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bluebutterflytattooed · 1 month ago

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Loser Lesbian Ellie Williams x Mean Girl Reader

CHAPTER THREE

The next day, you feel like an absolute mess walking into school. Your hands are shaking, your eyes are darting around in search of Ellie. Shit, you were too stressed this morning to even make your daily chai.

Of course, you don’t look like a mess. You have on low waisted jeans from Hollister, paired perfectly with a pink crop top which no one will ever know that you thrifted. Your lips are perfectly glossed, your jewelry shines, your hair is straightened and flowing down your back.

No one will know about the terrible mistake you made last night.

Except for Ellie, of course.

The girl that you see immediately, the very moment you walk through the school doors. She’s wearing her usual weird emo get-up, black jeans, extremely fucked-up Conversse, and a flannel over her band t-shirt. The same band t-shirt from the post you liked last night. She looks happier than usual, satisfied with herself almost. It’s like she’s waiting for you.

Your suspicions are confirmed as she immediately approaches you. You curl your lip at her, hating that you have to look up at her slightly.

“What the hell do you want, Williams?” You snap, adjusting the tote bag that’s slung over your shoulder. You know exactly what she wants, but you will not give her the satisfaction of even more satisfaction.

“I think you know, Y/N,” She says, grinning. You hate her stupid smile, all toothy and genuine. It’s like she’s teasing you, instead of the other way around. “What were ya’ up to last night?”

“It’s creepy that you want to know so much about me,” You say, staring straight ahead as you walk towards the girl's bathroom. You don’t need to use it, you’re just trying to find an escape from this conversation. “Especially about my night time activities.”

You realize all too late that some could take that sentence in a sexual way. You wince at yourself as Ellie raises an eye brow. She could use some eyebrow gel, you think to yourself.

“Um, alright…” She trails off awkwardly. “I’m talking about the, uh, post you liked. On Instagram.” Her voice has turned into practically a squeak. You smirk at how high pitched her tone has become, at her nervousness, at how small she seems despite the couple of inches she has on you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shrug, still refusing to look directly at her.

“Yes you do, I know you do!” She protests. “Why were you stalking me?” Her formerly mouse-like voice becomes accusatory.

You swallow hard. There’s no getting around this. She’s going to become persistent and more annoying than usual, like a pesky little bug. A mosquito, perhaps. A fly that just won’t die no matter what. “Because your account is so fucking stupid, and I needed something to laugh at. You’re like a Disney princess, with all those animals,” You finally turn to look at her, crossing your arms and looking Ellie up-and-down. “You don’t look like a Disney princess though. Maybe one of the Seven Dwarfs, though.” You laugh at your own joke, even though it sounds more like a giggle than you intended.

“More of a princess than you are,” It’s rare that she’s sassy back to you. She usually just takes your words and disposes of them as soon as you leave her alone. “But are you su-u-u-ure you didn’t like my account? That one post?”

“Oh my god, Williams,” You roll your eyes so hard it hurts. “You’re so desperate.”

She opens her mouth to retort back, but the bell rings for first period, cutting off her words. You shrug at her, walking off to class and swiping lipgloss over your perfect lips, pleased that conversation is over and done with.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You should’ve known that your time without Ellie and the constant reminder of the ‘Instagram Incident’ wouldn’t last for long. It’s your last class of the day, one of your favorites to be honest since you get to be creative: Film. It’s rare in school that you get to let loose a bit, lose the popular, mean girl persona and be creative and fun.

The only downside to this class is that Ellie Williams takes it too, ever the nerd.

You sigh heavily as you take your seat in the classroom, surrounding my quiet gossiping conversation and laughs from classmates that don’t have to worry about concealing themselves for the sake of social status. Not long after you do, Ellie comes into the class, her stringed earphones in as always, likely playing some indie band no one has ever heard of. You scoff at her, the noise barely audible. Somehow, Ellie notices and casts you a dirty look. You ignore it.

The class begins soon enough, the teacher, Miss Hanson, talking for a while before she announces a group project: a short film on a life changing event of your choice, fictional or not. It’s a prompt that you like, considering that you have had many life changing events yourself. You’re ready and excited for the project, already coming up with ideas in your yellow notebook, until Miss Hanson begins to assign groups of four, reading off of her attendance list. It’s not as if you dislike the people in this class, but you don’t exactly like them either. Most of them are weird and don’t wear deodorant, which happens to be your greatest pet peeve of all time.

Everything is going well, you’re still excited, until Miss Hanson’s voice rings out through the room: “Y/N, Ellie…” Followed by two other classmates: Dina and Riley. They’re both friends with Ellie, which makes this so much worse. You’re about to be surrounded by people that, some time throughout high school, you have made fun of.

It feels like it’s been years by the time you finally make your way over to Ellie, Dina, and Riley’s table. You drag your feet, refusing to look up from the floor, and once you’ve sat down, refusing to look up from the notebook in front of you. The chattering at the table dies down as soon as you settle into your seat.

“Y/N,” Dina says curtly, addressing your presence with a civil hello.

“Hi,” You mumble. Your usually larger-than-life voice and persona has been diluted to nothing. Is it guilt you feel? No, it can’t be. You are anything but a guilty person filled with regret.

“We’re going over ideas for the topic,” Riley tells you. You finally look up, nodding at her. With a glance around the table, you can tell that Riley is not happy to see you, Dina looks indifferent, not even negative about it, and Ellie?

Ellie’s freckled face has turned bright red.

Not that you’ve noticed she has freckles. Because you have not noticed that.

“What was your idea, Els?” Dina turns her attention to her best friend. “You were saying it a minute ago.” Ellie’s face gets even redder, which makes you almost laugh.

She mumbles something indecipherable under her breath, looking anywhere but at you. Dina giggles at her shyness and holds a hand to her ear, almost mocking Ellie. “What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you.” She says in a sing-songy tone.

Ellie rolls her eyes at Dina. “We could do something like, apocalypse-y, y’know? There could be a sickness, or zombies, or a creepy fungus. That’s a super life changing event, since it’s on a large scale. It could be about a girl, who’s travelling around and…” She trails off, realizing the incredibly stupid rant she just went on.

You smirk and stare at her, leaning back in your seat, all confidence and bravado come back to you. “Oh my god, you’re a nerd. A fungus? That’s-”

Riley cuts you off with a snarl in her voice. “Amazing, Ellie, it’s a really good idea. Kind of a coming-of-age thing, yeah?” She’s smiling at her friend warmly. This wholesome exchange causes a burn to run through your body. You’ve never had a friendship that close, so understanding and true. You’ve never let anyone know you well enough to experience something like it.

“Yeah exactly!” Ellie smiles back, which you take notice of. It’s not a toothy smile, but her lips press together and turn up at the edges. You can tell that it’s genuine. It makes her look-

No! Ellie Williams is not cute, you’re just tired from stressing all of last night and getting no sleep.

“And Y/N, you could be the actor. You’re photogenic enough to be filmed.” Dina adds. Your stomach drops. You don’t want to be filmed being vulnerable and moving through life as an innocent girl in a world of trouble. You’ve done that enough in real life.

“Um, I-” You start, but Riley cuts you off again. Your eyes narrow at her in frustration.

“That’s perfect! What do you say we go to Ellie’s house after school and really get started on stuff? I can bring milkshakes!” She says, filled with enthusiasm. Your stomach drops in terror. Ellie’s house? Today? Being filmed?

Although milkshakes do sound good…

You think for a while as Ellie and Dina agree to the plan for after school. Is it really worth it to put yourself through this? Who knows how long you’ll be at Ellie’s, surrounded by cameras and people who hate you. You could just pretend like you have plans after school, or-

“Y/N?” Dina asks kindly, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?” You look at her, embarrassingly confused, your cheeks turning pink.

“So, can you come to Ellie’s?” She asks, cocking her head at you.

Without even thinking, you say: “Yes.”

——————————————————————————

…heyyy. so i KNOW i already posted a chapter today BUT i’m just so excited about this series. it’s about to get so so exciting next chapter, i’ll probably post it tomorrow.

a few things

PLEASE i need a name for this book, preferably something film related

how slow-burn do you want this to be?

i adore you guys so much!

-blue 🦋

@macaroni676 here’s your tag!!

#loser lesbian ellie williams #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie fluff #ellie willams x reader #ellie smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #the last of us #tlou #author #sapphic #wlw smut

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mapengen-com · 1 month ago

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Two Worlds Collide

Mapi and Elisa meet Ingrid's family for the first time.

The drive to the airport had been uneventful. Ingrid had been too caught up in her thoughts, rehearsing polite small talk and preparing herself for any subtle but cutting comments her parents might make about something. She had gone over everything in her head, their plans, the restaurants she had picked out, the polite ways to steer conversations away from anything too tense.

But as she pulled into the arrivals area and saw her parents and Anders standing by the curb, waving at her, her stomach plummeted.

Because that was the exact moment she noticed the child seat in the back of her car.

She froze, her grip tightening around the steering wheel as her pulse kicked up.

Oh, shit.

She had forgotten to mention Elisa.

She had told them about Mapi. She had spent weeks preparing herself for their reactions, for their skepticism, for whatever quiet judgment would come – even if she knew they’d probably be okay with it. But she had never once thought to bring up the fact that Mapi was raising a child.

Ingrid’s mind spun, heart thudding against her ribs. Would they assume? No, no, that was stupid. Obviously, she hadn’t suddenly had a secret child. Right?

Before she could do anything about it – throw the child seat into the trunk, drape a jacket over it, something – her mother was already opening the passenger door, her father and Anders loading the luggage into the back.

“Hei, kjære,” her mother said, smiling warmly as she leaned in to kiss Ingrid’s cheek.

“Hi, Mamma,” Ingrid croaked, her voice coming out an octave too high.

She could feel it coming. The moment of realization. The question.

And there it was.

Her mother barely had time to adjust the air vent before she turned and…

Stopped.

“Ingrid,” she started, voice slower now, carefully measured. “Why is there a child seat in your car?”

Ingrid’s stomach clenched.

Shit. Shit.

In the back, her father and Anders were settling into their seats. But at her mother’s question, they both looked.

And there it was again. The pause.

Anders frowned.

“Uh… What?”

“Are you babysitting?” Her father’s voice followed, puzzled but light.

A sharp breath lodged in Ingrid’s throat. She could feel the panic crawling up her spine like a cold hand.

What was she supposed to say? She hadn’t prepared for this.

She had been so focused on everything else that she had completely overlooked the part where her parents would inevitably see signs of Elisa’s existence and start asking questions.

They would inevitably see Elisa too.

“I… Uh,” Ingrid started, voice cracking slightly. She gripped the steering wheel harder, as if it could somehow save her.

“Ingrid?” Anders raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

She was.

Ingrid’s mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. Nothing came out. And Anders, clearly enjoying her suffering, leaned forward between the seats, smirking.

“Wait. Ingrid… Do you… Do you have a kid?” Their father tried.

She choked immediately.

“No!” She yelped, her voice embarrassingly high. “What? No! Oh my god, Pappa, no.”

Her mother wasn’t smirking, though. She was still looking at the car seat. Thinking.

And Ingrid saw the moment her mother’s brain caught up to what that could mean.

“Ingrid,” her mother said again, carefully now. “Does Mapi have a child?”

Ingrid made a sound. It was supposed to be words. It wasn’t.

Anders, still grinning, sat back.

“Okay, now I’m actually curious.”

“Can you just explain?” Her father sighed.

Ingrid could feel every inch of her body heating up. She was sweating.

She had to say something.

“Mapi has a niece,” Ingrid blurted out in a rush, barely stopping to breathe. “Elisa. She lives with her. I, uh, I forgot to mention it.”

She risked a glance at her parents.

“You… Forgot?” Her mother was blinking at her, completely caught off guard.

“I… Yeah?” Ingrid’s voice cracked. “I mean, I didn’t forget forget. I just…”

“You never thought this was important to bring up?” Ørjan asked, voice tight.

“It’s not a big deal!” Ingrid said quickly, throwing a hand up before they could say anything else. “It’s… She’s not mine! She’s Mapi’s niece. It’s just…”

“How old is she?” Her mother turned fully in her seat, eyebrows still raised.

“Three.”

Another pause.

“And why does she live with Mapi?” Her father was frowning now.

And that? That was the question Ingrid had been dreading.

Because it wasn’t her story to tell – like Alexia had told her a hundred and fifty times before she and Mapi started dating.

But her parents were staring at her, expecting an answer.

“It’s… Complicated,” she said finally, carefully. “But Mapi takes care of her now,” she scrambled.

That was the best answer she had. She wasn’t about to sit them down in an airport parking lot and explain Mapi’s family history, the tragedy of Elisa’s parents, or how Mapi had taken Elisa in because there was no one else.

Her mother, thankfully, seemed to sense that pushing further wouldn’t get her anywhere. She sighed, turning back around in her seat.

“So, does that mean Mapi is…?”

“A parent?” Anders supplied his father from the back seat, making Ingrid want to slam her forehead against the steering wheel.

“She’s a guardian,” Ingrid corrected quickly. “Not… Not a parent, really. She’s just… Taking care of her.”

“That sounds a lot like parenting,” her father looked – and sounded – skeptical.

“Well,” her mother said. “I assume that means we’ll be meeting her.”

“Yeah,” Ingrid nodded, still feeling like her pulse was trying to escape her body. “Pretty probably.”

