#but yeah it's like...well it's been a run...not sure if a good one...but it's been a run and considering how much i just don't care anymore

[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 10

Summary: You finally end up spending some time alone with Remus.

CW: Coughing, Fever, Fainting, Description of sickness, Nightmares, Sirius being emotionally stunted.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Hey guys! Sorry for the delay on this one. I've been trying to branch out a bit with my writing over the last little bit to keep the inspiration going.

To be honest, I'm feeling a little lost with this story. I'm going to continue writing it, don't worry! But I really only properly planned up until the Christmas chapter, so if anyone has any ideas of what they'd like to see happen, feel free to send me a request!

--

The door closed behind you with a loud thump. You leaned your head on it for a moment, panting to catch you breath.

It had been a particularly long day at work. Most of the staff were off sick due to a flu outbreak and it meant that all the more responsibility fell on you. On top of that, you'd felt extremely exhausted all day. You weren't sure if it was from being overworked or a lack of sleep or some twisted combination of the two but your limbs felt like lead and your eyes had kept falling shut from where they were fixated on the screen of your computer.

The walk up the stairs had been torture paired with the fatigue that was consuming your bones and you felt your legs ache as you entered the hall of your apartment.

"Are you alright?"

You jumped as a voice emerged from behind you and you swung around to see Remus seated on the couch with a book in hand.

"Jesus!" you shouted, clutching a hand to your chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

You shook your head, sniffling slightly. "No it's fine. I just... didn't expect you to be sitting there."

He chuckled dryly. "Right, well no one is home so I thought I'd make use of the living room for a bit."

"Right..."

James had left two days ago for some sort of 'team building' trip with his workmates and you supposed Sirius had a gig tonight with the band, leaving only you and Remus in the apartment. As happy as you were that you didn't have to interact with Sirius tonight (you were still upset with him and really didn't have the energy right now to put on a happy face), you sort of wished James was there to ease the tension. Things had been more amicable with Remus lately. His Christmas gift had helped to ease some of the animosity between you, but you were still far from friends. You barely talked outside of necessary pleasantries and you definitely never spent time alone together.

You cleared your throat awkwardly but it quickly morphed into a loud cough. Remus looked up from his book once more, his brows furrowed as he assessed you from across the room.

"That doesn't sound good. Are you feeling okay?"

You huffed out a breath, throwing your bag down on the kitchen counter and running a hand over your face.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired," you murmured awkwardly. "I think I'll have an early night."

Swiftly, you began moving across the room towards the bathroom.

"Okay but-"

You shut the door with a sigh before Remus was able to continue.

You leaned back against the bathroom door, feeling a drop of sweat trail from your hairline and down the side of your face. If you were being completely honest, you felt like shit. You were just too embarrassed to admit you felt like shit in front of Remus.

You took a deep breath and straightened up, hoping a shower would help you feel a little more like yourself.

You stripped off, shivering in the cool air of the bathroom and turned the shower nob. Then you stepped under the spray, letting the warm water wash over you as the room began to fill with steam.

You didn't know how long you stood under the water, letting it sooth your aching bones but once you stepped out, you noticed that the sky outside the bathroom window had grown dark.

Slowly you trudged from the bathroom to your bedroom at the end of the hallway, pulling on your comfiest pajamas. With the little energy you had left, you shuffled out into the living area in the hopes of finding some leftovers in the fridge to at eat for dinner before you went to bed and inevitably slept for the next 48 hours.

As you emerged from the hallway, you noticed that you had begun to feel substantially worse. You were shivering despite wearing your thickest woolen pajamas, but somehow you were sweating at the same time.

You were glad to see that Remus had retired to his bedroom for the evening, not wanting him to see you in such a pathetic state. Your legs felt like they had cinderblocks tied to them, every step taking an immense amount of your dwindling energy.

As you made your way through the room, you suddenly began to feel... odd. You're head felt heavy, your vision darkening around the edges.

You came to a halt beside the couch, blinking absently and taking a second to catch your breath but it didn't seem to help all that much. Then, without warning, everything went black.

--

"Y/n?..."

"...hey, can you hear me?"

There was a voice coming from somewhere above you but you couldn't quite place who's it was.

You blinked slowly, awareness returning to your foggy mind. As you vision cleared, the first thing you saw were Remus' concerned chocolate eyes boring down on you.

"Hey, are you okay? You with me now?"

It was then his full face came into frame. Looking around, you realised that you were lying on the floor beside the coffee table, your feet resting on a pile of couch cushions. Remus was on his knees beside you, leaning down with a hand resting gently on top of your head.

You mustered a nod, a wave of embarrassment rippling through you.

"Okay, that's good," he murmured kindly. "Did you hit your head?"

"I- um," you took stock of how you were feeling. You were uncomfortable and still vaguely dizzy. Your elbow was throbbing from where you must've hit it on the corner of the coffee table as you fell but other than that, you didn't seem to have injured yourself too badly.

"N-no. I don't think so."

Remus nodded, his brows pinching in thought as he scanned through the next steps in his head.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

He flashed a peace sign in your direction.

"Two."

"Good, that's good. Do you think you feel ready to sit up?"

"Y-yeah... I think so," you mumbled unsurely.

"Okay, I'll help you. Take your time," he responded in a voice more gentle than you'd ever heard him speak in - to you at least.

He shuffled around a little bit so he was rested at your hip and then with steady hands placed under your back, he helped you sit up. The room tilted as you came upright but not nearly as violently as it had before.

Then, Remus guided you so that you were leaning back against the edge of the couch. He sat back on his knees, observing your form and you let out a heavy sigh, shaking with embarrassment - or maybe that was from the fever.

"Sorry about all this," you mumbled, shutting your eyes in the hopes of blocking out Remus' devastatingly concerned facial expression.

"It's not your fault," he was quick to reassure. "Besides, I'm a med student. You've given me an opportunity to test my knowledge on something practical."

You knew he was joking but your cheeks flushed nonetheless.

"It's really fine," he stated sincerely, upon noticing the mortification written across your face. "I just want to make sure you're okay. Your fever is pretty high."

"It is?"

He chuckled half-heartedly. "Yes. I would recommend that next time you don't take a scorching hot shower when your temperature is already at 39 degrees."

You cringed. "So this whole fainting ordeal could've been avoided then?"

"In theory, yes."

You groaned and covered your face with your hand. "Well on that note, I think I'm just going to go to bed."

