other much other than as another way to flail around to a beat, and here she is now, seriously trying to remember or learn all the different steps Vaggie shows her

this time it's a waltz

Vaggie's been avoiding waltzes. And sure enough she finds herself spacing out in the middle of it, coming back to the excited sound of Charlie's voice

Charlie: "I think we're doing it!"

Vaggie: "...hm?"

Charlie: "The waltz! It's been ages but, this is about right, right?"

Vaggie: "Oh uh, yeah. You've got it. Told you you would."

Charlie: (laughing) "And I told YOU if we made it through this it'd be because you're so good at making ME look like a good dancer! Even when my hooves keep snagging on the carpet... Even when you're a million miles away."

Vaggie: "Shit. Sorry."

Charlie: "No it's fine! Good practice for me leading!" (leading them onto a new patch of floor) "So! A lot on your mind?"

Vaggie: "Just remembered something, is all."

Charlie: "Waltz related?"

Vaggie: "I wouldn't compare this with that."

Charlie: "Aww, shoot." (pouts) "Well give me a few months and I'll get there."

Vaggie: (chuckling) "Charlie, you're already WAY past the last dance partner I had."

Charlie: "Wow. That bad huh?"

Vaggie: "What'd I just say about you and dancing?"

Charlie: "That at least I'm not totally the absolute worst ever?"

Vaggie: "Yeah no. Try again."

Charlie: (grinning) "I'm better than they were."

Vaggie: "You sure are. Actually trying counts for a lot, honestly."

Charlie: "You make trying things a lot easier." (hoof catches) (stumbles) (vaggie steadies her) "Case in point!"

Vaggie: "We really gotta remember to roll up the carpet next time."

Charlie: "Orrrr you'll just have to go on catching me!"

Vaggie: "I'll do that with or without the carpet."

Charlie: "Right!" (face hot) "Er so, were they clumsy too? Lacking in the whole smooth moves department?" (blushes MORE)

Vaggie: "The moves were fine, the ego got in the way a bit."

Charlie: "Ego?"

Vaggie: (sighs) (rolls eye) "Apparently twirling me would've looked too silly."

Charlie: "Wh- Twirling you?"

Vaggie: "Spinning. Whatever. They cared about that a lot and- I know I know- it's a dumb thing to still be hung up on."

Charlie: "Well I'd be honored to look silly with you!"

Vaggie: (laughing) "Okay?"

Charlie: "Can I spin you?"

Vaggie: "You really don't have to."

Charlie: "So we can do it on three? One. Two-"

Vaggie: "Really it's- watch out, table at 3 O'clock-"

Charlie: "-Wheeeeee~!"

Vaggie: "WHOA- that-" (breathless) "Now THAT was a spin."

Charlie: "Eheheh. Whoops?"

Vaggie: "Oh no, no whoopsing your way out of this one, I'm gonna need to inflict some payback spinning of my own." (grins)

Charlie: "Uh I'm kinda tall for-"

Vaggie: "You ever been lifted?"

Charlie: "I mean when I was a kid sure, but I'm like a foot taller than-"

Vaggie: "On three. One."

Charlie: "-Vaggie you come up to maybe my shoulder-"

Vaggie: "Two."

Charlie: "-not that you can't do anything you set your mind to, obviously! I'm just not sure how-"

Vaggie: "Three."

Charlie: "Hwha- OH!" (gleeful) (laughing) "Ohhh my gosh-!"

Vaggie: (smug) "There's more than one way to twirl a girl across the floor."

Charlie: "Spinning WHILE lifting!?"

Vaggie: "Fun right?"

Charlie: "SO MUCH FUN! Can we do it again!?"

Vaggie: "Sure-"

Charlie: "Ooh ohh can I do it to you too? Can we take turns??"

Vaggie: "Not worried about looking silly, huh?"

Charlie: "No! Why would-" (stops)

Charlie: (stops their dance)

Charlie: "Vaggie, I.... I really don't know why anyone wouldn't want to be silly with you. Or how it could ever be more important than seeing you happy like this."

Vaggie: "...Not everyone's like you, sweetie."

Charlie: "Or maybe everyone just needs to actually see you for once."

Vaggie: "I'd rather just stick to you for now. If, that's okay?"

Charlie: "Always."

(dance resumes, much slower, much closer)

Charlie: "It's, it's okay to miss people too, you know. I know, I mean. How much that sucks. If you, want to talk about...?"

Vaggie: "No. Thanks."

Charlie: "You're missing them though, huh?"

Vaggie: "It's not that. It's just, weird how much things change."

Charlie: "Like dance partners."

Vaggie: "Like your reasons for dancing with them."

Charlie: "....Oh."

(do they kiss???) (i have no idea) (maybe Vaggie just relaxes and rests her head over Charlie's heart) (maybe Charlie tries her best not to think about how hard it's beating)

(maybe somewhere up in heaven, an exorcist with a sword does a box step while training, slips, and slices her target in half in fury when she realizes it)

maybe Vaggie always loved dancing but had to end up in hell before finally getting to dance the way she always wanted to

or maybe

it feels like Vaggie never danced at all, until she had Charlie to share it with

[bellaveux]

hi! could you please do one about reader x wanda on college where reader cheats on her boyfriend with wanda but wanda genuinely loves reader so much that she can’t help but want more?

DREAMING OF YOU | wanda maximoff x reader

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

genre: angst w/ happy ending, fluff, smut

summary: while being constantly ignored by your boyfriend, wanda decides to keep you company for the night and eventually, for the rest of the weeks that follow, wanting more than just sex with you and vows to show you the kind of love you truly deserve.

content warnings: minors dni! angst with happy ending, some fluff, college au!wanda maximoff x reader, artist!reader, wanda is in love, cheating, mentions of drinking, toxic boyfriend named tyler bc i didn’t know what else to name him, one smut scene; top!wanda, bottom!reader, oral and fingering (r receiving), praise kink

word count: 12.9k

note: i’m so sorry for the long wait, it was not supposed to take a whole month for me to write :( i also did not mean for this to be so long, i kind of got carried away, but i hope you like it!!

There used to be a time when your boyfriend would always tell you that he loved you, no matter what the conversation or situation was. You would always ask him why he did certain things for you; give you flowers, take you out to dinner, wanting to do everything with you, or even things like fight with you, annoy you. He would always say ‘Because, I love you,’ no matter what. And, you missed those times. You missed when he felt like he was a part of you when you were his top priority as he was yours. Now, somewhere down the road, you lost all of that with him. He only has the time to take you to parties, as a sort of accessory to keep by his side, then refuses to talk to you, and ignores you half of the time. 

You never liked the parties your boyfriend always dragged you to. They were loud, too crowded for your taste and your boyfriend always ended up finding some kind of excuse to leave you alone all by yourself as he mingled around. You feel lost and disconnected in places like this while your boyfriend revels in the chaos of social interactions, all while seemingly drowning himself in beer and alcohol. 

Your likeness for him had slowly dwindled down over time, and you wondered what had happened between the two of you for him to change so much from the man you used to be so fond of. 

And, no, Tyler didn’t always use to be such a jerk to you. In the beginning, he was kind, and gentle and seemed to be interested in whatever you were interested in. He was the kind to buy you flowers when he would think of you, take you on romantic dates in the city, and tell you he loved you every day. You liked him in the beginning, maybe even fell in love with him at some point—well, you couldn’t remember what that felt like with him anymore. 

Now, he barely even replies to your texts, answers your calls, ignores you when you try to talk to him, and leaves you alone at a party full of people you don’t recognize, just for him to go and play beer pong and chug an unhealthy amount of beer with the other guys on the football team. He even lets these random girls feel up on him and openly flirt with him from time to time now, forgetting all about the girl he dragged along with him, who was now glaring at him from across the room. He doesn’t even do anything to stop them, which only fuels your anger even more. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to him being this way. This behavior had gotten quite frequent as time went on, and you’ve always thought about breaking up with him. But, each time, he’d fool you with those sweet words and apologies, and tell you he’d be good for you, do better for you, tell you he loved you, and tell you that he wouldn’t know what to do without you. 

And, for some reason, you always fell for it.

You don’t know if it’s because you so desperately want to cling to the past — the past that you remember being so good and lovely. The times when he treated you right was like a dream and you always wanted to believe it could be that way again. Somehow. Because, you liked him. At least, you did then. It was hard to know because everything felt awkward, everything felt insincere. You knew that when the next morning comes, he’ll buy you flowers once again, tell you how sorry he was for accidentally leaving you, and give you that lame excuse that he couldn’t find you in that crowd of people. 

“I wanna leave, Tyler,” you told him, after tapping his shoulder to get his attention.

He turned to you and glared, stepping away from the circle of people that wrapped around the beer pong table, “Are you fucking kidding me? We just got here. Fuck. Go find something to do. I’ll take you home later.”

Truthfully, you were over it. You didn’t even bother talking back about it anyway, having done so plenty of times already and it always had the same outcome. 

After a while, you found yourself in the kitchen of the sorority house, holding your third cup of some cheap alcohol you found and poured for yourself, not really sure of what else you could do but drink. The living room had that lingering smell of weed and warm bodies, and it was beginning to hurt your head the longer you stood in there, making you retreat to the back of the house where the kitchen was. The fresh smell of some brownies in the oven filled the air, and it was much better for your head than everything else outside of this room. They were probably weed brownies, but they smelled better than what was out there. 

The thought of leaving by yourself had crossed your mind several times already, wondering if your boyfriend would even notice if you’d be gone. Who are you kidding? He wouldn’t. You liked to think he would sometimes—that he’d rush right after you when you stepped out the door, grab you by the wrist, and ask where you were going without him as if he cared. But, that would’ve been too good to be true. 

And, you were too caught up in your thoughts to have noticed the figure that walked up next to you.

Wanda leaned over against the counter, standing quite close to you, nudging your shoulder lightly. You could smell that faint scent of alcohol from her lips even though she hadn’t spoken yet. She wore a big suit jacket over a plain shirt that fit loosely on her and held a red solo cup of her own, shaking it slightly as if she was checking if there was anything still in there like she couldn’t remember if she had drank what was in her cup yet. 

Wanda saw you the moment you stepped into the sorority house, always cautiously watching the door for whoever walked in. After all, she lived here. She practically had her eyes on you all night, first noticing that bored look on your face when you walked in with that jerk you called your boyfriend. Then, she saw the rising anger fuming in your eyes when he walked away and left you alone to go hang out with his friends and other girls that he didn’t seem to mind. 

She never really understood what you saw in him. From all of the stories she’s heard from mutual friends to what she has seen now, he was a complete asshole. Sure, when she met you for the first time, you were a happy couple, and he was good to you that time ago. But tonight, it was different. He was different to you and it only seemed to further her opinion of him. 

It was maddening—the way he treated you. Wanda always found herself caught in a bittersweet daydream, one where she yearned to trade places with him, to be the one who could treat you with the love and care you truly deserved.

She had always loved you. From the moment you two met in your first year of college, Wanda had always loved you. With every interaction, every shared laugh, and every stolen glance, her feelings for you only deepened, growing into an unshakeable love that blossomed silently within her. You were perfect in her eyes; you were beautiful, kind-hearted, and talented, but you failed to recognize the fact that you deserved way better than what that stupid boyfriend of yours does for you. The love Wanda held for you became a quiet force that fueled her determination to be there for you, to support you, even if it meant remaining in the shadows.

And, deep down, you’ve feel as if you had always felt it. That love she had for you. You felt it when she would look at you, when she talked to you, and at first, you couldn’t tell what it was. She was a private woman, always so reserved, and never really dated properly within her time in college, other than a few flings and hookups here and there. 

But you saw it firsthand each time she smiled at you. 

Undeterred, Wanda angled her body towards you, the corners of her mouth turning upward in a determined smile. She positioned herself delicately, her face mere inches away from yours, so that you could hear her easily under the booming music, “What are you doing here alone?” 

“Nothing,” you shrugged, taking a sip from your cup, not even bothering to look up at her. “Just felt too crowded in there.”

Wanda nodded and glanced out of the doorway, the first floor of the house practically flooding with people left and right. She noticed that solemn look on your face when you answered your question.

“Isn’t that Tyler outside?” She asked, even though she already knew the answer to that question. She watched you nod, your eyes staring down into the liquid in your cup.“Shouldn’t you be out there with him?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you sighed and shook your head, “No, he’s… He’s playing. I wouldn’t be much help… It’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” Wanda countered, the levels of her own annoyance rising. “He’s being a shitty boyfriend.”

You didn’t say anything else and instead chewed on your bottom lip as you let her words sink in. He was, indeed, a shitty boyfriend, but hearing it out of someone else’s mouth felt bitter. Like you had to defend him in some way even though he treats you like shit. You knew that Wanda's assessment held a grain of truth, maybe a lot more than a grain, but your heart stubbornly clung to the remnants of love and loyalty you still felt for him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“No, it’s fine,” you tell her, immediately shaking your head as you glance out of the kitchen window, seeing your boyfriend down his drink in the backyard. “He’s just… busy.”

Wanda glanced out the window once more, eyes landing on your boyfriend. He was cheering, having won the same stupid game he was playing since he got here for the third time already, and he was probably drunk out of his mind right now, clearly not caring about the woman he had brought along with him. That woman being you. 

And she could never understand it. 

Wanda turned away and looked over at you. You stared down at your shoes out of boredom, seemingly waiting for something to happen at least. You wondered when your boyfriend would notice the fact that you’re even still here, waiting for the past hour and a half for him. But, every time you looked at him, he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

“Do you want to go somewhere quiet?” Wanda leaned over and asked, scratching the back of her neck. “There’s less people upstairs… And it’s quiet in my room.”

Wanda didn’t know if it was the tiny bit of alcohol she had talking for her, but she couldn’t help but ask—not when someone as beautiful as you stood alone in her kitchen. 

“Your room?”

You took a moment to look past her shoulder again and over to the man you called your boyfriend, only to see him cheering on in front of the beer pong table with some other woman leaning close to him on his side. A sigh fell past your lips before turning back to look at Wanda. 

As your gaze shifted from the window to meet Wanda's eyes, a sudden hush fell upon you. Your heart skipped a beat as you found yourself caught in the vortex of an unwavering stare, one filled with undeniable affection. She was looking at you the entire time. She looked at you like you were the only one there—as if every person, every object, every sound had faded into the background, leaving only the two of you inside this house. An unexpected wave of shyness washed over you, a blush creeping up your cheeks, wondering about what you should say next. 

The gravity of Wanda's invitation to her room weighed heavily upon your conscience, knowing that accepting would lead you down an unfaithful path. A sense of moral obligation tugged at your heart, reminding her of the commitment you made to your boyfriend, who had now abandoned you once again. The knowledge weighed heavily on your heart, like an anchor that tugged at your sense of loyalty. You knew the dangerous allure that waited for you in her room. You very well understood the consequences, and how your heart might sway towards infidelity if you surrendered yourself completely to Wanda. 

With each passing second, your internal struggle intensified. But, why were you so worried about loyalty when the man you once loved seemed to have none for you? You recognized the injustice of your situation, feeling a bitter taste of resentment rise within you as you thought of your boyfriend's indiscretions, allowing himself to be swayed by the company of random women at a party. It was a betrayal in its own right—a crack in the foundation of your relationship.

You decided you didn’t want to see him anymore tonight. And Wanda had the power to do that for you. 

“Lead the way,” you said.

The woman’s eyes before you lit up at the sound of your words and with a tender smile, Wanda reached out, her hand extending towards you, a silent invitation for her to take you away from everything that worried you. You slipped your hand into hers, and with a gentle yet steady grip, her fingers interlaced with yours, beginning to pull you away and up the stairs. 

Wanda maneuvered through the crowd, sidestepping intoxicated individuals who seemed oblivious to the world beyond their own indulgence. Laughter and music washed over you as you reached the second floor and down the hall toward Wanda’s room. 

Your senses heightened as Wanda let you step into her private space, and you found herself instinctively pausing to take in your surroundings. Wanda made sure to not let your hand go, her thumb soothing over the back of your hand as you looked around. She stepped up behind you, gently resting her other hand on your hip as she pressed her front to your back softly. Your eyes swept across the room, drinking in the carefully curated collection of treasures that adorned each shelf and corner. The gentle hum of the music playing downstairs was muffled by the thick walls of Wanda’s room.

“Do you play?” You ask, eyes settling up the guitar by the side of her nightstand.

“Hmm, a bit,” she smiled as you raised your eyebrows, impressed at the fact. “I can show you any time you want. I can teach you.”

Her fingers brushed along the side of your waist, dancing along the fabric of your dress slightly as if she were forming guitar chords. Eventually, you let Wanda’s hands turn you around to face her, the soft scent of lavender filling the air as she leaned into you. 

“You look so pretty tonight, (Y/n),” she whispered, shamelessly staring at your lips.

Her gaze shifted from your mouth and into your eyes, and there you saw the gentle look she held solely for you. Wanda gently lifted the hand she held, guiding your fingertips to her lips, pressing light kisses against your knuckles. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“You already are,” you told her, the corners of your lips threatening to curve upwards.

Wanda smiled in return and brought her other hand up from your hip to your face, cupping your cheek and letting her thumb ghost over your bottom lip, “I mean… here.”

Her fingers trailed down to your jaw, “And right here.” To your neck, “And here.” Then, to your collarbone, “And… here.”

You sighed at the feeling of her feathery touches, closing your eyes as you relaxed in her hands. 

“Can I?” She repeated.

And for a moment, you took a second to look at the moment before you, your cheeks getting warm from Wanda’s actions. The warmth of her breath mingled with the sweet touch of her lips against your fingertips as she waited patiently for your answer for the second time tonight. As the words hung in the air, Wanda's gaze remained fixed on you, captivated by the emotions flickering across your face. In that moment, you appeared more enchanting to her than ever, having you so close to her for the first time, wanting to kiss those lips she’d been dreaming about for so long. 

“Yes, please,” you said. 

Wanda leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you, and softly pressed her lips against yours as she moaned. Every brush and hum of your lips sent shivers down Wanda's spine. Time became a distant concept as you lost yourself in her kisses. 