“Do we get to see you interact with a kid?” Anders was grinning again. “Because I honestly can’t imagine it.”

“Shut up, Anders,” Ingrid groaned, throwing the car into drive.

He only laughed as they pulled away from the terminal, but Ingrid barely heard him.

She was too busy trying to figure out how she was going to explain all of this to Mapi.

The car ride was suffocatingly silent for exactly forty-five seconds.

That was how long Ingrid lasted before she cracked the windows, pretending she just needed fresh air and not an escape from the weight of her parents’ judgment settling over her like a storm cloud.

Her mother still looked vaguely stunned, staring out the window like she was processing an entirely new reality. Her father had settled into a sort of cautious contemplation, while Anders…

Anders was still looking far too pleased with himself.

“So,” he drawled, stretching out his legs under Ingrid’s seat. “Is she cute?”

“What?!” Ingrid nearly drove into a traffic cone.

“Elisa,” Anders said, clearly enjoying himself. “Is she cute?”

“She’s three, Anders,” she gritted her teeth.

“I meant in a ‘charming little kid’ way, not a ‘hot girl at a bar’ way. Jesus. What is going to take you to remember that I’m just as gay as you are?”

“Yes, she’s cute,” Ingrid sank lower in her seat. “She’s adorable. She’s also smart, stubborn, and has a mean left foot, so be careful if she ever gets a ball near your shins.”

“Huh. Like Mapi, then?” He let out a low whistle.

That startled Ingrid into a small laugh.

“Yeah. Exactly like Mapi.”

“And Mapi is… Happy? Raising her?” Her mother finally spoke, her voice quieter than usual.

Ingrid hesitated.

That was the thing about Mapi. She had never complained about taking Elisa in. She had never once hesitated to step up, to wake up at ungodly hours to make breakfast when Elisa got up earlier, to fall asleep in a little bed whenever the kid had nightmares and refused to go back to sleep alone and they didn’t feel like letting her climb into their bed. But Ingrid had seen it, the exhaustion, the grief that curled around Mapi’s edges when she thought no one was looking. The fear she carried every time Elisa got too quiet, the panic that crept in when she worried she wasn’t enough.

But she was also the one who made Elisa’s snacks. Who braided her hair before school. Who sat with her on the floor to play even when she was hurting from practice.

“She loves her,” Ingrid finally said, voice softer now. “She’d do anything for her.”

Her mother hummed again, looking thoughtful.

“That’s… A lot of responsibility.”

“Yeah,” Ingrid admitted. “It is.”

The silence stretched again, but this time, it was different, not quite heavy, but not entirely comfortable either.

Then, after a beat…

“So,” Anders said, grinning again. “Does this mean you’re basically a stepmom now?”

Ingrid groaned.

Anders laughed.

Their father sighed.

Their mother just rubbed her temples.

“God help us all,” Ingrid muttered.

When they arrived at Ingrid’s apartment complex, her parents were still eyeing the child seat like it was some kind of puzzle they couldn’t solve.

Ingrid quickly grabbed a couple of bags from the trunk, hoping to keep them too busy to dwell on it any further.

They took the elevator up, and Ingrid could have warned Mapi. Could have sent a text, given her a heads-up.

She didn’t.

Maybe because a part of her hoped, irrationally, that her parents would suddenly forget about the whole thing the moment they stepped inside.

Spoiler: they did not.

The moment Ingrid opened the door to her apartment, she barely had time to register anything before…

“INGI!”

And just like that, Ingrid forgot about everything else.

Elisa threw herself into the Norwegian, clinging to her like she was afraid Ingrid might disappear again.

She barely had time to brace herself, but she caught the little girl easily, lifting her up slightly as Elisa buried her face in her shoulder.

She was so small. And warm. And clinging to the woman with everything she had.

Ingrid felt her heart clench.

“Oh, hey, søtnos,” she murmured as she ran a hand through Elisa’s light curls, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head “I missed you too.”

“You gone forever,” the kid huffed against her shoulder.

“Four days isn’t forever. And I went to see you yesterday, but you were already sleeping.”

“Yes, it is,” Elisa pulled back just enough to look up at her, her big hazel eyes accusing as she nodded seriously, like she had just won an argument.

And Ingrid, completely oblivious to anything else, smiled.

And then…

Someone cleared their throat.

Oh. Right.

Her parents were here.

Slowly, Ingrid turned her head.

Her mother and father were watching.

Carefully. Curiously.

Anders looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

Shit.

Ingrid felt Elisa tense in her arms.

The little girl turned her head, noticing the strangers for the first time.

And immediately, she froze.

Ingrid felt it happen. The way Elisa’s body went stiff, the way her fingers gripped Ingrid’s jacket again.

Her eyes, so wide just a second ago, darkened with wariness.

She ducked her head, pressing her face back against Ingrid’s shoulder.

Oh. Yeah. She forgot.

Elisa was shy.

Ingrid had forgotten how she got around new people.

“Elisa,” Ingrid murmured gently, rubbing circles into her back. “It’s okay, baby. These are my parents. And my brother.”

Elisa didn’t move.

Ingrid could practically feel her holding her breath.

“Do you want to say hi?” Ingrid tried softly.

Elisa shook her head.

Very decisively.

Anders, amused, crossed his arms.

“Well, that’s fair.”

Ingrid shot him a warning look.

Her mother, to her credit, softened immediately.

“That’s okay,” she said gently. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

Elisa stayed pressed against her shoulder, and the Norwegian could feel her tiny hands clutching at her jacket, like letting go would be too much.

And Ingrid, well, Ingrid understood.

So she just squeezed Elisa tighter, whispering softly.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

And slowly, Elisa nodded.

But she still didn’t look up.

“Where is Mapi, Eli?” Ingrid whispered to the kid as she kicked off her shoes.

The child kept her face hidden half on Ingrid’s neck, half on her jacket, so whatever she murmured wasn’t exactly understandable. But Ingrid was already making her way to the living room, and she heard water running down from somewhere past the hallway.

“So, are we meeting Mapi before or after the child decides we’re not serial killers?”

Ingrid shot him a flat look.

“Before,” she muttered, shifting Elisa higher on her hip. “Make yourselves comfortable, I’ll be right back,” she said to her family as she padded to the bedroom, catching Mapi just as the door of the ensuite bathroom opened.

“Hey!” Mapi smiled, leaning in to peck at Ingrid’s lips, not even noticing how Elisa was tense on the woman’s arms. “How is it going?”

“I forgot to tell my parents about Elisa.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” she winced. “They found out when they saw the car seat.”

Mapi stared. Then, slowly, her lips twitched.

“You’re telling me,” she said, voice way too amused, fingertips brushing against Ingrid’s hip. “That you remembered to clean your apartment, make the guest bed, and even buy Norwegian groceries, but you forgot to mention Elisa?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Ingrid groaned.

“You must have panicked.”

Ingrid gave her a flat look.

“Thanks for the support.”

“I mean, I would have loved to see your mom’s face.”

“Oh, she was very confused.”

“Bet Anders was a menace.”

“Of course he was.”

Mapi laughed softly, then reached out, brushing a hand over Elisa’s back. That was when, finally, the kid peeked up at her.

And then she smiled, because she had both her favorite humans back together.

“You missed Ingi, didn’t you, bebé?” Mapi teased, poking the kid’s side, earning a small chuckle.

“Sí,” she murmured, hands gripping tightly the back of Ingrid’s neck.

“I missed you too, kid,” Ingrid kissed the girl’s temple just before Elisa sighed, sinking deeper into the embrace.

But as much as all of them wanted to stay there, in their little bubble, forever, both women knew they had to go to the living room, where Ingrid’s family was getting settled.

Ingrid could hear her parents’ voices now, though the tone was lighter than it had been when they first walked in. Anders was speaking, his usual teasing lilt evident, and Ingrid figured he must be the one easing the tension, as usual.

So they walked back there together, Mapi quietly trailing behind Ingrid and Elisa, trying to take a few deep breaths. As much as Ingrid had reassured her that her parents were nice, that Anders was an easy one, she was still nervous.

When they stepped back into the living room, Ingrid felt Elisa’s small hands tighten around her again. Her family was sitting on the couch, trying to act casual, but she could tell they were still processing.

Anders, of course, wasn’t even trying to hide his amusement. He had his arms stretched over the back of the couch, watching the three of them like he was taking mental notes for future blackmail material.

Her mother, however, looked… Different. As if she was really trying to decipher their dynamic.

And her father? Well, he still had his serious face on.

Mapi, standing beside Ingrid, didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward and gave Ingrid’s parents a small, polite nod as she shook their hands.

“It’s nice to meet you,” her voice was steady, confident, but there was some casualty in it.

Ingrid felt her chest warm.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mapi,” Gudrun smiled slightly, and Ingrid could feel the tension in her body loosening.

“Likewise,” her father gave a small nod.

But their eyes kept drifting to Elisa.

Because of course, they did.

A second ago, she had run to Ingrid as her life depended on it. And now, she was hiding against her like she wanted to disappear.

Then, of course, Anders stepped up.

“Hei,” he grinned, offering Mapi a fist bump instead. “I hear you’ve been stealing all my sister’s free time.”

“That depends. Do you want her back?” Mapi didn’t even hesitate before bumping her fist against his.

“Nah, you can keep her,” he laughed, deciding to go easy on the woman for a while.

Ingrid felt Elisa's small body slowly relaxing in her arms.

Her mother and father still looked thoughtful, clearly absorbing the fact that their daughter had not only forgotten to tell them about Elisa’s existence but was also so deeply involved in her life.

But before any of them could say something else, Anders was one step ahead.

“So, are you going to tell us how you ended up as a part-time mom?”

“Anders.”

Mapi, standing beside her, chuckled, and Elisa, however, finally lifted her head.

She turned, just slightly, to look at Anders, her small brows furrowed.

“She’s not my mom,” her voice was small but firm.

“No?” Anders blinked, quite surprised.

Elisa shook her head, her grip on Ingrid’s shirt still tight.

“She is Ingi. And Ma is Ma.”

Silence settled over the room.

Elisa seemed too sure of what she was saying, as if seven words explained everything.

For Ingrid and Mapi, they sure did, but the looks from Ingrid’s family indicated that, maybe, just maybe, they needed more.

But they weren’t going to get that now, so Ingrid settled on the armchair with Elisa still in her arms while Mapi sat on the armrest, content to just stay close.

Anders, to his credit, didn’t push. He just tilted his head slightly, like he was considering her answer.

Then he grinned.

“Fair enough,” he admitted, but, of course, ruined it almost immediately. “So,” he said, grinning again. “When do I get to babysit?”

Ingrid groaned.

Mapi smirked.

“Never,” Elisa mumbled, hazel eyes running all over his figure.

Anders burst out laughing.

Like, full-bodied, head-thrown-back kind of laughing.

“I like her,” he declared, pointing at Elisa like she was some kind of undisputed champion. “She’s got standards.”

Elisa simply shrugged, completely unbothered.

And Ingrid, for the hundredth time since the entire nightmare had started, felt the overwhelming urge to just… Stay down. Maybe lay down. Maybe just cease to exist for a moment.

Instead, she sighed and rubbed her temples.

“Can we not do this right now?”

Mapi, who had been watching the whole scene with a look of pure amusement, leaned slightly closer to her girlfriend.

“I don’t know, I think it’s going well.”

“Oh, do you?” Ingrid gave her a flat look.

Mapi smirked.

Elisa watched Anders for another moment, as if making sure he truly understood, before she turned back into Ingrid’s embrace, seemingly content with how things had played out.

Ingrid let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding.

But she didn’t think it was possible for her to suffocate in a room full of people she loved, and that’s exactly what happened.

“Elisa, tell me,” Anders decided to try again. “Do you always tackle Ingi like you did or was it a special occasion?”

The kid barely moved.

“...Special occasion,” she whispered, her tiny voice barely hearable.

Her mother was still gazing at Elisa, though now with a more gentle expression, clearly warming up to the little girl. Her father was slowly but surely getting comfortable with the new dynamic, though the fact that he was keeping a careful eye on Mapi didn't go unnoticed. Anders, of course, was still thoroughly entertained by the whole situation.

But Ingrid? She was a mess. A nervous wreck.

She knew it had to be difficult for her parents to adjust to this new version of her life. It was a lot to take in all at once. And she hadn’t planned for any of this.

Her mother finally turned away from Elisa, glancing back at Mapi.

“So, how long have you two… Known each other?”

Ingrid felt the blood drain from her face.

Not now. Not this.

Her mother raised an eyebrow, as if sensing the tension in Ingrid’s stiff shoulders. She didn’t push immediately, but her curiosity was obvious.

“We’ve been together for about seven months now,” Mapi said, her voice calm, matter-of-fact. “We’ve known each other longer, but we’ve been together, together, for that long.”

Ingrid couldn’t breathe.

Her mother blinked a few times.

“Seven months…” Gudun glanced at her husband, who simply nodded, as though filing the information away. “So… I take it you’re serious about this.”

“Yes,” Mapi said, her gaze never wavering from Ingrid’s mother’s. “I’m very serious about it.”

Her mother studied her for a moment longer, then nodded.

“Good. I just wanted to be sure.”

“Of course,” Mapi smiled, and Ingrid was silently thanking her for keeping such a tranquil posture in that situation.

Just as they were trying to find something else to talk about, the Spaniard’s phone rang on the coffee table, and Elisa knew exactly what that noise meant.

