#and he took the rejection perfectly fine bu the end of the season

[themultifanshipper]

Oscar lifted the trophy high above his head. He thought about how every decision he’d made in his life had led to this moment: winning his first Formula 1 Grand Prix, in Hungary. 

And yet, the only thought running through his head was, ‘I’ve ruined everything’. 

Warnings: quite angsty although i did tone it down quite a bit, smut

Part 2 of The way to a man's heart

Oscar wasn’t jealous. 

He was a good friend to you. 

He was happy for you and Lando, who had now become a thing, apparently. 

He’d even helped you out that time at the beach, making sure that the group steered clear of you two, because Oscar was a good friend. 

Until he wasn’t. 

Because the truth was, Oscar was jealous. 

He’d pined over you since before the season started, since the beginning of 2023, in fact. 

But you had quickly friendzoned him, and set your sights on Lando instead.  

Which was fine, he was an adult, and he could handle rejection perfectly well. 

Until Miami 2024. Until that day, when he saw the small ‘LN4’ on your hip, and he realised he had actually lost you. 

If he’d had his way, he would have turned you over and fucked you on that damn sun lounger himself. 

The next few weeks were tough for him. Made even worse by Lando, who constantly came to work with hickies poking out of his necklines, and stories about how wonderful his dates with you were. 

Oscar just gritted his teeth, bided his time. ‘It’ll pass, It’ll pass, It’ll pass’ he chanted to himself every time he felt like decking Lando. 

But unfortunately that rate at which that was happening was increasing drastically, and it increased for two reasons. 

Firstly because you an Lando were basically throwing yourselves at each other at every given opportunity, and every wink Lando sent his way before carrying you out of the room sent him reeling at the thought of whatever the two of you were doing next door. 

Secondly, because according to every media outlet, Lando was now the second coming of christ, set to defeat Max Verstappen for the title.  

And both of those things were making him increasingly antsy. And he could tell the team were going to do everything in their power to help Lando, even if that meant throwing him under the bus. 

So he concentrated on his racing, the one thing he could control. And in Austria, the cracks started to show. 

He took some sort of sick satisfaction from knowing that Lando had driven like a dick and had cost himself a win. ‘I would’ve driven better, I would've won’ he thought nastily. 

He fought with Lando over it the day after. He knew he shouldn’t have poked the bear, but Lando’s ego needed a hit, and he needed to release his frustrations on somebody. So they hauled insults at each other, until someone came and forced them into seperate rooms. 

He didn’t even bother putting headphones on to drown out the noise you and Lando were making next door. Those noises drove him, drove him to be better.  

He even managed to convince himself that you were faking the screams, and that if you gave him a chance, he’d show you he was better than Lando at that as well. 

Before Silverstone you approached him, feeling how off he’d been lately with you. 

You’d tried to talk to Lando about it, but he’d shrugged it off and gone partying in god knows which country with god knows which DJ friend of his, leaving you to spend some time with your friend, which you realised you hadn’t found much time to do lately.  

But it only ended in an argument. 

About how you were a bad friend, siding with Lando over him about everything, and Lando was just using you to get to him. 

Even to his ears, none of it made any sense whatsoever, but his brain was half eaten by jealousy and frustration at this point, so he all but kicked you out of his apartment, and you didn’t have any contact with him after that. 

He’d effectively alienated his two best friends on the grid. 

Then you had a crash in Silverstone, a nasty crash at that. Concussion, bruised ribs, the works. 

His heart stopped when he heard the news over the radio, and it stopped again when he saw the replay of the crash once he was back in the paddock. 

He was the first to visit you in the hospital. Lando was busy celebrating his home podium. 

He spent half an hour groveling at the foot of the bed, and whining about how sorry he was. 

But you were just relieved about having your friend back. 

“Oscar, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. But I don’t care about what you said, I just care that you’re here, now.”  

He hugged you, as tightly as he dared with how sore he knew your ribs were, and sat on the bed next to you. 

“So tell me, what’s been going on with you? I've been worried” you asked with a frown. 

He looked down at his hands and sighed, which made him wince slightly. 

“A lot of things, really. Mostly stress I think.” he mumbled. 

“Oh Osc, you know I’m here for you if you need to talk, yeah?” you slid an arm around him and squeezed, and he winced again with a pained moan escaping his lips. 

You stared at him, but he refused to meet your eyes. 

“Oscar?” you asked tentatively “what was that?” 

He looked at you sheepishly as one of his hands came to rub at his side. 

“I uhh... I may or may not have a broken rib?” He attempted a smile but you slapped his arm. 

“Since when??!” 

“Uhm... Austria? I think. Maybe Barcelona...”  

You slapped his arm again, harder. 

“Barcelona?!!” you hissed as he rubbed his arm “Two weeks? And you didn’t think to tell me?”  

He sighed again. “I know, I’m sorry” 

You huffed out a laugh and looked at the ceiling in disbelief. 

“Look at us, huh” you made a vague gesture at him “wallowing in self pity, injured, and one of us doesn’t even have anyone to fuck at the end of all this!” 

His head snapped up to look at you. That was a very weird thing to say, and indeed you looked pale, and a bit dazed. 

“Are you on any medication right now?”  

You looked at him weirdly “Yeah, Morphine, why?” 

He laughed, almost relieved. “Because that was an odd sentence, even coming from you” 

“Yeah well, sorry we can’t all be the jealous third wheel of the friend group” 

Oscar heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?” 

You giggled. “Come on, Osc. It’s obvious. You’ve been mopey ever since Miami. You’re obviously jealous that me and Lando are fucking on the regular and aren’t spending as much time with you. It’s science!”  

He was about to interrupt but you continued, your words slurring together more and more as you went on. The drugs must have been hitting you harder than expected. 

“Besides, I saw how you reacted when I showed you my tattoo. If you want...” you grabbed his shirt and dragged him towards you with surprising strength, he had to put his hands either side of you to not fall on top of you. You glanced quickly at his lips leaning in closer. “If you want, I could get an ‘OP81’ tattoo. Would that make you feel better? Or you could get an LN4 tattoo, I’m sure Lando would go just as feral for you as he did for me...”  

Your breath was hitting his face but he was barely registering it, his wide eyes were fixed on yours as you pulled him in further. But just as his face was almost too close to call it friendship, you pushed him away with a loud gasp of excitement. 

“Oh! We should totally have a threesome!” you squealed.  

Oscar almost jumped out of his skin when the door behind him creaked open suddenly, a nurse coming in to check on you. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but it is ten p.m. and we don’t allow visitors after that time”  

Oscar scrambled to his feet and rushed to the door. “No problem! I was just leaving” he mumbled breathlessly, but just as he wrenched the door open, you called out in a sing-song voice. 

“I know what you are Oscar Jack Piastri! ”  

The following maniacal giggle haunted him for the next week. 

He’d texted Lando to ask how you were doing, avoiding engaging in conversation with you completely.  

Lando replied two things. 

“Ask her yourself, when you find some free time from being a dickhead” and “Also fuck you for not telling me about your broken fucking rib” 

Great, so he wasn’t over the argument in Austria. 

But he couldn’t text you. Every time he thought about you all he could picture was the night in the hospital. Your lidded eyes looking up at him while you babbled sensual nonsense with your lips just inches away, if only he had just leaned in and- 

No.  

He wasn’t in the business of stealing girlfriends, only trophies. 

A few days before you were all supposed to be in Hungary, he finally decided to stop being a pussy and actually messaged you. 

It turned into a facetime call that lasted several hours. 

“Yeah, it’s been really just relaxing and waiting for my body to heal” you said, a cup of hot chocolate in your hands. 

“Me too, although the rib’s hurting like a bitch” he complained, his own coffee lay forgotten on the table. “But thankfully they’ve modified the seat so it shouldn’t be as bad in Hungary” 

“Let’s be hoping so. I don’t think you should be driving at all with a broken rib” 

He laughed “Well, I’ve already done 3 races, what’s two more?” 

You hummed thoughtfully as you took a sip, not particularly happy with that attitude.  

“So Lando’s still not speaking to you, is he?”  

Oscar was confused at the sudden change of subject. “No...why?” 

“And he hasn’t told you why, has he?”  

He sighed. “I’ve been in a bad place recently, and I lashed out at the two of you. He just took it a bit harder is all. But he’ll come around, I’ll deal with him in Hungary.” 

You nodded absentmindedly as you took another sip. That wasn’t the only reason, but if Lando hadn’t told Oscar anything else, you weren’t going to either, so you changed the subject again. 

“By the way, I was thinking. I think it would be funny if when you win your first race, I got a tattoo for you like I did for Lando. You’re my best friend after all and it would mean a lot to me.” 

Oscar wanted that. He wanted it so fucking much. To be yours, for you to be his. A wave of possessiveness surged through him at the thought of his name inked into your skin. But much to his own dissapointment, his brain did the talking for once. 

“ I don’t think that’s a good idea”  

You frowned at him through the screen. “Why not? It’s just a tat-” 

“I just can’t, I’m sorry. It wouldn’t be right” 

The look on your face was breaking his heart, but he knew if you got a tattoo for him he would actually lose his sanity. 

Either that or tell you he loved you, which was not an option for a multitude of reasons. 

“What do you mean it wouldn’t be right. Oscar I’m-” you were visibly getting upset and it killed him to have to say no. 