She slowly led you towards her bed, lips still pressed to yours. She had waited, with hope and uncertainty, for this moment to come. And finally, it was here. She’d show you. She’d show you how well she’d take care of you—how much better she could be than that boyfriend of yours. She’d give you everything you deserve. She’d prove it to you—change your mind, if possible, and have her be the only one to have and love you from now on.

Wanda pulled back after laying you down on her bed, staring down at you. She settled herself in between your legs and sighed at the feeling of your soft thighs under her hands. The sight of lips parting to catch your breath, your chest rising up and down, and your hair all over her pillows drove her crazy. Fuck. 

“Are you sure about this?” Wanda asked.

“Please.” You nodded, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with hers and squeezing them, “I want you, Wanda.”

Once she was positive that you were positive, Wanda pulled her shirt over off, shuffled closer to you, and gently brought your hands up above your head. She leaned down and placed a chaste kiss against your lips once more before traveling down to litter soft kisses against your jaw and your neck. Her body hovered over yours as you squirmed underneath her touches, whining slightly as she sucked on your skin. 

“Wait, Wanda,” you called out and she immediately stopped to look at you, patiently waiting for whatever you had to say. “Don’t leave any marks.” 

Wanda blinked, feeling a sense of disappointment wash over her chest. She was excited to mark you, litter hickeys all over your skin as a reminder that you were hers for the night. 

But she only bit her lip and nodded in return, “I won’t.”

After a beat, Wanda started kissing you once again. This time, her hands traveled downwards, running them along your thighs and up to where they met the hem of your velvety dress. She pushed the fabric upwards, your skin meeting the cold air inch by inch. Wanda was quick to provide warmth, squeezing the softness of your push thighs. 

Her kisses eventually made their way down to the valley of your breasts, letting one of her hands grope your tits. Wanda groaned into your body as you let your hands run through her red hair, tugging at them slightly when she squeezed your tit with her palms. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered against you.

Getting to worship you like this, manifesting your true desires to her, and her alone, felt like a constant dream. She had always imagined what it would be like to see you like this; a hot mess underneath her, moaning for her to touch you. And now that it was here, she never wanted to let it go. 

She’d imagine all the ways, all the positions she’d take you in, and make sure to take good care of you both always. She couldn’t wait to make you feel good. God, it was driving her insane. She couldn’t wait to have you. She wanted to make you see how much better she would be for you. And if there was one thing she wanted more than this; it was time. She wanted this to last forever. She wanted to eliminate all of the chances that could make you slip away from her grasp. 

But you were here now, and she vowed to make it the best you’ve had with the time she was dealt with. 

Her hands squeezed your thighs slightly as she stared down, “Spread those legs for me, sweetheart?” 

Wanda kneeled and leaned down the moment your knees parted, the sight of your drenched laced panties coming into view from underneath your dress. Without a second thought, Wanda pressed the pads of her index and middle finger against the soaked fabric. With half-lidded eyes, she couldn’t help but lean down, pressing her nose against your clothed pussy.

“How are you this perfect?” Wanda sighed against your cunt, her fingers moving the fabric to the side to look at your wetness. 

“Wanda…”

She looked up from in between your legs and licked her lips eagerly, “Yes, baby?”

“Hurry, please,” you whined. You couldn’t wait anymore. “I need you.”

Wanda felt her knees go weak when she heard those words. The sound of your voice, her name coming from your mouth, your hands in her hair… It was all too, perfect—you were so perfect.

After moments of admiring the sight of you in her bed, Wanda finally hooked her thumbs under your panties and dragged them slowly down your legs, making sure you were watching as she did so. The moment they came off, Wanda dove head first in between your legs, dragging the flat of her tongue through your folds. Firm and long licks switched into quick, fast kitten licks against your clit that had your thighs shaking around her head in a matter of seconds. You threaded your hands into her hair, moaning at the suddenness of her attack against your cunt. You dripped your sweet juices onto her tongue, causing her to moan softly against your clit, sending vibrations through your body. 

“Tastes so fucking good, baby.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Wanda rolled her eyes to the back of her head, the taste of heaven filling her mouth. She moaned, lips and chin covered in her spit and your slick as she continued to eat you out. 

“Wanda!” You whined as she wrapped her mouth around your clit and sucked. 

The sight of your jaw dropping and your eyes rolling to the back of your head when she introduced her fingers into the mix was something she wanted to see over and over and over again. She carefully prodded your entrance with her middle finger, sucking onto your clit gently, teasing you by slipping barely an inch into you then pulling back out to rub you softly. As she did so, she could feel your hips buck and your legs tense up around her head as she hummed against your clit with a smile on her face. 

You were soaking wet, dripping your juices all over the covers of her bed. Carefully, she slipped a single finger into you all the way down to her knuckle. She then curled it, emitting the loudest whine you let out for her tonight. She continued to curl her finger over and over, occasionally giving your clit some attention, sucking slightly and licking it gently as your orgasm started to build. 

“Mmmph, fuck, Wanda, I—"

Her green eyes watched as you withered against her bed, because of her mouth, to taste you like this, and hear your delicious moans fall past your lips. She slipped a second finger into you, your velvety walls wrapping around her digits, coating them with your slick as you moaned into her pillow and pulled at the sheets. 

“That’s it, (Y/n),” she stared up in awe as she watched your head fall back into the pillow, moaning at the feeling of her digits moving inside of your pussy. “Keep on making those noises for me, beautiful.”

Her two fingers that were swallowed inside your warmth began to speed up the moment she wrapped her lips around your clit once more, and sucked as hard as she could. You screamed into her pillow, trying to close your legs shut, engulfing her head with your plush thighs. Wanda decided that this was the best way to go; suffocating between your legs with the taste of your juices on her tongue. 

Soon, your voice faded out and your moans became more like gasps and hiccups for air. Wanda closed her eyes, her mouth pulling away to move up your body, resting her lips against your neck as her breath fans across your skin. You whined and clawed at her back deliciously as Wanda pumped and pumped her fingers in and out of you at a faster pace. She could hear all of your juices squelching down there because of her fingers and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes back and moan at the sounds filling her room. She felt as if she was in heaven. 

Wanda’s eyes, her pupils blown out from lust and darkened in desire didn’t help either, as the wetness between your legs only seemed to pool more and more as she fucked into you.

“I’m gonna cum, Wanda—“

“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my fingers, baby?” She whispered in your ear, grunting against the side of your face as she pumped into you harder with her thumb pressing harshly in circles against your clit. 

Your orgasm hit hard, a sharp cry coming from your throat as you came, arching your back as Wanda slowed her movements. The sound of your cry sent shock waves straight down to her own core, and her eagerness to move inside of you, pressing against that spot in your pussy caused you to gasp and cry out again, shaking violently as you came around her fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” Wanda groaned against your neck, breathing heavily against you as you trembled in her bed. God, she wished she could make love to you forever. 

And knowing that she couldn’t, Wanda made use of the time she had left for the rest of the night and fucked you for as time would allow her until the two of you grew tired and passed out on her bed. 

Wanda held you close, pulling her blankets over you, naked bodies pressed together as you slept for the rest of the night. She savored the precious moments the two of you shared, knowing that her time with you was fleeting and she might not get a chance as good as this. She took some time to watch as you slept for a bit, her heart swelling with the feeling of you against her. It felt perfect, like you were made to fit right into her arms. 

But a bittersweet reality loomed over Wanda's thoughts, a reminder that you belonged to another, your heart already spoken for by a distant boyfriend. The one person she envied, deeming him unworthy of your love. She wondered what it would be like to claim the entirety of your heart, to be the one who could provide solace and security for you in every waking moment, and not just for tonight. 

Wanda's eyes traced the delicate curve of your cheek, her fingertips brushing against the soft strands of your hair. With a tender touch, she brushed her lips against your forehead, pressing a small kiss on your skin before falling asleep herself, while listening to the soft sound of your breathing. 

She wished that this was forever. And she wished you wanted her the same way she wanted you. 

A soft rustling sound reached Wanda’s ears, like the delicate whisper of fabric against fabric. Fluttering her eyes open slowly, Wanda could feel the subtle shift of the mattress, the gentle weight redistribution that accompanied your movement. Through half-closed eyes, Wanda's gaze settled upon your silhouette as you leaned down to pick your clothes up. You were in nothing but your underwear and you sat there for a second to look down at your phone, the glow of the screen casting gently upon your face. 

“Hey,” Wanda whispered softly, propping herself up on one of her elbows, eyes still struggling to keep open.

You looked up in surprise, turning to see her rubbing her eyes as she looked at you, “Hey…”

“What’re you…” Wanda yawned and ran a hand through her hair. “What’re you doing? Are you leaving?”

There was a slight pout on her lips that you didn’t fail to notice. You watched her eyes lazily dart to the digital clock on her nightstand, furrowing her eyebrows slightly before turning her drowsy gaze away to look at you again.

“It’s six in the morning… on a Saturday,” she said as if it was obvious. 

“I know,” you nodded and looked down at your phone, the screen completely filled with texts and missed calls from that boyfriend of yours. “I just… I think I should really get going, Wanda.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Oh.”

Wanda sighed and sat up properly, grabbing her shirt from the floor to put on. A very big part of her wanted to ask you to stay, over and over again, so that she could wrap her arms around you, underneath the covers, have you lay your head on her chest, and sleep peacefully with you for as long as she could. 

But there was a slim chance you’d take that offer.

“I’ll drive you.”

“It’s fine,” you said, fixing your dress as you stood up from her bed. “I really don’t live that far.”

Truthfully, you did live quite a few ways away, but you wanted to sort out everything that was running through your head, and the time it would take to walk to your apartment might just let you do that. 

Wanda bit her lip, wondering if she had done something wrong. She thought that maybe you were regretting the night before, thinking that one of the best nights she’s ever lived through was possibly a mistake in your eyes. 

She hoped you didn’t think that. 

“Are you sure?” Wanda grabbed her keys from her desk, just in case you change your mind. “I’m not tired.”

“I’m positive, Wanda,” you smiled lightly, knowing very well she wanted to back to sleep. “It’s okay.”

As you gathered your belongings, your movements deliberate yet tinged with a touch of haste, Wanda's gaze lingered upon you, committing every detail to memory. The way your fingers deftly secured a strand of hair behind your ear, the determined set of your jaw as you walked towards the door, the fleeting glances you stole in Wanda's direction—each moment etched itself in Wanda’s mind. 

Time seemed to stretch as Wanda observed your preparations, each passing second amplifying the ache within her. She longed to reach out, to intertwine her fingers with yours and convince you to stay for a little while longer. 

But the choice, ultimately, rested with you, and Wanda knew that she had to honor that.

“Wait,” she called out suddenly, her tone infused with a soft concern that you couldn't ignore, just as you had placed a hand on the doorknob. “One second.”

You watched her step away, rushing over to her closet near the corner of her room, then pulling out some brown jacket. With a tender smile, Wanda approached you, her hands enveloped in the folds of her own jacket.

"Here," Wanda murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she offered the jacket to you. "It's probably cold out there." 

There was a vulnerability in her eyes, a hidden message that spoke of the lengths she would go to protect and care for you, even in the smallest ways. Your eyes widened slightly, surprised yet touched by Wanda's gesture. A myriad of emotions flickered across your face—gratitude, a touch of longing, and a hint of reluctance. You hesitated for a moment, torn between accepting Wanda's offering and the weight of your own conflicted feelings.

“If you’re not going to let me drive you… at least take this,” Wanda said, sensing your inner struggle. “You can return it whenever. Or don’t. Whichever is fine.”

Your hand trembled ever so slightly as you reached out and accepted the jacket. The fabric felt warm and comforting against your skin, as though it held a piece of Wanda's essence within its fibers.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of gratitude and unspoken emotions. 

Wanda watched as you slipped into her jacket carefully, letting it fall gracefully upon your shoulders. It was a tad bit loose on you, and Wanda only found it adorable, nonetheless. It was her first time seeing you in one of her clothes and she had to bite back that smile that was threatening to show on her face. With a gentle touch, Wanda adjusted the collar of the jacket, ensuring it provided the utmost comfort and warmth for you. 

You left soon after, leaving Wanda alone in the silence of her room. 

The crisp air brushed against your cheeks, its touch a gentle reminder of the outside world. After walking out of the neighborhood, the city streets unfolded before you as you ventured forth, enveloped in Wanda's jacket. It was warm, you thought, like her. Wanda was warm. You felt her warmth the night before as she held you delicately like she was afraid of breaking you. 

The weight of your actions pressed upon you, the guilt of infidelity intertwining with the intoxicating sensations that Wanda had awakened within you. Thoughts of your boyfriend, once a source of comfort and affection, mingled with memories of last night.

As you walked, the city whispered its secrets. The laughter of strangers, the busy morning road full of people heading into work in the early morning, the flickering lights of cafes and bars, and the intertwining streets became a chorus of reflections, mirroring the complexity of your emotions. 

You wondered what your boyfriend was up to now, probably sleeping, and if he even thought of the possibility of you cheating on him. Would he even care at this point? You had always been a loyal girlfriend before your relationship had started crumbling, always being there for him as much as you could, trying to make him happy, just as he did for you. But, now, everything seemed to be thrown away, and it was like you didn’t even know him anymore. 

Instead, you let your thoughts shift to Wanda—sweet and gentle Wanda. You couldn’t help but compare your boyfriend to her. In the course of a single night, Wanda had unraveled layers within you that had remained untouched for so long.

As you finally reached your apartment, you stood before the threshold, your heart heavy with the weight of your choices. With a deep breath, you stepped inside, the door closing behind you. The echoes of the city receded, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the echoes of conflicting emotions. You can’t help but think of the night before when Wanda showered you with that love and affection you’ve been craving. It was all you could think about. 

And in this moment, you felt that you missed Wanda more than you did your boyfriend. 

The entire month came around quickly, and the world around you sprang back to life, bustling with the rhythms of college life. The campus hummed with the energy of students making their way to their classes. As you made your way to the art building, you found yourself clutching a bouquet of vibrant flowers, another peace offering from your boyfriend, a gesture meant to make amends for doing something that hurt your feelings. Again. It was typical.

Yet, you didn’t feel anything as you looked at the flowers. The colors of the flowers seemed muted, the petals lacking the vibrancy that you craved. You couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment, a sense of disconnection that overshadowed any gratitude you should have felt. You couldn't shake the nagging sensation that something essential was missing.

And Wanda felt the same thing, if not, more. God, she missed you the moment you slipped out of her arms that morning. Just the thought of you in her bed, moaning her name just like you did that night sent her into orbit. She wanted you all over again. She needed you. And she just couldn’t help herself. Not when she got the taste of what it would be like to have you in that way. You were addicting. She wanted more. So much more. 

So, then, it happened again. And again. And again.

For the past month, you’ve betrayed your boyfriend, seeking solace and love in the arms of Wanda. Every stolen moment, every secret rendezvous, ignited a passionate flame within you that you had never experienced before. She made love to you every week that passed. You’ve been having frequent late nights in Wanda's room, hidden within the walls of the sorority house. She made love to you every week that passed, stole you away from your classes to make out with you in secret, wanting to have her hands all over you as much as she could. A lot of the time, it would happen on nights when your boyfriend would drag you to another party and he was too caught up to notice that you’d disappear, stolen away by Wanda so that she could keep you all to herself. 

On one hand, you felt guilty. But on the other hand, your heart yearned for Wanda and her touches, her gentle words, and the way she looked at you. With Wanda, you felt seen, heard, and cherished in a way you had never experienced before.

As your mind wandered through the labyrinth of your thoughts, everything around you seemed to fade into a blur of colors and shapes. But just as you were lost in the depths of your reverie, a soft but distinct knock echoed through your ears, jolting your senses.

“What are you painting?”

You snapped out of your trance and took in your surroundings. Unbeknownst to you, your art class, your final class of the day, had ended, and the studio was empty. Startled, your gaze shifted abruptly towards the door frame behind you, where a familiar figure stood, their presence bringing an instant surge of warmth to your heart. It was Wanda, the one who had occupied your thoughts so incessantly. She was leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded. 

“What are you doing here?” You stood quickly, eyes flickering with a sense of surprise and worry.

“I missed you.”

You rushed out of your seat, quickly making your way over to where she stood. Wanda shifted under your gaze the moment you reached behind her to close the studio door before grabbing her arm and pulling her further into the room in case anyone saw her. Caught off guard by the sudden pull, Wanda stumbled slightly, her attention instantly captured by the sight of you.

You stood before her, clad in an artist's apron, tiny smudges of paint adorning your cheeks and hands. Your shirt, with its sleeves carefully folded, revealed glimpses of the same colors that lived on your canvas. And Wanda couldn’t help but smile at you.

“What are you smiling about?” You rolled your eyes, shyly tucking your hair behind your ear as you turned around to avoid her stare.

Wanda shook her head but kept the smile on her face, following closely behind you as you sat back down on the stool in front of your easel, “Nothing.”

“Seriously,” you say, rolling your eyes before picking the paintbrush up from your table. “What are you doing here?”

“Um,” Wanda struggled to find an excuse, “I was walking by and thought I’d come see you… just to see what you were up to.”

It wasn’t a total lie. But she missed you so much that she practically ran across the whole campus just to get to this building. And to be honest, she couldn't stop missing you if she tried. A month has passed since you left her bedroom that night, and the following weeks spent sneaking around with you almost felt both unsettling and heavenly to her—she had you, but at the same time, she didn’t. And, she hated it. 

In truth, Wanda's last class was located on the other side of the campus, far from the art studio. But the distance mattered little to her. She had to see you, and now that she did, fighting the urge to touch you was practically unbearable.

“I’m working on my final piece,” you told her, staring down at the palette box on the wooden table, using a palette knife to mix your oils. “It’s just some finishing touches. It won’t dry soon enough if I do a thicker layer… even though I should, but it has to be done by next Wednesday…”

You went on rambling quietly about what else you needed to do as if you were not only talking to her but also reminding yourself, which was cute, Wanda thought. She listened intently, slowly making her way closer behind you, peeking over your shoulder with a curious smile as her hand slowly rested against your hip. 