So, quietly, she wiggled herself out of Ingrid’s embrace just as Mapi reached to turn the alarm off, the kid rubbing her fists against her eyes.

“This one has to get her vaccines now, so we should get going,” Mapi stretched her hand to Elisa to grab, which she promptly did, gripping it tightly.

“Oh, right, I forgot about that,” Ingrid muttered under her breath, eyes wide.

“Don’t worry,” the Spaniard whispered as she leaned to kiss Ingrid’s temple, her fingers being slightly crunched by Elisa’s tiny ones.

“You’ll be back for dinner, I assume?” Øerjan asked after a beat.

“I think so, yeah. Might take her home for a quick shower or something, but we can come back, of course,” she explained, and that was when Ingrid realized the kid was still wearing her school uniform, baby hairs coming out of her now messy ponytail.

“Then we’ll see you later, Mapi,” Ingrid’s mother smiled, her sight back on the kid for a moment. “It was really good meeting you, Elisa.”

She only gave them a tiny, almost imperceptible wave back before pulling Mapi to the door, whispering-asking if they could get ice cream after it.

As the door closed behind them, Ingrid let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. The room was silent for a few moments, just the distant sound of the elevator doors closing echoing back.

Anders, of course, was the first to break it.

“So,” he started, his voice dragging out the single syllable. Ingrid didn’t even have time to brace herself before he grinned. “You hate kids,” he said, voice dripping with mock bewilderment. “Like, passionately. I distinctly remember you threatening to never talk to her again when Malin ever so much as mentioned you babysitting Oscar.”

“I don’t hate kids, Anders,” Ingrid groaned.

“That’s not what you used to say,” her mother hummed.

“You called them ‘germs with legs,’” her father added dryly.

“I was eighteen,” Ingrid sighed.

“Twenty-two, actually. Which was just two years ago.”

“And very vocal about it,” Anders said, grinning as he leaned forward on his elbows.

She groaned, already regretting everything.

“You really changed, didn't you?” Her mother tilted her head slightly. “I remember how much you used to complain when you had to babysit your cousins.”

“It’s different,” Ingrid groaned again, rubbing her temple.

“Oh, I can see that,” Anders laughed, stretching his arms out along the back of the couch. “You look like a whole different person with her.”

Gudun smiled, clearly intrigued.

“She seems very attached to you.”

Ingrid chewed the inside of her cheek, still a bit flustered from the way everyone was looking at her like she was some strange new creature.

“Yeah.”

Her father, silent for most of this conversation, simply tilted his head.

“And you, Ingrid?”

Her stomach twisted slightly.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure how to explain it in a way that would make sense to them.

“I… Yeah. I am too.”

“So you, the same sister who told me that kids are loud and sticky and take up too much space, is now walking around with a tiny human permanently attached to you like some kind of koala?” Anders raised an eyebrow, eyes gleaming with something teasing but not unkind.

“Oh my god.”

“You are such a liar, Ingrid. All this time, you’ve been telling us you don’t like children…” Gudrun chuckled, shaking her head in something that looked suspiciously like fondness.

“Because I don’t,” she huffed.

“Right,” Anders snorted. “And yet, I literally just saw that child hanging off of you like she’s never known another person in her life.”

“She’s different.”

“Oh, of course. She’s ‘Ingi’s kid,’” Anders said, putting air quotes around the words.

“She’s not my kid.”

“She’s not my mom,” Anders mimicked Elisa’s tiny voice in a ridiculously high pitch.

Ingrid grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it at him, but he just caught it with a laugh.

Their father sighed, rubbing his temples as if bracing himself for a long night of nonsense, but there was no real irritation in his expression.

“Alright, let’s give your sister some peace.”

“Fine. But I just want to say, I think it’s kind of cute,” Anders grinned but let it drop.

That made Ingrid’s head snap up.

“You do?”

“You’re, like, a terrifying robot most of the time, but that kid has you wrapped around her tiny little pinky finger,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “It’s kind of hilarious.”

“That’s not…” Ingrid started, but then her mother joined in.

“It is quite sweet,” Gudun admitted. “She obviously loves you very much.”

“She’s three,” Ingrid pointed out. “She loves people who give her snacks.”

“Maybe. But I think it’s more than that.”

That made Ingrid pause. She thought of how Elisa had clung to her in the hallway, how she had whispered “she’s Ingi” so certainly, as if those words alone explained everything.

Maybe they did. Maybe, to Elisa, Ingrid wasn’t just some person who gave her snacks and carried her when she got sleepy. Maybe to her, Ingrid wasn’t an obligation or just Mapi’s girlfriend.

Maybe she was home.

And that thought settled deep in her chest, warm and terrifying all at once.

Anders broke the silence.

“Still. I’m going to tell Malin about this. Just so you know. Just so she can kill you when you refuse to have Oscar for an hour.”

“You’re a child,” Ingrid muttered.

“A loud, sticky one,” he only grinned.

Their mother sighed, but she was smiling too, something in her shoulders finally easing.

And for the first time in what felt like weeks, Ingrid let herself smile too.

By the time Mapi and Elisa returned, the apartment smelled of warm food, the scent of freshly baked cookies mixing with something Ingrid couldn’t quite place. It was comforting, like home, and she knew her mother had taken over the kitchen while she was caught up in Anders’ relentless teasing.

Elisa clung to Mapi as they stepped inside, her fingers curling around the hem of the women's hoodie, one that Ingrid was fairly sure it was hers just a few months before. The little girl’s school uniform was gone, replaced by soft, comfortable clothes, her hair freshly combed, though a few strands were already falling out of place. Her stuffed penguin was also safely tucked under her arm.

Ingrid could tell the vaccines had drained some of Elisa’s energy. Her usually curious eyes were drooping slightly, and she stuck close to Mapi’s side as they moved toward the living room.

“Everything went okay?” Ingrid asked, stepping closer.

“Like a champ,” Mapi grinned, ruffling Elisa’s hair gently. “Didn’t even cry.”

“It was okay,” Elisa only blinked up at Ingrid, nodding solemnly.

“You were very brave, I assume,” the Norwegian’s lips twitched at the overly serious tone.

The little girl nodded again, this time more assuredly.

“She got a lollipop for later and a bite of ice cream,” Mapi added, nudging Elisa playfully. “So it wasn’t all bad.”

Elisa’s fingers curled tighter around the fabric of Mapi’s hoodie, but she nodded once more.

“She’s been very polite all afternoon,” she murmured as she pressed a quick kiss to Ingrid’s cheek, before letting Elisa guide her toward the dining area.

Dinner was already set up. Gudrun had clearly gone out of her way to make things welcoming, though Ingrid had no doubt it was also an excuse to busy herself and avoid too many awkward conversations. There were plates of warm bread, a stew of some kind, and even a few traditional Norwegian dishes that Ingrid hadn’t expected. She gave her mother a curious glance, but Gudrun only raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to comment.

Elisa hesitated near the table, looking between the adults. She had been quiet since they got back, which wasn’t unusual, but Ingrid could tell she was feeling a little overwhelmed.

Anders was the first to address her.

“Hey, kid,” he said, his voice gentle but still carrying that teasing lilt. “Did Mapi take you for ice cream after the doctor?”

Elisa’s small fingers curled tighter around Mapi’s hoodie. She hesitated, but after a moment, she nodded.

“Sí.”

“Good deal. I think I’d only survive vaccines if I got ice cream after too,” Anders grinned.

Elisa glanced at him, considering, before she nodded again.

“It helps.”

Ingrid bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Do you like ice cream, Elisa?” The older man cleared his throat.

Again, she hesitated, clearly unsure of how much she was expected to say. But eventually, she nodded.

“Sí, sir.”

Øerjan blinked, clearly surprised by the formal response.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ sweetheart.”

“But… Polite,” Elisa frowned slightly.

Anders smothered a laugh into his sleeve, and Ingrid shot him a warning look.

“That it is,” he conceded, glancing at Ingrid as if to say what do I do with this tiny, extremely proper child? “But you can just call me Øerjan.”

Elisa nodded seriously, but it was clear she wasn’t entirely convinced.

Just before they could say something else, dinner was apparently ready, so Mapi went with the kid to the restroom to wash their hands, the little stool helping Elisa grow taller so she could wash her own basically by herself.

It wasn’t that Ingrid’s place was full of meant-for-kids things. It was just that�� Sometimes Elisa liked to go to the Norwegian’s. And Ingrid made sure she got everything she could possibly need there too.

It was just that.

When they were back in the dining room, everyone was already seated. Elisa quietly climbed to her chair, the one with the booster seat, right next to Mapi’s.

And after her plate was ready and her food cut into smaller pieces, they all started eating too.

Elisa stayed mostly quiet. Ingrid’s mother tried once or twice to engage her, asking things like, “do you like school?” or “what’s your favorite food?”, and she answered each question politely, her voice barely above a whisper, but she never elaborated.

It wasn’t rudeness. She was just shy.

And Ingrid could tell her parents weren’t sure how to handle it.

They weren’t used to quiet children.

They were used to Malin and Ingrid and Anders, who had been loud, stubborn, always ready with an opinion – and to fight each other.

Elisa was different.

And her silence was making them carefully, painfully aware that they were still strangers to her.

At one point, Anders, clearly trying to lighten the mood, leaned forward and grinned.

“So, Elisa,” he said, his voice playful. “Do you think Ingrid is the coolest person ever, or just the second coolest, after me?”

For the first time all night, Elisa lifted her gaze fully.

And then, without hesitation, reached for her little cup and drank all of her juice, not bothering to actually answer but keeping eye contact with him.

Anders blinked.

Mapi choked on her drink.

Ingrid nearly burst out laughing.

Her mother pressed a hand to her mouth, hiding a small smile.

And her father? Actually smirked.

Anders sighed, shaking his head.

“She hates me,” he muttered. “This is devastating.”

Mapi, still coughing from laughing too hard, waved him off.

“She doesn’t hate you,” she assured him.

“She just loves me more,” Ingrid added, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy this while it lasts,” Anders shot her a look.

Elisa, still gripping her cup, peeked out just slightly.

And in the softest, smallest voice, she whispered.

“… Ingi the coolest.”

“Okay. Now she actually hates me,” Anders groaned, dropping his napkin.

This time, Ingrid couldn’t help it, she actually laughed.

By the time dessert was served, the tension had eased somewhat. The scent of cinnamon and sugar filled the air, and Ingrid caught the way Elisa’s eyes lit up, just barely, at the sight of Ørjan bringing the tray filled with Norwegian cookies to the table, her tiny fingers twitching slightly in anticipation, though she waited patiently as plates were passed around.

“Galletas,” the little girl murmured, almost to herself, as Mapi helped her sit up properly again.

“Ingrid said you liked them,” Gudrun said gently, setting a plate down for them. “I hope they’re good.”

Elisa looked up at her, clearly considering something. Then, after a beat, she nodded solemnly.

“Thank you.”

Gudrun smiled, a little softer now, before handing her one.

It didn’t take long for Elisa to carefully pick up the cookie, holding it delicately between her small hands before taking a tiny, cautious bite. She chewed thoughtfully, her expression unreadable for a moment.

“Good,” she said with the shiest smile ever before taking another small bite.

“High praise coming from her,” Mapi murmured, ruffling Elisa’s hair.

Elisa leaned into the touch just slightly, her small fingers still carefully holding the cookie as if it were something precious.

“Would you like some more, sweetheart?” Gudrun watched her for a moment before speaking again, her voice warm but measured.

The kid hesitated, her gaze flickering toward Mapi, almost as if she were asking Mapi’s opinion too, but the Spaniard only smiled, tapping a gentle finger against Elisa’s stuffed penguin.

“You can have as many as you want, peque.”

That was all the encouragement Elisa needed. She nodded once more, this time with more certainty, and Gudrun placed another cookie on her plate.

Around the table, the conversation resumed, more relaxed now. They talked lightly, mostly about their lives back in Norway or about Ingrid’s and Mapi’s ones in Spain.

And Elisa, content with her cookies, listened quietly.

It wasn’t until the plates were nearly empty that she shifted slightly in her seat, glancing up at Mapi again before turning to Ingrid.

“Can I color?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “While you talk?”

Ingrid shared a glance with Mapi, who gave a slight nod.

“Of course,” Ingrid said. “You know where your things are.”

Elisa didn’t need to be told twice. She carefully slid off her seat, her penguin still clutched in one arm, and padded toward the living room, reaching for her coloring book and her pack of crayons that she had left there once and they just settled on leaving it there for whenever she felt like drawing while they were at Ingrid’s place.

She quietly got her things from a basket under the TV rack, settling everything on the coffee table. The penguin stayed on her lap while she flipped through the pages, trying to find one she felt like coloring before the room was filled with the sound of crayons scraping against paper.

From the dining table, Mapi’s gaze lingered on the little girl for a moment, watching as she hunched over her coloring book, completely absorbed in her task.

“She’s always this quiet?” Ørjan asked, his voice softer than before, as if careful not to disturb her.

“No, not really,” Mapi replied, stirring the last of her tea. “She’s pretty chatty, but new people aren’t her favorite.”

“She’s just careful,” Ingrid added, echoing Mapi’s earlier words.

“I get it. I mean, meeting new people can be a lot. And we’re a lot,” Anders smirked as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms with a sigh. “Especially me.”

“That’s the truest thing you’ve ever said,” the dark-haired Norwegian muttered, taking a sip of her drink.

Mapi chuckled, shaking her head.