“I just- I can’t. I have to go, I’m sorry” he apologised, getting choked up himself and hung up the call. 

You stared at the black screen for several seconds in disbelief. He was so abrupt, and yet there was something else behind it. He seemed just as upset about it as you. 

You knew why. Of course you did.  

You’d known since Miami, with the look on Oscar’s face when him and the other drivers came back from their swim to find you and Lando curled up on the sunbed. 

Your heart took a hit then, and it was taking a hit now.  

You couldn't explain it, but the thought of Oscar being left out was taking a toll on you. 

Lando walked in to find you still staring at the screen, while a tear or two ran down your cheeks. 

“Baby, who was that? What’s wrong?”  

You snapped out of your stupor and wiped your eyes furiously. 

“Nothing I- It was just Oscar.” 

Lando froze. “And he made you fucking cry?” 

“No! I just... I miss him so much, and I know it’s stupid but I wish things would go back to the way they were with him” 

He studied you for a moment, a frown etching itself onto his face. 

“You want him” 

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. 

You nodded slowly. 

“You know I do. But I want you too. I love you. I’ll always love you” 

He kneeled down next to you and put an arm around your shoulders. 

“I know that baby, but if you want him, there’s nothing I can say to stop you is there?” 

“That’s not fair Lando!” you whined “You’re saying that like I’m going to cheat on you or something. Obviously I would never fucking do that to you!” 

“Hey” he rubbed a hand up and down your back soothingly “It’s not cheating if I agree to it” 

“But I don’t just want to fuck him Lando. I want all of it. I want both of you equally.” 

“And I’m telling you, I’m okay with that. I need some time to think about where I stand with him. It’s a bit complicated at the moment, but you love him, and he obviously loves you, and as long as you don’t stop loving me, I love you too much to keep you locked up in a cage” 

You smiled at him sadly and leaned in to press your lips to his.  

“You’re such a sap.” you whispered. 

“Says the woman sitting on the floor crying over love like a fucking Jane Austen character” he said and you laughed “Now come on, let’s get some food and get to bed, I’m taking you out tomorrow for a surprise”

 

Oscar was evasive whenever you approached him during the weekend in Hungary. 

You and Lando were worried about him. He was racing with a broken rib for god's sake. 

But he did the impossible. He won.  

He fucking won! 

Team orders aside, it was a wonderful feeling to see him on the top step, sweaty and covered in champagne. 

Oscar thought he'd ruined everything, so he was surprised when you jumped into his arms afterwards and held him tight. 

Lando wasn't quite in the same mood as you were, understandably. 

That night you went straight to Oscar's hotel room. 

Lando still wasn't sure where he stood with Oscar, but he let you go, with an olive branch of sorts. 

You jumped into his arms as soon as he opened the door. 

“Congratulations Oscar!” 

He whined in pain but soldiered through it, almost squeezing the life out of you as he hugged you back. 

“Thank you” he said with a soft smile. 

“Osc, I need to show you something” you whispered conspiratorially before taking his hand and leading him over to sit on the bed. 

You stood in front of him, standing between his legs as you pulled up the hem of your shirt. 

“Jesus” he muttered, hand coming to soothe over the bruising that still adorned your ribs. 

“It can't be as bad as yours” you giggled softly “but that's not what I wanted to show you” 

You pulled down the waistline of your pants, exposing the tattoo Lando had gifted you a few days prior. 

“I got this the other day” you bit your lip, waiting for his reaction as his eyes landed on the small ‘OP81’ that lay next to your hip bone, opposite the tattoo you got in Miami. “I didn't know you were going to win, but I guess it doesn't matter now because you did anyway” 

He stared at it for a couple of seconds before looking up at you with tears in his eyes. 

“You really shouldn’t have” he muttered, voice cracking slightly. 

“Why Osc?” you whispered. 

One of your hands went to cup his cheek and he leaned in to the touch, eyes closing as he took a shaky breath. 

“Because…”  

You stroked his blushing cheek with your thumb. “Say it” 

He looked back up at you, looking like a kicked puppy. 

“Because I'm fucking in love with you”  

You smiled at him, leaning down so that you were eye level with him. 

“I know”  

He frowned. “You know?” 

“I do, Osc.” 

He blinked.

“And… you got it anyway?”  

“I did. Because I love you too, and I want both of my boys with me, at all times” 

His utter look of shock was enough to force laugh out of you.  

You sat down on his lap smoothly, cupping his face with both your hands. 

 “I want you Oscar”  

He stared at you for a moment and you took the opportunity to lean in and kiss him. 

His self control went out the window immediately, and his hand came up to tangle in your hair to pull you closer. 

The kiss got hungrier, pulling at each other until there was no space between your bodies, and eventually you had to separate for air. 

“Wait, what about Lando?” he asked breathlessly. 

“Oscar” you smiled “The tattoo was Lando's idea, once I told him I wanted you” 

His jaw dropped. “Lando knows?” 

“Of course. We share everything.”  

Oscar shivered at the implications of that statement. He certainly wouldn't mind being shared. 

But that thought was quickly replaced when he felt your lips on his once again. 

This felt like a fever dream. You, on top of him kissing him while you held onto each other for dear life. 

Then he had an idea. 

He picked you up suddenly, flipping you onto your back. 

“Fuck- I need to see it again” 

He wasted no time getting your pants off, leaving you in your underwear. Which just happened to be lacey and almost completely see through. 

He groaned as his hands came up to grab your hips, eyes roaming over your figure. Namely his initials inked into your skin. 

He leaned down and placed a kiss over it, eyes glued to yours as he did. 

Your pupils darkened and an evil grin spread across his face.

He then went slightly lower, and kissed the spot just above the hem of your underwear, making your breath hitch. 

He went lower still, kissing his way down until he got to where there was already a wet patch soaking through the material. 

“You going to be good for me?” he rasped, tracing a finger over your clothed cunt, making you shiver. 

“Please, Osc” you whined. 

Something sick and twisted churned in his gut at your pleading, and he smirked up at you. 

“That's what I like to hear” 

He dragged your underwear down your legs, wasting no time devouring you and moaning at the sweet taste of victory.

You fell apart on his tongue, then again on his fingers. 

You were gasping for breath while he unbuckled his belt, pulling his own pants and underwear down in one swift move. 

“You ready?” 

You clawed at him, pulling him closer to gasp into his ear. 

“Fuck me like a winner, baby” 

 He lined himself up and pushed in in one swift thrust, and the two of you moaned in sync. 

It was slow, Oscar building up his pace little by little as he took you apart expertly. 

Your back arched, head thrown back while he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“I've been dreaming about this for so long” 

“Osc..” you moaned. 

“That's right, say my name, sweetheart” 

“Oscar!” 

He chuckled as he sped his hips up. 

“That's right. Louder baby, let everyone know who's making you feel this good” 

“Oscar- Fuck!”  

He was unraveling at the sound of your cries. 

This was him. All him. No Lando to get in the way of his pleasure.  

Just you and him, and your beautiful body that was all his for the night.  

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, driving into you harder, ignoring the pain in his side. 

You moans were getting louder and your cunt was squeezing around him like a vice. 

“You gonna come for me? Gonna come on my cock like a good girl, hmm?” 

You whined, nodding furiously at his words while you panted into each others mouths. 

“Oscar, I'm gonna…” 

“Go on baby, let go for me” 

Your moans echoed in the room as the two of you came almost simultaneously, rutting into each other, desperately making up for lost time. 

As you lay there together afterwards, hands wandering, exploring each other's skin, you let out a small giggle. 

“What is it?” he asked softly, stroking over the tattoo on your hip. 

“I got the tattoo at the beginning of the week… and then you won your first race” 

You turned around to face him. 

“Maybe I should get more, you might win the championship” 

He chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“More of my name on your body? Count me in” 

You laughed together and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for a sweet kiss as you both drifted off to sleep. 

[minamotoz]

craziest part about degrassi s13 is how they try to fucking gaslight the viewers into believing maya and zig were anything other than friends with weird romantic tension that never went anywhere in s11-12

[bangtanlalaland]

around the way girl | knj (m.)

synopsis ↳namjoon kim was the man you’d fallen in love with in college, while existing in a society where ambw relationships are rare.

→part of the bring it back collection!

— 1990’s!au; strangers to lovers!au

→pairing: underground rapper!kim namjoon x beauty supply store worker!black female reader

→genre: fluff, smut

→word count: 4.7k+

→contents ⨯ warnings: that beautiful, interracial love (AMBW) [if you’re racist, fuck off my page!] some major fluff action here, joon is so soft, (I stg he’s a dom but also a hopeless romantic. the DUALITY. agsgsjlldlejd), rapper joon makes an appearance, sweet love making, name calling (cute shit, I promise), also the use of DADDY, lots of kissing and caressing, body worshiping, oral (f receiving), protected sex (no glove, no love baby), fingering, over-stimulation, namjoon is so inspired by hip hop culture, y’all I tried really hard to sprinkle some 90′s vibes in there so bare with me ok,

a/n: heyyyy loves! I wanted to do something different, considering that I hardly come across any fics (specifically BTS) with a woc or simply a black reader. so here’s one to all of my beautiful, black queens out there! much love to you all & I want you to know I am here & stand with you.  

song rec: “around the way girl” by ll cool j

☞ disclaimer: If any of the warnings listed above offends you in any way, please do not read. It is not my intention to start any sort of debate/argument in regards to racism, culture appropriation, etc. Therefore if any characters, settings, and/or facts/statements are incorrect, please disregard. However, this body of text is for entertainment purposes only. All characters, settings, scenarios, and dialogue are fictitious. Any similarity to events or persons, whether living or dead, is coincidental.