You moved to pull yourself up but Remus rushed to grasp your arms on the way.

"Woah, hey, let me help you. You shouldn't be moving around too much yet."

"Right, sorry," you uttered awkwardly.

"It's okay. Here," with gentle precision, Remus got to his feet and lifted your arm around his shoulders. With so little energy remaining, you weren't bothered to be self-conscious as you leaned your weight against him and the two of you hobbled down the hall into your room.

When he deposited you into your bed, you immediately curled up in the sheets, shutting your eyes.

However, they popped open once again when you felt something cool press against your forehead only moments later.

You looked up to see Remus retreating from your room after laying a cool towel across your feverish forehead. As you drifted off into a fitful sleep, your last thought was about how he'd never been in your room before. You wondered if you'd remembered to tidy it.

--

You were running through a dark dense forest. Something was chasing you. You couldn't quite make out what it was but you knew it was angry.

You tried to move faster but as you ran, the forest grew wider and longer and darker. The branches were becoming thicker, they scratched your arms as you waded through the trees. You could hear the creature growling behind you. It was getting closer. You were panting and sweating, pushing yourself as fast as you could go but it felt as though the forest floor was covered in sand, your feet sinking into it every time they hit the ground.

You pushed on, carrying yourself forward, willing yourself to pick up the pace.

Then the ground dropped away completely. A cliff ledge had emerged in front of you and before you could stop yourself, you'd reached it.

Then you were falling.

--

You awoke with a start, gasping and panting for air. You were drenched in sweat, tangled up in your crumpled bed sheets. It was too hot, almost unbearably so. You thrashed around frantically for some semblance of relief.

It was at that moment, your door creaked open and a tentative Remus entered your room. He froze when he noticed you were awake and gaping at him with wide eyes.

"I just came in to check on you. How are you feeling?"

You went to respond but were overtaken with a slew of coughing that wracked through your body. Remus was at your side in an instant, a gentle hand placed on your back as you rode out the fit.

"I think it's time for some medicine," he mumbled under his breath, likely directed more towards himself than you.

It was then that you noticed the tray of items he'd placed on the table beside your bed. There was a bottle of water and an assortment of medicines as well as a thermometer which he picked up and proceeded to press into your ear.

You were so out of it, practically delirious with fever, that it took you a moment to realise how unusual this situation was. Remus - the same roommate who had been consistently cold and abrasive towards you in the months since you moved in - was now sitting at your bedside taking care of you while you were ill. It was completely unexpected, although you had to admit, not unwelcome. Something inside you stirred at the care he was showing you.

The pulled away, humming disapprovingly at the reading. You watched him with wide eyes as he busied himself reading medicine labels.

"Here, take these," he told you and dropped an assortment of pills into your hand. Then he uncapped the water bottle and handed it to you.

After you'd taken the medicine he gave you, he encouraged you to nestle back down under your covers and he pulled your duvet up to your chin.

"Try to get some sleep. Hopefully you'll feel better with a bit of rest," he told you.

He then turned, beginning to walk towards the doorway but you grabbed a hold of his wrist before he was able to leave.

"Remus," you muttered weakly, looking up at him with big, imploring eyes. Maybe it was the medicine or the fever, you weren't really sure, but an unwarranted confidence had begun to possess you.

He turned to look at you, his eyebrow raised in concern.

"Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?"

He paused for a moment, clearly surprised as he pondered the request. Then he looked back at you, taking in your pathetic form and he sighed, his shoulders relaxing.

"Okay. I can do that."

You wriggled over a little, patting the left side of your bed. Remus hesitantly took a seat on top of the covers, looking very out of place in your bedroom.

Subconsciously, you edged towards him, drawn into his body heat as you moved to a comfortable position.

Your eyes grew heavier as the effects of the medicine began to take hold. However, as sleep claimed you, a few last words rolled off your tongue before you could stop them.

"Why don't you like me Remus?"

He turned to you, raising an eyebrow as his gaze cast over your form.

"I mean, I try really hard to be your friend and I want us to be closer but you always treat me like you don't care. I don't know what I've done wrong."

Remus sighed heavily. "That's not true, Y/n. I do care about you. I just... I was worried that when you moved in, the dynamic with my friend group was going to change and I didn't know how to deal with it. But I'm sorry that I took it out on you. It was my issue, not yours and I should've been kinder. The truth is, I-"

He was cut short when you let out a congested snore beside him. He looked down to notice that your breathing had evened out and you'd drifted off into a semi-peaceful sleep, your warm head pressed up against his hip.

He couldn't suppress the fond smile that crossed his features at the sight. With a feather-light touch, he leaned down and pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

--

It was just past one in the morning when Sirius returned from a gig with his band at a Pub down the road.

It had been a good night. The crowd was energetic and they didn't mess up any of their set-list. It was a great show and he'd hung around afterwards for a couple of drinks and a bit of flirting with a few of the girls who'd been in the front of the crowd. However, despite the success of the evening, something felt like it was... missing somehow.

Even sitting across from an eager and curvaceous ginger, with a free beer in hand, his mind couldn't help but linger on... you. This was something that had happened more times then he cared to admit over the past few weeks.

To his own surprise, he'd turned down her advances in favour of heading home to your company. He hoped you'd still be awake as you sometimes were at this time on a Friday night. He expected to find you binge-watching Modern Family in the living room with a glass of wine in hand.

However, when he arrived back at the house, he was disappointed to find the space void of human life.

He took off his leather jacket and hung it on the rack by the door as his eyes scanned the empty living room. When he walked down the hallway, he was happy to see that there was a faint light coming from under your door.

He carefully pushed it open, not wanting to disturb you if you were writing. To his surprise, the sight he was met with was far from the one he expected.

There was Remus, sitting on your bed, reading a book in the soft glow of your bedside lamp while you were practically curled up in his lap, your breathing ragged as you slept.

Remus looked up to meet his friend's wide eyes as he observed the scene before him.

"Oh, hi. You're back earlier than expected."

Sirius blinked at him for a moment, trying to act nonchalant as he regained his bearings.

"Ah yeah. I guess I just wasn't feeling it tonight," then he gestured towards you. "Is she okay?"

Remus just nodded, sending his friend a soft smile. "Yeah. She's a little under the weather but seems to be a little better now."

He brushed a few fingers over your forehead, stroking some hair away from you eyes in the process as he got a gage of your temperature.