Gudrun, however, remained quiet, watching Elisa with a contemplative expression.

“She’s very sweet,” she said after a moment. “Very polite.”

“She is,” Mapi agreed, a small, proud smile tugging at her lips.

Gudrun hesitated before continuing, choosing her words carefully.

“She seems… Attached to you.”

“She is,” Mapi’s fingers curled slightly around her mug, but there was no hesitation in her voice.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was thick with unspoken things.

Then, Ørjan cleared his throat.

“How long has she been with you?”

Mapi’s grip on her cup tightened again, and Ingrid could tell she was weighing how much to say. Eventually, the Spaniard exhaled slowly.

“Around two years and a half,” she said, simply. “She started living with me when she was one.”

“She’s cool. I like her,” Anders chuckled.

“Good,” Mapi said, very surely. “Because she’s not going anywhere.”

That seemed to reignite the tension in the room.

Because, of course, that was the real question hanging in the air, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t just about who Elisa was. It was about what this meant. About how serious things were between Ingrid and Mapi if this was the reality Ingrid was stepping into. Ingrid knew her parents were thinking about it.

And sure enough, her father cleared his throat, shifting his gaze from Elisa to Mapi.

“That’s… A lot of responsibility for someone so young.”

There it was.

Mapi, however, didn’t even flinch.

“It is.”

Silence.

“And You’re… What, twenty-eight?” Her father frowned slightly.

“Twenty-seven, yeah,” she nodded.

“That’s…” He exhaled slowly, glancing at Ingrid before looking back at Mapi. “A lot to take on at your age.”

“Maybe. But it wasn’t really a choice. Elisa’s my family. That’s all there is to it.”

Something about the calm certainty in her voice made Ingrid’s chest tighten while Gudrun nodded slowly, taking that in.

“And her parents?”

Something flickered across Mapi’s face, brief but unmistakable, and Ingrid, knowing where this was headed, instinctively reached under the table, her fingers brushing against Mapi’s knee in silent reassurance.

“Both dead.”

Silence settled over the table like a heavy blanket. It wasn’t just the words themselves, it was the way Mapi said them. Direct. Final. Like she had spoken this truth so many times it no longer surprised her, but it still cut deep every time.

Ingrid felt Mapi’s muscles tense beneath her touch. She didn’t look at her, didn’t need to. She just let her fingers rest against Mapi’s knee, a quiet reassurance. I’m here.

Gudrun exhaled softly, nodding as if she understood more than she was willing to say. Ørjan, on the other hand, shifted in his seat. He looked toward Elisa, still coloring in the living room, her small frame hunched over the coffee table. The soft sound of crayons dragging across paper was the only thing breaking the silence.

“That must have been difficult. For both of you,” Ørjan spoke again, voice careful.

“It was,” Mapi admitted, her voice quieter now. “Still is, sometimes.”

A few beats of quiet. Then Anders, never one to sit too long in uncomfortable silences, cleared his throat.

“Well, she’s lucky to have you.”

“She’s not lucky,” Mapi corrected, shaking her head slightly, though her tone wasn’t accusing or mad. “She lost her mom before she was one year old. Her dad was abusive. There’s nothing lucky about that.”

Ingrid watched as her father pressed his lips together, as if holding back a response. Mapi was right, of course, but she also knew Anders had only meant well.

“She is loved, though,” Ingrid said, glancing toward the living room. Elisa had switched crayons, reaching for a bright yellow one, her small fingers smudged with color. “That matters.”

Mapi finally looked at Ingrid then. Just a flicker of warmth in her eyes, there and gone again in an instant.

Before anyone could speak again, soft footsteps padded toward them.

Elisa.

She was clutching her stuffed penguin against her chest with one arm, the other reaching up to rub at one of her sleepy eyes. But she didn’t head straight for Mapi like she usually did. Instead, she hesitated a few feet away from the table, gaze darting between the adults.

Her expression was small. Careful.

Ingrid’s chest tightened. She had felt it. The shift in the air, the way the conversation had changed.

Children always did.

“Can I have more?” Elisa asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course, Eli. Come here,” Mapi was already pushing her chair back.

But the kid didn’t move at first. Her small fingers fidgeted against the soft fabric of her penguin.

Then she glanced at Ingrid.

Ingrid felt the weight of that look in her bones. It wasn’t just a question of cookies. It was something deeper. Is everything okay?

“I asked my mom to make these just for you. They were my favorite when I was your age,” Ingrid forced a smile, warm and reassuring.

It was all the encouragement Elisa needed. She finally stepped forward, letting Mapi lift her onto her lap.

But even as Mapi passed her another cookie, even as Elisa took a small, careful bite, Ingrid could still feel the tension lingering.

And she knew Elisa could too.

She chewed her cookie slowly, her small fingers curled tightly around the edge of Mapi’s sleeve. She wasn’t clinging exactly, but Ingrid knew her well enough to recognize the subtle way she was grounding herself.

She felt it. The way the room had changed. The way the voices had softened but carried something unspoken beneath them.

She always did.

Mapi pressed a kiss to the top of Elisa’s head, her fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles against her back. It was a quiet gesture, one that usually soothed the little girl without a word.

But tonight, it didn’t seem to be enough.

Elisa took another small bite, then shifted slightly in Mapi’s lap, her gaze flickering toward Ingrid’s parents. She was studying them, cautious in a way Ingrid hadn’t seen before.

“Are you sad?”

The question was directed at Mapi, barely louder than a whisper, but it made the entire table still.

Mapi’s fingers paused against Elisa’s back.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she exhaled slowly, carefully. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady.

“No, bebé.” She smoothed a hand over Elisa’s hair. “I’m okay.”

She didn’t seem fully convinced, though. She glanced at Ingrid again, then at Ørjan and Gudrun, then at Anders, her grip on her penguin tightening just slightly as she looked back at Ingrid.

“Is Ma lying?”

Her heart clenched.

“No,” she answered, just as steady as Mapi. “She’s not lying.”

Elisa’s lips pressed together, as if she wasn’t quite sure she believed them. Then, slowly, she reached for another cookie, but she didn’t eat it.

She just held it.

Gudrun, who had been silent for a long moment, finally spoke. Her voice was gentle.

“We were just talking, little one. That’s all.”

Elisa studied her for a long beat before finally nodding. Then, just as quickly, she turned her attention back to her cookie, nibbling at the edge.

The table stayed quiet for a little while longer.

Then, Anders leaned forward, breaking the silence, arms crossed over his chest.

“Okay, well, I think we’ve all been way too serious for a family dinner. Who wants to hear about the time Ingrid fell into a frozen lake?”

“Ingi fell in a lake?” Elisa’s head snapped up, eyes widening.

The energy in the room shifted, just slightly. Mapi chuckled, and Ingrid groaned, already regretting whatever childhood memory Anders was about to expose.

And just like that, the tension started to ease.

Elisa, however, stayed curled up against Mapi’s chest, listening. And even as she giggled softly at the story, her fingers never let go of Mapi’s sleeve.

Anders kept no details to himself. He told everything, how Ingrid really thought the ice would be thick enough so she could play football on top of it, even if it was freezing, even if playing football on slippery ice was probably the worst idea twelve-year-old Ingrid had probably ever had.

“Alright, enough about my near-death experiences,” Ingrid muttered, shaking her head as Anders cackled as he told her how funny it was to watch his middle sister freezing all the way back home.

“You’re just mad because you know I’ll tease you about it,” Mapi smirked, nudging her gently.

Elisa, still nestled in Mapi’s lap, looked between them, her small fingers resting on the cookie she had barely eaten. Then, as if deciding the tension had passed after the story was told, she straightened slightly.

“Can I color again?”

Mapi glanced down, taking in the way Elisa had settled more comfortably against her, as if she wasn’t entirely ready to let go just yet. But she nodded.

“Of course, yeah.”

Elisa hesitated, her grip tightening around Mapi’s sleeve before she carefully slid off her lap. But instead of making her way back to the coffee table, she walked to the small hallway that led the way to the kitchen.

Quietly, she opened one of the low cabinets, picking a red small bowl before closing the door – being extra careful to not get hurt her tiny fingers – and walking back near the table. Then, without saying a word, she climbed back to Mapi’s lap, reaching the plate filled with cookies and picking just three before quietly slipping back down to finally get a seat in the living room, back to her coloring.

No one stopped her.

She set the bowl next to her crayons, the penguin back on her lap. She flipped through the pages until she found the one she had been working on before selecting a brown crayon with the same careful thought.

“Let’s move to the living room,” Ingrid suggested, giving Mapi a small nudge. “Might as well get comfortable.”

Mapi gave a nod, grabbing her tea as they stood.

Elisa had already settled herself on the floor, the cookies next to her coloring book, completely back to her own little world, tiny legs crossed under the coffee table.

Every now and then, she would reach for one of the cookies in her bowl, nibbling on it absentmindedly before returning to her work.

As Anders took the armchair and Ingrid’s parents settled on the couch, Mapi sank into the corner of it, stretching her arms slightly over the cushions, and Ingrid took the spot beside her without hesitation. The closeness was instinctive, comfortable. She didn’t even realize how natural it had become until she caught the way her mother’s eyes lingered on the space between them – or the lack of it.

She held Gudrun’s gaze for a brief moment, but before anything could be said, Ørjan spoke up.

“Is this the coldest it gets here?”

“It depends,” Ingrid huffed a quiet laugh, grateful for the change in topic. “But yeah, compared to Norway, it’s never really cold.”

“Elisa complained the one time it dropped below ten degrees,” Mapi hummed in agreement.

“That’s not cold,” Anders scoffed, shaking his head.

Elisa, hearing her name, looked up briefly from her drawing.

“It was cold,” she insisted before immediately returning to her colors.

“She’s dramatic when there’s climate involved,” the Spaniard smiled, playfully nudging Elisa’s hip with her foot.

“I wonder where she gets that from,” Ingrid teased, bumping Mapi’s knee lightly with her own.

And just like that, the conversation flowed naturally again.

“What are you coloring?” Ingrid asked softly, glancing at the page Elisa had been working on.

The little girl turned it toward her, showing a picture of a bear with a tiny bird perched on its back, both figures surrounded by soft green trees. She had colored most of it in already, but the sky remained blank, as if she hadn’t quite decided what color it should be yet.

“Nice choice, peque.”

Elisa nodded, then looked between the two of them, thoughtful.

“Do you think the sky should be blue or pink?”

“Blue.”

“Pink.”

Elisa blinked a few times, her hazel eyes flickering between both of them before deciding.

“Both,” Elisa answered. “Sunset,” she argued, reaching for a crayon from the pack on the table.

The living room settled into a quiet rhythm again, with Elisa coloring, Mapi leaning into the couch with a comfortable sigh, Ingrid leaning into her, and Ingrid’s parents watching everything unfold with an unreadable expression.

“Hey, Elisa,” Anders tried, but the kid didn’t even acknowledge him. “I heard you like fútbol?”

That actually got a reaction.

Elisa’s head tilted the slightest bit.

“I bet you could kick my ass at it,” he grinned.

A beat.

Then, so softly Ingrid almost missed it…

“… Maybe.”

“Yeah? Okay, cool,” Anders lit up. “I’ll let you destroy me in a game later.”

Elisa blinked. And then – barely, barely – a tiny smile appeared.

They all took that as a win, especially as Elisa moved to the other side of the coffee table just so she could rest her back against the couch, pulling the book to her lap and resting her head on the side of Ingrid’s leg.

It was a small gesture. Maybe even unconscious.

But Ingrid saw the way her mother noticed it. The way her father’s expression shifted just slightly as he took in the sight of the little girl fitting so seamlessly into their space.

Yeah.

If Ingrid ever really said she hated kids, Elisa had definitely changed that.

----

Okay, so, id love to hear your thoughts about this bc i'm not sure if its too long or what ?????? the few next ones will be shorter tho lol

anyway, not sure when i'm gonna post another one, but i promise it will be soon <3

#barcelona femeni #ingrid engen #mapi leon #mapi leon x ingrid engen #mapi leon x ingrid engen x child #woso community #woso fanfics #ingrid engen x mapi leon

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sugarypinecones · 10 months ago

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DODGE!!!!! god i want dodge so bad i want to lay between his stretched out legs and wrap my arms around one of them and rest my head on his thigh while he plays with my hair while we watch smth together but it's all background noise because his dick is so close to me mouf and i js wanna run my nose against the little outline from his washed out jeans IS THAT A CRIME IS THAT SO TERRIBLE please oh my god his strong rodeo arms i just wanna sit on his lap and rub my hands all over him im sorry i think im ovulating

(in lois griffin voice) whoever that was.. thank you….