It was like a movie, from start to finish. Growing up, times were hard and challenges never ceased to fade. But, you pushed through — the good, the bad, and the ugly. Lost ones along the way, realized you couldn’t trust everyone, but you grew. As an independent, young, black woman living in America. And then something happened, that changed everything.

The year of 1998, when fall semester classes at your college just ended, which called for finding a seasonal job for the time being. And that’s how you ended up working at Queen Beauty Supply about two blocks from your place. You grew up knowing Mr. Park (who is the owner and now your boss) all your life. As you were a child, your mother supported his business, always stocking up on flexi rods, Just for Me relaxers, Goody brushes, and all. Even the endless amounts of barrette balls of every color you could think of, she made sure you had. And seeing that you blossomed, Mr. Park was more than honored to hire you for a seasonal gig. You loved him as if he was your family, just as well as he loved you.

It all started that one evening when you worked the register, fancy-ing some Poetic Justice-style braids, showcasing your figure with a halter top and mom jeans. A small stereo behind you blared the latest hits on the radio, Jon B currently on play. You flipped through the latest issue of Word Up! Magazine, admiring the new spread that featured Mya, Monica, and Brandy — your two in. acrylic, nails dragging across the pages. The sound of the bell jingles over the door, indicating the arrival of a customer. Your gaze turns up to greet said customer, and your eyes meet with the fellow that entered.

And damn were you blown away for a hot sec. He was cute, really cute. You hadn’t even realized he asked you something, while standing in front of you on the opposite side of the counter. He’s Asian, obviously. His eyes having told it all. They were different, not shaped like yours, but beautiful. Which was intriguing. But him simple being here in a beauty supply store was interesting, Yes, it’s ironic. The owner himself being Asian, but the intended audience is your fellow black folks. You could tell he’s obviously inspired by your culture since he sported a bucket hat and a loose, white tee that may have been just two sizes too big for him — which is rare nowadays to find on an Asian man. But, you don’t question it. Of course, you’re well aware people of all races are influenced by hip hop culture so in a way, it doesn’t surprise you as much. Okay, maybe a little. But still.

“Can I help you?” His eyes did a weird thing, but it was cute. He was cute.

“Do you have du-rags here?” Your eyebrows raise and head cocks to the side, having abandoned the magazine you were just reading.

“What do you want with a du-rag?” You question, knowing well the texture of his hair can’t form into waves, so you suppose it’s for a fashion statement. He starts blushing, his eyes shut and beautiful pearly whites on display. Damn, did he have you hooked on the spot and you didn’t even know his name yet. You had to hurry up and get him out of here for your own sake, so you took the lead. A few beats passed before he realized you were leading the way to what he needed. He stumbled a little.

“It’s uh- For my performance,” He slips, trailing behind you while passing by the rows of hair-care products, leading towards the back of the store.

“Performance? You dance?” You question, while strutting down the row of where the brushes, combs, barrettes and the jewelry wall was displayed — purposely swaying your hips back and forth just a tad too much for dramatic effect. He definitely noticed, his eyes glued to your form and wondering how your jeans could mold those curves so perfectly.

He blushes at the thought but replies, “I’m a rapper,” And that’s when you stop in your tracks, flipping your braids behind your back and placing your hand on your hip, giving him the same expression that you gave at the counter.

“A rapper?” You ask, while taking him in from head to toe. You notice his white Air Force Ones.

Damn, he is so fine.

He has style, you’ll admit that. But an Asian rapper? That’s unheard of, at least in your neighborhood.

“Do you, boo.” You shrug, while gesturing toward the wall on your left, that displayed various colors of du-rags. You step away to return to the register and then he speaks again.

“What about Blue Magic?” As if he hadn’t surprised you enough, you cross your arms, facing him.

“Well…. it depends on what you want.” You pause, and roll on your heels to walk again, he follows behind you.

“We have coconut oil, but the hair food is out of stock right now. The hair and scalp treatment is limited quantity, but we do have Castor Oil and Super Sure Gro.” You arrive at the row of hair care products, with numerous brands of oils, treatments, and more that cover the shelves. After leaving him there, you admired the way his eyes were shot wide, and you knew damn well he was not 100% sure of what he was looking at — as he searched for the product that piqued his interest.

And so it became a regular occurrence. He’d come in at least once every two weeks, buying the same thing. A du-rag and Super Sure Gro. Some days you’d even be a little extra to “up” your appearance, in hopes he’d notice or in some fantasy world, he’d compliment you. Maybe even ask about you or your day. Or if you’d like to go watch a movie with him or even hit up a spot for some good food. You ponder if he’d be into trying soul food someday. Your mom always did say that a way into a man’s heart is through his stomach. Well, more-so implying that you should know how to get down and dirty in the kitchen.

—

The bell jingles again, while you’re out on the floor stocking up the shelves with bottles of Luster’s Pink Oil Formula. Reaching below into the box to grab a few more bottles, you hadn’t noticed he was towering above you. You jumped slightly when you meet eyes with him, nearly dropping the contents you held onto.

“Don’t you know not to run up on a black woman like that? I may be little, but I can kick your ass!” You both break out into a contagious laugh. He stuffs his hands into his baggy jeans of his, that gorgeous smile spreads across his face. He clears his throat,

“I- Uh- I’m- I’m sorry, I-”

You shake it off, “You’re fine, boo.” Your hand finds its way into his shoulder, a light rub as you brush past him to head for the register. He hesitates, trailing behind you as he fights for the right words to say.

“I-I just, I-” You reach the front of the counter and turn to make eye contact with him. Your eyebrows raise slightly, taking in how he’s struggling to piece his words together. You place your hand on his shoulder again and note how he gazes at you with those same wide eyes you’d grown familiar with over the past few weeks. His lips parted slightly as if he was going to say something but didn’t.

“It’s okay-” You trail off, in hopes he’d catch on.

“Oh, right. N-namjoon. My name is Namjoon.”

You smile in response, lightly rubbing his arm with your palm.

“Is there…. Something you want to say? I promise, I don’t bite,” You state with a soft smile. You notice his shoulders easing themselves down. Part of you wonders what he was so tense for.

“You should come to my performance-” He says rapidly then pauses, looking down and then back up to you, “I would like it- I mean I think that you- You would like my performance.” He internally hates himself for being shy around you, his cheeks so tight and raised from smiling hard, and you could have literally melt in that moment. You thought it was cute to see him that way. To know you made him feel all flustered.

There was a grand amount of effort he’d built to approach you. The very, first day he arrived at the store, he wanted to say something then. He went home that night rehearsing how he’d spark up a conversation with you. He even recalls one time he’d seen you at a bus stop sucking on a lollipop, and how tempted he was to say something then. But he couldn’t. He was afraid of rejection, and he wasn’t sure how to approach you. So when he’d visit the beaut store and see your face, he’d grow warm on the inside. And when you would make eye contact with him, his heart would stop. When you would speak to him with that sweet voice of yours, he’d freeze.

So when you said yes you would be there, he cried afterwards. Not in front of you of course, but on the bus back to his place. He couldn’t believe that you didn’t reject him. Throughout the weeks, he’d contemplated because he didn’t know how you felt about people of his race. He didn’t know how your race felt about people like him in general. Although, it never mattered to him. Because he believed that love is love. As long as you’re happy with that person, that is all what truly matters. He believed everyone deserves to have that kind of love. Little did he know, you felt the same way.

And then things advanced between the two of you.

It was the night he invited you to an underground party, and it was live. Music thumped with never-ending bass, people danced and smoked, and the space felt warm and cluttered, courtesy of body heat. You gradually ease your way through the space, attempting to find some kind of “safe haven” amongst the grinding, moving bodies within the cramped atmosphere. The music settles down, which causes you to look ahead, realizing you’re in front of the stage where the DJ is posted up on the left.

“Alright, y’all! You already know what time it is.” The DJ blatantly announces through his microphone. The crowd somewhat reacts, but not to his liking you assume.

“I said… Y’all already know what time it is!” Everyone goes wild, screaming, chanting and whistling.

“Tonight, I wanna welcome y’all my boy. From the East side, he’s an up and coming rapper- Y’all check this,” He pauses for a moment, “He is a Korean rapper! Y’all feel me? What y’all know about a Korean rapper, aight?” He shakes his head throwing his hands up.

“Imma let y’all have this one, but I’m tellin’ y’all! You don’t know nothing bout this!” You smile uncontrollably, aware of who he’s talking about. Also somewhat anxious to see what the hype is about, your nerves making your stomach churn just a little too much while you’re out in public.

“Give it up for my boy, RM!” The DJ, swivels the record on his turntable back and forth. And there Namjoon was, appearing from the side of the stage, with his du-rag and bucket hat, loose tee, baggy jeans, and those familiar Air Force Ones you’d grown to recognize. You also peep the Cuban chain that adorns his neck.