“What’s on Wednesday?” She asked, her front now pressed against your back as you continued to paint. 

Your breath hitched at the contact, but you made no move to back away. She was warm—and you learned that you loved that about her. You could feel her face next to yours, closely observing each stroke of your brush, watching how your fingers danced over the canvas.

“Well, it’s due Wednesday and there’s, uh,” you cleared your throat, suddenly feeling nervous and fuzzy in your chest knowing she was so close to you. “An exhibit. It’s on Friday, actually, but they need to finish preparing for it by Thursday. The art professors are choosing some students to showcase their portfolios at the museum down the road. It’s funded by the university.”

Wanda’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “And you got chosen as one of the artists? Out the whole art department?”

You laughed and shook your head, “Don’t make it a big deal—“

“But it is a big deal!” Wanda turned her head to look at you, her eyes watching your features closely. “It’s amazing. Really.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your breath hitched in your throat as you turned to face Wanda, the tips of your noses brushing against each other, causing you to pull your head back slightly. Your eyes widened, taking in the breathtaking proximity of your faces, your breaths mingling in the shared space in between. And you began to notice things you’ve never really taken the time to admire.

Wanda's bright green eyes, like emerald gems, sparkled with a mixture of affection and curiosity. The strands of her tousled red hair tumbled slightly, probably from wind from outside, framing her features with an effortless charm. You drank in the sight of Wanda, committing every line and curve to your memory.

“I think you’re amazing,” Wanda whispered, her eyes darting from your eyes down to your lips.

You watched her eyes as she did so, your cheeks flushing slightly—usually because of the fact that she always wanted to kiss you. 

Your voice trembled with a mix of uncertainty and longing as she began, “Wanda, wait… I don’t think we should—“

But before you could complete your sentence, Wanda tilted her head and closed the gap, her lips meeting yours in a gentle, yet fervent, kiss. Your initial protest was lost in the softness of Wanda's lips against your own as your eyes fluttered closed. Wanda's lips, warm and tender, spoke volumes of the love and adoration she held for you, and you couldn’t help but kiss her back. 

The kiss deepened, Wanda running her tongue along your bottom lip, wrapping her arms, and running her hands around your waist from behind you as you welcomed her into your mouth with a soft moan. She had been wanting to kiss you again since the last time she saw you, and now that it was finally here, it felt like a dream come true. 

You made out with Wanda until you felt like you were about to faint. You pulled away to catch your breath, keeping Wanda still by holding her shoulders in place as she continued to chase for your lips.

“Wanda,” you breathed, your mind filling itself with conflicting thoughts. 

“No one’s going to see,” she tried to reassure you, her lips brushing against yours.

“T-That’s not what I’m worried about,” A sigh falls from your mouth, turning your head away from her before she could lean back in.

Wanda's eyes tried to search yours, filled with a mixture of determination and longing, wanting nothing more than to press her lips against your mouth over and over again. Her voice trembled with a blend of frustration and vulnerability as she asked, “Then, what are you worried about?”

“I-I’ve been wanting to talk to you. This whole month with you… It’s been amazing. You’ve been perfect. Truly. But, I… I don’t know if this is a good idea… anymore… and I’m still with Tyler,” you finally let out, struggling to find the right words to say.

She paused, suddenly feeling tense after listening to you. 

“Then, break up with him,” she said softly, eyes gazing into yours, concentrating on what you had to say. 

“Wanda…”

“You said it’s been amazing. I don’t…” She shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows for a split second. “I don’t understand why this isn’t a good idea anymore. I don’t understand why you won’t break up with him. Do you even still like him? Do you not like me?”

You stood from your seat and walked a couple of paces away from her. “Of course, I like you.”

Wanda clenched her jaw, watching you carefully as you ran your hand through your hair, “You know what I mean.”

And for a moment, you don’t answer. It wasn’t because you weren’t sure of what the answer was, it was because of how sure you were. Wanda had given you so much love in one month and within this hour than Tyler could’ve given you in the past year. You couldn’t love Wanda even if you were tired. 

You closed your eyes, and sighed, “I do, Wanda.”

“Then, why are you still with him?”

“I don’t—I don’t know…” You stammered, frustration washing over your entire face. “I-I’ve been with him for so long and I’ve seen all of the good and the bad and I just can’t stop thinking about things like… what if he changes? I want to believe that he can, and lying to him constantly is starting to take a toll on me.”

“How long are you going to hold on to that ‘what if’? Hm? It’s been a month and he still hasn’t done anything to make you happy! He’s not just going to change overnight and besides, you’ve been constantly trying to talk to him about what’s wrong or what’s bothering but he doesn’t even seem to care!” She yelled, shaking her head slightly, “And what if he never changes? What if he keeps treating you like this? What then?”

Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you listened to Wanda’s voice, tinged with a mixture of heartbreak and determination. Love, fear, loyalty, and doubt waged a fierce internal war within you. You knew deep down that Wanda was right, that your relationship with him was eroding your own happiness.

“Well, what are you asking me to do?” Wanda asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“I-I don’t know—“

“If you’re going to ask me to just be friends with you, I’m not doing it,” she said, shaking her head, the thought of it waking her heart. “I can’t… I can’t just be friends with you.”

Your eyes softened at her words, “Wanda…”

“And, I know it’s scary. I know… It’s not going to be easy. I know you really liked him at some point back then, and that it’s hurting you that he’s like this,” Wanda said with a heavy heart as she watched the first of your tears run down your face. It tore her apart to be the one to make you cry, but she knew that you needed to hear it. “But, I really like you, too. And, I want to do things right with you. I want to take you out on dates and share the things I have with you. I want to kiss you. So many times. I want to worship you. I want to give you all the things you deserve. But, I don’t want to do any of that while you’re suffocating yourself in this relationship... You’re not happy with him, (Y/n). Not like you are with me.”

Your gaze faltered, torn between the love you felt for Wanda and the lingering ties that bound you to a toxic relationship. Fear and uncertainty swirled within you, clouding your judgment and eclipsing the clarity of your own desires. 

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows again, her gaze landing on the flowers on the table, “Are these from him?”

The fact that you don’t say anything else answers Wanda’s question. She nodded, pain filling her chest as she stared at your back. Feeling like you ripped her heart right out of her, jealousy filled her veins and she grabbed her bag and made her way to the door. 

“He’s a dick, (Y/n),” she started, halting in her tracks before she could walk out. “Love isn’t about hiding behind a bouquet of flowers to avoid talking to you. It’s not about waiting to see if things get better when all he does is give you a five-dollar bouquet as his way to apologize. He should be on his knees begging for your forgiveness. Because, if I were him, I’d do everything and anything to make sure you’re happy. I hope you know that.”

Then, she left.

You don’t see her for the next several days, not after that argument. She doesn’t text or call you and she doesn’t visit the art building anymore. 

Days turned into nights, and you found yourself anxiously waiting for a message, a call, or any form of contact from Wanda. But the silence remained unbroken, leaving you to question the depth of the chasm that had grown between you. Your heart longed for Wanda's presence, for the sound of her voice, and the comfort of her embrace. 

You replayed the argument over and over in your mind, dissecting every word exchanged and every emotion unleashed. You understood Wanda's frustration, her desire to be together with you, free from the toxicity that clung to your current relationship. And yet, fear had clouded your judgment, chaining you to a life that no longer brought you happiness. 

The nights turned into weeks, and your heart grew heavier with each passing moment. You yearned for the sound of Wanda's laughter, the warmth of her smile, and the unwavering support she had always offered for you. The absence of her presence was a constant reminder of the choice you had made and the potential consequences of that choice. Two weeks had passed since the argument, and the silence that lingered between the two of you weighed heavily on your spirit.

And soon, Friday came: the night of the exhibit. A mixture of excitement and nervousness coursed through your veins. The gallery buzzed with activity, the air thick with the scent of anticipation. Your artwork adorned the walls along with several other students, each stroke of your brush conveying emotions you had kept hidden for so long.

As the guests began to trickle in, your eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face amidst the sea of strangers. Each passing moment filled you with a sense of anticipation. You wondered if Wanda would come, and if she remembered it. The murmurs and laughter of the attendees swirled around you, blending into an indistinct background noise.

As the minutes ticked away, each second seemed to stretch into eternity. Your heart raced, your palms clammy with nervous anticipation. And then, in the midst of your restless thoughts, about an hour into the exhibit, a figure appeared at the entrance of the gallery. Wanda's presence filled the room, her vibrant aura commanding attention.

You approached her, but you couldn't help but notice the subtle signs of conflict etched upon her face. Wanda's eyes, usually filled with a gentle glow, held a mixture of hope and trepidation. It was clear that she had taken a risk by attending the exhibit, despite the wounds of your recent disagreement.

The room seemed to quiet around the two of you as you inched your way closer, as if the universe recognized the significance of this moment. Your heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and remorse, realizing the depth of Wanda's love and her willingness to be there for you, even when it felt like she hadn’t spoken to you in ages. 

Wordlessly, you stood beside Wanda, your shoulders almost touching, as you both gazed at the art that surrounded them. As the colors of your artwork danced across the gallery walls, you allowed yourself to hope, to believe that perhaps forgiveness and second chances were possible. And standing beside her, Wanda silently promised to be there, ready to support and love you, no matter the outcome.

“You came,” you breathed out, once you were close enough for her to hear. “You… you didn’t have to.”

Wanda turned at the sound of your voice, taking a moment to admire the way you looked tonight. The sight of you only made her curse under her breath, questioning why you had to look so damn good all the time. 

“Of course, I came,” she said, subtle eyes skimming over the dress that wrapped around your curves. “I wouldn’t miss it. But, I am a little bit late… I didn’t know when it was starting.”

Your eyebrows twitched upwards as you listened to her words, pursing your lips as a way to hide the pain you were feeling in your chest, “No, it’s okay. I–I’m glad you’re here. I’m really happy you’re here.”

You hadn't expected Wanda to come, not after the fight and the painful silence that had ensued for the past two weeks. But she came anyway, to one of the most important nights you had been preparing for throughout the year and you were beyond grateful. You could kiss her right now. 

But the pain you felt in your chest mostly stemmed from the fact that seeing Wanda here tonight made you recall what had happened between you two in the art studio. For the whole week, you thought you wouldn’t see her again, and it hurt to think that when that was all you wanted. 

And not only that, but you were also disappointed in the fact that you couldn’t see Tyler anywhere. You wondered if he was going to come tonight, or if he even remembered. But, that doesn’t even matter to you anymore. It hurt, of course, but it was a typical feeling you grew tired of. She was right. And deep down, even though you chose to do the opposite of what she said, you knew she was, too. You felt guilty for hurting Wanda, and for trying to believe in your boyfriend when she had been telling you from the start that he wasn’t going to change. 

“Um,” you started, trying to find the words to say. “How do you like it so far? The exhibit? Did you get to walk around a bit?”

Wanda smiled lightly, noticing that this was your way to have a conversation with her, “Yeah, yeah, I did. It’s amazing. Everyone did a great job. You’re all really talented.”

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat, turning away to hide the blush on your cheeks. 

“Your paintings are breathtaking, (Y/n),” she said, her eyes tracing the strokes of your artwork with admiration. “Almost just as stunning as their maker.”

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes playfully, nudging her shoulder a bit. You knew it was a way for her to lighten up the mood on a night that was so important to you. 

“I’m serious,” Wanda smiled gently. “You look beautiful. Really. That dress… You’re stunning.”

A blush tinted your cheeks as she glanced down at your attire, a mixture of gratitude and unease evident in your expression. "Thank you, Wanda."

You were grateful. You really were. Tears of appreciation welled up in your eyes, reflecting the flickering lights of the gallery, as you thought about Wanda. You felt as if you didn't deserve Wanda's unwavering support, but you also couldn't deny the overwhelming gratitude you felt.

While your eyes occasionally darted to your phone, a sense of resignation had settled within you. You had sent countless messages to your boyfriend, seeking his whereabouts and wondering about his presence, but with each unanswered text, the realization began to crystallize in your heart. He would never change for you. He would never prioritize your happiness or love you the way you deserved.

As your eyes swept over the crowd, you struggled to find your boyfriend anywhere. His absence spoke volumes, a stark reminder of the shortcomings of your relationship and the love that had dwindled over time. But, Wanda's presence radiated with unwavering support and affection, reminding you of the love she had found in the midst of chaos. 

“(Y/n)!” Another student called out for you. “Professor is looking for you. Some other teachers are asking about one of your paintings.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” you told her, biting your lip as you turned back around to face Wanda. “I… I have to go. But, if it’s okay, do you think you could… I’m allowed to leave in about thirty minutes—The students just need to be here for the opening since that’s when all of the critics and important art people and professors come in… And the gallery stays open for the rest of the night anyway, but after that, I’m free to go… So I was wondering if you could… I mean, if you even want to—”

“Yeah, I-I’ll wait for you,” she said with a smile, nodding her head eagerly without a second thought, interrupting your adorable ramble before you could even ask your question. 

You had to fight a smile that was slowly making its way onto your face, “Okay, I-I’ll find you.”

Reluctantly, you stepped away to find your professor, who gestured toward a group of important art figures gathered nearby. You made your way towards them, your mind divided between the conversation that awaited you and Wanda. With each stolen glance, you couldn't help but notice the softness in Wanda's features, the way her eyes shimmered with a mix of emotions that mirrored her own.

Engaging in polite conversation with the art professionals, your attention wavered, your thoughts constantly drifting back to Wanda. You wanted to go back to her. As you listened intently to the conversation before you, your eyes would inevitably wander back to Wanda, who moved quietly, her every gesture captivating and graceful as she looked around

Yet, you knew that this conversation with your professor held importance for your artistic future. So, you remained present, exchanging pleasantries and discussing your work, all the while feeling the pull of your emotions toward Wanda, who appeared lost in your own thoughts as she explored the gallery.

When the conversation drew to a close, your professor commended you on your talent and potential, expressing a desire to further support your artistic journey. Grateful for the recognition, you excused yourself, your steps immediately directing themselves toward Wanda, who stood near a captivating sculpture. Your heart quickened as you made your way through the bustling gallery, your mind consumed with conflicting emotions. 

But before you could reach her, your eyes caught the sight of a familiar man standing passed the glass doors of the gallery. He stood out by the entrance, a bouquet in his palm as he was about to step into the building. 

Without wasting another second, you rushed over to where he stood, to try and keep him out because you felt that he didn’t belong here anymore. 

“What are you doing here?” you said quietly, your voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

“(Y/n)! I’m so sorry for being late. I-I got caught up with work. You know how it is, and—and I couldn’t find the building and there was so much traffic when I was driving here,” Tyler said, muttering excuses after excuses. He held out the bouquet, his expression filled with contrived sincerity, “These are for you. I know how much you like them—”

“Tyler, I don’t want the flowers,” You shook your head, not even batting an eyelash at the way his arms dropped to the side after you said that sentence, gripping the plastic of the bouquet tightly in his hand. “I don’t want you here. I want you to leave.”

Confusion flickered across Tyler's face, quickly replaced by defensiveness. “What? I just fucking got here. I-I came to support you—”

“I am not going to do this with you again,” You rolled your eyes and glanced to the side, too furious to even look at him.

"Do what?"

“This, Tyler. I’m done. I’m done embarrassing myself. I’m tired you of treating me like shit. I can’t believe I spent so long trying to believe you’d change for me, but I’m not going to do that anymore. I’m done,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat as tears welled up in your eyes.

Anger flashed across his face, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "What the fuck are you talking about? We've been together for years. We can work through this. It’s just a rough patch."

“No, Tyler. It isn’t. I’ve already tried talking to you about this! So many times! But you just ignore me, you don’t talk to me, you don’t pay any attention to me, you flirt with everyone else and all you do for me is buy me so many goddamn flowers like they mean something for you!”

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as he turned to look away.

“I’m unbelievable? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes, you are! You’re always so fucking boring! Always sitting alone at parties, always wanting to leave early, and you never want to go out—“

“How is this my fault?” You cried out in frustration. “You… You don’t even love me anymore.”

“What, and you do?”

The argument spilled onto the streets, voices raised and emotions running high. Your heart ached as the realization hit you with crushing force—this was the end. The end of a relationship that had long been tainted by neglect, disrespect, and a lack of true connection.

“I’m not doing this again, Tyler. We’re done. You can go find some other girl to give those stupid flowers to. Because, it’s not going to be me.”

Without saying more, you stepped back into the gallery and rushed through the gallery, heading straight into the office room where you kept your things. You closed the door behind you, tears streaming down your face. You leaned against the table, your body trembling with both relief and sadness. The echoes of the breakup reverberated in your mind, reminding you of the pain you had endured and the weight that had been lifted from your shoulders.

As you allowed yourself to surrender to your emotions, you were unaware that Wanda had been watching when you ran into the room, seeing the tears that threatened to roll down your cheeks as you walked. But she waited. Wanda understood the need for you to process your feelings in private, respecting your space while patiently waiting for you. 

Minutes passed and you wiped away your tears, taking deep breaths to steady your trembling form. You decided that you felt like the building was suffocating you and that you needed to leave, but you remembered Wanda. With each passing moment, your heart began to steady and you slowly grabbed your things before heading out again. You knew that your decision to break away from Tyler was the right one, even if it meant venturing into unknown territory with Wanda. 

As you finally gathered the strength to leave the room, you slowly opened the door, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the gallery once again. And there, standing just a few steps away, was Wanda. She gave you a small smile as you slowly made your way towards her. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” Wanda watched as you tried to avoid her eyes as a way to hide the fact that you were crying. But she saw right through you.

You finally spoke, your voice trembled slightly, "I, um, think I need to get out of here, away from all this... everything. I know I asked you to wait—."

“No, it’s okay,” Wanda nodded immediately, her expression filled with empathy. "I’ll drive you home."

And normally, you’d protest and say you can go alone instead, but Wanda made no room for you to argue when she already started making her way towards the doors. Your eyes flickered with gratitude as you leaned into Wanda's presence, following closely behind her. 