NO because ur SO real.. like i audibly went holy to this, had to screenshot, send to council, and come back to re read again like that one sarah paulson video.

this was meant to be a tiny tiny blurb but it turned out way longer than expected so sorry lolz + f!reader

ALSO! if you sent an ask i am working on it, but i was on vacation so now im finally home and yupppp

send more asks. anything. i will try and match ur freak as hard as i can pls god, and anyways that being said:

like, get me; it starts out somewhat innocent. tired and lazy because of all the panic bullshit, you two decide to just stay home rather going out to all the random parties and events thrown between each game.

dayna and his mom don’t care that he has you over — they find it nice he found someone, a nice distraction from inside his head.

as for the show, it’s probably some random documentary or reality show: first thing he saw when logging into the streaming platform. he, genuinely, is probably engrossed in it, but you’re engrossed in him: how close you two are.

you’re laying between his legs, obviously, and his hands are strung around you messily, just wanting to have some sort of hold on you. how he’s holding you, you probably have no idea what, focused on the washed-out jeans of his — weathered from wear by rodeos or helping anne or anything else.

he’s probably yapping about something on the TV — “i don’t see how bestfriends could do that to eachother..” bla bla bla, you’re not really focusing in on it - humming, trying to sound interested in whatever it is he’s actually talking about. some “oh really?” and “i know..” are strung throughout the humming, but you have no idea if it’s actually appropriate to his talking.

he seems to catch on, though, unbeknownst to you. it’s hard not to notice his pretty girlfriend’s eyes focused directly on his crotch every few minutes, head shifting back and forth ever so slightly — making his dick twitch with need.

you wondered if his jeans are always this tight — wondering if you looked earlier you could’ve seen it, but the truth was, you really couldn’t. this only happened after the fact you got in the car — but obviously, you weren’t keenly aware of his crotch up until the minute you got in bed.

his hands run up and down ur back softly, and god it just makes the URGE to run ur face along the outline so much worse !!! he’s fallen quiet, so u slightly wonder if maybe something’s wrong or maybe he caught onto your disinterest in his words, so you glance up out of the corner of your eye, only to realize he’s been watching you for god knows how long.

he probably says something stupid, like: “you know the tv’s over there, right?” or “interesting?” something really dumb and smart-assy. you roll your eyes, probably say something back, and one thing leads to another and he’s nonchalantly trying to suggest you could do it if you wanted to.

so you do. and god !! does it feel as good as u thought it would. he twitches beneath u and tries to act like it’s really not turning him on as much as it is, but it’s hard not to, a sticky, wet patch is already forming at the tip of his cock; itching to bleed through the light jeans.

he ends up pulling you closer, forgetting all about the tv, bringing you into a hasty kiss, needy and desperate but still filled with tenderness.

you fix yourself on his lap, smiling into the kiss, glad you got your way, like it was ever a fight to begin with — it never was, he would give you anything you asked for whenever you wanted.

he’s so gentle when he touches you. his large hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls you even closer into his lap, his eyes closed, enjoying the kiss for a few more moments before pulling away, panting softly, breathless.

"you’re really not very good at paying attention." he mumbled breathlessly, a small smirk on his lips as he looked down at you.

he moved his hands down your sides, running them up and down your thighs, his thumbs brushing against the skin beneath the hems of your shorts as he shifted underneath you slightly.

“what’s going through your pretty little head, hm?” he mused, tilting his head slightly as he studied your face.

you hummed softly, looking up at him with a small, playful pout on your lips.

“well… i was listening,” you pouted, “kinda.”

he chuckled softly at your response, his hands continuing to run up and down your thighs, the touch of his palms warm and rough against your skin.

“you’re so cute,” he murmured, “but i don’t think you were listening at all.”

he leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on your nose, before continuing to trail his lips down your jawline and down your neck.

“i think you were too distracted by something else,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin as he nipped at your neck softly.

he knew you far too well - he knew the way your body reacted to his touch. he knew how to make you melt.

he continued to nibble at your neck, gently, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to send shivers down your spine.

“can you even remember what i was talking about?” he murmured playfully, his hands still running up and down your thighs.

“of course,” you retort, clearly defensive. “you don’t get how best friends.. could do that to eachother.” it’s clear you were listening to him, but not the television.

he chuckled softly, his lips pressed against your skin as you spoke.

“of course you remember that part,” he teased, knowing damn well you were paying more attention to his jeans than the television.

he gently nipped at your skin, sucking on a small patch of it for a moment, before pulling away.

“you were paying more attention to something else, weren’t you?”

you flush. obviously you were — who could blame you ?? :(( he was just soo close to u and so there..

he caught the flush of your cheeks, a smirk playing at his lips as he lifted his head to look at you.

“aww, you’re so cute when you blush, you know that?” he teased, “especially when you realize you’ve been caught.”

he chuckled softly, his hands moving up to your waist, his fingers slowly slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.

you pull him into a needier kiss this time, hands roaming all over, as if trying to find the right place to grab: but all seemed so promising, that you couldn’t actually settle.

he groaned softly into the kiss, matching your neediness with his own. his hands gripped at your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, as he pulled you close into his lap.

he ran his tongue across your bottom lip, requesting access that you happily gave him. his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring it hungrily, as his hands roamed across your body.

he trailed kisses down your jawline and down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. he nipped at your collarbone, leaving small, love bites in their wake.

he slowly pushed himself back against the back of the bed, pulling you with him so that you were now laying on top of him, your legs on each side of his hips.

his hands roamed down to your legs, gripping your thighs as he shifted beneath you, his hips rolling up against yours.

he groaned softly as he felt the pressure against his lap, his lips still moving across your neck, leaving little love bites in their wake.

“you drive me crazy,” he mumbled against your skin.

you hum in response — too overwhelmed with pleasure to say anything other than jumbled messes, so simplify yourself with a hum.

his hands moved up, slipping underneath your shirt, and running his palms across your skin. he could feel the heat radiating off your body, and it only made him want you more.

he pulled away from your neck, looking up at you with his blue, lust-filled eyes.

“i want you,” he breathed, “so badly.”

your breath hitches — and you want to tell him to have you — right there, however much he wanted, but you can’t strangle any words out.

he moved his hands up to your hips, his grip tightening as he pulled you tightly against him, grinding his lap up against yours.

he let out a soft groan, his head falling back against the back of the headboard as he felt the friction against his straining jeans.

“you’re so beautiful,” he panted, looking up at you with a look of need in his eyes, “so damn beautiful.”

he slid his hands up further, pushing up your shirt as he did, exposing your stomach. he ran his hands up across your stomach and up to your ribs, his touch leaving chills in their wake.

he bit his lip as he looked up at you, studying your face, taking in your features as if he hadn’t seen you a million times before.

“i want you,” he repeated, his voice slightly hoarse with need, “all of you, darling.”

you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“well,” you said, your voice low and sultry, “what’s stopping you?”

he looked up at you, his eyes darkening with need.

“nothing,” he replied, his grip on you tightening as he spoke.

he shifted beneath you, pushing himself up so that he was sitting up properly against the back of the couch.

“except for these damn jeans,” he muttered, his hands moving to the button on his jeans.

you’re quick to help him — eagerly pawing at the button, undoing it with ease.

he let out a soft gasp at your eager touch, his hands moving to grip your waist as you undid the button on his jeans.

he lifted his hips as you began to pull down the jeans, a small, needy whine escaping from his lips as the fabric slid down his legs and hit the floor with a toss of your hand.

“so fucking needy..” he groaned softly, his hands running up and down your sides.

he pulled you back down onto his lap, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he settled you against his lap.

his hips bucked up slightly, his arousal pressed against your thigh as he moved.

“you’re so good to me,” he panted, his hands roaming up and down your back as he spoke, “i’m so lucky to have you.”

he tilted his head, his lips tracing a path down your neck, nibbling at sensitive spots along the way. he left a trail of little love bites, his teeth grazing against your skin in a way that made you shiver.

“i want to touch you,” he murmured against your skin, his hands running up your thighs. “please let me touch you.”

you could give him permission a million times over — and he’d still ask before doing anything else in the process, so gently; a contrast difference to his rough hands.

“please.” you retort softly.

he groaned softly at your response, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as he pulled you closer.

“always so polite,” he muttered, his lips still trailing down your neck.

he slowly moved his hands up your thighs, his fingers slowly sliding under the hem of your shorts.

“i need you so badly,” he panted, his hands moving higher, “can i..?”

you nod vicariously.

he let out a soft sigh of relief at your response, his hands moving further up your thighs, until they reached the edge of your panties.

he ran his fingers along the edge of the fabric, groaning softly at the realization that he was so close to what he wanted.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, “so perfect..”

you hum contemptibly, smiling.

he smiled at your hum, his hands slowly moving up, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

he ran his fingers over your skin, his touch gentle and soft, as he slowly moved towards your center.

he could feel you shiver with each touch, his own hips rolling slightly beneath you as he grew impatient.

he slowly moved his hand down, his fingers sliding across your sensitive flesh, his touch sending shivers up your spine.

“you’re so warm,” he murmured, “so ready..”

he gently began to rub at your sensitive bundle of nerves, his touch light and teasing, as his other hand moved to your hip, holding you in place.

he groaned softly at the feel of your reaction, his eyes studying your face intently.

“so beautiful..” he repeated, his fingers slowly increasing their pace.

he watched as you began to move against his touch, your hips rolling in response to his touch.

he groaned softly as he felt you press against him, his own arousal growing more and more with each small movement you made.

“that’s it,” he panted, “just like that..”

he continued his movements, his fingers quickening their pace as he felt you growing closer.

he could feel your body shaking with need, your hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

“just relax darling,” he murmured, “let go for me..”

he continued to rub at your sensitive core, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm, as he watched you grow closer and closer to the edge.

he could feel your body growing tense, your grip on him growing tighter, as you began to whine and pant with need.

“that’s it, just like that..” he repeated, his own hips rolling up against you as he continued his ministrations.

he watched as you grew tense, your body trembling as you reached the edge, your eyes squeezing shut as you arched your back slightly.

he kept up his movements, his hand still rubbing at your sensitive flesh, continuing to bring you closer and closer to release, “come for me, please..” he panted, his own need growing stronger by the second.

he could feel you growing closer and closer to the edge with each second, your breath coming in soft pants and moans as you teetered on the brink.

and finally, you came, your body shaking as you reached your climax, a soft moan escaping from your lips.

he continued to move his fingers gently against you, helping you ride out your orgasm, as he spoke softly, “so perfect..”

he gently pulled his hand away from you, his eyes watching as you came down from your high. he studied your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and messy hair.

“that’s it darling,” he murmured, “just breathe..”

he moved his hands to your hips once more, holding you tightly in his lap as he waited for you to regain your bearings.

#mike faist smut #mike faist x reader smut #mike faist x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x reader smut #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #dodge mason x reader smut #dodge mason imagine #dodge mason x reader #dodge mason smut #dodge mason

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nayedoll · 11 months ago

Text

sweet coffee

joost klein x reader

summary : joost shows up at your apartment drunk two months after your breakup.

genre: fluff

rpf ahead, do not read if uncomfortable !!!

────────────────────────

You checked the time, unable to fall asleep after god knows how long you had been trying for. The clock read 4:01 A.M, the bright light emitting from it overwhelming your eyes. You sighed as you stared at the ceiling, accepting your fate for yet another night.

You had never been one to suffer from insomnia, the sudden lack of sleep getting to you and ruining every aspect of your daily life. You tried to convince yourself that it was the work stress but deep down you knew that the real reason behind your sleep problems was your recent breakup with your boyfriend of three years.

You and Joost had met at the coffee shop that you worked at as a struggling student during your university years. Absolutely mesmerized by you, Joost would come by everyday and order the same coffee; a cappuccino latte. It didn’t take long before you both fell in love with each other, helping one another heal from the struggles of the past.

But what started as a sweet relationship ended in the most bitter way you could have imagined. When Joost was picked to represent his country in Eurovision, you knew that he wouldn’t spend as much time with you anymore due to the hard preparation for such a big contest, something that you respected.

However, with time you felt him distancing himself from you more and more, calling you once every few days and giving dry replies. You tried to stay patient so as not to stress him out even more but him going on tour immediately after the contest ended was the last straw for you. After multiple days of nonstop arguing and crying, you finally made the hard decision to break up with him one day before his flight to Canada for a festival there.

Two months later, you were now sitting at the floor of your apartment with the windows wide open as you let the chilly summer night breeze clear your mind. You grabbed your phone and scrolled through your old texts with Joost. The last conversation you’d had with him was the morning after you told him to end things.

may 27, 8:06 A.M

you left your hoodie here.

it’s ok u can keep it.

oh ok. thanks

Seen

You took a deep breath as you realized you were wearing the same hoodie right now, softly playing with the fabric to feel some kind of comfort. Seeing things from a different perspective now made you think about how stupid it had been of you to end a three year relationship just like that.

The guilt overtook your thoughts as you felt tears swelling up in your eyes. The sudden loud banging on your door made you flinch in fear, quickly wiping away any tears with the sleeves of your -or his-hoodie. You got up slowly to check who it was, carefully looking through the peep hole.

Your heart stopped at the distorted sight of Joost outside of your apartment door. You quickly opened the door and his face lit up at your presence.

“Mijn liefste,” he exclaimed and you pulled him into your apartment by his hand in a hurry before any of your neighbors could come out and realize where all the noise was coming from.

Closing the door, he immediately quieted down as he hugged you tightly. You reluctantly hugged him back, feeling how sweaty he was. He reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, obviously having come back from a night out.

“What are you doing here?” you asked and tried to pull back but he didn’t let you.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, his voice as sweet as ever.

“I didn’t know you were in Amsterdam. Aren’t you on tour?”

He tried to answer your question but gave up halfway, giving you an idea of just how drunk he was. You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the sight, reminiscing all the times you’d seen Joost in similar circumstances in the past. He finally let go of you and you grabbed his hand, caressing it.

“Let’s take care of this first,” you laughed and he nodded as you tried your best to keep him from falling with Joost being way taller than you. After some minutes of struggling, you finally managed to walk him to the bathroom and left him alone to take a shower.