And then the beat kicks in. Which was also familiar, you note that it’s the beat for “I Need Love.” Everyone starts bobbing their heads, including him. Including you.

He throws his hand up, shoving gestures to go along with the rhythm of the music, while using his other hand to firmly hold onto his mic.

“I’d like to introduce myself, The name is RM, Let’s rewind and take you back to when it first started, Very first time that I walked in the shop, I was startled and I swear I had felt my heart drop, You made me wanna get down on my knees, Begging, please, Coulda told you I was sprung the moment I seen ya,”

He makes eye contact with you and points directly in your direction. He’s talking about you, right? He’s got to be. There’s no way he isn’t. You continue bobbing your head to the beat, and you can’t fight the smile in return.

“Dang baby, how’d you fit in those jeans? Hips got a brother feeling like he’s in a dream, Couldn’t even keep my head straight, Yeah I’m Asian but damn, Somethin’ must have went left and messed up my fam, Sittin’, thinkin’, contemplatin’, and wonderin’, How could I get this fine lil shawty to blushin’? Hopin’ that you’ll say yes and lemme steal you from the scene, Treat you like a queen and show you what a real man can be,”

He stares at you for a moment too long, yet you’ve already grown too hot for the jean jacket you’re wearing over your tube top.

“I need love,” he adds before dropping the mic; everyone suddenly is hype, continuously cheering him on and giving him props for his performance.

“I told y’all! Give it up for my boy, RM!” The DJ adds, patting him on the back while smiling from ear to ear. But, his eyes are focused on you, and only you — who just can’t seem to shake off the bright smile plastered on your face, you attentively graze your bottom lip with your teeth to attempt stopping yourself from smiling so much. But, you fail. And he takes note of that, returning a smile to you. You could tell he’s blushing, his dimples appearing before he dips his head low.

So shy, yet so damn fine. How is that even possible?

—

That same week, he surprised you at work, stumbling in to rap a few verses about how beautiful you are to him, and he pulled a bouquet of roses he hid from behind his back. You remembered that day so clearly. You remembered kissing him, hugging him, holding his hand, smelling the flowers. You also remembered Mr. Park interrupting your little PDA session to scold you about: “No kissing and no sex on the clock!”

But, Namjoon loved you more than you could think. And he didn’t care who in the world thought it was wrong for you two to fall in love. Because the night you two had arrived at his apartment, lips intertwined with one another, and hands roaming each others bodies, was when everything became so clear.

You both stumble inside, too wrapped up in locking lips with one another. Namjoon guides you toward his bedroom; and being the klutz he is, he stubs his shoe on the baseboard leading to his bedroom. You both break the kiss, and you can’t help but chuckle at his clumsy ways.

“Why you laughing at me, huh?” He lifts you up and you can’t help the half gasp/half giggle that escapes your lips, immediately wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to his bed. He gently lies you down on your back and hovers above you. You unexpectedly snatch his bucket hat off, tossing it somewhere on the floor — his faded, white-blonde and dark brown strands on display.

“Did you have to do my Kangol like that?” He whines with furrowed brows. You tap his bottom lip, dragging your finger across the plump flesh.

“Shut up and kiss me.” His gold Cuban link chain hangs from his neck, prompting your fingers to tug it down, and you do so, his lips smashing with yours yet again. Your fingers lace themselves within his hair, admiring the feel of his oiled scalp. His lips massage yours in a way that’s beyond comforting, and you make sure to inform him how nostalgic kissing feels. Drawn-out moans spew from you, and you can’t help but wonder how in the hell could you be in this time and moment with him. Piece by piece all of your garments end up lost on the ground, along with his clothing. He had you caged in to his bed and kept himself hovered over you, planting kisses along your neck trailing down to your collarbone.

“Mmm, Joon.” You follow his lead, kissing his blush-colored lips, snaking through his silky strands. His hands travel behind your back to remove your lace bra, revealing your breasts that illuminate from the moonlight peeking through the blinds of his window, your chocolate nipples hardened and desperate for attention. His eyes are blown wide, cherishing every dip and curve of your body.

“Wow,” He admits, his erection growing behind his undergarment. He holds a few moments to etch this view of you within his memory, appreciating every trait of your being in this form. His hands find placement on your hips, pulling you to his body completely — the soft, plushness of your breasts pushed against his chest. He rubs the outline of your face, slowly dragging his index finger along your jawline.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world. You know that?” You let out a small giggle, feeling vulnerable in this state. He kisses you, being sure to suck your bottom lip, pulling and tugging softly with his teeth. His hands roam down your back and land on your ass cheeks, gripping with force. Your breath hitches, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his neck, in hopes to ease him in just a little more. Even though physically it isn’t possible. He teases your bottom lip with a swipe of his tongue, asking for entrance.

And you let him in, sucking and licking him back in response, both of yours saliva mixing with each others, and not a care in the world — too consumed in each other. He gropes your ass, causing a moan to slip from you. His large palms kneading the cushion-y flesh, and damn is he grateful for this moment in time with you. He pulls from your lips with an audible smack, and you relish in the sight of his thick lips all swollen and damp.

“I love you, ____” He admits with those delightful irises.

“I love you too, Namjoon.” He guides you to lie down on your back, hovering above you as he places kisses along your jawline, leading down your neck, taking his time to cherish every part of you. His hands roam along your sides, caressing the curves of your body. He kisses the area between your breasts and stops suddenly, eyeing you for approval. As if understanding, you nod. His tongue peeks out and circles your right nipple, he wraps his lips around the bud and sucks with tenderness, making sure to release with a pop each time while his other hand massages your left breast.

Your core aches as a result, needing to feel him so the void inside your walls can be filled. He repeats this with your other tit, sucking your nipple while massaging the other, pinching and rolling the bud between his fingers. Your core throbs with an intense pleasure, soaking your now soiled panties. He eases down further, planting kisses down your tummy and moving along the inner thighs of your mocha skin, praising the smooth, supple, flesh. His fingers tug the band of your lace panties, and he eyes you again for approval.

“Please,” You plead, and it was all he needed to hear to remove the garment and reveal yourself to him, treasuring the sight of your lips dripping from arousal. He wastes no time, as you feel his warm, wet muscle gliding along your folds, his nose nuzzling your clit in the process. Your fingers snake into his hair and hips buck upwards to move along the rhythmic motions of his tongue, while he devours you whole as if he’d become a man starved.

“Joon!” You praise, panting for air, Your gaze follows between your legs, cherishing the man that continues to eat you out. He watches your expressions, glaring deeply into your eyes as he does so. His fingers ease toward your folds, rubbing his digits along your drenched pussy, coating them with your wet. He watches you still, not wanting to leave your gaze as he enters a finger inside you. You moan his name in response. His finger delves deep within you, your walls sucking him in perfectly.

“So good for me,” He lashes his tongue out to lick your clit in a circular motion. The sight of him between your thighs makes your heart quiver. He deliberately adds a second finger, his lengthy digits curling themselves upwards and dragging along the walls of your womanhood. His nails dig along the flesh of your thighs, keeping you settled and under his grip, his lips suck on your clit til no end. His obscene noises send a shockwave of pleasure through you, and your toes curl at the sensation. He pulls his fingers from out of you and tastes your arousal that clings to him.

“Tastes so good,” He moans, and you can’t help your thighs from rubbing together to ease the tension that has built. Then, he blushes at the view of you, all horny and ready for him. Only him. How can he be so cute and so fine at the same time? You ask yourself this everyday. Your legs move on their own accord, struggling to draw him back in. He chuckles at your actions.

“You want more, baby?” He questions in that deep, sexy voice of his.

You nod in reply, “Yes, Joon. Please, daddy?” His famous dimples reappear, and those mesmerizing, pearly whites appear. He dives back down, trailing kisses along your tummy, leading to your mound. He worships your body as he had wanted to do since the day he met you, gripping and rubbing along your skin. He moans against you, admiring the feel of you under his fingertips. His lips encase around your clit again, and your body jerks from the sudden feeling. His tongue slides along your folds, sucking and slurping, making the most lewd noises.

His fingernails drag along your thighs, adding an odd tingle within you. You follow his motions and graze your nails on top of his hand, when an unexpected bliss washes over you — causing you to writhe underneath him. He continues sucking your clitoris until you can’t take anymore, your legs gliding up an down along his back, back arching off the mattress, eyebrows furrowing and you simply drowning in euphoria with trembling thighs as your nails drag along his scalp and your cries echo within his eardrums.

“Joon, daddy!” Your nails dig further into his hand, and fingers tug harshly onto his strands. Your core now sensitive to the touch, something you’d never experienced before. He moves his head back and forth, delving deeper and not wanting to let go. You scratch his back, now in hopes he’d give up. You’re nearly convinced he’s going to kill you with that tongue of his, and then out of nowhere, he pushes two fingers inside you. Your toes curl for what feels like the millionth time, and you whimper his name repeatedly.

He thrusts his digits into you, a loud squelching noise filling up the space. And you feel those plush lips wrap around your clit again. He ruts against the bed, wanting to feed the tension within his groin. Your feet now having fought the sheets you lay upon, twisting and turning due to the over-sensitivity. But in some strange sentiment, there’s another wave. And here you are having your second orgasm of the night.