You stepped outside, the cool night air embracing the both of you as Wanda led you to her car. She opened the door for you, gesturing for you to slide into the passenger seat. You settled into the seat, glancing at Wanda as she made her way into her own, your eyes shimmering with vulnerability. Starting the engine, Wanda guided the car onto the open road of the city, leaving the gallery and its lingering shadows in the rearview mirror. The world outside the windows slowly became a blur of city lights and passing landscapes as time passed. 

The drive was quiet. The soft hum of the car engine filled the air as she drove you home in a comforting silence. You sat quietly in the passenger seat, your gaze fixed on the passing streetlights, getting lost in your own thoughts. But Wanda stole glances at you whenever she could, her eyes tracing the delicate curve of your profile, sitting so pretty in the passenger seat of her car. You wore a jacket over that gorgeous dress you wore, and every fiber of Wanda's being yearned to reach out, to hold your hand, or put hers over your thigh. 

But she restrained herself. 

The car eventually glided to a stop in front of your apartment, the engine purring into silence. Wanda turned off the ignition and her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she spoke softly. 

“We’re here,” she said, rubbing her hands against her jeans nervously. 

You pulled yourself out of your trance the moment her words reached your ears, glancing out the window for a moment before looking back at her. She was waiting. You met Wanda's gaze, a flicker of a smile gracing your lips. She was waiting. You nodded once again, but you didn’t move to get out or anything. 

Instead, you asked, “Do you want to come in?”

Wanda's eyes widened, eyebrows twitching in surprise, her initial shock giving way to a glimmer of hope that danced in the depths of her gaze. A gentle smile curved Wanda's lips, the subtlest of nods conveying her agreement, even fighting the urge to say ‘please.’

“Yeah.”

It was quiet when she entered your apartment, following behind in soft footsteps as you led her through your front door. She’s never really been inside before—all the secret nights you spent with her were in the comfort of her own room in the sorority house. She liked having you in her bed. Then again, she would love to be in yours, if you’d let her. 

The air felt heavy with unspoken words, tension lingering from the events that had unfolded at the gallery. She followed closely behind you, her footsteps light and cautious as you led her down the hall to your kitchen. The atmosphere in the apartment seemed hushed, almost as if it was holding its breath, mirroring the uncertainty that lingered in Wanda's mind. Her mind raced with thoughts of what she could say, how she could comfort you, or how to even begin talking to you. 

Leaning against the kitchen table, Wanda's gaze fixed upon your back, watching your every move as you prepared tea for her. Nervous anticipation coursed through her veins, a gentle thrum of excitement filling her chest as she stared at you. She found herself entranced by the sight of you before her. The dress hugged you in all of the right spots, every line and curve fitting you perfectly. And Wanda couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly the fabric draped over your frame, molding itself to you, as if it had been designed with you in mind. Wanda didn’t know how long she was staring. Her eyes traced the gentle sway of your hips as you reached for a teacup, and she wanted nothing more than to pull you close to her.

“I broke up with him,” you blurted out suddenly. 

Lost in her admiration, Wanda's breath hitched ever so slightly at the sound of your voice, pulling her out of her trance. 

“I-I feel more relieved than sad actually… It’s like… I don’t know,” you sighed. “Should I be feeling guilty for being happy that we broke up? I feel like should be crying right now, but I feel… thankful.”

Wanda watched as you continued to make two cups of tea, your back turned to her, listening to your words carefully. 

“I just don’t know if it’s okay for me to…”

You sighed again, and even if you didn’t finish your sentence, Wanda had a feeling she knew what you were going to say. She could sense the guilt and uncertainty that weighed heavily on your mind, knowing all too well the thoughts that plagued her.

Just as you were about to voice out the rest of your thoughts, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, holding you softly as her front pressed against your back, “Is this okay?”

For a moment, you don’t say anything, and Wanda wonders if she should pull away and keep her distance until you decide what you feel is right or wrong. But her thoughts dissipated when she felt you nod. She sighed in relief, letting her eyes flutter closed as she brought her head down to your shoulder, kissing your skin there. 

“I heard,” she started, mumbling into your shoulder so quietly that you almost didn’t hear. “When Tyler came. I just… I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t do anything.”

You stayed quiet as she spoke, slowly stirring the tea in the mug in front of you. Gently, she slipped her hand into yours, intertwining her fingers softly with yours before bringing it up to her face to kiss the back of your hand.

“I’m proud of you. Really. I am,” she said, rubbing the pad of her thumb along your skin.

“You were right,” You sighed and smiled gently, using your hands to run them over hers, the ones that rested against your stomach, holding you close against her, “I knew you were right. But, I should’ve listened to you sooner… I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize,” she said, shaking her head against your back. “I knew you were nervous about it. And that you were scared… I knew. But I pressured you about it anyway, even though I knew you weren’t ready yet.”

You turned around to look at her, your hands landing on her shoulders, “Wanda—“

“I would have waited either way. I already have been. I would still wait for you if you need me too,” she said, more sincerely than you’d ever heard anyone say anything before. “I would do anything.”

You stood there, your heart momentarily caught off guard by the surge of emotions that flooded your being. Wanda's words lingered in your mind, filled with a depth of sincerity that you had never experienced before. The toxic grip that your ex-boyfriend had held on your heart suddenly seemed insignificant, overshadowed by the overwhelming love you felt from just looking into Wanda’s eyes alone. You smiled sadly, slightly mad at yourself for not dropping everything to be with her sooner. 

Bringing your hand up to her face, you smoothed your thumb over her cheek as a way to calm her down, “You don’t have to wait anymore, Wanda.”

Wanda's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in surprise and hope. She searched your gaze, her heart pounding with anticipation, trying to find any signs of regret or disapproval. 

“Please tell me you’re saying what I think you’re saying,” she breathed, waiting for the response that would shape the path ahead. But as she looked into your eyes, she saw something that sparked joy within her.

You brought a second hand up to cup her face and leaned in to press your lips against her cheek. She closed her eyes at the contact, the soft kiss did well to erupt butterflies in her stomach. Wanda sighed and dropped her head to hide her face against your neck after you kissed her, her breath tickling your skin slightly as her grip around your waist grew tighter. The corners of her own lips curved up into a smile that she 

couldn’t fight, a soft chuckle bubbling in her throat as she breathed you in.

“Do you really want this with me?”

“I love you,” you said, more certain than ever, watching as Wanda’s breath hitched at the sounds of your words. You smiled needily, entirely in love and filled with so many emotions you couldn’t contain them all at once. “I want everything with you.”

It was finally here—the moment when she could finally call you hers. Heart pounding, she reached her arms around you again keeping herself in your embrace and wanting to be as close as possible to you.

She hid her face again by tucking it into the side of your neck, nuzzling as close as she could, “I can’t stop smiling.”

Gently scratching the nape of Wanda’s neck to grab her attention, you urged her to bring her head back up. But the moment she did, you felt her lips press against yours. Her patience had worn thin, wanting to taste you after what felt like forever of not being close to you, not being able to touch you, hold you, or kiss you. Wanda sighed into the kiss, her hands sliding to the small of your back to pull you impossibly close to her while you let yours run through her hair. She moaned into your mouth when you tugged on it slightly.

Wanda smiled against your lips, thinking about all the ways she would love you, treasure you, unlike him. Her mind wandered in between the time she kissed you, the addicting taste of you on her tongue was making her feel weak in her knees. She found her hands slowly traveling down to your hips, then lower and lower, up until they rested on the lowest part of your back, her fingers bunching up the fabric of your dress. 

“What are you doing?” You pulled back with a giggle, looking at her, acting innocently curious.

“Kissing you,” she said, dragging her lips along the skin under your jaw, kissing you softly there as you tilted your head to the side to give her more space. “Can I help you out of this dress? Please?”

You shuddered at the sound of her low voice, your hands gripping her shoulders like your life depended on it. You nodded, about to say yes, but Wanda was quick to put her mouth on yours the second you opened it, slipping her tongue past your lips. 

The entire night she had to see your figure so beautifully displayed in this little black dress and ignore it. But it was damn near impossible now with you so close and moaning into her mouth. Wanda was at a loss for words. She just didn’t know how to say it. Everything was perfect now. You were perfect. The way the straps of your dress fell off your shoulders was perfect. The way you smelled and tasted. The way that Wanda could call you hers now, keep you all to herself.

And finally, her chest heaved only for a moment before she chose what to do and you closed your eyes and welcomed something you had long dreamed of. 

— navigation!

[princessbrunette]

rafe with crybaby reader cause my heart 😍 shes real nervous to leave his room when she’s over even tho they’ve been together for ages but he’s tapping her butt and telling her to be a big girl and to do what she wants. so she goes to get water and little miss clumsy drops something and it breaks. maybe wards been having a bad week or smth so he comes out of his study and yells a little and she just cries her eyes out. rafe would loose his shit I know it ‼️

goddddd this !!!! i relate to this so hard bc i am a huge cry baby :( i don’t think ward would yell but i think he’d be an asshole in his own intimidating, highkey terrifying way.

you cringe as the glass shatters, eyes instantly welling up as you gasp — wanting to slap yourself. you’re a guest in the cameron’s home and you’re already messing things up and breaking things, how ungrateful could you be? almost instantly you hear quick and heavy footsteps, not rafes— no, he didn’t walk like that, you knew what his footsteps sounded like. this was ward.

he stands in the doorway, mouth agape a little, just staring at you like ‘seriously?’ and you wanna sink into the ground.

“i’m so sorry, mr cameron it was totally an accident. i’ll— i’ll buy a new—” you start, jumping into action by squatting and carefully trying to pick up the shards with your fingers. you knew it was dumb, but you panicked and wanted to make things right as quickly as possible.

“just— out of the way please. don’t touch it.” he holds up his hand, cutting you off making your mouth shut quickly. he used a very clipped tone with you, different from the usual welcoming and kind voice he spoke to you in. you stay quiet, stepping aside as you anxiously bite at your finger nail, watching him open a closet and pull out a broom.

you don’t know why, but even though you felt totally guilty you expected him to sweep it up— however he pins you with a stern gaze and holds the broom out. “c’mon, you’re gonna clean it up. okay?” his tone isn’t gentle, leaving no room for suggestion, more threatening if anything. you swallow, nodding frantically and take it from him, sweeping up.

he leans on the counter with his arms crossed watching you as you gather the shards. “you know, i welcomed you into my home sweetheart and this is just… you see how it might irritate me right? i’m not being unfair?” he tilts his head, gesturing that he wants you to look at him.

“no sir, i really really am sorry, i would never disrespec—” you will the tears to stay inside.

“its just… i’m having a rough day, i come home, i gotta listen to my son fucking you for what, an hour straight, with no regard for who might hear, and now i just wanna relax, and you’re smashing my good glasses in the kitchen. i don’t even really know why you were reaching for these glasses, honey, the regular glasses are right there like it’s common sense...” his voice doesn’t raise once, but your lip is wobbling, avoiding his eyes due to how stern and intimidating he was. you had no idea ward could be like this, he seemed so kind at first.

“respect is important, yeah? just try and remember.” he finishes up, running his hands under the tap before sparing you one last disapproving glance and walking to the kitchens exit. at once, rafe appears in the doorway in his sweatpants, coming to see what was taking so long. he glances at you with the broom, and then his dad, brows furrowing in confusion.

“whats going on?”

“just maybe teach your girlfriend some basic house training or respect rafe, i don’t know i’m tired…” he trails off, walking past his son back into the hallway. rafe is quick to react as usual, face screwing up in disgust and swivelling his whole body to follow his dad.

“excuse me? no, the fuck did you just say?” he asks, voice a little raised. you sigh, swiping your tears on the back of your wrists and pouring the shards into the bin before following.

“don’t make this a thing son, she broke my good glass so she’s cleaning it up, go to bed.” he waves him off but rafe storms infront of him.

“are you serious? she’s a guest in our home, what you — you’re always fuckin’ telling me to treat the guests with respect so what— the same doesn’t apply to my girl? fucking… apologise, now.” he demands, making his dad simply scoff. rafe didn’t didn’t like that. he stares him down, pushing his tongue into his cheek before flickering his eyes up at you. “go back to my room, baby i’ll be up soon. clearly i gotta have a conversation with my old man.” he drawls, eyes fixated back on his dads face, beaming with anger.

you do as he says, as always. the tears fall freely once you’re back in his room, sat on his bed, face in your hands sobbing and mewling. all you could do was curse yourself out internally. logically, you knew it was just a glass but it felt like a huge deal to you, never wanting to disrespect anyone let alone your boyfriends father. you hear the familiar footsteps of your boyfriend eventually, and you don’t even try to compose yourself— continuing to cry even when he opened the door and re entered.

he sighs, anger and sadness flooding him at the fact that his father had made his baby cry like this, so soon into knowing eachother. he watches you for a moment, trying to let the anger subside, itching his head before slowly coming to sit beside you on the edge of the bed.

“i’m really, really sorry about that baby.” his voice is a warm comfort, slightly soothing your hurt.

“how have i already messed up so bad? he hates me now.” you whine and he shushes you with a frown, wrapping a strong arm around you to tuck your head beneath his chin, cheek to his chest.

“hey, hey, shh. my dads just an asshole… but he doesn’t hate you. he’s just having a bad day and decided to take it out on you for whatever fuckin’ reason. you’re all good. it’s just a glass, right? means nothin’.”

“it didn’t seem like it meant nothing to him.” you pull away to look at him, eyes watery and puffy bottom lip pouted. he sighs once more, both hands rising to wipe his thumbs beneath your eyes, caressing your cheeks.

“and like i said, he’s just an asshole. don’t let him get to you baby. yeah?”

you sniffle. “yeah.”

“good, show me that smile, c’mon.” a hand drops down to your waist, digging his fingers in a little, threatening to tickle. you can’t help it, even just a threat of a smile on rafes lips makes you grin, which only mirrors in his expression. “there y’go. that’s my big girl.”

[lufyuu]

Every time I read one of your blogs, I wonder what your OCs would be like with a reader who is already married (her husband is probably cheating) and the reader is super romantic (the very affectionate type) Charismatic and affectionate How would they react?

Thanks for reading, we love you 💖❤️

I'm not sure if you read the rules as I have stated that I don't write for fem readers, bc of that, this will be gn reader!

Eun Hyunwoo

Considering you're a married idol, you have to watch who you interact with as people would probably overanalyze your interactions with other people. Even if you're just being friendly, they could misinterpret it as you liking them. Because of that, the friendship between you and Eun Hyunwoo stays that way, just a friendship. Well this is until Eun Hyunwoo was taking pictures of you that he realized your husband was on the couch texting someone while smiling. He didn't think much but couldn't help but to take a small peak at the contents of the chats. That's how he found out you had an unfaithful husband. Hyunwoo wanted to tell you but didn't want to be the reason your marriage failed which is why it was only until the affair was publicized that he finally told you. Of course you were heartbroken, considering how you're already dealing with divorce papers and lawyers, the news that he had been cheating on you for longer than you thought made everything worse. Ever since then, Hyunwoo was the only person you could turn to for comfort. It was partially because he felt bad that he made you feel worse but also partly because he had seen how sweet you were and wanted to get to know you better. After a few months, you eventually started to move on from the whole ordeal. It was then that Hyunwoo and you started going out as more than friends. Each second he spetn time with you, he kept thinking 'how could anyone cheat on them' or 'their ex fumbled' because of how sweet you are. You remember his favorite restaurants, took care of him whenever he was overworked, etc. You had a way with your words, everytime you complimented him, it felt as if he was being complimented by the Gods themselves. Whenever he's around you, he can feel his cheeks get red due to your actions and words alone. To this very day, he still doesn't understand why your pathetic excuse of an ex cheated.

River Sterling

Considering that you're both still in Uni, I'll take it as a boyfriend situation. Nothing can get past River, especially not rumours. He hears everything that goes down in the walls of the Uni you both go to. Including when your now ex was kissing and feeling up 10 different girls in the same janitor's closet. He didn't care about it at first as he didn't know who the hell was pleasuring all these girls but once he found out it was your 'boyfriend'? That's a whole nother story. He wouldn't tell you directly, he set up a whole scenario so you could find out for yourself! The expression on your ex's face and one of his side chicks' were hilarious to River. What wasn't funny was you sobbing uncontrollably. He had thought you'd at least swing at the guy but you didnt. You were in shock and decided to flee the place. River felt guilty at that point and decided to grab your wrist as you were leaving the building. He hated the expression on your face. That day, River did everything he could to cheer you up. Gosh he was even thinking of eliminating your ex for you if you allowed it. River really fell for your charisma and personality. He wasn't used to real affection being given to him without asking anything in return. The more he was with you, the more he fell inlove with you. The two of you would always hold hands on campus, he doesn't hide your relationship like a certain someone once did. Whatever you want, you'll get it and River will make sure of it.

Liu Zihao

I honestly don't know how this trope would work with Liu Zihao seeing as the reader is depicted as a heartless serial killer in his story but let's say you're not heartless in this au and you have a partner in crime who is also your husband. The two of you have been working together for a long time and have great synergy. That is until the one time you two almost got caught, he decided to abandon you for his own safety. This ended up in you having to face not just any jury but Lord Liu himself. You were sure your spouse would come to fetch you sooner or later but he never showed. Out of rage, you decided to reveal where the two of you had been hiding all these months to avoid getting caught. What you didn't expect was being given a special sentencing by Liu Zihao. Being stuck in a luxurious house wasn't that bad afterall. Honestly, after several days being in his home, you warmed up to him. His personality reminded you that of a cat's. Sometimes a dog's too. Even if he didn't say anything, you could feel his eyes on you everytime he was around. Depsite all this, you were almost always bored so you decided to pick up a hobby. Baking and cooking. After testing out a few recipes, you fed some of your cooking to Zihao who was thrilled you cooked for him! Well technically not for him but he doesn't know that, let a man be happy. You were honestly like a house spouse at that point. Not that Zihao minded, he loved tasting your crafts, they always tasted amazing to him. The two of you became something akin to lovers without even mentioning to to one another. At least in Zihao's eyes you're the one for him. Maybe it was because you had lived almost a whole 5 years being married that you treated Zihao as if he was your husband. Your affection made Zihao fell ever so inlove with you. On that topic what ever happened to your husband? Well don't worry about him, he was found guilty for all the crime you did and also a few infidelity crimes. He was executed on the spot of course. Nothing will get in the way of the two of you!