Meanwhile you made your way to the kitchen to make him some food, in hopes to sober him up a little. Finally having some time to your thoughts, you smiled to yourself as you recalled him calling you liefste earlier, a word you had grown accustomed to hearing while dating him along with other pet names.

He shortly came out of the shower already looking a lot more sober and collected. He smiled at you as you passed him the food, the two of you holding eye contact for a moment longer. Your eyes trailed to his body and you noticed he was only wearing a towel, growing worried that he might catch a cold.

“Hold on,” you hurried into the bedroom that you once shared, searching for any of his clothes. Luckily you came across some baggy boxers you’d stolen from him a while back, finally returning them to Joost.

He thanked you, though he was still topless. You got the idea to pass him the hoodie you were wearing, since it was his to begin with. As you took the hoodie off without a second thought, you were left with nothing than a bralette on top, making Joost glance to the floor to hide his smirk. You playfully slapped him on the shoulder before putting the hoodie on him, your eyes meeting again under the warm kitchen light, at a closer proximity.

It was evident in your eyes that you had so much to say to each other but didn’t even know where to start. He briefly looked down at your lips and you would have kissed him right then and there if it wasn’t for the fact that he looked exhausted.

“You should get some sleep,” you advised him as you stepped away. He looked away from you mumbling something in agreement.

He lied down on the couch and you recalled memories from the past when he’d carry you to the couch after getting back home together as his soft lips littered your face and body with small, gentle kisses.

“Sorry for waking you up earlier,” he said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“It’s okay, not that I was asleep anyway,” you reassured him. Joost made a curious face at your last words.

“How so?”

“I don’t know, I just haven’t been sleeping very well for some time after we…” you trailed off and he nodded apologetically. Things went silent for a few seconds, leaving you both to your thoughts.

“Come here,” Joost whispered, you looked over as he patted the empty space next to him. You smiled and slowly lied down with him as he rested his hand atop your waist. He turned to face you, your faces now inches away from each other.

This time you couldn’t avoid it. You kissed him, reluctantly at first but with more confidence as you felt him kiss you back. It was a sweet and slow kiss, mirroring the unconditional love between you both.

He pulled away, your breaths shallow from the length of the kiss.

“I love you so much,” he said quietly as his fingers caressed your face and lips.

“I love you too,” you whispered. You felt yourself drifting off to sleep, Joost’s soft pants and the distant sound of the passing cars lulling you to sleep. The last thing you remember is the feeling of Joost wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer.

The bright morning sun woke you up, finding yourself still in Joost’s arms. You reached for your phone to check the time, the gesture making Joost wake up as well.

“Goedenmorgen,” he said in a raspy voice, placing a peck on your lips.

“Good morning,” you replied and got up from the couch, lightly stretching your arms to feel more awake.

“What time is it?” Joost asked, rubbing his eyes from the sleep.

“9:34 A.M”

He nodded, following you to the kitchen where the warm sunlight was emitting from the window. He sat on the chair, staring at you making breakfast.

“What?” you laughed noticing his smile and intense stare.

“You’re beautiful,” he responded, you turned around to hide the blush forming in your cheeks. His compliments felt like the warm rays of sunshine against your back as your face beamed with a smile.

“What coffee do you want?” you asked, voice still raspy from the sleep.

“Een cappuccino latte, please”

#joost klein x reader #nayedoll 💌

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exyrpf · 1 year ago

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Exyblr Dashboard Simulator based on what I personally see on sportsblr:

1/?

👑 girlbossriko follow

how many bro jobs do you think it took before riko moriyama and kevin day realized that uh.....maybe this wasn't just a bro thing

👢exyinaphonebooth follow

how many times do they have to come out and say they're like brothers before you freakos stop shipping them

👑 girlbossriko follow

????? do i know u

#it's a tumblr post about two exy players that you'lll never meet in your life it really isn't that deep

558 notes

💃fox-me-up follow

ngl that newest fox is kinda 👀

#psu lb #exy lb

8 notes

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 talk-exy-to-me

The NARRATIVE that kevin day and neil josten have........son of exy! scouting the rookie-est of rookies from fuck knows arizona........no listen you dont GET IT winning is EVERYTHING TO KEVIN and he would risk it on the foxes? And NEIL? who has only played exy for a year! NEIL Gets his attention!!!!! And hes good and he's getting better every game and he keeps bitching about kevin's ex on live tv BUT WAIT!???? NOT QUITE WHAT YOU EXPECT! Bc then neil shows up with a number on his cheek BECAUSE WELL it turns out they've known each other since they were KIDS! how is everyone not insane w me THEY'RE LITERALLY PERFECT

#where r my fellow njkd truthers #how r u all not here with me this isnt even the start #kevneil #210 #psu #njkd

102 notes

☀️ usctrojanny

every smiley blonde striker (jeremy knox) needs a brunette wet cat emotional support backliner (jean moreau)

#jerejean #usc trojans #i'm just saying 🤷‍♀️

58 notes

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

did he just......

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

guys please tell me i'm not insane

👸🏻 kevindazed follow

HE'S NEVER BEEN????? SKIIING???? KEVIN WHAT DOES THAT MEAN ?????? KEVIN PLEASE

#i i'm going insane i will literally die if someone doesn't explain this to me HE'S NEVER BEEN SKIING?!!!!

407 notes

🧚 goalie-stan

oh....i'm feeling so weak......it'd sure be nice to have a big strong goalie (renee walker) hold me up (renee if you're free on tuesday i am also free on tuesday.........on tuesday this tuesday, any tuesday?)

#literally passing out just thinking about her holding me don't call don't text i'm busy

84 notes

🌄 softkevinday follow

do u think if u offered kevin day essential oils to heal his hand he'd beat you to death

#it'd be hard for him bc he only has one hand but he could probably do it #legally this is a joke don't do this

284 notes

🗣️ jeremyknoxes follow

feeling normal

215 notes

📜 realexyblog

actually exy rpf is fine, i asked kayleigh day herself and she told me it was fine

112 notes

🐋 sexyexy

'exy is a stupid name for a sport' have you considered that a) i don't care and b) it's named that solely so i can make sex jokes about it

11 notes

🏳️‍🌈 gay4stickball follow

is he, ya know *mimes jerking off* an ncaa exy player

#i don't believe that straight exy players exist

56 notes

🙈 ittybittyminny follow

Andrew Minyard!!!!!!! 🥰🥰 short king!!!!🤏🤏😋😋 Awwwwwwww the scrunkly!!!!! 🤗🤗🤗 My boinky boy!!!!!🥺🥺 Crinkly doo,,,,shronkle scrimblo......🥺🥺🥺 rb if you'd scrunkle!!!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

📖 sapphic-exy follow

he literally killed someone

🙈 ittybittyminny follow

And? God forbid women do anything

#also no proof he did that #yeah there's proof his twin bro killed someone but that's not the same bc theyre different people #almost killing someone doesnt count

807 notes

🐦‍⬛ edgarallenexy

got told i'm problematic for liking the ravens? THAT'S LITERALLY MY SCHOOL OH MY GOD

2 notes

🌸 softexy

Kevin Day - A Study

#kevin day #psu foxes #palmetto foxes #exy #web weave #poetry #psu foxes #palmetto #edgar allen

378 notes

#i'm not taking criticism bc i am on sportsblr and this is literally what it's like #all for the game #neil josten #kevin day #andrew minyard #renee walker #jeremy knox #jean moreau #aftg #the foxhole court #jerejean #kevneil #the web weave is the most accurate part of this post #exyblr #riko moriyama

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taelortot · 3 months ago

Text

The Sun and the Moon

Part zero: Introduction (four screenshots and drabble)

Characters are in college!!!!!

blurb Zero One 1.5 Two

Megumi Fushiguro was not known to be the most patient person in the world. Growing irritated with those who took up too much of the allotted time he allowed for. This would apply to basically everything— getting ready for the day, deciding on what to order at restaurants, perusing the grocery store when only going in for one item— and the list goes on and on. His patience was limited, growing thinner and thinner as the days passed. Megumi was also not known to be the sweetest man in the world, no no no. Quite the opposite really. Snapping at those who interrupted him, growing angry with people who got off task, and frustrated when no one could pay attention for more than 5 minutes.

That applied to everyone. Everyone he’s ever interacted with his whole life. Everyone who has looked his way.

Everyone except y/n.

It baffled his friends. Seriously throwing them through a loop that the man who yelled at them for speaking over him, was now allowing this petite girl to interrupt him to say the clouds look pretty.

“They do, baby” he would smile, turning his full attention to his girlfriend, taking in her beauty as she looked towards the sky.

Huffs and sighs coming from his friends, eyerolls and arms crossing as Megumi allowed his girlfriend to point out little shapes she saw in the puffy white clouds.. instead of continuing to discuss the plan for the mission they were going on in a few days. When his attention eventually returns to where it should have been, his hands always find their way to the girl who is sitting as patiently as she can. Holding her hand in his, calloused thumb brushing over the pretty promise ring he purchased a few months ago. Or one hand on the back of her neck, fingertips massaging her skin, running his fingers through her soft vanilla scented hair.

It wasn’t always like this. It took time. It took time to realize she was always going to be 20 minutes late no matter how early she started getting ready because— “I couldn’t decide between this pink skirt or the other one” or “I couldn’t find my wedges so I had to change my whole outfit to match these ones” and Megumis favorite “I lost my cherry lip gloss that you love so much so I had to find it, doesn’t it taste good?”

So he learned to be patient with her. Only because y/n is hands down the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on. AND, she always gave him road head when they are running late to make it up to him.

Oh and he’s so fucking in love with her it’s stupid.

So fucking in love with the vanilla scented girl.

Sweet and syrupy. Sticky and warm. Like sugar cookies and waiting for Santa to come down the chimney.

Giving Megumi a taste at the childhood y/n insists he should have had.

At first Megumi couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that y/n was definitely not all there—In a constant state of carefree living. At first, he truly wondered if she was dropped on her head a few times—only because the shit that came from her mouth were absurd most of the time.

“Do you think if I pet raccoon I could train him to dance?”

“I really wish I could see an alien and ask it if they like ice cream— oh my god what if they don’t even have ice cream? Should I buy some just in case they visit me tonight?”

“Do you think your puppies can smell when I’m sad?”

And that list goes on and on and on. Mostly consisting of questions Megumi has now learned how to answer. Even if the answers don’t make sense.

"I'm pretty sure he could learn to dance, sweet girl."

"What flavor do you think they would like, baby?"

"I think they can sense your emotions, pretty girl"

When I say it took time for Megumi to really understand y/n, I mean it took TIME. But, after finding out the girl has severe adhd, it all made sense. Now he can sit back and enjoy that funny things she does.

As well as relishing in the comfort she gives him. It's like no other. How understanding she is, how she cares for him, how she takes care of him in ways he cannot comprehend. No one has ever taken the time to understand him, to REALLY understand him. Growing fiercely protective of his baby, keeping her safe from those who wish to tear her down in any way they could.

"you're not stupid, pretty girl. they are just jealous of how beautiful you are"

Now... that's always a touchy topic for y/n. Sure, the girl may be a bit ditzy and unaware-- but, why would she need to have a brain when Megumi could do all the thinking for her? A word Megumi heard a lot was 'bimbo', a word he had to look up after some frat guy called y/n that. And... while that might be correct, Megumi didn't see anything wrong with that. Well, the only issue he had was that every person who saw y/n sexualized her. Other than that, he had no issue with how naive and attractive she is. Always making sure to grab a handful of her tits whenever any male looked at her chest a little too long. Earning a giggle and a-- "Gumi, that tickles!"

God she was so innocent. And soooo in love with her boyfriend of 1 year.

There was something about the way she looked at him. A twinkle in her eye or something. It started from when she first made eye contact with him, as if the word stopped and he was all that mattered.

As if he's the one who drags the stars out of the dark every night.

As if he is the reason the moon shines so bright in the dead of night.

Or maybe Megumi was the moon to her. Illuminating the dark to guide her home, keeping her safe from what lurks in the shadows.

Like the way the moon influences the tides with its gravitational pull, Megumi pulled her in whatever direction was best for her. And no matter what, with Megumi by her side, she knew there would always be another bight night.

Another night to sleep safely.

Another night to hear the owl's hoot.

Another night to stay up late talking to the love of her life.

Just another night to be with him.

His little innocent girl— well mostly innocent. The things he’s done to her would surly send them both to hell.

But!! We can discuss that later.

Anyway, there isn’t one thing Megumi wouldn’t do for y/n. He would go to the ends of the earth just to see that pretty smile. While he remained standing with a cool and calm exterior, his body vibrates when he sees his girl. His chest on fire when he sees her smile. Oh god, and don’t get him started on her laugh. When he dies, he hopes that’s the last thing he hears.

It’s like on a semi cloudy day, the way the sun peaks out from behind the clouds, shining rays bursting through to create the most elegant shadows. Or when the sun shines down on painted glass, a mosaic of colors dancing on the sidewalk.

Maybe she’s just the sun.. maybe y/n is Megumis' sun. The thing that keeps him warm, the thing he needs every single day to survive, the light in his dark heart, reminding him that there will always be another day.

Another day to see the sun.

Another day to hear bird chirping.

Another day to be see the love of his life.

Another day to kiss her.

Another day to hold her.