“Fuck, Ungh- I’m cumming again!” Your body shakes violently, not having control over the orgasm that’s overtaken you. An uncontrollable scream slips out and you shove Namjoon away from you with a strained push, his chin now glistening with you. He wipes the residue from his face with the back of his hand, grinning at you fucked out and waiting on his bed. He pulls a condom from somewhere in his drawer and wraps himself up.

He was so thick, thicker than you thought. You lay flat on your tummy and Namjoon sets himself on top of you, caging you in again. He notes the glow upon your ebony skin as he coats his protected member with your drenched self, adding a line of his own saliva and finally diving into you with every inch he has, at a slow, steady pace. But the places he reaches leave you wondering what you’d done to deserve this kind of dick.

Magnificent.

“Beautiful, black queen,” he slips in between breaths, rocking his hips against yours. The position granting him a much deeper access. You gasp at his remark, clenching your walls tighter around him, he hisses in response. His warm breath fans the right side of your face, and he presses a kiss along your earlobe while adding,

“All mine. You’re my black queen, understand? Can’t nobody take that away from me.”

“Yes Namjoon,” You reply. “I’m all yours.”

His cock twitches at the sound of his name slipping from your lips within this state — having you underneath him like this, needy, desperate, and only craving him. He inches to meet your lips with his. His kisses are filled with want and desire, full of love. That sweet, sweet love.

“Give it to me daddy,” You say under your breath but audible enough for him to hear, and he takes heed to continue thrusting himself into you, his delicate, golden skin glimmering with perspiration. The sound of your bodies clapping against each other resonate throughout his apartment, as soft whimpers and moans fall from you, and he utilizes every millisecond of this moment to drown himself in your presence.

“So tight, so wet. So beautiful.” His hips buck in a gentle, yet stern manner, causing your body to jerk upward and eyes to shut close in response — his balls slapping your ass with each thrust of his hips, he continuously hits that sweet spot over and over again, your eyes rolling back due to the nostalgia. He eases his fingers in between your legs to rub circles into your clit simultaneously, and it doesn’t take long for your walls to contract for the third time that night.

“Fuck baby,” He coos with followed moans and groans, spilling himself while still buried in you. You shudder underneath him with nails dragging along the sheets, and muffled moans from burying your face, as you call out his name like it was the only function your brain could process.

He eases himself out of you, and you can’t help the low gasp that emits from you — having been so full of him and sensitive at the same time. A few moments later, and the slight shift of the bed indicates he vanished to discard the condom. You simply lay there, slowly processing that he’d given you the best sex you’ve ever had, being that his main focus was pleasuring you.

But it was in those final moments when Namjoon cuddled you afterwards, bodies attached together by sweat, gasping for air and basking himself in the warm, vanilla, sugar aroma of your essence — that he knew he was in love with you. And there was nothing anyone could ever say to change his feelings.

You break the silence having thought of Namjoon’s words you recall from his performance.

“Think you’ve found it?” He watches your form with raised eyebrows.

“Found what?” You trace circles along his chest, gazing upon his abdomen.

“Love,” You state, and a silence falls that makes your body warm up in a flash.

He shakes his head in a “no” gesture, “I don’t think I have.” The sudden pause of his sentence makes your heart drop.

“I know I have.” He kisses your forehead and draws you closer to him, holding onto you for dear life — like he’s afraid he’d lose you. You beam at his gesture, curling up into his figure. His heart thumps from the immense affection between the two of you. Your now closed eyes like an irreplaceable gift to him.

“My around the way girl,” He whispers to himself, while petting your hair and drifting off into slumber.

[starring-movies]

Killing Eve: Episode Analysis

*SPOILERS*

Season 3, Episode 2 - Management Sucks

The episode begins with Eve, who is attending Kenny’s funeral. While she’s standing outside trying to have a smoke, she sees a bus with an advert on it saying “worry, grief, regret, let it all go...”, which is exactly what Eve needs to, and is trying to do - yet there is something, or more accurately someone, who she just can’t manage to let go of.

While Eve is standing outside, the song ‘Boy And Girl’ by Unloved plays through the scene. The lyrics that can be heard are:

If I was old,

When I was young,

What I’d known,

I’d do,

But I'm old,

And not so young,

But still I cry,

For you,

But what’s left to say,

Except that time heals all,

So I will wait,

And wait”

The lyrics of the song exhibit how Eve is reflecting on her life and her experiences, as well as how Kenny has died when he still “was young”. She is also thinking about the tragedies she has endured and how she hopes that “time heals all” she has endured, but it hasn’t happened yet so she “will wait and wait”.

This episode is also one of two episodes in Season 3, where the title credits are different. We get the cast’s names in black drops on a red background; the second instance where this is used is in S3E7, and the background is Green for that one. The red and green backgrounds are a nod to the outfits that Eve (green) and Villanelle (red) wore in the Season 2 finale, in Rome. The red for Villanelle is used in this episode, because it focuses on her character development the most.

In this episode, Villanelle starts trying to climb up the ladder of The Twelve through a managerial assignment, and it is this episode that is the beginning of the end for Villanelle. It is in this episode where she starts on a path that leads to her realisation of her own lack of freedom, and her discontentment in working for The Twelve - as she later realises that she has been manipulated by Dasha and Hélène (when she’s made a keeper and it doesn’t turn out to be what she was promised).

When Carolyn tries to return to work, before entering a meeting, Mo says “your blouse is, erm...”. This seems like an insignificant, passing comment, but Carolyn is a woman who is always immaculately dressed. Carolyn’s state of dress usually reflects the internal organisation and focus that she has in her work and personal life. So Carolyn’s blouse being untidy shows us how, although she is trying to do her job and be at work physically, she is not as mentally focused as she usually is.

Later on Carolyn goes to visit Eve at the Korean restaurant she works at, and when Eve comes to meet with her, she starts to drink a can of coke; which is a reference back to S1E2, when Carolyn is showing Eve the Trafalgar office and tells her “I once saw a rat drink from a can of coke there”. In the scene in S1E2, Carolyn is recruiting Eve to work for her, to try and track down Villanelle. Similarly in this scene, Carolyn is once again trying to get Eve to start working for her again; except unlike in Season 1, Eve has lost all the enthusiasm she once had for searching for Villanelle, and this time she turns Carolyn down.

After Carolyn has told Eve “she’s back, Eve, and she’s working”, a song (presumably another unreleased Unloved song) almost perfect for the scene plays. The lyrics of the song that can be heard are:

“Two minds,

What’s this,

Why do I care,

It’s over,

It’s done,

Yet it’s still there,

I don’t wanna go there,

I’ve been there before,

And I already know how it ends”

This song perfectly encapsulates what is running through Eve’s mind, and although Eve is saying nothing herself, the song is saying exactly what she’s thinking. Eve is in “two minds” about being reminded of Villanelle and being told that she’s working again. She also questions herself as to why she does “care”, as it is “over” and “done” between the two of them. However, like the song says, Eve knows “it’s still there”. She is obviously, and visibly, effected by the news about Villanelle; and despite the fact that she’s been “there before” with her and “already knows how it ends”, there’s still something so strong there that won’t allow her let her let go of Villanelle.

The song is an ideal choice, especially paired with the shot of Eve’s reflection being mirrored - showing us visually the “two minds” that Eve is in regarding her feelings for Villanelle.

Moving on, we see Villanelle being introduced to Felix and from their conversation we can see that Villanelle still thinks about Eve and is still hurt by what happened in Rome. When Felix is telling her about his boyfriend, he says “when you love somebody and they don’t love you back, it’s worse than, it’s worse than... I don’t know what its worse than, it’s really” and then Villanelle finishes his sentence by saying “shit”. Villanelle is clearly thinking about Eve when she says this, as her profession of her love for Eve was rejected in Rome, and we can see she’s visibly upset at thinking about this.

When Carolyn meets with Audrey, to ask her about Kenny, she tells Carolyn that Kenny used to sing on the toilet. This is why in S2E3 Kenny says to Eve “you weren’t listening were you?”, when he comes out of the toilets. At the end of their conversation, when Carolyn’s talking about grieving, she tells Audrey about how the “ancient celts used to mourn their loved ones with wailing and shrieking, such a public ritual for them, they weren’t embarrassed about it in the least, don’t be embarrassed, will you”. Audrey doesn’t seem like she’s embarrassed about grieving for Kenny at all, especially since she was seen crying in the toilets at Kenny’s funeral, so the comment that Carolyn makes is made because she is actually the one who feels embarrassed about grieving publicly.

When Mo finds Carolyn sitting in her car in MI6’s car park, she is eating her sandwiches and listening to ‘Dido’s Lament’ by Henry Purcell, from the opera ‘Dido and Aeneas’. Dido is a character from Virgil’s ‘Aeneid’, who dramatically kills herself by setting herself on fire when her lover, Aeneas, leaves her to sail back to his homeland. Carolyn is contrasted with Dido, as she doesn’t show her grief in such an over-the-top way as Dido does - in Carolyn’s opinion, Dido is comparable with Geraldine, both of whom are comparable to the Celts who “weren’t embarrassed about it [public mourning] in the least” (but Carolyn isn’t like them and she is embarrassed).

Carolyn also comments to Mo, “what a way to go, what a terribly death. Dido, abandoned by Aeneas, dies of grief”. Although Carolyn may not relate to Dido’s public display of her grief, she does relate deeply to (and is going through) the same intensity of grief that Dido felt.