Sirius' heart clenched in a way he couldn't quite make sense of as he watched the moment unfold.

"She had a pretty high fever earlier," Remus explained. "But we managed to get it down."

"Ah, right," Sirius muttered, leaning against the doorframe. "Is... um, is there anything I can do? or..."

Remus gently shook his head. "Thanks for the offer but I think we'll be fine."

"Okay, well... I'll leave you to it then," Sirius stated with a tight-lipped smile.

"Okay, goodnight. Sleep well, Sirius."

"You too, Rem," He responded, closing the door behind him.

He let out a huff of air once he was out of earshot. There were a bunch of unexplainable feelings swirling inside of him. Was he jealous? No that wasn't it. It was something else. An odd sort of ache that lingered inside of him, a yearning for something that he couldn't quite place.

All he knew was that he didn't like it.

--

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy @navs-bhat @shushbruv @magicwithaknife @eeviee4 @notapoetjustscar @gugggu6gvai @robertsmithclone @ilovesugurugeto69 @taytayy178 @its-notkiee @bugworldsworld @switchingfandomslikecrazy @evangelquill, @delusional-4-fake-people, @ch4rlotte35, @insideoutjulie, @hiireadstuff, @laniirackssss, @starrystormwritings, @strategicsweetheart, @1800brat, @sammyreid, @frootloops1213, @ill-be-okay-soon-enough, @loveelylani, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @that-gay-person-27, @serenadingtigers, @lily-mylove

[thewertsearch]

GT: I should preface this request with an overture of appreciation. GT: For how much your cool and brotherly friendship means to me. GT: It has just been… GT: Absolutely *bully* having a standup gent like you in my corner. GT: Just a grade a dude whos a cut above the others in class and camaraderie. GT: Phew… *gropes for fresh kerchief*.

Wow, Jake is fucking terrified of this guy - or at the very least, he seems incredibly intimidated for a guy who's ostensibly just chatting with a friend.

Unfortunately, this is exactly what I'd expect from a Bro who's not any different from his adult self. Jake's acting exactly like Dave did, back when he was forced to share an apartment with the guy.

TT: Take it easy, bromide. TT: Just about the only way I could salvage endearment from this perilous slope of horseshit would be to discover, really fucking soon mind you, it was a preamble to some floundering invitation for me to rush to your vicinity as nakedly as possible.

In other words, you wish he was hitting on you.

I really don't think he's kidding, especially since both Roxy and Jane seem to want a piece of English, too. Jake's sitting at the epicenter of at least three crushes, which is not a pleasant place to be sitting when you're fifteen.

TT: But since we've already shot that wad's eventuality on so many dry runs of flustered ambivalence that were as hilarious as they were one sided, TT: That leaves only one hope for this message to avoid spiraling toward qualification as a critical fucking defect in the hull of the Mach 10 rocket that is my precious spare time.

And here's the guy's actual personality. It's a fairly even mixture of Rose and Dave, a combination which synergizes much better than you'd expect.

He's still prone to Dave-style rambles - but unlike Dave, his streams of consciousness are every bit as eloquent as Rose's text, which some extra swear words tossed in for flavor.

It's very good, and immediately does a lot to humanize him, especially when all we've seen so far is "roof. now." and "State your business."

TT: And that hope lies in the extent to which you were practicing artful insincerity. TT: Now's your opportunity to pretend that's what you were gunning for. I suggest you seize it. GT: I… GT: Oh. Yes! But of course. GT: The ironies! GT: Good grief how i was bandying them just now. You know me dude. GT: *Blows smoke off red hot irony pistol.* GT: *NONSUGGESTIVELY!!!!!*

lmaoooo

Alright, I can't actually tell if that was a Freudian slip or not - but I kind of hope it was. If these two became a couple, the vibes would be incomprehensible.

TT: I'm guessing you're probably jonesing for uranium about now. No? GT: Ok can you please just sendificate me some more already?? Im in kind of a hurry! [...] TT: You know. I've offered to construct the rabbit for you many times before. I would craft a much deadlier model. […] GT: Damn it man ive told you this is just something i have to do myself. […] TT: Yeah, I know this is your policy. You've done a good job and you should be proud. TT: But it's my responsibility as your friend to offer one last time. TT: Just as it's my responsibility not to just fork over a bunch of uranium just because you ask me in a moment of weakness. […] GT: Why not??? TT: It's too easy.

Throughout this whole conversation, I've been trying to get a grasp on Bro's general vibe - and I think I'm starting to understand it.

When you're talking to Kid Bro, everything is a game - and he'll make damn well sure that you follow the rules.

Jake previously committed to making the bunny alone, and Bro refuses to rescind that rule, even if Jake's no longer following it himself. He strikes me as a guy who frames every interaction he has as transactional, confrontational, or instructional. He's not capable of just shooting the shit - there has to be an angle.

Mind you, I don't think there's any genuine malice in it. I think this is just how he's wired - and I really do think he's trying to help Jake develop as a person, in his own way.

The problem is, we've been down this road before...

...and nothing good lies down this road.

[wands-natsthing]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐲 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

HEYYYY HIII HELLOOOO long time I KNOW IM SORRY LSKDKD AND I KNOW I SAID THE WEEKEND BUT I GOT SICK

buttt just to give a lil info, since it has been so long since I updated I put the last bit of chapter 2 at the beginning of this just as a refresher I guess!! And more overall story info (R=23) (W=30) (N=34)

I also wrote kinda like a Wanda’s POV of what happened in the janitors closet so let me know if you want that!!

Feedback is more than welcome!! I love reading all your comments they make me feel like my writing isn’t shit 🤓 and they make me smile :)) I also tried to make this as open as possible this is for everybody!! (I hope I worded that right) I mean as in there rlly no descriptions of r

Warnings: I really don’t think there are any besides maybe it starts to seem a little homewreckery BUT ITS NOT I PROMISE!!

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: You guys come out the closet and have lunch idk

"Who's the woman standing outside the door with you?" you asked.

You can tell Wanda hadn't been expecting your question by the way her eyes widened.

"Oh um, that's Natasha, After you graduated I started teaching a co-taught English class and well she's the co-teacher." She paused before confirming the suspicion you had earlier. 

"She's also my wife…" 

Your heart dropped. 

“Your- your wife…You got married? You ask with a tremble in your voice. 

“Yeah, I did um just a few years ago…” 

“Oh- that's uh, that's cool. Um, congratulations.” 