Just another day with y/n.

taglist: @vellichor01 @loveyislost @gradmacoco @koreluvsspring @ersharyzst

#jjk megumi #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk #jjk smau #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu megumi #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fushiguro #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #megumi fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk texts #jjk fic

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stormyelliotwritez · 8 months ago

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walk with me…

ftm reader who has been in love with logan for years but he thinks logan is straight and also logan like wont stop being in love with jean and is absolutely OBLIVIOUS that r likes him.. (literally all the other x men know) and honestly this can be like super angsty or just silly idc whatever the vibe u best think works

im gonna somehow go with mostly angst coz thats my fav so here goes

tw for gender dysphoria related to wanting to fit logan’s so called type

BUT HE’S STRAIGHT?

Logan was staring at Jean again. This was like the fifth time just this staff meeting. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take this. Maybe Charles would let you go lay down if you faked a fever but maybe he’d do the whole psychic thing and realize you were fine.

You sat through the rest of the meeting and then left quickly, feeling like a loser. It’s been years and he still hasn’t noticed you. He’s always staring at Jean who’s literally been in love with Scott since they met. Why won’t he stare at you? How the fuck is he straight? But alas, he is.

You walked to your room, tugging at your shirt and wishing it would fit better. Maybe he’d have noticed you if you weren’t a boy, if you’d stayed what you’d been born as. Maybe if you were still her, he’d think you were cute. Maybe he’d look at you how he looked at Jean.

You slammed your door shut and clambered onto your bed, curling up into a ball. You stayed there, just thinking, until eventually you fell asleep.

In the morning, you got up and after showering and getting dressed, you threw on the jacket you’d stolen from Logan a few months ago, the one with the school’s logo. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. It’s not like he ever noticed you.

You went about your day, bumping into Scott who made a faux growl sound like Logan’s to tease you and then bumping into Hank who sniffed your jacket and then applauded you on managing to steal from Logan. Later in the day, you ran head first into Storm, when you were trying to avoid Logan, and she glanced at him and then meowed at you teasingly. You’d swear on someone’s grave that the only person who didn’t know about your years old crush was the man himself, Logan.

You managed to avoid Logan all day until… dinner. He was sitting opposite the spot you always sat in. He was sitting there. Why was he sitting there was a question you couldn’t answer. You tugged at your jumper while holding your plate with one hand and you walked over to him.

“Logan,” you said with a nod.

“Bub,” he said back before looking you over.

He didn’t say anything about the jacket. He just sat there and ate his dinner and then stood up. He walked around to your side and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Nice jacket, bub.”

He then walked off, just like that.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? He didn’t know though. He would know about your ridiculous crush if he was listening to your heartbeat right now. Oh my god, so he knew you’d stolen it but he couldn’t put the damn pieces together?

You finished your dinner and walked off. You were halfway to your room when someone grabbed your hand and pulled you into an empty classroom. The door was slammed and you were disoriented in the dark.

“You like me, bub?”

That was Logan’s voice. Wait, he knew? How? But…

“Come on, I ain’t got all day,” he said abruptly.

You nodded. You were quite sure he could see in the dark and the scoff he made seemed to say so. How could you have been so stupid? He was probably going to hate you now. He was straight. He’d always been straight and in love with Jean. He was oblivious. He’d always been oblivious. He could never like you. You weren’t a girl, no matter how hard you wanted to still be one so he’d like you. Your heart was racing and soon enough, you were hyperventilating.

His hands were on your shoulders and you were being pulled into a hug, a hug that smelt of wood and fuel. He was hugging you?

“It’s okay, I got you, bub,” he placed a light kiss on your forehead, “I swing both ways, you know.”

You’d always hated that he was still taller than you, one of the downsides of not getting on T until your 20’s and- wait, what? He swings both ways?

“You-you do?” You said once your breathing had slowed.

He nodded. You couldn’t see it but you could feel it. He could like you… as you, as a man? You didn’t have to be someone else? You could just be you.

“Yep, now let’s go. I think there’s two beers calling our names in the teacher’s lounge,” he said before opening the door and pulling you out of the classroom. “Jean mentioned your little crush and now I gotta hear all about how you’ve been pining for me for years.”

Curse you, Jean, but thanks, was all you could think as you just nodded and walked with him to the teachers lounge.

pt 2 - he’s not straight?

#requested #its short but i think it works #x reader #stormy writes things #x m!reader #x male reader #logan howlett x male reader #logan howlett x ftm!reader #wolverine x ftm!reader #wolverine x male reader #🦕 anon

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pha55ed · 8 months ago

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Touch | F1/F2 (kimi bday celly!)

type :: fluff tw/cw :: gn!reader for all, one gendered-term for carlos contains :: kimi!, oscar, carlos request :: heyy! can you do touch by katseye for carlos, oscar and kimi? or choose whatever 2 other drivers u want if you dont feel like writing for these, im mainly requesting for kimi lol. im really excited to read the new stuff, love ur writing 💕 (yes ofcc!! i love carlos and oscar sm <33 and thank you!! ur so sweet :D ) link to kimi bday celly!

Kimi Antonelli | 04

Getting a crush wasn't on Kimi's 2024 bingo, instead it was on the list of the things that he didn't want. Focussing on racing has been what he's done all his life, he's barely had breaks or time to himself - so how the well would be able to have a girlfriend? He knew logically that a relationship would never work, and yet he couldn't stop the way his heart beat got faster around you.

As you came to the paddock once again, he wanted to scream. It was a internal fight that he could never win. On one hand, he was estatic to have you here to help cheer him on and watch him. It was going to push him 10 times harder to be better, to make sure to impress you. But on another hand, he was screaming because how he was shitting his pants and thinking of every bad outcome possible.

What if he crashes in the first minute and has to retire? What if he loses miserably and doesn't even have an excuse for why he sucked so bad that day? What if a different driver sees you and realizes how cute you are and tries to flirt with you, he's especially worried about Paul or Ollie finding you - he knew those two could pull anyone if they wanted.

He did his best to focus on the race, pulling off P7, not awful but not amazing. And god was he nervous, his hands were sweaty and forehead glossy from nerves. Before he could allow you to see him, he needed to freshen up in some way.

Rushing to his drivers room, trying his best to avoid anyone and everything so he can see you quickly. But when he walks into his drivers room, he's met with you looking at him whilst holding a little bouquet of flowers.

Suddenly his senses were all heightened. He could smell his sweat from his armpits, has he always smelt this bad? He could feel how loose his racing suit was on him, did he look too baggy? His breathing was still raggedy from racing, oh my gosh did his staggered breathing make him seem unfit?

And even worse, why did you look so perfect to him? God he hates this. It was like his entire plan for his future was crumbling all because some stupid person walked in and made his stomach flip. He was stuck there, frozen, staring at you with his mouth slightly open as he does his best to think of anything at all.

You confuse his silence with him not wanting you there, which even he didn't know if he wanted you in there or not. So you hand him the flowers, congratulating him on his placement as you left.

Long story short: he's awful with crushes. You WILL be the death of him.

Oscar Piastri | 81

Being nonchalant is basically his entire brand. That's why so many people freak out when they see him laugh or giggle, he's known as the next "Kimi Raikkonen" for a reason. So, when you begin to come to more races since you're the daughter of one of the head engineers at Mclaren, everyone notices how different Oscar is around you.

He usually just stands there,,, awkwardly,,, as if he's a Sim waiting for a command. But with you, he's suddenly fiddling with everything, doing his best to make sure he looks good. He constantly pushes his hair back, clearing his throat, making sure his shoulders are rolled back, you swear you even saw him MEW whilst you were busy talking...

This crush is noticed by everyone, the engineers, mechanics, lando, and even you. But there's one person who doesn't know: and that's Oscar himself. Somehow, he's fully gaslit himself into believing he's just nervous around you for other reasons.

He only pulls out your chair when you come to the group dinners because he's a gentleman. He keeps fixing his hair around you since it's windy, even if you're talking indoors. He can't stop staring at you because you stick out since you're the only girl in the Mclaren garage,,, even if you're not the only girl,,, there are like 10 other women who work in Mclaren.

But one day, Lando and Oscar are eating breakfast together before their free practice. That's when Lando boldly asks, "So have you made a move yet on (Y/N)?" Oscar replies with no, scoffing at his question as if Lando was asking something stupid. Lando has a small smirk from Oscar's reply. "So, can I shoot my shot?"

Instantly Oscar is confused, obviously no! But he's not sure why he wants to say no to Lando's desire to ask you out. Oscar literally tries to find every single reason as to why he doesn't want Lando to date you, even going as far to think he's possibly gay for Lando. He rules that out quickly though and connects the dots, he can't deny them anymore: he likes you.

From that point on, Oscar is an even bigger mess than he already is around you. He's already nervous, but now you swear you can see the buckets, yes plural, of sweat that he's making from even being in the same room as you. You know he likes you, everyone in the paddock as already told you, even Toto Wolff joined in,,, why is this grown man in some young adult romance...

Please, please, please, just confess your feelings to Oscar. He most likely won't get the guts to even THINK of asking you out for at least 4 months. And then he has to plan how he's gonna ask you out for another 2 months. And then he has to gather the courage to ask you out for another 4 months. And then... you get the point.

Carlos Sainz | 55

Unlike the other two, Carlos is older and more experienced than them. But of course, he's still going to be a tad bit flustered when it comes to you. You're one of the new videographers for Drive to Survive. All videographers were assigned a driver to film, and you got Carlos. Which you were grateful for since he's always super respectful and also very easy to film, since he looks good in every angle.

Carlos usually hated being filmed for Drive to Survive, he thought they were super annoying. But he couldn't bring himself to dislike you, even when you accidentally hit him with your huge camera - he still found you so endearing. He couldn't help but try to shoot his shot at you.

Every time you came to film him, he made sure to drop not-so-subtle hints that he liked you. Like saying, "maybe I should film you, you're much more beautiful" which you obviously reply by saying how handsome Carlos is - which makes him smirk. You fell for his trap of calling him beautiful, but was it really a trap if you've been thinking it from the very first day?

Or how you always have to remind him to look into the camera when speaking, because his dark brown puppy eyes can't help but stare at you instead. Or when you almost trip since the camera gear is so heavy and Carlos catches you, saving you almost $10,000 in damages. Or when you went to the bathroom, leaving your camera on the table only to be met with a camera shoved in your face that was controlled by Carlos, to which he laughed and repeated yet again, "you're stunning".

As you two get to know each other more and more, he becomes much more forward with his flirting. Greeting you with an air-kiss, brushing your hair behind your ears, and even buying you multiple bouquets of flowers. You couldn't help but blush at all of his actions, but you knew you needed to stay professional still to avoid getting fired. Carlos knew that too, he would never want his favorite camera-woman to get fired.

So it's a constant tug of flirting with you and you being bashful in return. It's a painfully long wait till the season end so that Carlos can finally ask you out on a date, since there's no longer a contract forbidding you two.

#f1 #f2 #kimi antonelli #andrea kimi antonelli #kimi antonelli x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader #f2 x reader #formula 1 #formula 2 #ferrari formula 1 #mclaren formula 1

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crappymixtape · 1 year ago

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because of you • part two

PART I • PART III • PART VI • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 3.3k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T T W O 🎶 theatre, etta marcus

❝ IS IT EASIER WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO START AGAIN? WHEN YOU DON’T WANNA MAKE AMENDS? ❞

‘Stealing a Winnebago’ had been easier than you’d assumed, but the getaway execution went exactly like you thought it would. Absolute disorganized chaos and the way Steve peeled out of the trailer park dumped you into Robin’s lap for the first mile. Made you even more skeptical of whatever half-assed plan these people had frankensteined together and now? You found yourself browsing the clothing section of The War Zone.

What in the hell were they thinking coming here anyway? From Eddie’s retelling of what happened under Lover’s Lake it sounded like not one of them knew anything about hand-to-hand combat, let alone guns. Couldn’t even land a punch, but thought they could handle this? Walls of rifles on display, rounders full of bulletproof gear and cases upon cases of bullets and god, you wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Nancy’s voice pulled your attention away from the tactical vests you were staring at, her eyes wide and earnest as she looked over at you. “If I go over to the counter, you gonna be okay?”

“Oh, totally,” you lied. “Yeah, was gonna go look over here anyway,” and you thumbed over your shoulder at more vests.

“Okay, good.”

She gave you a small Nancy-Wheeler-smile and left you there alone in a sea of camouflage. In the middle of a store you’d never have set foot in before all this and making you second guess yourself. Second guess what was seemingly more and more a stupid decision to go along with all of this and you huffed a sigh in frustration.

“Should’ve stayed in the trailer,” you grumbled under your breath, fighting the urge to just walk out, but apparently you weren’t the only one wandering around all the puke green clothing.

“Huh, didn’t know you had good ideas.”

The sound of Steve’s voice made your hands ball into fists, nails pressing half moons into your palms.

“Do you ever have anything nice to say?” you sneered and he had the audacity to be so causal. Didn’t even look up from the tactical vests he was flipping through and tossed one into his cart.

“Not to you I don’t.”

Anger rose in your chest like a pot boiling over, so hot it made your cheeks burn as you glowered over at him.

“What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep,” and still he didn’t look at you. Picked a bomber jacket off the rack and piled it on top of his vest and it was the last straw.

Stalking over to his side of the rounder you got right up in his face, dug a finger into his chest and said, “Liar.”

His eyes flickered at your accusation, sardonic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at you and warned, “Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.” And he leaned into your finger. Waited for you to fold. Tsked at your attitude and the sound of it triggered a memory so strong you felt like you’d been sucker punched.