Han Minho

While you were in the military, your husband decided his dick wasn't being tend to enough and stuck it into another person's hole. He did this while you were none the wiser. Even when you sent him letters, he rarely ever read them. Instead, your letters would be thrown in the trash bin next to the bed he was fucking a woman in. You thought he was busy so you brushed it off. Maybe it's something the two of you would have to talk about after you get discharged but until then, you should focus on your duties. Although Minho found you attractive, he didn't act on his feelings knowing you were already married. He was a better man than that. However, when you were discharged early and decided to surprise your husband...Let's just say you came out of the house divorced. You couldn't believe the man that vowed to love you until death would be fucking another woman in your bed no less. While you were getting coffee, eyes swollen from crying the night before, you bumped into someone you didn't expect. Han Minho. He noticed your red eyes and immediately asked what was wrong. He didn't understand how you went from being such a sweet and happy person to having red eyes from crying too much. The two of you sat down as you told him what had happened. The two of you never had a close relationship but you really needed to get the whole thing off your shoulders. Minho understood what you were going through. He offered for you to stay at his place for a bit. Better than whatever hotel you had decided was better than the house you shared with a cheater. It was then that the two of you started going out more. You practically spent every moment from waking up to going to sleep together. You offered to pay some bills but Minho said there was no need for that, he had everything covered. As repayment for not only taking care of you and hearing you out, but also letting you stay, you gave him gifts every week according to what he liked. You noticed even the smallest thing. Like how he would look at a piece of cake for a bit too long. Next morning, he would find the cake in the fridge waiting for him to bite into it. The two of you felt as if this was the life you both wanted. To feel seen and loved by one another. Han Minho will make sure your ex doesn't ever come near you ever again. He'll love you even if death eventually parts the two of you.

Xu RenFeng

Being apart of royalty and the second born of the imperial palace, you were married to a known and trusted general of the family. Renfeng, being the spy he was, knew the two of you were married. He admired you from afar, your personality and smile made his day even if they weren't towards him and rather, towards a man undeserving of your love. He wanted a reason to steal you away and a reason was given to him alright. Renfeng had spotted your unfaithful husband in a brothel with 4 women all up in his personal space, touching him in places one shouldnt ever unless they were married. The general not only stayed still but even encouraged it. He was about to slice his throat but didn't want to cause a scene. Renfeng waited until the general exited the place, satisfied with his infidelity and sliced his head on the spot. You woke up the next day to screams in the palace. Not knowing what was wrong, you got up quickly to see what the fuss was all about, only to see your husband's severed head stuck on the spikes of the outerwall. It had a note on it, 'undeserving of your love'. It seems whoever planted this clearly wanted you to see it, and the note. They wanted your attention. Well Renfeng did get what he wanted after kidnapping you and taking you to where he thought you would be 'safe'. His definition of safe is definitely contradicting with yours. It'll take you some time to be affectionate towards your kidnapper but he'll be on the receiving end of your affection soon enough, he just has to play the waiting game.

~~

Honestly this was a bit too long😥

[nightcolorz]

Have been actually shocked by the takes of Louis and Armand’s relationship dynamic that I have been seeing in which people act like Armand’s subservience is manipulative and evil.

As someone who was also a victim of grooming in my youth (though obvs not like Armand level of traumatic events bc good lord that boy cannot catch a break) I always found Armand to be a really compelling character, and I loved how they were handling the psychological impact of his abuse on his relationships within the show and they all felt very relatable to a degree. I was like mind blown by the way they handled how Louis and Armand’s pasts related to each others and thought it was super clever and it made me go “holy shit” in a way that a tv show hasn’t made me go in a long time. Though I can see where some of the takes are coming from, it has been really disheartening as a victim of grooming to see people dismiss Armand’s behavior when he’s with Louis as purely a form of manipulation on Armand’s part or a fun silly sex thing 😭😭😭

YES ANON FR!!! also very disheartening and genuinely offensive to me how some ppl talk about Armand and his trauma (also am a victim of grooming lol). I’ve talked about this before, but the way ppl r saying with their full chests that Armand is being manipulative in his trauma responses is like actually fucked up, and it’s low key triggering to me 😭. Just bcus armand manipulates ppl doesn’t mean he is *always* manipulating ppl omfg 💀💀 some nuance pls I beg of u.

to me it seems very clear that Armand falls into subservience and behaves as the victim bcus the abuse he experienced was the closest he ever felt to feeling like he understood what he was doing and understood what he was needed for. For a lot of victims of grooming their abuse can cause them to feel safe in those types of abusive dynamics bcus it’s familiar to them, which def seems to be how it is for Armand. Armand feels constantly lost and confused and by being a slave again he returns to a time where he knew what he was, when he had someone there to tell him what he was. And it comes off very clearly to me that Louis sees this in Armand when Armand tells him about his trauma and (as he’s also in a vulnerable position) realizes that he can use Armand’s pattern of submitting to servitude to his advantage. Which!!! That is objectively fucked up im sorry 😭 and I’m tired of being in a fandom where ppl r acting like just bcus Louis is a likeable sympathetic character and Armand does mistreat Louis also, that means Louis isn’t capable of mistreating Armand. Bcus it sounds like when ppl make those excuses that they r saying sexual exploitation like that is ok 😭. Just bcus Armand agrees to and participates in it doesn’t mean Louis isn’t knowingly exploiting the trauma of a vulnerable person 😭 and it doesn’t make it ok. Like we can find it fun and sexy, but the “face down in the coffin” scene was still borderline non con sensual 😭 yknow what I’m saying? You can like Louis as ur fav and discuss how Armand is shitty to him without acting like it’s ok for Louis to pretend to be Armand’s abuser as he orders him around like an animal so he’ll do what he wants. This is an incredibly complex dynamic with two very fucked up characters who hurt and abuse each other out of fear, and some of u can’t handle that nuance 😭.

and I understand not being able to grasp the nuance of Armand’s character, it took me like a year to fully wrap my head around him. He’s got a lot going on and it’s hard to understand why he behaves the way he does, especially if you haven’t experienced sexual trauma or grooming. But just like, y’all have to remember that it can come off as pretty shitty and bad faith to interpret a character like this as always being evil all the time. Ur reducing someone very complex and ur making some borderline offensive (also borderline racist but that’s a different rant) implications

thank u sm for the ask anon ur so right and I relate so hard to ur annoyances ❤️❤️

[sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast]

haiii I was wondering if you could write a fic with nanami and a chubby reader with a big chest, I'm fine with anything so go wild with the fic :))

*sips tea* my first nanami request, giggles. All I could think when I read this was ceo!nanami with his pretty new assistant, so that's what I'm going with♡ it'll be a mix of fluff w/ nsfw bc why not? Hope you don't mind

Content: ceo!nanami. Chubby!reader. Sfw/nsfw. Mdni. Talk of titties, bj, slightly horny Nanami, smidge of jelly nanami, cum on tits.

Part two.

When Nanami first met you, he didn't really know what to think. A new assistant was a new assistant. They were all the same. He hadn't cared much for most of them. Now, that wasn't to say he was mean, but he treated it strictly professional. Like he should. Teaching them the ropes, giving detailed plans of what their tasks were. The usual. And for the most part, they'd done their job. Albeit slow, messy; he found himself cleaning up after them. Which ultimately led him to cut them loose. Earning a reputation as a strict boss who asks for too much.

But not you. You were diligent, punctual, tidy, kind.

After having you as his assistant for over a week, he could tell you were different. And he didn't have any plans on cutting you lose anytime soon. There was one problem, though. It seemed he had become... too, infatuated with how you did things. It was innocent at first. He found it cute how you'd chew the end of your pen when you concentrated hard on a document you were reading. Or how you'd always pass out coffees in the morning, unprompted, as you remembered everyone's coffee orders. How you reminded him, even though you didn't need to, that he needed to have dinner. You'd noticed he was staying late recently in the office and would always poke your head in. Brows furrowed but still a smile on your face. "Sir, don't forget to eat dinner! It's important to eat your meals." Nanami, of course, would always nod, giving you a curt thank you before secretly watching you leave. His heart thumps rather irregularly whenever you'd say those things.

Eventually, his thoughts began to...turn a lot less innocent. The first occurrence was when he saw you outside of work, a pure coincidence. You were in casual clothes. Showing a lot more skin than you would at the office. And your makeup was a lot less..subtle too. Nanami found that he liked it. A lot. "Oh, Sir! I didn't think I'd see you out in the open like this." You gave him a smile, and it was then he truly paid special attention to your plump lips. And soon, his gaze would wander. To the curve of your waist, the plush of your thighs. Your...assets, sitting particularly perky today. Or had they always been like that? Safe to say, he ended that conversation early with an excuse before you noticed the boner that made a surprise entrance.

And ever since that day. He's paid special attention, more than before, to every move you made. You chewing cutely on your pen? Turned into him thinking about your lips wrapped around him. Bringing him a coffee? Turned into his wandering eyes on your ass as you left his office. And anytime you'd poke your cute face in, reminding him to eat. He had to force himself not to ask if you'd care to share a meal. One where, preferably at the end, you'd be his dessert.

With his head in his hands, Nanami sighed. What was he supposed to do about this peculiar situation.

A knock came to the door. "Enter," he said, sounding exasperated. And of course, your cute self just had to waltz in here. Your curves especially on display today with your outfit. Someone take him out.

"Sir? Are you alright? I've been calling you for the past five minutes. You have a call on line one. Should I tell them to call back?" The worry on your face made him feel guilty. Guilty for all the definitely not safe for work thoughts he had and were currently having about you. "I'm fine. Stress comes with the territory." A lie. Somewhat. You pouted your lips-fuck.

"You know what helps me? A shoulder massage. I could give you one!" His mind immediately sent alarm bells. Telling him to say no, to decline. Yet still, he found himself saying, "If you're offering." You smiled wide, coming around behind him. Setting your notepad on his desk before cracking your fingers, and soon they were on his shoulders. Digging into his tensed muscles with astute precision. God, it felt good. Too good, he reminded himself. He shouldn't be letting you do this yet he couldn't find it in himself to ask you to stop. That was until you did, unprompted, with a clearing of your throat.

"Um, Sir?" You questioned and he was confused. Until he finally tuned back into his senses and that's when he felt it. The heavy weight of his dick between his legs. Hard and leaking, simply from your lithe fingers working at his muscles. He stood up immediately, running a hand down his face. "I'm sorry, this is totally-"

"I can help with that, too." He heard you say, making him blink. And before he could question you further, he watched you drop to your knees. Fumbling with his belt and buttons before slipping him out of his slacks. What was happening? He should stop this. This wasn't appropriate. But he didn't. Instead, he laced his fingers in your hair, helping guide you onto his length. Eyes hazed with lust when he looked down at you, your pretty lips wrapped so sweetly around him. How your tits would bounce with the movement of your head, really driving the urge to slot himself in between in his head. But that could come later. Later? He wouldn't-he couldn't.

Nanami swore, feeling you suck him with expertise. He wondered how many times you've done this. How often. And for some reason, jealously, slowly creeped into his veins. He had no right to be jealous, thinking of how many cocks you've had in your mouth before him, but it did. And it lead him to fucking your mouth roughly. Making a true mess of your mouth before he pulled out, stroking with persistence as he came all over your breasts. Marking you, in a weird way.

And he was going to apologize. His brain fog slowly fading but when you smiled at him. Seemingly happy with what had occurred, he snapped his mouth shut. Tucking himself back into his pants and offering you some tissues. "Thank you," you said. Cleaning off his seed, tossing it into the trash before standing up.

"Let me know if you ever need help relaxing again, Sir." And you said nothing more as he watched you leave.

He was fucked.

A/N: low key kinda wanna make a pt 2 for this. Thoughts?

[puhpandas]

Sorry rant incoming-

Cassie and Gregory’s characters being ruined by a book. A BOOK. Actually sucks dude. I guess you could argue GGY already put Gregory’s character down the path of no return but at least that book was well-written so I could excuse it then.

I had a funny feeling that Cassie was gonna be dumbed down in order for the plot to work I just knew it. I like Gregory but dare I say Gregory feels slightly overpowered? As in, he’s not allowed to fuck up like a realistic human being should. As a villain, he never has screw ups, like even William had major screw ups that costed him in the end. This is like a huge reason why people hate Gregory and it’s because he never shows vulnerability or moments of weakness, even as GGY.

Gregory can be used as a plot device and still be narratively well-written and feel like a kid and have other traits than just “dark humor DARK HUMOR LOL!!!” like GOD Scott. This story has become a huge guessing game and my god is it frustrating and making it hell to follow.

I don't think ggy feels overpowered bc already by him being the 2nd follower of glitchtrap he has a higher power than him controlling him too. also the very fact that Gregory is free in security breach tells us that he obviously screwed up and got killed at some point, we just havent seen that yet. ggy has a lot of traits that could lead to his downfall like arrogance, because sure he had control over the situation from the start when tony started investigating him and uncovering the truth, but he also purposefully allowed him to get further in his investigation because he thought it was amusing, and he knew hed kill him later anyway

ggy is super smart but hes also still a kid and his choices are calculated but sometimes risky, like letting tony live for so long and get closer to the truth. but the very fact that hes in control of situations most of the time tells us that if he ever LOST control, he probably wouldnt know what to do, which is what had to have happened to him for Gregory to get freed. we just havent seen that play out yet, but I dont think ggy is overpowered at all. hes a cog in the machine that overall mimic oversees, things were still able to move without him in security breach with just vanny, and he has a visible role too with him being the person to put the virus into the animatronics and keep it there. he isnt rlly meant to be a killer he just killed therapists to keep VANNY in line (along w his own when they pried too much) bc shes supposed to be the one that does the dirty work. but even then he canonically used freddy/a different robot to do it

and since he pretty much at this point canonically has amnesia in security breach, he wouldn't remember ggy so that's plenty of room for Gregory to have his half of his story where hes just himself and deals with problems without ggy being associated as just gregory (which I want so bad. I've been a Gregory fan since sb an entire year before ggy released, I love ggy but Gregory takes priority to me), and the other half which is obviously ggy, and in my best case scenario we could get to see HIM react to his past which would still be about Gregory and not ggy at the end of the day from a character writing standpoint. I cant choose what will happen but those are really our only two major questions left about how Gregory and ggy combine so. looking forward to it, especially bc steel wool seems to understand how to handle the mimic lore in sotm from what I've seen by making new content weve never seen before expanding upon book lore. sotm is to answer questions, and a game about ggy getting freed would add more questions along with solving them bc of who would have to be freeing him, and it would still leave a giant hole in how the current present day Gregory feels about all of this. they could knock both of them out if it takes place present-gregory pov looking back on it

sorry for hijacking the ask to be just about ggy, but yeah cassie was done so dirty in this book like its unbelievable, I knew from the very beginning when etp got announced (& from the original synopsis, which is like absolutely nothing like what we got) that itd fuck with her character and mess it up, but I was relieved when I found out it would be mostly about ggy but then it wasnt even and it was just a big pile of nothing while still ruining everything. I genuinely think the reception on this book as a whole from a quality standpoint was SO bad that this book will probably not even be canon anymore if it was ever supposed to be. it just fucks with so many things & theres no way steel wool was involved in any of it, when it's their entire era. I feel like theyll just let the storm pass and then continue as normal as if it never existed, continuing to write the games with only the games content in mind and I truly hope I'm right about this

[devilsrecreation]

More thoughts on TLG episodes

The Savannah Summit:

First things first, major kudos to Makuu for actually being responsible and caring about what’s best for his float

You really can’t blame Kion and everyone else to be super skeptical about Makuu. I know he changed for the better, but he’s done…a lot since he beat Pua

“but to invite him to the Savannah Summit? With all these other peaceful animals?”—I hate to break it to you, Kion, but just bc an animal is an herbivore doesn’t mean they’re peaceful and friendly. If anything, it means survivor

Crocs at the Summit worked with Pua cuz everybody loves him 😎

“Makuu has more enemies than friends!”—So does Bunga lmao

The song is great. I love how everyone seems annoyed at first but near the end, it’s all 🎶Kumbaya, my lord! 🎶. Except Makuu…dude looks like he’s lowkey regretting his life choices he did NOT ask for a bs song

I’m totally on Makuu’s side. He was genuinely trying to be civil here, especially when it comes to Bupu

At least Beshte was trying to be the mediator cuz he looks at Makuu AND Bupu, Kion was just being kinda speciesist

Shut up, Bupu, you started the whole thing

Vuruga Vuruga saying “buffalo eat whatever we want” is actually pretty accurate. They, like other animals, don’t care. I read that buffalo will occasionally eat insects if it were an option. Even Twiga could sucking on a bone if she wanted to. Seriously, look it up

If Zazu had a nickel for every time a rhino used him as a chair, he’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice (great nod to the OG movie)

Rafiki is such a mood “not the official painting” you old ass gremlin/aff

I remember Athena P criticizing Simba for blaming Kion about ruining the Summit after Makuu understandably leaves and I agree. Wtf Simba he’s 10. Go easy on him, come on 😭

The part that irks me the most is that when Mufasa asks “What has Makuu done to make you think this way?”, Kion says “Nothing, really”. BRO WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘NOTHING REALLY’?! I understand Mufasa meant what Makuu has done today but there are a LOT of things Makuu’s done in the past that Kion should have told his grandpa. In fact, here’s a whole list:

-Taking over Big Springs when he became leader, resulting in all the animals to scatter

-Challenging kids to fight

-Taking over the flood plains

-Trying to eat Basi which would have been just him being a crocodile if not for the fact that the reason is so he wouldn’t have to follow any rules (says so on the wiki)

-TAKING NALA HOSTAGE (seriously did Simba even KNOW about that? Did Nala or Kion bother to tell him?)