Wanda’s smile faltered slightly as she sensed the mix of emotions swirling inside you. The joy in her eyes seemed to dim ever so slightly, replaced by a hint of concern.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” she said quietly, her voice softening. "Maybe we could talk more about everything over Lunch?"

Your eyes snapped up at that. The thought of having lunch with her again all these years later was just too enticing to pass up, no matter how many messing feelings it brought again.

"Lunch? Are you- are you sure?" You asked with a hopeful smile on your face.

"Yes, I'm more than sure. I am positive." She reassured you with a gentle touch of her hand running up and down your forearm.

"Okay, then yes I would love to."

"great! What about this weekend at 1:00 at the cafe we saw each other last week? (a/n: Its Wednesday)

"That's perfect!"

"Okay good then it's a date." She said scrunching her nose up in a way that always made your heart melt.

Date.

"I am so sorry, but I better get back, can't leave Natasha by herself for too long with all those parents and kids out there, But I can't wait for our lunch date!"

Date. There goes that word again.

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry for keeping you for so long,” you replied, trying to shake off the rush of emotions swirling in your mind.

Wanda smiled warmly, as if she could sense the turmoil within you. “No need to apologize. It’s nice to catch up, I've missed you."

You both stood there for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. The bustling sounds from the school faded slightly as you locked eyes.

“Alright, I better get going,” she said after a pause, and you could hear the softer undertones of sadness in her voice. “But I’ll see you this weekend, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it,” you replied, offering her a genuine smile.

Wanda gave you one last look, her expression revealing a mix of excitement and a hint of uncertainty before she opened the door of the janitor's closet.

You took a deep breath, calming your racing heartbeat. You had so many thoughts swirling through your head but at the same time, you felt as if you couldn't think.

As you finally turned to head out back to your car, you felt a strange sense of hope take root inside you.

You couldn’t help but replay the moment in your mind, the surprise of learning she was married mixed with the thrill of the upcoming lunch. It was complicated, but one thing was clear: you wanted to explore this. No matter how much it might hurt in the end.

The rest of the week felt like an eternity. You replayed snippets of conversations you had shared over the years, moments of laughter, and even the unspoken feelings that had lingered in the air. Each thought made the anticipation for the weekend grow stronger.

Finally, Saturday arrived. You stood in front of your mirror, carefully selecting your outfit for lunch. The end of summer's warmth lingered in the air, but a hint of fall was beginning to whisper in the breeze. You chose a lightweight mustard-yellow sweater, perfect for the transition between seasons. Its soft knit hugged your figure comfortably.

For pants, you chose a pair of high-waisted, olive-green corduroy pants that offered both warmth and style. The slightly flared legs provided a retro vibe, making them an ideal choice for early autumn. On your feet, you wore your black Converse. Always a staple in your outfits.You topped everything off with a silver chain that went slightly past your collarbone and small gold hoops that reflected off the light.

Never understood the big deal about mixing silver and gold.

And a light spritz of your favorite fall-inspired perfume, with notes of vanilla and sandalwood, completed the look, a warm scent perfect for the season.

As the clock ticked closer to 1:00, doubts and anxiety started creeping in.

What if she doesn't show?

Is my outfit bad?

Does my breath smell? You make sure to brush your teeth one more time before leaving.

When you arrived at the cafe, a wave of shyness washed over you. You spotted Wanda almost immediately. She was sitting at a cozy table, her reddish auburn hair catching the sunlight, and you wondered how someone could look both familiar and new after all this time.

You exchanged hesitant glances. The soft murmur of conversations around you felt louder than usual, amplifying the butterflies in your stomach.

As you approached, her face lit up, the warmth of her smile easing your nerves.

 “You made it!” she exclaimed, standing up to greet you with an embrace that felt both comfortable and electrifying.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, taking a seat across from her.

For a moment, the air was thick with unspoken words. Both of you are unsure what to say.

Fortunately, as if sensing the tension in the air, a waitress approached to take your order.

"I'll have a hot caramel latte and a turkey and cheese sandwich, please," Wanda said with a soft smile. You returned her smile, appreciating the familiarity of her order.

Both Wanda and the waitress turned to you, waiting to see what you'd chosen.

"I'll have the same, please. Thank you."

*****************************

You sipped your coffee, the warmth seeping into your hands, trying to ground yourself. Slowly but surely the conversation began to flow just like how it had all those years ago.

It was as if nothing had changed. 

As if neither had gone through drastic changes.

Yet, even as the conversation deepened, the thought of her marriage lingered at the back of your mind and the fact that they worked together. Soon within a day, they both would be your coworkers.

Curiosity nudged at you, and you found yourself leaning in.

“What’s it like? Teaching together, I mean? That must be… interesting.”

Just like in the janitor's closet, she was surprised by your sudden question.

Though she laughed softly, easing the tension. “It is, we balance each other out. She’s all about structure, while I tend to go with the flow. It makes for some creative lesson plans."

Though you were more so wondering if they shared any lunches like the two of you did; 

You'll take it.

Gathering up as much composure as possible you try to sound as "mature" as you possibly can. “Sounds like a great dynamic,” you replied, picturing the two of them in a classroom full of students, bouncing ideas off each other.

"Yeah it is, we make a great team." Wanda smiled, her eyes lighting up.

 "You know, I would love for the two of you to formally meet."

Your heart raced and your mind went blank.

What the fuck?

"Wait...I'm sorry, what?"

Wanda repeated herself slowly, not sure how to take your response.

“Oh, um, really? Your wife?” You stammered, shocked from the sudden/not so sudden twist in conversation. "I mean are you- are you sure that is a good idea? You know, me being me?"

Wanda smiled at you comfortingly. "Of course, it's a good idea, I mean besides you were gonna meet her soon anyway with school starting Monday-"

She stops mid-sentence playing with the necklace adorning her neck, a telltale sign 

She's nervous.

"Natasha also already knows exactly who you are to me." 

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

𝐨𝐨𝐩 🤓

𝐋𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯!!

@nebthetautora @esposadejoyhuerta @w4ndsversew0nder

@skz-xii

[fiftyfiftyfinchy]

hiiiii !!! if ur taking super specific requests i’d KILL for a george clarke mutual pining roommates fic xx

(request aside super excited to read anything you put out love having more writers in this space !!!)