Your second ever interaction with Steve Harrington happened the week before summer break.

You heard it while you were walking back to school from grabbing lunch at the diner. A high, sharp whistle followed by car horn and then—

“Owwww, damn baby!”

And you recognized the voice right away.

Tommy Hagan. Leaning out the passenger window of Steve’s BMW. Wolf-whistling at you and being a dick and you tried to ignore them, but then they were pulling up next to you and slowing way down.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy purred at your back, your mouth twisting into a scowl at the sound of Eddie’s nickname on his tongue. “You need a rid–” he started to ask, but his question cut short when you turned around.

Mouth dropped open in shock for a split second as he realized who you were, Tommy quickly recovered and started to laugh. That obnoxious, hyena-like laugh that made you want to punch him and he smiled and whistled again.

“Shit, Stevie! Who knew the freak had an ass on her!”

“You kiss Carol with that mouth, Tommy?” you shot back, Steve stifling a snicker from the driver’s seat.

“Bet you could do for a kiss, baby,” Tommy tsked, pouted his lips at you and grinned, “Always so damn sour.”

“Yeah? Wanna find out why?” you threatened and it made Tommy grin even wider. Shark-like. Predatory.

“Park it, Stevie,” Tommy didn’t bother looking at his friend, eyes locked on you as he opened the passenger door and jumped out of the car while it was still moving. Walked right up and crowded over you, eyes narrowing as he leaned in, “And what if I do?”

Your stomach lurched, heart leaping into your throat as you stood your ground. You didn’t think he’d take the bait, but you also didn’t shy away. God, you wished Eddie was there. Tilting your chin up in defiance you glared him down.

“Tommy, c’mon man. Just leave it,” you heard Steve’s voice from over Tommy’s shoulder, tinged at the edges with desperation as he ran up on the two of you, but Tommy couldn’t have cared less.

“Well? What’re you gonna do about it, toots?” Tommy pushed again, toes of his shoes knocking against yours as he stepped even closer, towering over you and it hit you like a ton of bricks how in over your head you were.

“Tommy, just leave–”

“I didn’t ask you, Harrington!” Tommy snapped and you took the opportunity.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt in your hands, you yanked Tommy down into you and drove your knee into his crotch as hard as you could.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he choked out, folded in half and hands covering his junk as he dry heaved and you took a big step back.

“Coward,” you turned and hurled the word at Steve and watched it land heavy as his face shifted. Brows pinching together and mouth dropped open, but nothing came out as he struggled to say those two little words. I’m sorry. To tell you he wasn’t like his friend, but his silence betrayed him.

“You bitch,” Tommy grunted at you as he tried to straighten up, one hand still over his crotch.

“Don’t move! I’ll–I’ll get you expelled!” you threatened and it made him laugh. A mean, mirthless thing.

“No fuckin’ way. My mom’s on the school board, who’s gonna take your side?”

And you looked back at Steve for a split second, silently asking him to step in and do something, but he stood frozen in place. Still unable to go against his ‘best friend’ and what little belief you had left in him was shattered.

You were done with Steve Harrington.

Shaking your head, you fought back the tears burning at the corners of your eyes and ran up the path to the cafeteria doors. Disappeared behind them with a loud, metallic slam! and left Steve alone to drown in the deafening silence.

Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.

It was like no time had passed, like you were still there in that parking lot with Tommy towering over you and tsking at you just like Steve was doing now, but this time you didn't run away.

“Don’t call me that!” you shoved at his chest and he stumbled back a step.

“Don’t call me a liar!”

“All you do is lie, Harrington! Your entire life was built on lies,” you could see his pulse fluttering against his neck. Watched his jaw tick as he clenched down on the words he wanted so badly to throw at you, but you didn’t give him a chance. “Why are you even here? You don’t give a shit about Eddie. You don’t give a shit about anyone, you’re–”

“Enough!” you flinched as his shout drew the attention of a couple older guys looking at the hunting gear. “You don’t know anything about me, okay? Not a god damn thing,” and the second part was quieter, but they way he held your gaze after punctuated it heavy.

He turned away from you, hastily pushing his cart back toward the cashier counter and walked out the double doors, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

“Hey, I’m not done!” you shouted after him across the parking lot. Sharp and biting and it made him spin back around, arms flung out at his sides in exasperation.

“Oh, yeah? Fine. What else you got?”

“Well, for one, I’m not going to sit here while you lord around like King Steve. This isn’t high school. No one here gives a shit about any of that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at his old nickname. Sucked in a breath and let it out slow to try and steady himself.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Seriously? Do you hear yourself? You’ve been a dick to me since I set foot in Max’s trailer! And honestly? I’m not surprised! You think I don’t remember all the shit you put me through, put us through in school?” you shot back and he opened his eyes to glare over at you.

“Like I said, Princess–”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“–you don’t have any idea what this is. What we’re up against. None. You’re in over your head.”

“Okay? And what, I’m supposed to sit here on my hands and say, ‘It’s fine! Steve Harrington and all his little friends will fix this’?? You’re out of your mind!”

“And you think you can?” he shot back and your heart rate thrummed heavy in your ears.

“You know, Eddie says he trusts you now, but hell if I will. No fucking way,” and as you turned and cut past him back to the Winnebago he had to jog to keep up.

“Hey! Eddie almost killed me! With a fucking beer bottle!”

You huffed a laugh and kept walking, shaking your head at the accusation and incredulous at the lengths he was going to prove his point.

“Why should I believe you?” you called over your shoulder, “You’re probably just gunning for a headline: Steve Harrington, Hero of Hawkins!”

“Headline?? I–are you kidding me? You think I’d do all this for a headline??”

And finally you stopped at the bottom step of the Winnebago and Steve seized his chance.

“You really think I’m that superficial?” he shot at your back, but you didn’t turn around. Didn’t even acknowledge him and he spent what little patience he had left. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

But you were already gone. Frozen in place with the world growing dark. Tree line ahead of you blurring. Unfocused and liquid like water and the ground swam under you as a voice echoed in your mind.

I see you.

The sound of Steve still talking behind you turned to fuzz, crackled like radio static and faded away into ear-splitting silence. Deafening and swallowing you whole and then you felt it. The ground falling out from underneath you and you were drowning in the dark and the voice that echoed in your mind pulled you even deeper.

Resisting will only make it worse.

❝ AND I NEVER HAD A TASTE FOR LIARS OR THE UNIQUELY UNINSPIRED ‘CAUSE I DON’T NEED TO BE DESIRED ❞

Steve glared daggers at your back. Anger hot and fuming and fueled by the fact that you had the nerve to ignore him and god, he wanted to prove you wrong.

“Are you trying to piss me off? Cos its work–” but the words died in his throat as he came around to face you. “Oh. Oh, shit,” with a quick glance over your shoulder he saw everyone else finally coming out of the store and he didn’t wait to call for help.

“Munson!! Eddie!” Steve yelled over your shoulder at your best friend before grabbing your shoulders in his hands and squeezed at them. Leaned down to try and meet your unfocused, far away gaze and when none of it worked he felt his chest grow tight.

Not again.

“Hey, hey! Look at me!" panic clawed its way up his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Stay with me! Munson–hurry up!”

Your eyes were glazed over, tears gathering at the corners as your whole body started to tremble. Breathing stuttered and caught in your throat. Lips parted and trying to pull air in, but it wasn’t enough and Steve felt his hand twitch. Wanted to press it to your cheek to try and ground you, reach you and bring you back, but then Eddie was finally at your side and shoving Steve out of the way.

“Sweetheart! Can you hear me? Shit, shit, shit. What happened?? Honey? Look at me!” Eddie cradled your face in his hands. Did what Steve couldn’t. Voice ratcheted up, his usual low timbre a high pitched thing driven by fear and hearing it doused any remaining anger that had settled into Steve’s chest and replaced it with something else.

With helplessness. Regret. Remorse.

With the slow realization that everything he’d just said to you wasn’t worth it. Remembered how Nancy had yelled at him, just like you, outside of the gym. You’re bullshit! And his throat squeezed with guilt for messing it all up again because he was bullshit. He was a liar and you were right. Had he learned nothing?

He looked at you, your face contorted with fear, and he felt something new flicker within him. A feeling blooming at the pit of his stomach. One he was so certain couldn’t possibly exist when it came to you, but as he stood there watching Eddie try to shake you back from the dark he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Steve, help me!” tears cut down Eddie’s cheeks as he called to him and pulled him hurtling back to Earth. Desperate. Pleading. Begging him to do something and it shook Steve back into action.

Heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursed through Steve's body and fought off the fear that had threatened to trap him in choke hold.

“Max, gimme your Walkman!” he shouted over your shoulder.

The rest of the group had started running back to the Winnebago as soon as they’d heard yelling and when Steve asked for the cassette player, Max knew time was running out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath and broke into a sprint, scrambling to untangle the headphones from around her neck as she hurried to get to you. “Here! It’s still Kate Bush, is that–”

“Doesn’t matter–Munson get these on, hurry!” Steve, snatched the Walkman from Max and crammed it into Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Please, please, please,” fell from Eddie’s lips, desperate, praying that this would work as he fitted the headphones on and pressed them against your ears, “Please.”

Blinking heavy, you strained your eyes against the black. Against the suffocating dark you suddenly found yourself in. The stand of vivid, green ash trees lining the parking lot replaced by gnarled branches, dark and leafless. Bright yellow buttercups snuffed out by thick, wet vines that snaked their way across the ground under your feet.

You weren’t in the parking lot of the War Zone anymore, not really, and as you breathed in the sickly, ashen air your heart stopped in your chest.

The Upside Down.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you shouted into the dark, red lightening cracking the sky in two, and when no one answered you knew you were utterly alone.

Panic gripped you like a vice as you thought of Chrissy. Of Fred and Patrick and dread filled your stomach. Utter hopelessness and grief and when you whipped around to run you felt something tangle around your leg. Wrapping up, up, up and pulling you down, down, down.

You braced for it, ready to break your fall with your hands, but you never hit and instead found yourself lifting into the air. Unhinged laughter filling your ears as more vines snaked around your arms and legs and you swore you were going to be sick.

It was

Him.

“Why isn’t it working?? God dammit, work!” Eddie was yelling at the Walkman, his composure unravelling as Chrissy’s last moments flooded his mind. “Is she gonna die? She can’t die!” he pleaded and his voice cracked, a sob caught in his throat, “Please don’t let her die!”

“Hey hey, hey! Get a hold of yourself. That’s not gonna happen, okay? It’s gonna work,” Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulders, looked him in the eye and tried to reassure him, but when he glanced over at you he knew he couldn’t make that promise. “Please work,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Where are you going? You can’t leave. Not yet.

Vecna’s voice was everywhere. Flooding every part of you and you feared you would never feel joy again. Would never escape this. Would be stuck here forever screaming into the void, hanging on Vecna’s every whim.

I would like very much to show you where I’m going. Please, take a seat.

And the vines yanked you down, squeezed tight around your wrists and legs and held you fast against the ground, rocks digging painfully into your back.

“Please, let me go!” you pleaded into the dark. “Please, I–” but your mouth went dry as a shadowy figure appeared through the ash. Coming closer and closer in the dark with each heavy step and when it finally stopped, feet at your head, your blood ran cold.

Wet, sinewy skin. Muscles exposed and stretched taut. Eyes that pierced your mind and knew every single one your thoughts. Knew all the dark things spiraling there and made them worse. Clawed at you with spindly, protruding hands and long, dagger-like claws and suffocated you with the smell of something rotten.

Of decay.

Of death.

Reaching a hand down, Vecna held it over your face, inches away from touching you as you struggled against your restraints, but they constricted tighter with your every move.

“Please,” you were crying openly now, tears cutting paths through the ash that had settled on your cheeks, but he ignored you.

I want you to tell your friends, I want you to tell them everything you see. Everything I show you.

“No, please!”

Tell them!

“No, I can’t–”

Tell them everything!

And then your head felt like was being cleaved in two. White hot light fracturing the black sky into thick shards and your screams were the only thing you could hear as Vecna pried open your mind and poured into you his vision for the future...

Hawkins in ruin.

Four gashes in the earth. Cavernous. Hot and angry and full of fire.

Your family. Lying scattered across your lawn. Motionless and still and limbs bent wrong.

Tell them!

Your friends hanging in the air just like Chrissy, Fred, Patrick.

Eyes empty, slack-jawed and lifeless, bones snapped like twigs.

Tell them!

Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Steve and–

“NO!” you screamed, the sound pulled painfully from your lungs as you felt your legs give way and collapsed into yourself.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Steve scrambled to grab hold of your shoulder and barely caught you before your bare knees hit the pavement.

You heard birds chirping. Sunlight filtering through the backs of your eyelids as you kept them squeezed shut, but the air was clean. Smelled fresh and as you slowly opened your eyes you realized you weren’t choking on ash anymore.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve was still holding onto you, your hands pressed into his thighs as you braced yourself, the feeling of nausea overwhelming.

“I saw him,” you whispered, only Steve could hear you and you started to cry.

“Him?” Steve asked unnecessarily, glancing up at Eddie. Hoping, no praying, if he asked maybe you’d give a different answer. One that wouldn’t involve death and the end of the world and everything hinging on this stupid fucking plan, but he knew.

Everyone knew.

Eyes glued on their feet. Arms folded over their chests and uneasy with the weight that had settled over the group.

“Vecna.”

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

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