At the end of the episode, when Konstantin goes to visit Villanelle at her new apartment in Barcelona, he says “look, now you are back with The Twelve, especially now, you have to know you're not safe...”, Villanelle interrupts him by saying “I’m fine” and he continues to tell her “you think you’re in control, but you’re not”.

Konstantin was most likely trying to warn Villanelle that Dasha and The Twelve were manipulating her, and he already knew they weren’t going to make her a keeper, like she asked for. We can see that (just as Konstantin goes on to tell Villanelle “you know I care about you”), that he does seem to genuinely care about her; as he was trying to warn her about what she was getting into, but she couldn’t focus on anything he had told her because the news that Eve was alive took the forefront in her mind.

Just like the stylistic choice to use the ‘Two Minds’ song and a mirrored shot, for Eve’s reaction to the news about Villanelle; a Dutch Angle shot is used for Villanelle’s reaction to the news that Eve is actually alive. The Dutch Angle is a stylistic choice that is often used to reflect disorientation or an unsettled feeling.

The Dutch Angle, paired with the blurring of Konstantin in the background, similarly reflects Villanelle’s disorientation and surprise at finding out Eve, who she still has deep feelings for and thought she had killed, is actually alive.

You can read my previous Killing Eve posts here:-

First Introduction to Villanelle

First Introduction to Eve

S1, E1 - Nice Face

S1, E2 - I’ll Deal With Him Later

S1, E3 - Don’t I Know You?

S1, E4 - Sorry Baby

S1, E5 - I Have a Thing about Bathrooms

S1, E6 - Take Me to the Hole!

S1, E7 - I Don’t Want to Be Free

S1, E8 - God, I’m Tired

S2, E1 - Do You Know How to Dispose of a Body?

S2, E2 - Nice and Neat

S2, E3 - The Hungry Caterpillar

S2, E4 - Desperate Times

S2, E5 - Smell Ya Later

S2, E6 - I Hope You Like Missionary!

S2, E7 - Wide Awake

S2, E8 - You’re Mine

S3, E1 - Slowly Slowly Catchy Monkey

S3, E3 - Meetings Have Biscuits

S3, E4 - Still Got It

S3, E5 - Are You From Pinner? [Part 1]

S3, E5 - Are You From Pinner? [Part 2]

S3, E6 - End of Game

S3, E7 - Beautiful Monster

S3, E8 - Are You Leading or Am I? [Part 1]

——————————————————————————

[mediocre--writing]

Sinking

Peter Parker x OC (Tessa Kennedy)

Summary: Things take a turn for the worse when TK receives earth-shattering news that could affect the rest of her life. How will things work out when everything is sinking around her?

Word Count: 5,548

Warnings: cancer, panic attack, language, gay couple(?)

****haha let’s pretend that Endgame never happened :)

Tessa Kennedy, a junior at Midtown High School, an amazing school full of nerds, that for some reason had multiple sports teams, that weren’t that bad. Tessa, known to everyone by TK, was on her school’s Varsity Soccer team, one of the best on the team. 

She was eager, confident, tactical, and had more energy than 14 Red Bulls. Beyond the soccer field, she was also friendly to most everyone at her school, save for Flash Thompson, who was the world's biggest douchebag. 

She wasn’t all that smart at Midtown, where the kids there were all geeky and nerdy, but she still did well, never getting lower than a B in any of her classes. 

TK wasn’t popular like you might think she is, but she is well known, she just doesn’t hang around the “popular kids,” but stays within her little group, consisting of Peter Parker, MJ, and Ned Leeds, who were all odd in their own special ways. 

Peter was a geeky little twerp, one that couldn’t say a sentence without stuttering at least once, but he was also someone who loved his friends and family fiercely and without hesitation. Ned, also a huge geek, was kind and soft, sweet and always meant well, even if he didn’t exactly do well. MJ, unlike Peter and Ned, was more of a nerd, keeping to her books rather than a movie franchise, and knew more about everything than she would let on. 

TK loved her friends, she enjoyed watching Star Wars with the boys and reading whatever poetry book MJ was into at the moment, but she liked being active more than they did, she didn’t sit still for too long, and always had energy to spare and definitely didn’t need an espresso shot, something Peter learned in their Freshman year after a little incident where she shattered the lamp in his room because she was jumping and dancing around after he got them coffee. 

Nevertheless, the quartet was best of friends, and they all knew Peter’s little secret after an incident after Homecoming when Ned spilled the beans to the girls during his babbling rant about how he’s worried about Peter. 

Through the ups and downs of their friendship, they were always there for one another, TK went to all the decathlon competitions she could get to and in return, they would attend her soccer games. They would always lift each other when they were down, MJ would distract, Peter would comfort, Ned would use the phrase “laughter is the best medicine” and execute it perfectly, and TK would be there to binge-watch Netflix or eat until there were no carbs left untouched. 

All different, yet all the same, the quartet stayed together for the past three years, being there for each other and smacking (whether literally or metaphorically) Flash when he was being a douche. 

Now, it was November, the month of TK’s birthday, and she was getting more and more excited for the 9th to come around so she could celebrate with her friends and dads, but something was happening. 

TK was constantly getting pains in her right leg that were off and on, but the pain was excruciating. It seemed as though her ankle and knee were also growing as if swollen, but she couldn’t get it to go down. 

She didn’t like having problems, it made her feel like she was incapable of anything, but she knew something was wrong when, after a few weeks, she had lost fifteen pounds off her muscular body. She was eating, she was still exercising, and everything was going just fine, but her leg would bother her over and over again, and no medicine was helping ease the pain, so she needed to make a decision. 

“Dad, Bub,” TK said coming into their apartment’s living room, where her fathers sat on their gray couch, drinking their evening coffee. 

“What’s up, darling?” Her Bub, Kris, said, turning over the back of the couch to face her. 

TK’s Bubba (or ‘Bub’ for short), Kris was a brunette, tan skin, and a muscular build, very active, and TK’s real father. Her dad, Anthony, was blonde, a pale guy, but one of the kindest that she’d ever met, very empathetic and understanding. 

“I think there’s something wrong with my leg,” TK said as she sat down on the other end of the couch, across from where Kris had his arm around Anthony, but they parted when they heard what was bothering her. 

“Why, what hurts?” Anthony asked, placing a hand on her arm, between her shoulder and elbow. 

“I don’t know, it’s like, not how a bruise hurts, it’s deeper than that, but it doesn’t feel broken, and my joints on my right leg are kinda swollen, but Advil or whatever aren’t helping with pain and, I don’t know, just thought I should tell you.”

She finally raised her head from where she was playing with the pattern on a pillow, distracting herself. Her hazel eyes met theirs, and she felt pity for herself just by the way they were looking at her. 

“Okay, do you wanna go to the doctor, I can make an appointment?” Anthony asked her, rubbing up and down her arm, comforting her nerves as he ran his hand over the goosebumps on her arm. 

“Yeah, dad, I think--yeah.” TK stood from her spot on the couch, walking back to her room at the end of the hallway, limping slightly. 

When she sat on her bed, she thought her leg might just break, the pressure from the rest of her body made it feel as though it was a piece of uncooked spaghetti that could snap with the slightest pressure. 

Letting out a breath, she laid back, pulling the thin blanket over her body, knowing good and well she would be stressing through a better part of the night. 

She couldn’t sleep, it was hard enough to think about how she was nervous about her leg, but she didn’t feel the slightest bit excited about her 17th birthday tomorrow, which she had been looking forward to for the past month or two, thinking of what she could do with her friends on her special day, but now she dreaded the thought. 

About 3 months later, TK was facing the final decisions. 

Turns out, Bone Cancer runs in the family on her mother’s side and was a contributing factor to why she died. And, apparently, it was a huge problem that she wasn’t telling her friends, at least, according to her Dad and Bubba. 

She knew what had to happen, it wasn’t a decision, the cancer was spreading and rejecting the chemo treatment, TK either had to let cancer spread to her other bones or amputate her right leg. 

So many thoughts went through her head as she walked through the halls of Midtown High on Friday, the fact that she wouldn’t be coming back for the next few weeks, and the fact that she still hadn’t told her friends. There was also the fact that she wouldn’t be able to play soccer this season, and this was when they began to look for scholarship options for college, but what else did she have to lose?

A leg, she had a leg to lose.

The tan lockers mocked TK as she walked the halls to her locker, next to Ned and Peter’s. 

“Hey, T,” Peter said as he dug through his locker, looking for whatever he was looking for, Ned on the other side of him. 

“Hey, boys,” TK said softly, placing books in her locker and grabbing what she needed for gym and English class. “What plans do you guys have after school?”

“Nothing,”

“Patrol,” Peter and Ned said at the same time, looking over to TK’s freckled face, which looked much paler than she usually appeared. 

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, stopping the search for whatever he needed in his locker, turning fully to the brunette next to him. 

“Something,” TK sighed softly, “That’s why I wanted to talk to you guys, and MJ, after school, at my place. Pete, can you stay for like half an hour, just for a bit, it won’t affect any part of your patrol, I promise.”

“Yeah, sure,” Peter said, his brown eyes looking at TK’s face, then trailing down to where she leaned more on her left leg, leaning against her locker weakly. 