You had been living with Chris, Arthur, and George for a little over a month, and things had settled into a comfortable routine. The initial chaos of moving in, unpacking, and learning everyone’s quirks had given way to a strange sort of domestic harmony. Chris always made a mess in the kitchen, Arthur had a tendency to leave shoes everywhere, and George? Well, George had a quiet way of slipping into your day without you even noticing.

It started small. Sharing tea in the morning before the others woke up. Folding his laundry when you were taking yours off the drying rack. Helping you hang a picture in your room because you couldn’t quite reach. Little acts of care that seemed so innocent… until they weren’t.

It was the way George looked at you that had your heart racing. Long glances from across the living room, his hand lingering on yours when he passed you something, a certain softness in his smile that you hadn’t seen him give anyone else. It was almost impossible not to notice—and apparently, Chris and Arthur had noticed too.

“Mate, just marry her already,” Chris teased one afternoon when George made you a cup of tea without even asking how you liked it. He’d just… known.

Arthur smirked, lounging on the sofa with a packet of crisps. “Yeah, George, why don’t you just whip up a candlelit dinner while you’re at it? Maybe a little violin music? And a horse-drawn carriage? Go big or go home, mate.”

“You two are insufferable,” George muttered, his cheeks pink as he avoided your gaze. “I’m just being polite.”

“Sure,” Chris drawled, winking at you. “Polite. That’s exactly what I’d call it. You’ve practically turned into a Victorian butler. Shall we start calling you Jeeves?”

You pretended to laugh it off, but your chest felt tight every time something like this happened. And it happened a lot.

When George suggested filming a video together for his channel—“It could be fun, and my viewers love seeing you pop up”—you’d agreed, thinking it would be a good way to shake off the awkwardness. But as you sat together on the living room sofa, the camera rolling in front of you, you realized you had underestimated just how hard it would be.

“Alright,” George said, adjusting the camera, his voice casual but his hands slightly shaky. “Today we’re ranking the best and worst British snacks, and as the resident American”—he glanced at you with a teasing smirk—“you get to tell us why everything we love is terrible.”

“Only if you can handle the truth,” you shot back, grinning. The banter came easily, the tension easing slightly as the video went on. But it was still there, simmering beneath the surface. Every time George’s knee brushed yours, every time his laugh lingered a little too long, every time his eyes flicked to your lips when you weren’t speaking… you felt it.

And you couldn’t stop noticing him. The way his hoodie clung to his shoulders, the curve of his jaw when he laughed, the way his hair always seemed just a little messy in a way that made you want to run your fingers through it. God, you needed to get a grip. This was George. Your roommate. Your very off-limits, very kind, and… irritatingly attractive roommate.

At one point, you leaned over to grab a bag of crisps, and George instinctively reached out to steady you. His hand on your arm was warm, his touch lingering a beat too long. Your eyes met, and for a moment, everything else fell away. You could feel your breath catch, the space between you charged with unspoken words. You weren’t sure if you wanted to kiss him or jump out the nearest window. Maybe both.

“Should we… uh, move on to the next one?” George asked, his voice breaking the silence. He pulled his hand back quickly, like he’d been burned.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “Let’s do it.”

When the video finally wrapped, you let out a shaky laugh. “Well, that was… something.”

George rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah. Thanks for doing this. I think it’ll turn out great.”

“Anytime,” you said, meaning it. Despite the tension, you couldn’t help but want more moments like this with him. Except maybe next time you wouldn’t have to fight the urge to crawl onto his lap and ruin everything.

That night, you found yourself in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. George wandered in, barefoot and wearing a hoodie that was just a little too big on him. He leaned against the counter, watching you in silence for a moment before speaking.

“You don’t have to do that, you know. We can leave it for Chris tomorrow… payback for all the times he leaves us his dishes.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’d rather not wake up to that disaster zone. Besides, it’s… relaxing.”

George stepped closer, taking the plate from your hand. “Let me help, then.”

The two of you worked in companionable silence, the sound of running water and clinking dishes filling the space between you. Every so often, your hands would brush, and every time, your heart skipped a beat. When you finished, George turned to you, his expression soft.

“You’ve really… settled in here,” he said. “It’s nice. Having you around, I mean.”

“It’s nice being here,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. You wondered if he could see the chaos behind your eyes, the absurd fantasies you’d been indulging, like the two of you kissing under the glow of the open fridge or him lifting you onto the counter just because he could.

For a moment, it felt like he might say something more, but then Chris’s voice rang out from the living room. “Oi! Are you two coming back, or should we start the movie without you? Or better yet, just tell us when the wedding is! We’ll plan the stag do!”

George stepped back, the moment slipping away. “We’ll be right there,” he called, his voice steady.

As you followed him back to the sofa, you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could dance around this feeling without it consuming you completely. Or worse, making you completely lose your mind.

[angelofthenight01]

The witch's secret

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

genre: fluff  ||     warnings: none

Summary: You're best friends with Pietro and Wanda is avoiding you as much as possible.  Little do you know that the reason is that the witch is falling in love with you.

The stale, recycled air of the Avengers training room hits you like a damp rag as you step inside. You wipe the sweat from your brow with the corner of your shirt, already feeling the familiar ache in your muscles. It’s been a long morning, dodging energy blasts and deflecting vibranium projectiles, all courtesy of your best friend, Pietro. He’s leaning against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips as he examines his nails like some haughty prince.

"Took you long enough," he crows, pushing himself off the wall and stretching his arms high above his head. "I was starting to think you’d finally given up on keeping up with my god-like speed."

You roll your eyes, already used to his theatrics. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, Quicksilver. Some of us need sleep." You grab your water bottle, taking a long swig. You’ve known Pietro since… well, since forever. You met at one of those weird, half-way houses run by the government when you were kids. You’d bonded over shared experiences and the inability to understand why everyone was so obsessed with being “normal”. You’d been inseparable ever since. And, naturally, that meant you’d gotten to know his twin sister, Wanda, very well too.

She’s… different. A chaotic storm wrapped up in a quiet demeanor. She’s a puzzle you’d gladly spend a lifetime trying to solve. However, lately, solving her has been like trying to catch smoke with a butterfly net. She’s been avoiding you, and not in a mild, subtle way. This is avoidance of Olympic proportions. If you’re in the kitchen, she’s suddenly urgently needed in the library. If you’re on the training floor, she’s busy meditating on the roof. It’s as if you’ve suddenly become radioactive.