-Generally being a dick to animals

Makuu I know you did nothing wrong in this episode, but you can’t blame Kion for acting this way

I’m not placing any blame on Mtoto. He’s a good boy and all he did was tell the guard what he heard and that’s it

Twiga and Vuruga Vuruga coming up with the trap doesn’t surprise me. Cape buffalo are actually really vengeful irl so it makes sense how she wanted to teach Makuu a lesson. They ain’t called “Black Death” or “Widow Maker” for nothing

It’s cool how Makuu took the prank well. Respect.

Wonder how Makuu felt about animals fighting over him lmao?

Let Sleeping Crocs Lie

Once again this episode would be VERY different if my oc Piga was still alive

Kiburi has a right to be mad. I’m not excusing what he does later in the episode but I’d be pissed too if someone woke me up

Okay but Nduli sleeping next to Kiburi is adorable. Adds to my hc how close they are

Serious question: Why exactly can’t the crocs go back to sleep after they’ve been woken up? The obvious answer is bc it drives the plot forward, but is it true in actual crocodiles? I kinda wanna know the scientific reason

Good on Makuu for going the pacifism route. He’d really do anything for his float

Love how Kiburi was like “Yeah yeah, whatever you say” but the second Makuu left, he was like “ANARCHY!”

Idk if any of you caught this, but when Ushari’s like “we reptiles will rule the pridelands under your leadership, right?” Scar actually hesitated before going “sure bud”. That makes me think he was going to betray Ushari the moment he and his army get rid of Simba and the Lion Guard

Crocs really DO need a lot of water, otherwise their lives are on the line. Makuu was really more concerned than upset

“KIBURI! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”—Fighting a child, what’s it look like

Side hc: I like to think something similar happened with Pua, Piga, and Kujivunia. Pua saw Piga antagonizing some poor young animal and he was all “Piga! What in the Pridelands do you think you’re doing?” and Kujivunia (who happened to be there), with her typical sarcasm was like “Performing a dance number, Pua 🙄”

There go the skinks again. Njano with his cuteness and Shupavu…doing her best Grinch face

“At least you’ll be close to all your friends!”Awww Beshte trying to be positive 🥺

Kiburi saying “we crocs deserve better!” brings me back to my hc that Kiburi had good intentions (again, until further in the episode), he just went about it the wrong way. He’s almost like an activist in a way. He’s not trying to be selfish, he just wanted a better watering hole. Now going as far as to rule the Pridelands…..yeah too far

The background crocodiles who were like 😦 when Kiburi called for the mashindano are so me. I’m the one going “Ooooooh shit!”

Still not getting over that super gay conversation between Kiburi and Ushari

STILL CAN’T GET OVER HOW KIBURI AND HIS FLOAT LAUGH AAAAA (Neema’s laugh tho)

Nduli looks so derpy I love him

I LOVE HOW SELF-AWARE TAMKA IS WHAT AN ICON

Lmao Nduli just gave up like “Fuck it you win”

Love the parallels of Makuu pinning down Kiburi like he did to Pua

Kiburi, I love you but what the hell did you expect? You literally confessed to like 500 animals about your plan and then you get surprised when Simba and Makuu banish you? What did you think was gonna happen? You got way too cocky, I swear

Saying this again, Tamka and Nduli looked worried/traumatized when they were exiled

“Now you’re calling me a reptile?”—My love, you ARE a reptile. I thought crocodiles were supposed to be smart omg

Kiburi’s actually showing emotion for the first time

OMG JANJA HEY BABY HOW ARE YOU?

Full disclosure: “I have a plan” is mediocre at best. It has nothing on Be Prepared. That being said, I love Kiburi’s “Aiight I’m in” smile

That’s pretty much it. Maybe I’ll do more in the future

[love-kurdt]

Don't Blame Me (byler): 3

word count: 6,840

warnings for this chapter: MAJOR DEPRESSION, and another thing i'll add at the end notes bc it kind of spoils the plot. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

1.

For the past few days, Will and Wyatt had fallen into a hesitant but steady pattern of phone calls. Each conversation felt like an unspoken agreement: they might not be best friends, they might share complicated history, but they both cared about Mike, and they both needed someone to talk to in his absence. So when Wyatt arrived unannounced at Will’s doorstep, rumpled from a four-hour drive, it wasn’t entirely shocking he’d come. What was surprising was the sense of relief Will felt when he saw Wyatt standing there.

When Will asked why Wyatt was there, he’d replied with: “Wanted to see how you’re doing. You sounded kinda off when we last talked.” He paused, scanning Will’s face for clues. “Anyway, I needed an excuse to get out of Indy. You’re that excuse.”

Will’s stomach fluttered, half with gratitude, half with guilt. “Well, I appreciate it.” His voice broke a little at the end, the quiet living room behind him feeling a bit less forlorn now. “Come in, it’s cold out.”

Wyatt stepped inside. “Brought some stuff,” he said, lifting the grocery sack. “Snacks, mostly. Figured we could hang out.”

Will exhaled a laugh, short but genuine. “Sure. I’m up for anything.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “Let’s get you fed first. Four hours is no joke.”

The aroma of non-moldy cacio e pepe (Will had been inspired by their conversation) lingered in the space, and Wyatt took a seat at the table as Will retrieved bowls. They ate quietly, talking about the drive, about Wyatt’s last film project, about nothing at all until it felt more natural. Will noticed how Wyatt’s gaze would roam the room– Mike’s jacket still hanging from a chair, an empty mug on the windowsill– evidence of the absence they were both ignoring.

They finished dinner and moved into the living room. Wyatt settled on the couch, rummaging through the grocery sack for a bag of chips. Will sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the chair, flipping channels on the battered TV. It was easy conversation, mostly; a gentle up-and-down of casual remarks. Underneath, Will felt the weight of relief that Wyatt was there, keeping the house from feeling so big.

Eventually, yawns and the late hour caught up with them. Will insisted Wyatt take the bed, but Wyatt waved him off. “I can handle the couch,” he said, patting the worn cushions. “Seriously. I’ve slept in worse places.”

Will didn’t argue. “At least take the extra blanket,” he told him, grabbing a folded quilt from the closet. Wyatt accepted it with a quiet nod. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Will said, standing by the couch’s arm. He wanted to say more, to thank Wyatt, to say how much it meant that he’d traveled so far, but the words stuck. Instead, Wyatt gave a quick, easy grin, slipping out of his jacket and shoes. “Night, Byers,” he said, pushing a pillow into place.

“Night,” Will echoed, turning off the lamp as he headed for his room. He paused in the hallway, catching Wyatt’s silhouette in the weak glow from the streetlights outside. There was something almost comforting about that quiet shape on the couch. The house felt steadier, less hollow.

Will woke to faint sounds: a kettle whistling, cabinets opening. For a second, he thought it might be Mike, but reality sank in, and he remembered Wyatt. He threw on Mike’s U of Indy sweatshirt and padded into the kitchen. There was Wyatt, bleach blonde hair sticking up in all directions, rummaging for a mug.

“I found instant coffee,” Wyatt said by way of greeting, voice still rough with sleep. “Hope that’s okay.”

Will scratched the back of his neck, yawning. “Mike lives off that stuff.” 

“Oh, I remember.”

He joined Wyatt at the counter, and they stood side by side in companionable near-silence until the kettle steamed. They poured coffee, burnt and overly bitter, but comforting all the same. They brought their mugs to the living room, and Wyatt leaned on the edge of the couch. He’d folded the quilt neatly, placing it on the arm. Will sank into the chair across from him.

“So,” Will asked, swirling his coffee, “headed back soon?”

“Yeah, I should get on the road,” Wyatt said, glancing at the wall clock. “Gotta get back before night classes.” Then, more quietly: “I’m glad I came, though.”

Will set his mug aside. Something inside him shifted, the heaviness of the last two weeks easing a fraction. “Me too,” he admitted. “You… you didn’t have to do this, but I appreciate it.” Wyatt looked at him for a moment, as if weighing how to respond, then stood. Will followed, escorting him to the door. “Thank you,” Will said. “For driving all this way.”

Wyatt hesitated, as if searching for the right words. But before he could find them, Will closed the distance and pulled him into a quick, firm hug. Wyatt’s arms came around him a little awkwardly at first, but then steadied, returning the embrace. Neither said anything in that moment, no mention of Mike, no talk of the uncertain future. It was just a shared warmth in an otherwise chilly morning. Will stepped back, blinking against the sudden sting in his eyes.

“Seriously. Thank you,” he repeated, quieter now. Wyatt gave one resolute nod, a small, lopsided smile flickering on his face.

“Take care of yourself,” he said. “Say hi to Mike for me later.” 

“Wait, what?”

Wyatt chuckled softly, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “The two weeks are up.”

Will froze. “Oh my God, really?”

“I mean, they’ll technically end at six, but… yeah,” Wyatt leaned against the doorframe, his grin widening. “Time flies, right?”

Will shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that,” he muttered, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping him. His heart was already racing at the thought. “But I’ll definitely tell him you said hi.”

“And, you know…” Wyatt added. “Call if you need anything. Seriously.”

Will nodded. As Wyatt stepped outside and turned back for a final wave, Will heard himself call out, “Drive safe.” He closed the door then, leaving him alone once again in the quiet house. Even then, the day felt marginally lighter. If nothing else, Wyatt’s visit reminded Will that he wasn’t the only one waiting for Mike’s return. They were all caught in the same orbit, trying to keep each other from spinning out.

2.

Mike stood by the living room window, phone clutched in his damp palm. The faded rug beneath his feet felt uneven, as if each thread threatened to trip him. He could hear the soft clink of dishes in the kitchen– Joyce, busy cleaning up after dinner– and the muffled grumble of Hopper’s radio from the hall. They’d been nothing short of lifesavers these past two weeks, letting him crash in Will’s old room, driving him to meetings, offering quiet conversations at midnight when the urge to drink roared too loud. But for fourteen days, he’d followed the counselor’s no-contact rule. Not a single phone call to Will.

Tonight, that rule ended.

He inhaled, imagining how Will might respond, whether he’d pick up or let it ring. The phone pressed cold against his ear as he dialed, every digit a small jolt of memory. He couldn’t remember the last time his hands had shaken like this. After three rings, the line clicked.

A rustle, then: “Hello?” Will’s voice sounded both cautious and hopeful, as if he, too, had spent every night waiting for the phone to ring.

Mike’s breath snagged. “It’s me,” he managed, words faltering. “I can finally call.”

A pause. He pictured Will’s face shifting, maybe relief, maybe tears. “Mike,” Will said, voice tight. “I’ve been counting down the days. Are you… are you okay?”

Mike moved away from the window, settling onto the couch. The old floral cushion gave under his weight, and he gripped the phone cord as though it might anchor him. “I’m… here,” he said. “Joyce’s been making me dinner, Hop’s been hauling me to appointments. Feels surreal.”

He heard Will’s exhale, soft through the receiver. “Surreal’s better than destructive,” Will said. “I wanted to call so many times… Mom said the counselor made it clear you weren’t allowed contact. I hated it. I hated not hearing you.”

Mike shut his eyes, tears pressing the corners. “Missed you every second,” he whispered. “I’d go to these meetings, talk about everything that brought me here, about how I’m supposed to rebuild my life. But all I wanted was to tell you… I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

A shaky breath came through the line. “I believe you,” Will said gently. “I know it’s hard for you to accept, but I believe you.” There was a rustling, as though Will might be pacing, or sitting somewhere with one foot tapping the floor. “You sound exhausted. Is it the meetings? Or… everything else?”

Mike leaned back, gazing at a patch of chipped paint on the ceiling. “A bit of both,” he admitted, voice wavering. “Sometimes it feels like I traded one heaviness for another. I’m not stumbling drunk anymore, but I’m wide awake at night. I keep thinking about all the times I let you down, and when I hurt you–” He bit his lip, choking on fresh emotion.

“Hey,” Will said. “Don’t do that. Not now, at least. One step at a time, right?”

Mike mustered a faint smile, even though Will couldn’t see it. “That’s what the counselor keeps saying. She’s like a broken record. One day at a time, one meeting at a time, one… apology at a time.”

Will cleared his throat. “So… how is it living with my parents? I know they can be… overbearing.”

Mike let out the faintest chuckle, a ragged note of humor. “They’re a little bit overbearing, sure. Joyce is always asking if I’ve eaten, if I need a sweater. Always telling me ‘You’re way too skinny, honey.’” He heard Will let out a loud laugh at that. “Hopper keeps a close eye, but also… backs off enough so I can breathe. Never thought I’d say it, but I’m grateful they’re not tiptoeing around me. They treat me like I’ve messed up but still deserve a chance.”

A pause, and Will’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m glad,” he said. “Because you do deserve that.”

Tears threatened again. Mike let them come. “I wish you were here,” he murmured. “I wish we could just… talk all night, or watch some dumb movie, like we used to. The house is so quiet when they go to bed. I keep wondering if you’re awake too.”

“I am,” Will confessed, a soft hitch in his breathing. “Half the time, I picture you sneaking out to try and call. But the rules were so strict, I didn’t want to push them and get you in trouble.”

Mike nodded, staring at the phone cord twisted in his fingers. “I hated it, Will. Hated that the only place I could see you was in my dreams. Sometimes they were… good, and sometimes they were nightmares, but either way I’d wake up feeling lonely as hell.”

“I kept your hoodie on your side of the bed, just to remind myself that you’re coming back,” Will said. “A couple of times, I slept in it, but it didn’t feel right, so I shoved a pillow inside of it and… I hold it and pretend it’s you. I know it’s creepy and stupid, but…”

“Not stupid,” Mike laughed. “A tiny bit creepy, but your heart is in the right place. Thank you. For… not giving up on me.”

“Do you realize how terrified I was? I kept thinking you’d give up.” For a moment, the line hummed in fragile quiet. Then Will whispered, “I’m so proud of you. Even if it hurts to say that out loud, knowing how far we have to go. But I am. I really am.”

Mike let a tear slip onto his cheek, the feeling an odd release. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, voice trembling.

“Yes you do,” Will objected gently. “And we’re here because we chose each other, right?”

“Right.” He shut his eyes, imagining Will’s calloused hand in his. Strong hands with prominent knuckles and smudged with acrylics. “God, I want to see you,” he breathed.

“I want to see you, too.” Their conversation slowed into a lull, edged with longing that neither wanted to end. Eventually, a faint knock sounded on the living room archway; Joyce, no doubt, checking if Mike was ready for bed. Mike brushed the tears off his cheeks, swallowing against the ache of parting.

“Hey,” he said reluctantly, “I should go. I can practically feel Joyce hovering.”

Will exhaled, an audible shiver of breath. “Okay,” he whispered. “Call me whenever you can. Please. Doesn’t matter if it’s midnight.”

Mike’s lips twitched into a wistful grin. “Okay, if you insist,” he promised. “I love you, Will.”

“I love you too, Mike. More than you know.”

Mike forced himself to gently place the phone in its cradle, heart twisting as he severed the connection. A second later, Joyce peeked around the corner, an unspoken question in her gaze: How was it? He nodded, eyes wet, and she stepped forward, hugging him tight.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, hand rubbing small circles on his back.

He leaned into her comfort for a moment before stepping back. “Thanks,” he said, voice thick. Then he swallowed hard, giving her a grateful look. At least he’d heard Will’s voice again.

3.

“So,” Ivy said, breezing into the room with a tray of snacks. She set it down on the coffee table with a flourish. “Are you ready for this? Big night and all.”

“Ready for what?” Wyatt asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. “You said this was just a hangout.”

“It is. Sort of. It’s also your official initiation,” Will smirked, leaning back against the couch. Wyatt raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. 

“Into what?”

“Into the group, obviously. Don’t act like you didn’t see this coming,” Hannah tossed a few bags of chips onto the table with a dramatic sigh. 

“I didn’t,” Wyatt admitted.

Ivy snorted. “Technically, you’ve had an in because of Will and Mike. They both had to do this.”

“I can attest on behalf of both of us,” Will interjected. “Think of it as a formality. A ceremonial bonding experience.”

“Ceremonial bonding,” Wyatt repeated, deadpan. “Sounds culty.”

“You’re the one who wanted to be part of this, remember?” Will rolled his eyes, grabbing two Cokes from the table and handing one to Wyatt.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wyatt said, waving him off but taking the Coke gratefully. “Fine. What’s the deal? Do I have to make a blood pact or something?”

“Not quite,” Ivy said, plopping down onto the couch next to Will. “First, you answer our questions. No lying, no dodging.”

Wyatt groaned. “Great. An interrogation.”

“Second,” Hannah added, “you have to do something embarrassing. That’s non-negotiable.”

“And third,” Will said, his tone lighter, “you tell us why you deserve to be in the group.”

Wyatt blinked, visibly thrown by the last one. “You guys are really laying it on thick, huh? Very high school of you guys.”

“Fuck that, I had no friends in high school. Hannah didn’t either. And… I mean, Will has his party, but he’s the odd one out here. So we’re making up for it now,” Ivy said. “Now, let’s begin.”

“Okay,” Hannah started. “If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

Wyatt didn’t hesitate. “Nosferatu.”

“Silent film. Weirdo,” Ivy teased, tossing a chip at him. “But fine. We’ll allow it. What’s your most irrational fear?”

“Bees,” Wyatt said immediately, shuddering. “They’re tiny flying demons. No one talks about it enough.”

“I respect that,” Hannah said, nodding solemnly. “Bees are terrifying.”

Ivy tapped her chin, formulating another question. “Alright, serious one: what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”

Wyatt winced, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, so… freshman year, I tried to impress this guy in my dorm by quoting a really obscure film line. Except I completely butchered it, and he called me out in front of everyone. I had to spend the next semester avoiding him at literally every meal.” The group burst into laughter, Wyatt’s cheeks flushing. “Not my finest moment,” he muttered.

“Time for step two,” Hannah declared. “Do something mortifying.”

Wyatt groaned. “Like what?”

“Your choice,” Ivy said. “But it has to be good.”