TK continued shutting her locker and walking off to her gym class, where she would be gleefully doing sit-ups instead of the mile run that would be happening next week, but not for her. 

“She look...like, super sick to you?” Ned asked from Peter’s shoulder, causing the brunette to turn quickly, his curls flopping on his head as he saw Ned’s face. 

“Yeah, kinda.” Peter watched as she walked over to MJ, who was a few lockers down, talk for a moment, then limp towards the gym. “She’s all limpy, and sad. I don’t like it.”

“Yeah,” Ned said as he looked in his locker for the last time, then turning to Peter, “We better get to gym class.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter said blankly as they walked towards the gym. 

Through the day, Peter, Ned, and MJ would always be watching TK around the school, because at least one of them would be in the same class as her, then lunch, then the last two classes of the day. 

Finally, TK’s Bubba picked up the four of them from school, since none of them bothered to get a drivers license given they could ride a train, taxi, or bus wherever they needed to go. 

The car ride to her apartment complex was tense, Kris tried to turn on music in order to fill the car with a sound other than breathing, but it was useless, the once happy, cheery, daughter he had was now falling into a depressive state, now that one of the only things she loved was being ripped away from her, possibly for good. 

Once parked, they all grabbed their bookbags and walked to their apartment, each teen grabbing a bottle of water and some snacks from the pantry, then retreating to TK’s room. 

The boys and MJ were staring at her, and though they all held different expressions, they were all eager to hear what was wrong with their friend. 

“Tomorrow,” TK began after taking a sip from her water bottle, “I’m being admitted into the hospital for about a week.”

She took a deep breath in, trying to not cry again, she’d been doing enough of that lately. 

Peter, Ned, and MJ were all shocked, confused, and curious. 

“I- I have bone cancer that started in my right thigh, and has spread down.” TK’s voice was breaking, making it hard for her to talk clearly, “And I tried chemo, but my body rejected it, and now the only option is to either let it spread, or-or I…”

MJ grabbed her hand, squeezing it softly, encouragingly, as if telling her that it’s okay and that she’s fine. 

“I have to have my entire right leg, and some of my hip, amputated tomorrow.”

With the final admission of truth, TK pulled MJ closer, holding onto her jacket with a death grip as she sobbed into her shoulder, brown hair sticking to her teary face. 

The room was no longer tense and awkward, it was now sad, depressing, and filled with understanding. While MJ was hugging her, a few stray tears fell down her face, and Peter and Ned said nothing, only staring into the abyss, conflicted on if they should say or do anything. 

After a good 10 minutes of TK getting herself together, MJ comforting her, and the boys looking at the girls, then each other, the moment ended.  

“Do you guys wanna stay over?” TK asked, wiping the stray tears off with her sleeve, “Bubba already said it was okay as long as you guys slept on the floor and we left the door open.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, ignoring the fact that he should be patrolling around now, TK was a larger priority then a purse getting stolen. “Let me call Aunt May real quick,”

MJ and Ned also texted their parents, getting the okay that they could stay over, Peter was the final decision. 

“I can stay, I just gotta talk to Mr. Stark tomorrow around 10 am,” Peter said with a dorky smile. 

“Great,” TK grinned, leaning on the pillows at the head of her bed. “Let me ask if we can order Chinese food or something, what do you guys want?”

They all agreed on the Chinese place a few blocks down, ordering delivery from TK’s phone, then they proceeded to talk and laugh. After they ate their food, talked some more, watched Netflix, talked even more, then got in their places for bed (MJ and TK on the bed, the boys on the blow-up mattress on the floor), they finally began falling asleep. 

All except TK and Peter. 

“Why’re you up?” Peter asked, looking at TK’s freckled face in the moonlight from the window. 

“Nerves, I guess.” TK turned on her side to face Peter, “What about you?”

“Well, it’s only 2 am,” Peter chuckled, “I’m usually swinging from building to building right now. Guess it’s an internal clock.”

“When do you have time to do anything, Pete, like you always have homework done, you never look tired, and yet you only go to class and swing around in upgraded spandex.”

They both giggled at her statement, “Dunno, guess it just all clicked together after a month or so, didn’t need much sleep, and I do homework in class.”

“Wow, I don’t even understand the material when I’m paying attention, don’t think I could do homework during it too.”

“Eh, not that bad.” Peter shrugged, “Go to sleep, T, you need it. You’ve been a zombie for the past few days.”

“Only if you do too, P.”

Peter sighed dramatically, “If you insist, I guess I’ll get more than two hours of sleep tonight.”

“How can you live off two hours of sleep, I’ve been sleeping like six hours for all of high school and I still sleep in class.”

After chuckling again, Peter didn’t say anything, and after a few minutes, he felt himself drifting asleep to the sound of Ned’s snoring and the girl’s soft breathing. 

The next morning, Peter woke up with the light shining in his eyes from the large, open window in TK’s room. 

As his eyes adjusted, he realized that Ned was gone and the girls were on the bed giggling because of whatever was on TK’s phone. 

He took in the sight, a late morning, the rough sunlight across his cheeks that wasn’t from watching the sunrise on top of his building, and not having to worry about what was going on in the streets below. 

“Hey, Peter?” He heard a voice, TK’s, from the bed as he sat up slowly. “It’s 9 and you have to meet with Stark at 10, so you may want to get ready or whatever you do,” 

Peter sat up a bit quicker, he was still in his clothes from yesterday and his hair was probably a mess, as it was in the morning, and he had to talk to Mr. Stark. 

From TK’s view, he looked adorable, his eyes couldn’t focus and his hair was every which way, and he was freaking out because he was about eight seconds away from Stark Tower when he swung over. 

Her attention was pulled away from her, however, when MJ showed her another meme on her phone. 

The morning was slow, Ned had left at around 7 because his parents needed him home, and Peter left at about 9:30, after attempting to look like he hadn’t slept in the clothes he had on and used some of TK’s Bub’s deodorant religiously.

Little did TK know that Peter had a huge surprise up his sleeve for her.

TK had to leave for the hospital at around noon, and MJ said that, if it was okay, she would go with her then leave when she was taken back for operation, as moral support. In reality, TK knew that MJ just didn’t want to go back to her bland house where her parents were probably at work anyway and she’d be lonely. She appreciates the thought anyway because she needed her Emotional Support MJ with her right now. 

It was a long car ride, or maybe it just felt that way because she knew what happened when the car stopped. Michelle ignored the death grip on her hand when they were in the backseat because she knew that TK was so ready for this to be over, but she also never wanted it to end, because it would be the end of something much more important. 

“Hey, MJ,” She asked quietly, as to not get the attention of the men in the front seat, though it was impossible for them to not hear, though they remained impartial to their daughter’s secrets that were being shared in the backseat. 

“Hmm?” MJ replied, turning to the brunette next to her, pulling her hair from where it was squashed between the seat belt and TK’s sweatshirt that was borrowed years ago, yet never given back. 

“Are you still going to look at me the same after this?” It came out so tense, MJ could tell that it had been said multiple times in her head before actually coming out. 

“No,” MJ told her simply, causing TK’s eyes to widen and snap to hers as she chuckled, “I’m going to see you as someone who is so much stronger than I thought before. As someone who does so much for everyone else that she is now going to realize that we’re here to help you too. And we’re not helping you out of pity, we’re going to be there for you because it’s what you would do for any of us, what you have done for us all.”

TK wiped a tear off her face, “Fuck you,”

The girls laughed as Kris shot her a glare through the rearview mirror, but there wasn’t much he could do, she had inherited his sailor's mouth. 

Then, the car stopped, they got out, they prepared for the worst, TK was taken back, MJ was driven back by Anthony, and the kids didn’t hear from either father about TK all day, or the next day. 

But they went through it, it was fine. 

She was strong, she would be fine. 

At least that’s what they kept telling themselves.

It had been three days since TK’s surgery. 

She was finally letting her friends come to the hospital to see her. She didn’t truly want them to come, but she knew that if roles were reversed, she would want more than anything to be invited to see her friend when they weren’t well. 

So she invited them all, Peter showed up first, with flowers (that were missing a few petals, she assumed that he swung to the hospital), then MJ, and finally Ned. 

It was surprisingly nice, how they didn’t seem to treat her any differently than before, how normal it seemed, and how odd it was that they didn’t mention the fact that she never took the blankets off her legs -- leg. 

Not that it wasn’t hard, Ned almost asked multiple times, earning a kick from Peter, and they wanted nothing more than to see her true feelings, how sad she was about the situation, even though it did help her in the long run. 

She was happy, joking, smiling, but it wasn’t real.

Her wonderful hazel-blue eyes didn’t glitter like they usually did and she wasn’t talking with flailing arms like she did when she was passionate about something. 

She left her hair up in a bun the whole time, when it was known that she hated the shape of her face when it was up too tight. 

She was careless about herself, and only talked about her friends, homework assignments, or whatever nurse drama she’d heard. 

Though Ned wasn’t as close with her as MJ and Peter, he still saw a few ticks from her that screamed oddity, but he wouldn’t bring it up. If the others, who knew her better and longer, didn’t talk about it, then he had no right to either. 