"So," Pietro says, breaking your thoughts. “What’s the workout for today, oh, mighty planner of our pain?”

You shrug, pulling out the tablet and swiping the screen. "I was thinking a bit of hand-to-hand, maybe some sparring. What do you think?"

"As long as it involves me winning spectacularly, I'm in." He flashes that trademark grin, and you can’t help but chuckle.

You spend the next hour getting pummeled by Pietro’s ridiculous speed and impressive strength - but you also get some good hits yourself. You know, he may be fast, but you have been learning from the best. As you’re catching your breath, you hear a door open behind you, and your heart skips a beat, just like it always does.

It's not Wanda. It's Kate Bishop. She's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and a look on her face that spells trouble. You like Kate, she’s funny, quick-witted, and a total bad-ass with a bow and arrow. She's also Wanda's best friend, which is why you’re sure she’s about to deliver some cryptic message or distraction.

"Hey, guys," she says, her tone a little too casual. "Wanda needs my help… with… uh… quantum physics equations."

Pietro raises an eyebrow. "Since when does Wanda dabble in theoretical physics?"

Kate's face is a picture of forced nonchalance. "Since… now? Yeah, she’s on a real quantum kick. Anyway, gotta go, quantum stuff, you know." With that, she’s gone, leaving you and Pietro alone again.

“Quantum physics,” Pietro says, shaking his head and chuckling. “That girl is so awkward. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s trying really hard to avoid you.”

You almost choke on your water. “Avoid me? Why would she avoid me?” you ask, trying to sound casual, as if you hadn’t noticed.

Pietro shrugs. “Beats me. Maybe you smell.” He wrinkles his nose dramatically, making you laugh.

The next few weeks continue in the same vein. Every time you try to talk to Wanda, she vanishes as if she's a figment of your imagination. You find yourself increasingly frustrated, not just because you have no idea what you did to annoy her, but because you really miss her company.

One afternoon, you’re attempting to meditate in the common room, hoping to find some inner peace when you hear footsteps. You open one eye to see Kate Bishop walking towards you, a determined set to her jaw. You see the mischievous glint in her eye, and brace yourself.

"Okay, look," she says, grabbing the cushion next to you and sinking down. "This whole thing has gone on long enough."

You raise an eyebrow, wondering if she’s finally about to let you in on what’s going on.

"Wanda likes you," Kate blurts out, her cheeks turning a shade of pink.

Your eyes widen. "Likes me? Like… as in a friend?" you ask, even if you already know the answer.

Kate groans. "No, as in, she’s completely head-over-heels smitten with you. She’s been losing her mind about it ever since you saved her from that rampaging Ultron drone last year."

Your stomach does a backflip. “Wait, what? But why is she avoiding me?”

Kate sighs. "Because she's Wanda. She’s not good at this whole 'feeling' thing, especially when they're feelings of the lovesick variety. She's terrified you’ll find out, and then laugh at her or reject her, or whatever other dramatic scenario she's conjured up in her head. So, she decided the best course of action is to run away."

You shake your head, a smile playing at the corner of your mouth. "That's... incredibly Wanda." Something warm blooms in your chest, partly from the revelation, partly from the fact that, if Kate is to be believed, your feelings for Wanda are reciprocated.

"So, what now?" you ask.

Kate grins, that mischievous glint back in her eyes. "Now, we set a trap. She has got to face this. And maybe… she could actually go on a date or something? She’s been miserable, poor thing.”

The "trap," as it turns out, involves a suspiciously placed book in the library, a strategically timed fire alarm, and a very confused Pietro. You find yourself facing Wanda by the garden, which, somehow, you’d been guided to under the pretext of a "minor training accident".

She's standing by the rose bushes, her back to you, her shoulders tense.

"Wanda," you say softly, approaching cautiously.

She turns, and her eyes are wide. She’s beautiful. As always. And your heart is about to burst.

"I… I…" she stammers, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

You take a deep breath. "I know," you say.

Her brows furrow. "You know?"

"Yeah, Kate told me. About… everything."

Her cheeks flush a vibrant red. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry. I’m so embarrassing. I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just… you're so… I…" She trails off, unable to form a coherent sentence.

You step closer, reaching out and gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Wanda," you say, your voice a low hum. "I'm not uncomfortable, I'm… I’m glad. Because… I feel the same way. I’ve been… completely, overwhelmingly, kind of in love with you since forever.”

Her eyes widen further, and a small, hopeful smile flickers across her face. "You… you do?"

You smile, nodding. “I do.”

The silence stretches between you, charged with an energy you both feel. You lean closer, and she does too, and then you’re kissing. Her lips are soft and sweet, and the world disappears around you. It’s perfect, and magical, and everything you’ve ever wanted.

As you pull away for air, you hear a snort behind you. You turn to see Pietro standing nearby, his face a mask of exaggerated disgust.

"Oh, for the love of all that is holy," he groans, putting a hand over his eyes. "I’m going to be sick. My best friend and my sister? It's disturbing, revolting, and completely not acceptable. I need to go drink something and forget I ever saw this.” He is clearly overdoing it, and you end up bursting into laughter, which is soon joined by Wanda's giggle.

You look at her, and your heart flips over again. This is it. This awkward, beautiful mess of a romance. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[emsdevs]

A Luke Hughes ask of his girlfriend going into labour and him telling his family he is a dad to a son

a/n: I'm so sorry for the wait nonnie! I hope you still like it! Also everyone please note: I have never been pregnant and therefore do not know the exact process of having a baby. If there are inaccuracies, please ignore them. Thanks and enjoy dad!Luke :)

Labor of Love

You swore you both would be prepared for this, and you definitely were. Luke, on the other, didn’t seem to be taking it as well. When you felt your water break, you called him into the room, telling him the situation.

“Oh god. Oh no. We have so much to do. Oh my god. Okay, you can get changed if you wanna, and I’ll get everything in the car,” he said, frantically moving around the room.

“Luke, baby, I can’t change my pants by myself,” you answered, significantly calmer.

“Right! Right, I knew that,” he plays it off, coming over to help you undress and redress. He moves you to the car where you get situated while he runs around grabbing everything you might need while at the hospital. 