Wyatt glanced around the room, clearly searching for inspiration. His eyes landed on the tape collection Hannah had been shuffling through earlier. “Fine,” he said, grabbing one and crossing the room. “Karaoke. But only if I get to pick the song.”

“You’re gonna sing?” Will balked at him.

“Don’t get too excited,” Wyatt shot back, popping the tape into the player. The familiar opening notes of “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey filled the room, and Wyatt stood dramatically, using a stick pretzel as a makeshift microphone. By the time he hit the chorus, Ivy and Hannah were doubled over with laughter, and even Will couldn’t keep a straight face. Wyatt, undeterred, went all in, hitting every note with an exaggerated falsetto and over-the-top hand gestures. When the song finally ended, Wyatt dropped onto the couch, out of breath but grinning. “There. Embarrassing enough for you?”

“More than enough,” Ivy said, wiping tears from her eyes. “You’re never living that down, I hope you know that.”

“Alright,” Will said. “Last part.”

Wyatt hesitated, the humor fading from his face. He fiddled with the hem of his sleeve, his gaze dropping to the table. “Honestly? You guys are just… real. I’ve had friends before, but it always felt like I had to put on a show for them. Be the funny guy, the film nerd, whatever. Friends with benefits when I didn’t want to be. But with Will…” He looked up, his expression earnest. “He’s the reason I’m here right now. And… friends of Will’s are friends of mine.” The room fell quiet, Ivy and Hannah exchanging a quick glance.

“Welcome to the team, Wyatt.” Ivy raised her Coke can into the air. Clinks all around.

As the evening wore on, the group settled into easy conversation, trading stories and inside jokes. Wyatt no longer seemed nervous, and Will couldn’t help but feel like the circle had closed, finally complete.

Later on, back at Will’s house, Wyatt paced in the living room, arms folded like he was trying to hold himself in place. Will sat on the couch, hands resting on his knees, watching Wyatt’s every move.

“You okay?” Will asked. “You look like you’re about to either bolt or explode.”

Wyatt paused mid-pace. “I guess I do have something to get off my chest.” He let out a breath, stepping closer until he was right in front of Will. “Remember how I was looking for film internships in the city?”

Will nodded, leaning forward. “Yeah, we talked about it the other day. You said it was a shot in the dark.”

“Well…” Wyatt’s smile twitched nervously. “I got it. The internship. Turns out they liked my pitch about that short documentary idea.”

Will’s face broke into an immediate grin. “That’s amazing! Congratulations!” He popped up to clasp Wyatt’s shoulder. “Why are you acting all weird about it?”

“Because,” Wyatt said, drawing the word out, “I might’ve been so confident… or impulsive, depending on how you look at it… that I already put down a deposit on an apartment in Chicago. I’m moving next week.”

Will’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped slightly. “Next week? You– wait, you already have a place?”

Wyatt shrugged, color creeping into his cheeks. “It’s small, basically a shoebox with questionable plumbing, but it’s mine.” He released a shaky breath, looking at Will like he wasn’t sure what reaction to expect. “I wanted to be here anyway. This internship is downtown, so it made sense… but I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”

For a moment, Will just stared, caught between excitement and disbelief. Finally, he threw his arms around Wyatt, hugging him tight. “Dude, that’s awesome,” he murmured into Wyatt’s ear. “I’m– wow. I’m really happy for you.” Wyatt laughed, the tension leaving him as he hugged Will back. 

“I’m stoked, too. Nervous, but stoked.”

Pulling away, Will looked him up and down, noticing the bright energy in Wyatt’s eyes. “You’re actually doing it.”

“I guess so,” Wyatt said, a soft grin forming. “I’d rather jump right in than sit around wondering if I missed my chance.”

Will nodded. “Well, you know I’m here if you need help moving or whatever. You can store some boxes here if your place is too tiny.”

“That might be an inevitability. You’re clearly stronger than I am… Buff Byers,” Wyatt joked, and Will smacked his arm. “Seriously, though. Thank you. I appreciate it.” They shared a smile, the air between them charged with equal parts promise and apprehension. Both of them knew something new had begun. 

Wyatt was staying in Chicago.

4.

Mike stared at the dull tile beneath his feet, trying to recall the feeling he’d felt only a few days ago when he’d heard Will’s voice. His first and only call with him had come as a lifeline, a momentary glimpse into something beyond these beige walls and stale air. He had expected relief, or perhaps a surge of renewed determination. Instead, an unnameable heaviness had crept in overnight, slowing his every step.

The group session felt distant, the circle of folding chairs a distant blur. He couldn’t focus on the stories others shared, nor the words Marta offered about building resilience. Dave watched him from the periphery with a troubled gaze, noticing how Mike’s eyes kept drifting. Every question directed at Mike elicited only a hollow nod or a half-hearted mumble.

By lunchtime, Mike found himself sequestered in a corner of the lounge, spooning soup into his mouth without tasting it. The faint clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversations did nothing to pull him from his trance. Dave finally approached, pulling a chair close enough for Mike to register the man’s presence.

“Everything’s changed since you spoke to Will,” Dave said quietly, regarding Mike’s slumped posture. “Why do you think that is?”

Mike ran a hand through his long hair, exhaling slowly. “I… I was waiting for that call so badly. For weeks. I thought hearing him would fix something inside me, give me a goal to keep climbing toward.” He paused, gaze drifting to the plastic bowl in his hands. “But after we hung up, it felt worse. I realized how far I still am from him. Not physically, I guess, but… psychologically. I can’t just walk out of here and be okay. Knowing I’m still a mess broke me all over again.”

Dave nodded, letting the silence gather like a delicate film around them. “It’s not unusual to experience a setback after emotional contact. You pinned a lot of hope on that conversation.” He chose the next words with care. “Has this happened with others? Friends who called earlier this week?”

Shaking his head, Mike set the soup aside, unsteady. “No. Dustin called, Lucas too… it didn’t do this. It was good to hear them, but it didn’t tear me apart. Will’s voice reminded me how badly I messed things up. And how I’m still messing them up.”

Silence fell between them as Dave folded his hands in thought. “I know it’s excruciating,” he said gently, “but Marta and I have conferred… it might be best if you and Will take another break from contact.”

Mike’s eyes snapped up, dread spilling through him. “Another break?” he repeated, voice catching. “For how long?”

“Two weeks,” Dave said, the words landing like a blade. “We need you fully focused on your outpatient progress. You’ve seen how hearing Will’s voice can stir that old wound, pushing you into deeper despair.” A numbness clamped around Mike’s chest, making it impossible to breathe for a moment. 

“Two more weeks,” he whispered. “That’s– that’s fucking forever.”

Dave reached out, not quite touching Mike’s shoulder but close. “I understand how that must sound. But right now, this place needs to be your entire focus. Another intense call might set you back even further.”

Mike swallowed. He tasted salt on his lips; tears. More fucking tears. “So I’m not allowed to call him again?”

“Not for two weeks,” Dave affirmed, his expression resigned. “I’m sorry.”

The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, and Mike closed his eyes, fighting the urge to upend his soup bowl in frustrated disbelief. “I can’t do it,” he whispered. “It’s gonna kill me.”

“Then find healthier ways to handle it,” Dave said quietly. “That’s what we’re working on, right?” Mike nodded despite the tears slipping down his cheeks.

 “I– can you at least let him know I didn’t just vanish? Can you call him for me?” Each syllable scraped his throat, but the thought of Will waiting for a call that never came felt unbearable. A flicker of surprise crossed Dave’s face before he gave a nod. 

“If that’s what you want, I can. I can tell him you’re still here. That you’re not ignoring him.”

Mike pressed a trembling hand to his forehead, letting out a shaky breath that wobbled into a quiet sob. “Thank you,” he said thickly. “I don’t want him thinking I’m giving up. Or forgetting him. Because I’m not– I’d never–”

Dave rose, nudging Mike’s soup bowl aside gently, making space for him to rest his arms on the table. “Take your time,” he murmured, “and if you need to talk, find me. You’ve already proven you can hold on for two weeks. You’ll hold on for two more.”

When Dave left, the cafeteria’s hum returned, a blend of the overhead light’s buzz and lunch chatter from other residents. Mike slumped in his chair, head bowed. The spoon in front of him looked small, almost childlike, reflecting a distorted image of his tear-streaked face. He let the tears flow, right there in the corner of the lounge. He thought about Will’s voice, about how once it had grounded him and how now it only reminded him of the miles he still had to cross. Two more weeks of abandoning the person who anchored him. Two more weeks of heavy nights and restless mornings where each dawn reminded him of how far he was from the life he wanted.

Eventually, he gathered the remains of his lunch, carrying the half-eaten soup bowl to the trash. The day’s schedule loomed: another group session, more journaling. Time to dig through the layers of his mistakes. But the knowledge that he couldn’t call Will anymore felt like a fresh bruise, throbbing each time he allowed himself to care. This was totally karma at work. He clung to the fact that Dave would call Will for him, would let Will know it wasn’t Mike’s choice to disappear again. That at least offered a sliver of consolation. A small but vital thread in the darkness.

He sighed, stepping back into the hall, uncertain if his next breath would be strong enough to pull him into the next day. He lifted his gaze to the bland posters on the wall– reminders about addiction support, contact info for sponsors– and forced his feet to move toward the meeting room. He closed his eyes briefly, picturing Will’s face one last time before rejoining the routine of the center.

He resolved to survive these two weeks somehow. Because he had to. Because Will deserved a Mike who didn’t fall apart at the slightest shift. Because the next time he heard Will’s voice, he wanted to say, “I’m stronger,” not just, “I’m sorry.”

5.

Will perched on the edge of his couch, phone receiver clutched in his hand like a lifeline. The world outside his window was painted in slushy gray, streetlights reflecting on half-melted snowbanks. He glanced at his watch– 19:04. Mike should have called by now. 

The phone didn’t even get through a single ring before Will was holding it to his ear. “Hello?” he said, barely containing his eagerness. He braced himself for the shy little pause he always gave before speaking. Instead, the voice that answered was unfamiliar.

“Will Byers?”

“Yes,” Will replied, brow furrowing. His stomach sank. That’s not Mike, he thought.

“This is Dave Ackermann. I’m… Mike’s sponsor. Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

“No, it’s fine. Is– everything okay? Is Mike okay?” Will’s heart thudded, dread clawing at his throat.

“He’s stable. Making progress,” Dave said, a note of reassurance in his tone. Then he paused, like he was trying to find the gentlest words. “But I need to be honest with you. Mike’s struggling with some personal breakthroughs, and our team believes that contact with you is… complicating his process right now.”

Will pressed a palm against his knee to steady the trembling. “What do you mean?”

“Look,” Dave continued, voice tranquil but resolute. “He cares about you a lot. But every time he talks about you, or even hears your voice, he gets stuck in old thought patterns– ruminating over guilt, shame, regrets. I’ve seen this happen before. Right now, he needs to focus on himself and his recovery. He’s not in a place to handle the emotional weight of your relationship.”

An ache spread through Will’s ribcage. He gripped the phone cord, twisting it around his fingers. “I– I understand,” he said, though it felt like his lungs were collapsing. “So… what does that mean?”

“It means,” Dave said, “that we’re recommending a break in communication. A couple more weeks, maybe longer. Let him get his footing. After that, we can re-evaluate.” The rational part of Will knew this wasn’t personal, that it was about helping Mike in the best way possible. But his heart thrashed against his ribcage. He swallowed hard. 

“Okay,” he whispered. “I want… I want him to get better. Whatever it takes.”

“I appreciate that,” Dave said, genuine warmth entering his voice. “I’ll let Mike know you’re being supportive. But for now, try to give him space, all right?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Will forced his voice not to waver. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“Take care, Will.”

A soft click ended the call, and Will lowered the receiver like it weighed a thousand pounds. He stared at the phone for a long moment, waves of disappointment rolling through him. The house felt suddenly colder and emptier than usual, like a shutter had slammed shut on the only window in the room.

Wyatt called Will about half an hour later, inviting him to his apartment to watch a movie and maybe help organize his bookshelf if he was up for it. Desperate to get out of the house, Will had agreed and headed over within minutes of hanging up.

Wyatt answered on the second knock, stepping aside while a gust of cold trailed in behind Will. The cramped studio looked the same as ever: posters taped up in slightly crooked rows, a mess of VHS tapes climbing precarious shelves. Everything smelled faintly of popcorn, though the windows were cracked just enough to let the winter air creep in. Wyatt didn’t ask questions right away; he just hung Will’s coat, gestured vaguely at the futon, and let him settle.

They started with something silly, a campy sci-fi film that might have made Will laugh on another night. But his mind was busy replaying Dave’s voice telling him, Mike needs distance right now. It felt like a verdict, it felt final, and it gnawed at him. So he sat beside Wyatt, knees drawn up, eyes fixed on the flickering screen without registering a single line of dialogue. When the credits finally rolled, Wyatt paused the tape. 

“You want a water or something?” he asked. The question sounded half-thought, an attempt at normalcy.

Will shook his head, noticing he still hadn’t taken off his shoes. “I’m okay,” he said, though he didn’t really believe it. “Let’s just keep going.”

Wyatt studied him from the other end of the futon. “You seem off. More than usual.” He reached over and lowered the TV’s volume. “You want to talk about it?”

Will didn’t. But words began spilling out anyway, halting and uncertain: a call that wasn’t from Mike, a sponsor instead, telling him that every conversation did more harm than good. That Mike needed to focus on himself. That Will, just by existing, complicated his progress. “It’s not that they’re blaming me,” Will admitted, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall, “but they might as well be.”

Wyatt nodded as he listened, turning the lamp on in the corner, leaving the overhead light off. The shadows in the apartment felt calmer than the bright, clinical overhead glare. He shifted to face Will more fully, draping an arm over the futon’s back. “That sounds rough,” he said, not shying from the understatement.

Will shrugged. “I guess. If it helps him, right?” He tried to sound resigned, but the ache in his voice gave him away.

They let the silence settle, the muted TV bathing them in a bluish glow. When Wyatt gently slid an arm across his shoulders, it felt like both an offer of empathy and an acknowledgment of how deeply Will was struggling to stay composed.

Will exhaled, leaning into the contact. He wasn’t sure if it was friendship, nostalgia, or desperation that made him accept it so easily. He just knew he couldn’t face the next few hours in solitude. The quiet pressed in, and at some point he realized he hadn’t moved for almost half an hour. Wyatt’s fingers traced a steady pattern along Will’s shoulder. The repetitive motion eased him.

Eventually, Will lifted his head. “Thanks,” he said. He didn’t bother explaining. Wyatt seemed to understand. Their bodies were close, and the rise and fall of Wyatt’s breathing had become a steady rhythm Will latched onto, something grounding in the midst of confusion.

Wyatt’s gaze flicked across Will’s features. “Anytime,” he said.

The pause in conversation opened a space that felt both comforting and fraught. Will thought about Mike in Hawkins, spending all of his time at that facility, and how every day felt longer than the last. He let out a tight laugh that held little humor. “I can’t believe it,” he murmured. “Mike needs to get better without me around. And here I am, needing him more than ever.”

Wyatt moved his hand higher, resting it against the nape of Will’s neck. The contact sent a warmth through Will that momentarily overshadowed the guilt swirling in his gut. “You’ll see him again,” Wyatt said quietly. “But if this break is what he needs, then–”

“I know,” Will cut in. “I just… God, I hate feeling this powerless.”

Will tried to focus on the flickering images on the TV, but his mind kept drifting to the soft weight of Wyatt’s arm around his shoulders. The touch felt companionable at first, something close friends might offer each other, yet a current of tension undercut the moment. Wyatt’s fingers grazed his hair, slow and absent, like he didn’t realize he was doing it. Every brush of his knuckles sent a small shiver through Will’s spine.

When he finally lifted his head, their eyes caught in a flickering pool of light. It was as if the rest of the apartment– the noise from the city outside, the faint smell of buttered popcorn– had receded. Wyatt’s gaze held a quiet question, and Will found himself leaning into the answer before he could think it through.

Their first kiss was tentative, just a press of lips that tasted of warm Dr. Pepper and the hush of unspoken confessions. But neither pulled away. Instead, Wyatt made a quiet, almost startled sound, then shifted closer, his palm sliding against Will’s cheek. Will’s body responded with a rush of warmth, drowning out the guilt in his heart. He gripped Wyatt’s sweater, pulling him nearer so that their legs tangled on the worn futon.

Breathing grew louder, more urgent, as kisses deepened from cautious to hungry. Wyatt’s hand slipped under the hem of Will’s shirt, skimming across his lower back. Will let out a faint gasp, arching into the touch, surprised at how easily his body answered this unexpected surge of need. He could still taste the salt of tears in the corner of his mouth; a reminder of the phone call, of Mike. And yet he let himself sink further, wanting the fleeting relief of someone else’s warmth, someone else’s steady hands holding him. But this wasn’t just someone else.

Wyatt’s fingers pressed into Will’s hips, guiding him with a gentle insistence. The second kiss was sloppier, warmer, the kind of bruising intimacy that left them panting. Will’s mind buzzed with alarms. This is Wyatt, this can’t solve anything. But the alarms dulled as soon as they had sounded under the onslaught of Wyatt’s mouth on his. A slow, smoldering heat built between them.

They broke apart to breathe, foreheads nearly touching. Wyatt’s eyelashes flicked as if he was processing the gravity of what they were about to do. Will’s chest rose and fell in short bursts. Neither said a word, but their bodies seemed to have a silent conversation: If we do this, there’s no going back to how things were.

Still, Wyatt’s hands settled on Will’s waist, and Will responded by pushing Wyatt backward on the futon. Their legs locked as Will climbed into his lap, bracing himself on Wyatt’s shoulders. The kisses resumed, slower now, yet charged with a growing sense of hunger. Every brush of tongue, every searching grip, hinted at the blurring of lines they’d drawn months ago.

When Wyatt pulled Will’s shirt off, Will felt the cold air graze his skin, followed by Wyatt’s palms sliding up his back. The sudden warmth there made him shiver, and he let out a stifled moan, pressing himself closer to Wyatt’s chest. He felt the rhythm of Wyatt’s heartbeat hammering in time with his own. All he could really sense now was Wyatt; his breath, his hands, the sounds he made when Will ran his fingers through his now-blonde hair.