They played Uno for about an hour, and it made TK smile, genuinely smile, more than she was before, when Peter continuously got +4 cards, courtesy of MJ, who was switching with Ned, and giving them to TK, who enjoyed the fact that Peter, at one point, had 32 cards in his hands. 

It all ended around 4:15, when a nurse came in and told them that visiting hours were over, and they had to leave. 

TK didn’t smile for the rest of the day. 

For the rest of her time in the hospital, she made sure to FaceTime Peter and MJ twice everyday, unless they were together, then she only had to do it before she went to bed. 

None of the friends had yet to see anything below her ribs, either, they understood why, but they felt bad that she felt the need to hide it from them, whether it be intentional or not. 

On the 8th day, TK was finally released from the hospital, led from the hospital to Anthony’s car in a wheelchair, and sat in the backseat, Anthony in the drivers, and her Bubba in the backseat with her. 

“What’s going to happen now?” TK asked quietly to Bubba as they drove home. 

“You’re going to physical therapy for the next few months, then it will only be biweekly or so.” Kris babbled off. 

“No, no.” TK said, closing her eyes in frustration. “I mean what’s going to happen to me? I’m not able to go to school for a while, and Prosthetics cost a fortune, and I can’t do anything, and how am I supposed to go to college now? I’m only average at school and soccer was the only thing that would stand out in a college resume and I can’t even do that anymore, so what am I doing? What’s going to happen?”

He was taken aback, and so was Anthony, this was not what they expected. 

“I-- I don’t know right now, Darling,” Kris swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing, “But we’ll all be okay, I promise.”

He pulled her slowly and gently from her spot in her seat into his side, rubbing comforting circles into her shoulder, leaning his head on hers. 

“I’m sorry,” Kris told her after feeling the small drops of water on his shoulder and her sniffling nose. “I’m really sorry.”

“‘S not your fault, Bubs.” TK said blinking as more silent tears flooded down her face, tracing her cheeks like rain on a window. 

Her lips quivered as she bit down on the inside of her mouth, holding in a choked sob. 

“This is real,” She sobbed, turning her head further into his green shirt, leaving a large wet mark as he unbuckled himself, adjusting so he was hugging her tightly, his soundless crying contrasting her loud sobs. 

“Tess, listen to my breathing, please.” Kris told her as he noticed her hyperventilating breaths get faster and faster. “In and out slowly,”

She choked on air as she breathed in slowly through her nose, that was clogged from her sobbing prior. 

Her body was convulsing as she tried to calm down from her hiccuping sobs and racing mind. Eventually, she came down and was breathing normally again, but it was soon discovered that it was due to her tired, sleeping body that was slumped on Kris as they parked the car in the parking deck under their apartment. 

“Should I even get the wheelchair or are you just going to carry her?” Anthony asked his husband from the front seat after parking and unlocking the car. 

“Just get her bags, please, I’ll take the elevator up with her and put her in bed.” Kris told him, brushing TK’s brown hair from her face, looking down at her freckled cheeks, only seeing the small four year old that would fall asleep on him after movie night on Saturdays. 

“It’s gonna be alright, Kris,” Anthony told him, turning in the driver's seat to face the other two. “I can call my aunt Rachel and see if she can lend us a little if we need it, she already said that she would do anything to help.”

“I don’t want to take other people’s money,” Kris told him, still looking down at her. 

“What other choice do we have at this point, Kris?” Anthony asked quietly as his eyebrows raised up, showing the sorrow and compassion he held for his daughter, even if she wasn’t really his daughter. “I can try to find another job, but I’m already at the coffee house six days a week, so I’m not sure anyone will want to hire me.”

“No, don’t stress yourself, I could ask for a raise at work, I’ve been working there for 8 years and I’m still getting paid like a first year.”

“Kris,” Anthony complained, “Let’s just talk about it later, alright, because I bet that, even if she is actually asleep, she can hear everything we’re saying.”

The men smirked at the claim, which was more than likely true, but they got going quickly after. 

Anthony aided Kris in getting TK out of the car and back in his arms while he got in the elevator, Anthony getting the bags and whatnot, getting in the other elevator after they were gone. 

TK was actually asleep, and didn't hear a word that the men had said, and it was obvious she was tired and sleeping when she moved her head to lean on Kris’ chest while he held her bridal style, admiring his baby girl on the way to their apartment. 

It’s such a shame that parents are supposed to have a kid then automatically know how to raise them and find good jobs to support them and treat them the same when they’re obviously different and how they shouldn’t hide things from their kids but simultaneously have to hide everything behind the big red curtain of reality. 

But they would get through it because they were the Kennedys. They never quit when things were hard and never let life get them down when beautiful things could still be seen in every direction, you just needed to look a little harder. 

It’s been a week at home for TK. She’s been bored out of her mind yet somehow equally more stressed than ever trying to catch up with her school work, something Peter constantly came to her aid for when she was dying trying to understand Calculus. 

He was one of the only things keeping her sane these days. She would stay up for no good reason stressing about things she can’t control and when Peter would be doing his patrol, he would make sure to check through her window a few times each night to make sure she wasn’t awake. 

TK began getting closer to Peter, not that she wasn’t before, but she felt like he was just more present now because she was injured, and though she hated the attention she got because of her injury, she liked Peter, a lot, and was happy to have his company, even if it was out of pity.  

The hardest thing for TK so far was balance when sitting down. Due to having her leg amputated, they had to take part of her hip as well, so she lost balance when sitting, but it also meant she got like three pillows to cuddle with in her room or on the couch. 

Therapy was going ok, she had only had to go Friday because she wasn’t healed from the surgery yet, but it was more of a here-is-what-is-gonna-happen meeting than actual therapy, but the lady was nice and made her feel comfortable, so that was good. 

TK wasn’t allowed to go to school for at least another two weeks, when she was healed completely, but she was getting antsy at home all the time, so she’s been going to her soccer practices as more of a bench-warmer, but Coach Cox promised that, since she was the MVP last year and most definitely would have made the team this season, that she could be his assistant coach when she came, which made her heart swell with joy. 

Though, after going to a practice, all she got the next day were texts from people at her school who she didn’t even know asking if she was ok, and assumed that the girls on the team had spread the word pretty damn fast. 

 She just responded to the texts with false politeness, then ranted to her best friends about the annoying kids who didn’t give two craps about how she was, just wanted to be seen being sympathetic and get brownie points. 

After three long, long, long, long months, it was summer, and time for TK to finally be fitted for a permanent prosthetic, since the one she had been practicing with wasn’t permanent and she only got to practice with it at therapy.

As the months went on, TK finally got a prosthetic, got back to school, and got a confession of love. 

Peter and TK, who had been voted “Most Likely to be High School Sweethearts” since freshman year, were finally dating after an eventful day that resulted in Peter informing TK that he and Mr. Stark had been working on a prosthetic for her, one that would be similar to Bucky Barnes, yet without, as he put it, “Serial-Killer Features.”

TK got the prosthetic exactly eight months after her amputation, which meant that they had to celebrate with cake. 

Some Stark technology created a feature similar to the invisible feature on the Quinjets, which made the artificial limb look skin colored to match TK’s body, but it wasn’t exactly modeled to look exactly limb-like. It wasn’t weird or anything, just that you could see the metal plates on it. 

But he promised to try and improve that, but TK didn’t mind it, said it gave her an edge; also the fact that Flash didn’t mess with Peter as much after she threatened to kick him with it, not that it had any better strength than a normal limb would, but Flash didn’t know that. 

Months continued going, TK got to join her soccer team again under the strict promise that she didn’t get any modifications to her leg that would give her a major advantage, since she didn’t really qualify for any “special needs” or “disabeld” teams, given the technology was so advanced. 

Once again, it was that time of year, the beginning of their senior year. 

TK, Peter, Michelle, and Ned took their first day in stride, all happy, not a single problem beyond homework in any of their minds. 

TK continued to stress about collages, but she also knew that she was developing a knack for technology as she had to constantly do assessments on her leg to keep it running properly, so if she didn’t get a full ride in soccer, she knew that she could get an academic scholarship for her excelling grades in engineering. Kris and Anthony were doing better financially, since they didn’t have to pay for the prosthetic or any therapy since Tony (motherfucking) Stark was volunteering to do it all for free, stating that the only payment he needed was using TK as a guinea pig in the lab and getting a free ticket to each of her games. 

Peter was adapting to having a girlfriend for the first time in his life, he’d liked TK for so long it felt as though nothing had changed from the transition from friendship to relationship other than the makeout sessions they had when they were alone. Spiderman was being put on the back burner as Peter focused on his senior year, remembering his friends and these truly memorable moments instead of talking to the churro lady, who he was pretty sure was Ned’s grandma. 

Michelle was continuing to be a weird little black hole of information, but they loved her. TK even got her to wear a pink dress to their junior prom, which made the boys snort punch out of their noses, which is a moment nobody needed to record because you can’t forget their eyes at the burning sensation of spiked punch going through their noses. 

Ned was already being offered scholarships to colleges because, though none of them knew this, he had a 4.9 GPA, and was like some sort of genius who was also one of the most clueless people you could ever meet. 

The only thing taken from their junior year was that even when you’re sinking in the quicksand, if you have the right people around you, they’ll sink with you trying to pull you out of the depths you’d fallen into, and that's all anyone would ever need:

Someone to save you when you feel like you’re sinking.