After you arrived and got checked in, Luke called his family, letting them know you had gone into labor and were at the hospital. Next, he called yours. It was very early in the off-season and you went into labor a little bit early, so they would have to fly in from Michigan, unable to be there until two days later at the earliest. After many excited reactions, he was finally done with his round of phone calls, and he walked back into your room in just enough time for you to start laboring. Fourteen hours of blaming and yelling at Luke later, you had delivered your baby and were waiting to find out the gender. You both had agreed since it was your first child, you wanted to wait to find out the gender until the baby was born. Soon, your baby was in your arms and the midwife was telling you that you’d delivered a beautiful baby boy. The tears started flowing the moment he was placed in your arms, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Luke in the same state beside you. 

“You did so well, baby. Look what you brought us,” he was getting choked up staring at the perfect mix of you and him.

“He’s so perfect,” you move your finger so your son can grab it, “a baby boy.” Soon, the nurses were stealing him away to run all the tests needed, and you instructed Luke to never let your baby boy out of his sight. Eventually, your boys returned, and you all got some much-needed family time. Soon though, you and your son were in desperate need of sleep, so Luke took that time to go inform his family. When he walked through the doors to the waiting room, everyone stood up waiting for whatever news he had for them. 

“She’s doing good, and the baby was born at 3:17. He’s healthy and so perfect,” he sniffled at the end of his sentence, feeling the tears beginning to well up again.

“He?” Luke heard your mom ask.

“Yeah we had a baby boy,” he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He was crying because of the pure joy he felt, his mother wrapping him in her arms while she shed her own tears. Distantly, he could hear Jack and his father having their own celebration before Jim went to call Quinn who couldn’t be there because of playoffs. Gently, Ellen pulled back before asking what name you two had decided on. You both had kept your picks for the names a secret, wanting to keep it to yourselves for as long as possible.

“Samuel Bennett,” he spoke softly.

“Samuel Bennett Hughes,” Ellen breathed, “He sounds perfect, Luke.”

“He is, Mom,” before Luke could start crying again, Jack brought him into a hug, telling him he knew he’d be a good father. His father was the last to hug him, being sure Luke knew how proud he and Ellen were. He let them be the ones to inform Quinn and your family, wanting to get back to his family.

When he got to the room, he took a moment to really take in you and Samuel. You were the love of his life, and he couldn’t wait to see where this road takes you both. He couldn’t wait to spend more time with Samuel and get to know the little boy that you two, mainly you, brought into this world. He was so incredibly thankful to be able to have this moment. You two have been through a lot since getting together in high school. You even stuck with him after he got drafted, choosing to transfer to a school in New Jersey to be closer to him. He’s always had your unwavering support, and he hopes you know he’ll always have your back as well. Right now though, he’s sure both of you will be the co-founders of Samuel’s fan club. No matter what happened or where life leads the two of you, he knows he has you and Samuel, and that’s enough for him.

taglist: @heartsforjh @alex-wotton @devilinpradaheels @juxmi @macklin-celebrini-71 @puckmedude

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[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

"I dunno. A car it's like... like I dunno I guess like," Steve bites his lip, leans back over the hood of his glorious beater he's been lovingly, 'n often painstakingly, fixin' up. There's a hotness burnin' up the back of his throat that pisses him off to no end. He shuts his eyes, runs a hand over his face, tries again.

"Like, when you work with a car there's just- like- there's kinda these-ugh!" Steve scowls. There are tears of frustration burnin' up behind his eyes 'n that just pisses him off more. He knows what he's trying to say so why can't he just say it.

"Take your time, man." Soda tilts his head to the side, absentmindedly pulls a thread out of his DX shirt. He's not like most guys Steve knows. The kind that make him feel like there was somethin' fuckin' wrong with him for needin' a minute to put his words in order. Or the kind that politely looked away when hot tears stacked up behind his eyes. No, Soda looked right at him like he had all the time in the world 'n he was spendin' it on purpose with Steve. Just waitin' on him to say what he meant.

God. Sometimes Steve felt like the luckiest guy alive. But then Soda leans over 'n steals the last bite of Steve's hotdog 'n the effect is mildy ruined.

Steve pulls his knees up across the hood 'n rests his head back on the windshield. He can feel the Tusla sun beatin' down even through his DX shirt. It had been a slow day. A Thursday in the middle of August when the end of summer clung to everythin' 'n hung heavy 'n slow in the air.

"When you're workin' on a car, only half of it is knowin'. You gotta be able to sorta sense some of it." Steve wrinkles his nose, shakes his head. "Does that make any sense?"

He peeks around his leg to see Soda. He's layin' flat on his back on the car parked beside Steve's. A beetle bug that they were supposed to be replacing the oil valve gasket in. But it would be a quick job 'n even Soda wasn't immune to the way August made you want to just sit still for a moment. The hood on Soda's was significantly more sloped 'n he kept almost slidin' off. But when Steve looks over Soda's got his head to the side, blinkin' at Steve, blonde hair fallin' in waves around his eyes.

"Oh. Like a horse." Soda nods to himself, almost slides right off onto his ass again.

"Huh?" Steve sits up, raises an eyebrow 'n Soda slips off the front, clambers onto Steve's beater.

"Like a horse." Soda's grinnin' wide with all his teeth like only Soda can.

"Ok. Wanna elaborate?" Steve have never gotten into the rodeo thing as much as Soda had. He'd go, sure. Hell, he'd ridden once or twice but he was never like Soda. He had loved those things. Well. Until.

"When you're ridin' a horse, right? You can't think about it like you 'n the horse are two separate things. The second you do that, that horse is gonna realize it don't want you on it one bit. You gotta sense what it wants. What it needs. 'Cause the horse sure as hell ain't gonna tell you. I figure, it's the same with a car, right? Like, sure, you can teach someone how to ride but they gotta have that extra somethin' that makes you good at it. You can teach any loser to fix a part but it takes somethin' to be a mechanic. Right?"

Steve blinks at Soda. Once, twice. Soda's eyes are bright 'n focused like they always are when he talks about ridin'.

"Yeah, somethin' like that."

"Well, that makes sense. You put that real good Stevie." And Steve snorts 'n doesn't remind him one bit that it was him that put it all together.

Soda grins at him, worries his lip, 'n slouches back down. "I miss it. Y'know?"

And Steve does know. 'Cause whatever you needed to go all the way? Soda had it. Soda absently runs his thumb around his kneecap, frowns.

That was the problem with these slow August days. They were fit for rememberin' even when you didn't want to.

"Hey, Steve?" Soda folds legs up under him, pushes his bangs from his eyes.

"Yeah, Sodapop?"