They parted just long enough for Will to strip off Wyatt’s shirt and yank the blanket aside, creating a makeshift cocoon around them. The faint smell of detergent and old pillows enveloped them as they pressed together again. Will tilted his head, letting Wyatt kiss along the curve of his neck, teeth scraping lightly in a way that sent sparks of heat low in Will’s stomach.

Mike in rehab, Dave’s phone call, the betrayal of something sacred played on a loop in Will’s head. But Wyatt’s hand on his bare skin, Wyatt’s lips finding that spot along his collarbone that made him gasp, pushed the guilt further and further away. He decided to let go, just for a moment.

Wyatt’s breath hitched. “Will…” he murmured, not quite a question, more like a plea. Will glanced down, meeting Wyatt’s eyes, and in them found the same uncertain longing he felt in himself. Will answered by rolling his hips, and Wyatt’s low groan sent a rush of heat through Will’s entire body. He leaned down for another fierce kiss, tangling his fingers in Wyatt’s hair until the tension in his shoulders finally ebbed.

In the brief pause that followed, Wyatt fumbled with the lamp switch, cutting the harsh light so only the TV’s flicker remained, its blues and greens dancing across their skin. Will slid his hands up Wyatt’s chest, feeling every breath, every slight tremor that accompanied a deepening kiss. They both let out a simultaneous sigh, the kind that recognized this wasn’t the fix they needed but might be a temporary balm.

Wyatt’s lips traveled along Will’s jaw, the kisses scattered and heated. Will grabbed onto Wyatt’s waist, letting himself be guided backward until he felt the cushions under him, Wyatt leaning over him with careful urgency. Their chests rose and fell in ragged unison, bodies aligning like a puzzle they both pretended to understand. Will reaching into Wyatt’s sweatpants. Wyatt removing the rest of their clothes completely. Wyatt biting Will’s lower lip. Will letting himself be topped for the first time in his life. He’d never even let Mike fuck him. But Wyatt could. For some reason. Will arched up, meeting every press of Wyatt’s hips into him. Their voices merged into muffled gasps and half-formed words.

When they had finished, Wyatt ran a hand through Will’s hair, brushing damp strands back from his forehead. He needed this, he decided; needed to feel human, needed to break away from the heaviness of reality and the distances that had opened up in his life. What came next would be messy. Will knew that. For now, he closed his eyes, losing himself in Wyatt’s arms, letting his body do the talking he couldn’t manage with words.

-

warning i didn't want to mention: infidelitea is SCALDING

-

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[amethystfairy1]

Hi Amethyst! It's been a hot minute since I sent an ask in, but I have been reading both fics every day (still obsessed lmao) (also I name changed btw, used to be ElenaLoo)

Anyways, I had written a whole ask waxing eloquent on all the wonderful things going on in ttsbc, but I accidentally shut off my computer partway through and frankly I can't be bothered to write it all out again lmao. Just. It's beautiful (wow isnt that so meaningful and deep? im sure you're feeling very complimented rn)

The REAL thing I wanted to talk about was Traveling thieves (which is by far my favorite fanfic of ALL TIME), and all the amazingness in ttsbc made me forget it even existed for the past few weeks. But the other day I was just like "oh yeah. Traveling thieves." and then i reread the whole thing. whoopsies.

Ummm anywyas there's so many thoughts in my head about all the little guys, but recently I've been on an Imp and Skizz obsession (just scroll on my page for .2 seconds and you'll see) and YOU. You left them on a CLIFFHANGER. >:((( (not actually mad btw). I just. so excited for them. They're out alone in the woods right now and Skizz is going to have the perfect opportunity to kill Impulse and get away and I just am falling apart thinking about them. (I drew them to cope lol, posted on my blog but also later here so that I can talk about it more). I can see this playing out a few ways. Obviously Skizz isn't actually going to kill Impulse, so he's either going to 1) make up some excuse as to why he can't do it right then, but still plans to do it eventually, or 2) he does it. but he doesn't. Skizz attacks Impulse when he's not expecting it, there's a scuffle, and Skizz comes out on top---BUT THEN HE CAN"T FINISH IT!!! and it's a whole thing where even tho skizz tried to kill him, imp is still so understanding and skizz cries and impulse just freaking gives him a hug and

sigh

Whatever you do will be beautiful, I'm sure. I think you mentioned you're switching to tt after this fic, so crossing my fingers it's imp and skizz. (Though, would also be very happy with Martyn and Ren :P) (or anything really i just love tt)

Anyways, I had the art on my blog but I'm also putting it here so i can say things about it to you

Mostly I'm just very proud of their expressions, with Impulse being all concerned glancing over at Skizz, meanwhile Skizz is completely deadpan staring forwards, also looking very tired bc he needs a break from this universe. Also I switched up my Impulse design a lil bit from last time (if u even remember that lol it was months ago now). you would think, just looking at them, that Impulse took way longer to design, but nope, I was messing around with Skizz for at least double the time, trying to figure out how to have him facing forward whilst still showing some of the scars on his back. I gave up eventually xD (all that means is that im gonna have to draw him again later, from different angles)

actually that made me remember a question I had: are you planning to ship Imp and Skizz? Ik you said Zed and Tango are going to be a thing far in the future, but... skizzpulse? plzzzz plz pretty please haha im not obsessed

aaaaaand that reminds me of another question, is skizz going to be in ttsbc? (pretty please also same question as tt, if he was in ttsbc, are him and impulse together? Im addicted to them all i care about these days is some good imp and skizz shipfics, and you're such a fantastic writer, both with plot and the vibes of the words themselves. u could write such good imp and skizz. just imagine the possibilites! (am i selling it?))

aaaaaanyways. im gonna go reread the old tt skizz fics because theyre delicious and painful, like eating knives. u have a good day :))

HIIIIIII

I ADORE THIS ART SO MUCH! I gave you all my rambles on the reblog but it's SOOOOO COOL!

I'm sad the waxing eloquent about TTSBC is gone 😭 but that's ok!

I'm so glad you're enjoying TT and all the drama going on in there! Imp and Skizz are definitely having a time and a half with all of this nonsense going on...I love all your theories! I won't confirm or deny anything of course, but I'm so happy you're excited for them!

I will not be shipping Imp and Skizz, sorry! I just personally don't ship them, so they're gonna remain platonic...I mean, in TT who knows what the hell they're doing to be fair 😆 but yeah, Zedango is going to be a thing in the distant future, but no Skizzpulse! Sorry!

Skizz is not in TTSBC at the moment, that doesn't mean he never will be! Just haven't found a spot for him yet...and no, he also would not be with Impulse, I'm so sorry I just don't ship them personally! I think it's a very cute ship tho!

Enjoy rereading the TT Skizz fics!!! Thank you again for the gorgeous art!!!! I love it!!! 💖

[archeryn]

Kats are brats 😾‼️

Katniss Everdeen x Cat Whisperer!Reader

"Excuse tf me? Do you choose cats over me?"

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

✭ You love cats, I love cats, we all love cats. Wdym people don't like them??

✭ Just imagine cats love you sm like 19 of them are swarming you. (My dreams 😭)

✭ Ya girl Katniss comes home from hunting and gets mad because you don't even notice her presence. And also she had past beef with Buttercup.

✭ She asks for your attention and kisses like ypu give to the cats, but you tell her to wait her turn.

✭ If you've read the books, she says she can't take orders. Girl is gonna be stubborn about it.

✭ "Are you finished yet?" "You'd seriously chose a bunch of randoms over your girlfriend?" "They're cats, I'm a human." Basically pissed Katniss.

✭ You smart ahh replies with "Aren't you a cat too? It's in your name." (Haha get it Cat-niss hahaha ok no stop thats corny)

✭ She'll just keep crossing her arms, glaring, scoffing, hoping it'll do something. It doesn't.

✭ Eventually she just pushes all the cats aside and takes you for herself with a scoff. (I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE 😍)

✭ The cats will now have beef with her—she's got a few scratches, wonder how—but she doesn't give no sh

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

Guys I just remembered in grade 3 of this towel I had, and it was super stinky bc I left it in my bin with sweat and rotten fruits I "saved for later." My classmate sniffed it and went "eeeewww"

Anyways my finger hurts idk why but ong ty for an average of at least 10 notes on my posts muah muah

*eyes cutely turn into hearts when I see Katniss*🫢 It's been like almost 3 months since I liked her omg??

Ty for looking at this i love u guys

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

remember how charlie started dating her gf back when she thought vaggie was a sinner who'd earned a place in hell, and then she found out the gf used to be a murder angel and got angry / hurt bc SHE tells vaggie everything so why didn't vaggie trust her with the angel thing??? does vaggie not really LOVE her????? oh yeah and murder bad too whatever- OH WAIT SO VAGGIE /DOES/ LOVE HER!? fuck yeah who cares about murder! the angel gf's wings are hot and charlie Will Hug Her

what im saying is... charlie doesn't just TALK about the fluffy vague idea of redemption

she's been living it this whole time

we see her CHOOSE to stay with vaggie even after having the exact terrible bad things vaggie did shoved in her face. there's no "she's just naive" excuse here

she knows. her kindness and hope doesn't come from a LACK of knowing how bad things or people can be

but that was vaggie's past. charlie talks about a breach of trust, of vaggie not trusting her with the truth, of the fear that other things between them hadn't been true too- Those are all PRESENT vaggie issues. they're all questions about the woman vaggie is NOW, and what kind of relationship charlie has with her, today

even charlie's line wondering if vaggie would've told her about an angel's weakness- it's not, "oh you're still one of them", it's "now i know there was something else important that you didn't tell me"

it's so quiet. that kind of, amazing moment. where charlie just unravels the whole idea of sin and flicks it away, like a speck of dust

being reminded of how many ways vaggie SHOWS who she is and who CHARLIE is to her, that settles charlie, answers all her worries and questions (she can trust vaggie) (vaggie is in this with her no matter what)- because none of them, those fears and pains, were about what vaggie had been

that's how the hotel can work. it's built on something REALLY strong- it's built on charlie honestly meaning what she says, and vaggie truly actively being her partner in it

we can't SEE that happening without looking at THEM

(we see people not taking them, or charlie, seriously- and getting fucked up when they Find Out)

them being and staying together is proof that the hotel can work, that angels can sin and seek redemption, that people- even sinners- can change

and when they change there'll be at least one place where they can BE that new person

at the hazbin hotel

[fictionfixations]

This is so off topic but i really want to write a time travel fic of someone twst. Like an actual multichapter one not just the oneshot with silver and sebbie (and yuu) I blame the actual sebek time travel fic i read before i made it to book 7 And i blame the fact i had a dream where sebek had time traveled and like he was doing stuff to undo things and he got caught and they were waiting for him to explain and it was tense and somehow he ended up pretending to be asleep to get out of it and also did i forget to mention that I was sebek and it felt so real that for a few minutes i was just sitting there in bed still pretending to be asleep waiting for someone to leave and then slowly was trying to think like ‘..this doesnt feel like–’ cause sebek was like leaning on lilia’s shoulder ????? or something like that and i realized WAIT that was just a DREAM

Its wild. Like. there was this person who was like trying to get sebbie to stop threateningly like ‘i have a criminal record’ and he kept repeating it and its just aAAA (as in they arent afraid to get violent D:) IDK it felt like there was like some war going on in the background with lilia and malleus and some horrible thing was going to happen that sebek wanted to stop

And so it was in the library with something something secret passage that led to like 3 glowing blue balls (HAHA BALLS) on top of like a cushion in a box and i cant remember wtf they did just that they were important. I cant remember if it was a bad thing or not. I think that probably came from LoCF influence cause of the thing in the library crossman curse thingy whatever i forgot

But so it was really nerve wracking.

And i remember reading this fic with general lilia having a twin and it was started because the person writing it had dreams of it. And i was like woah thats cool. I dont think id have dreams like that but id like to.

HAHA i jinxed myself like months later cause wtf it felt weirdly real even though its nothing like my irl life. Like usually i get tricked because its taking place in locations ive been to before (i once had a dream i had a cat and i felt so sad because i didnt have one irl) but NOPE 

Anyway idk where silver was but it was strongly implied that it was in the past past like general lilia type past except malleus existed then too

Idk why sebek was there (or why i was sebek ??? i think i just got huge brainrot rfom that sebek time travel fic tbh)

but so . i was so hesitant to say something about it bc idk it felt weird so i sat on this for 4 days but weirdly enough i still remember a good chunk of it like the many details i just didnt write down originally

..i feel like this is a sign i should write it. i just wish i knew what the balls were for 💀. i mean i think it was bad because the library was implied to be like in like their home or base right?? and he was trying to take it away. but he was gonna touch it with his bare hand idk dream logic causing dumb shit im pretty sure they're magical balls.

anyway i cant remember if he managed to get them or if he got caught or how?? did he get caught in the act? i mean how else would they be suspicious???

in the first place why are they not suspicious of him being there

like

like

did he somehow bullshit his way in there

like okay JP spoilers (i think it'll appear in the NEXT main story update on EN)

like how he was like describing to baur his grandpa (who is baur btw but baur doesnt know it i dont think?) and like how hes half fae and baur acknowledging him as one of them and is like 'well for all i know you could be a zigvolt' and like being accepting and its just like shfuisdhfuisehdij

but so anyway that worked so idk maybe it works for them. idfk what excuse he made up

aughhhh why do i have to have brainrot over this when im trying to write something else tho

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

HIII THABK U FOR THE TRIVIA AND ASHE SONG before i take forever 2 answer those or forget here is a blank ticket to please please talk about prime defenders and their AWFUL emotional literacy and processing skills i would literally love to read that essay so much ive also been thinking about it incessantly. big eyes staring up at u.png. ok ok peace out GOODNIGHT !!!! <33

i lied actually im not going to bed im judt thinking about this ans listening to St. John on a loop now. hello catkiss.gif i forgot how youve filled me with so much joy. that cat is so fuckign cute

anyway. hi :) prime defenders huh. this is gonna be less of an essay and more of a sleepy ramble but ohhh i have so many thoughts. they all process things so differently and none of them are good at it they all need therapy so bad. ms.g where is the hero therapy why didnt you build that into w.a.t.c.h ma'am

vyncent is probably the best at actually processing things out of all of them, he just internalizes everything to the point where he wont talk about it unless hes pushed past the breaking point. vyncent is actually very.. emotionally intelligent? i want to say mature but that feels like im singling him out because hes the oldest. i just feel like because he grew up on Fauna and had to be in basically survival mode in a world full of monsters trying to kill you.. that makes a person grow up quicker than they should. i think vyncent had a good childhood and for the most part his parents took good care of him but just.. living in that world doesnt seem like it leaves room for a whole lot of expressing emotions. vyncent is good at quick analysis of a situation, but unless a problem directly interferes with the current goal he doesnt externalize it to everyone else. but bottling up his feelings and emotions just builds up pressure over time until something like the lich makes him blow up and let it all out at once, usually in a dramatic monologue format bc condi is really good at those god damn it. also they played off the fact that vyncent said all of that to the lich and then missed his attack as a funny thing but i like to think of it as. he got too overwhelmed w his emotions and lashed out too soon it made his fighting messy. vyncent is so angry and honestly after what hes been through he deserves to be !!!!

william wisp. my boy. god hes just like me fr so much so that it physically hurts sometimes. anyway. i always think back to the scene where theyre all in the cabin talking about themselves/sharing backstories and william keeps desperately trying not to talk about himself. the fact that hes so ashamed of his powers he hides wisp form every time. two of his powers are LITERALLY a) turning invisible and b) turning intangible, usually as an excuse to leave whatever situation hes in ("accidentally" falling through the floor at opportune moments in season 1) . theres. a thing that happens at the end of episode 13/beginning of epidode 14 that youre really close to and i wont spoil yet but god it has to do with this so extremely much please come back to my inbox when you get there. youll know what it is trust me. um. yeah. so anyway. i think a lot of this comes from a place of. he doesnt want anyone to be scared of him. williams not stupid hes incredibly smart and insightful he knows his powers are objectively SCARY. hes scared of himself constantly, he doesnt want anyone else to feel that way about him, so he shifts focus whenever those aspects of himself are brought up because if someone were to think about it for any amount of time theyd realize the truth that hes scary and dangerous to be around (<< william logic. hey remember how one of the reasons he originally left deadwood was because the monsters there were attracted to the wisps and therefore Him so he left to keep his friends/family out of danger)

i think a lot about williams death and the immediate aftermath, i dont know how much you actually know and how much of this comes later but . how does he go home after waking up from that. his parents know about his powers, so they MUST know what happened. what do you think he told them when he god home muddy and dirty and broken and probably bloody after being missing for. god knows how long. how does he look his mother in the eyes and tell her her little boy is dead. but hes also not because hes standing right in front of her. how the fuck do you think he felt the first time he went into wisp form and saw his body laying there !!! of course he wouldnt want to talk about that!!!! youre gonna have to pry william wisps emotions from his cold dead hands !!!!!!!

dakota's response to the ashe situation was to run away in the woods and do nothing but train for 10 months. he didnt think about it for 10 months. i dont even have a whole lot to say about dakota other than like. stunned silence whenever his inability to process trauma is brought up because grizzly does such an incredible job at being like "you ask dakota how hes doing and his face is just blank" << paraphrased actual quote from an episode i cannot remember which one. either 11 or 12 ?

also because im thinking about him im including ashe in this. we didnt get to see a whole lot of his canon reactions to extreme emotional situations so a lot of this is just coming from My Mind but ashe seems like hed be the type to repress a lot of his emotions too. being alone in your house/in your room for extended periods of time will do that to a guy. i think he feels a lot of things and will probably very openly cry/scream/get angry when hes alone but as soon as he knows another person is there he can immediately flip the switch to turn it all off like nothing happened. very much a deadpan "im fine." if someone asks how hes doing, even if hes got like. the remainder of tear tracks down his face. cannot physically express his emotions in the presence of someone else