"I think you got it. Whatever it is. You're gonna make it big time. One day I'm gonna turn around 'n you're gonna be on the front of one of them car magazines." Steve's heart does a sudden, violent ache.

"Yeah, I'll be the girlie in the bikini, draped over some hot rod." Steve leans back on the windshield again, drops a hand to his forehead.

"Nah, that's my job. Lemme be the arm candy, it's all I'm good for." 'N Soda's grinnin' 'n laughin' but it's not funny. Really.

A car pulls into the DX 'n Soda slides off the hood 'n goes to take their gas. Two kids clamber out, hay clingin' to their clothes, wreakin' like a stable 'n huge grins plastered on their faces. Soda pulls up short, mid-step.

Steve hurries to catch up with him. Soda's got this kind of, longin' in his eyes, his smile waverin'. Steve puts a hand between his shoulder blades 'n Soda's grin pulls right back up at the corners like a puppet.

"Shame they ain't girlies, could have gotten a real sweet tip." Soda starts back up again, takin' long lopin' steps.

"Hey Soda!" Soda stops, spins halfway around. "Some people get it for one thing. Cars or horses or writin' or whatever. Whatever you got Soda? It's better than all that shit. 'Cause you don't fix up cars. You fix up people."

Soda blinks at him. "You didn't stutter or nothin'."

"I didn't." Soda tilts his head, the boys in the car hit their horn, a song blasts from a passin' truck, the sun beats down.

"Like horses?" Soda's hair is like a halo in the light, his eyes big 'n waitin'.

"Like horses."

[eclipseberrycake]

Virulent (MBC x Reader)

AN: Hey Guyysss-

It's me :) Have I annoyed you all yet? /lh Anyway, I was on tiktok as I always am these days when people annoy me (Ginger mains- when I catch you ginger mains-) I noticed a lot of redesigns of the mains twisted forms to turn them lethal and yk what? Hell yeah. So I've been brain rotting and decided to share with you!

This is kind of far off from what I normally post but I still wanted to share with you, plus it's still MBC! And Distractor! Reader. Think of it as an AU! Of that universe.

Warnings: Depictions of horror themes, talk of mutated twisteds, threats of death (No one dies dw, I'm too soft for that), if you don't vibe with zombie apocalypse vibes, then this one may not be for you, and that's okay! Also kinda shorter than normal because I'm tried and had an assignment due that I forgot about :(.

☁ With all the mains back, runs had surprisingly gotten easier, if you did say so yourself. It was much easier to distract when you knew where the twisteds were and who they were the second you stepped out of the elevator. And having Shelly running around giving boosts made the time spent distracting cut shorter and shorter. Plus having Pebble right there as well was always a bonus.

☁ And of course, your sweet moonshine and berry boy. It was always a pleasure to be with them on runs and have them shadow you as you went; It was like a safety net in a way, moreso when Cosmo came along. It was very rare there was a run going on where one of you was going, and the others did not follow.

☁ That being said, there were times you missed the simpler runs with just you, Poppy and Boxten and maybe a few other commons. The mains all had their inside jokes and experiences together that, regardless of how hard Sprout and Astro tried not to, sometimes left you and Cosmo feeling like the odd ones looking in.

☁ Which is where you were currently, joking and laughing with the other commons as you all tried to go for a long run. It had started early this morning, and while you were unsure how long you were down there, you were sure it was well past lunch. The others knew you'd be gone a while though and planned their days accordingly.

☁ You hadn't even realized the true extent of how far you'd gone until Dandy was popping up, eyes frantic despite you all buying regularly. He eyeballed you as you approached, making you hesitate when reaching for the band on a pillow. "...Is there something wrong?"

☁ "Floor 50. I'm not even down here very long." He spoke and your blood chilled at the tone, Cosmo quickly threading his fingers with your own. Dandy noted this before refocusing back on you, eyes sharp and calculating. "Do you know what you're stepping into?"

☁ "I assume it's no different than any other floor." You sneer back, quickly exchanging your tapes for a bandage, watching carefully as Cosmo did the same.

☁ Dandy took them almost robotically, lips twitching just a bit. "...You've never been this far, have you?" You haven't, you didn't even think there were this many floors, but you weren't going to tell him that. Whether he saw it on your face or not, he grinned. "I'll leave the elevator open. As a one time grace for you all to return at any time." He yanked on the lever suddenly, giving a bright wave. "Good luck! You're gonna need it!"

☁ The warning, from Dandy nonetheless, does little to ease your nerves, but you still step out of the elevator with a kiss for Cosmo before taking off. It was a replica of the Christmas Toon's floor, so the twisted's should've been easy to find. Only...you didn't find anything.

☁ You immediately called out to be aware of objects on the ground, because as much as you loved Blu and Oakley, you didn't want a repeat.

☁ Still, the air felt...different then it did in that time. Like something sinister was watching, waiting, hunting. Taking off once more, you quickly rush to find Cosmo, finding him working on a machine. Seeing him find brings a sense of relief to you, but it's not enough to erase the feeling.

☁ "I don't like it." You frown, looking over your shoulder as you heard the rapid swish of air moving. There was nothing there.

☁ "I get what you mean. Leaving the elevator open?" Cosmo raises a brow ridge, pausing the extracting he was doing. "It's just not-" He turns to face you, only to pause, mouth gaping open as he grows impressively pale incredibly quick. He's staring behind you, watching as something moves. You go to look, but he's quick to stop you.

☁ "Something's wrong." He whispers, much quieter, struggling to draw his eyes away from whatever he was seeing. "I don't want you near...that."

☁ "Near what?" You try to turn around again and he grabs your chin this time. "Y/N, please." He pleads. "We just need to back away and-"

☁ There's a shrill shriek and this time he can't stop you as you whirl around to see Tisha with the same expression Cosmo had on his face. Behind you is a tall twisted, taller than any you've seen, other than Dandy. It's one red eye is glowing at you, locked on as it hands from the ceiling. Two of it's arms hang by it's head, lifeless and stained with ichor, though the large claws don't look any less deadly. A drop of ichor hangs out of its mouth before splatting on the ground, making your stare it, horrified. It moves like a bug, slowly as it's multiple limbs each click against the ceiling.

☁ None of you can move, you can only watch as it grows closer. There's a swish of fabric as it reorientates itself to stand upright, the two limbs that were previously lifeless lifting, as if to caress you. You don't let it, stepping back in time as Cosmo pulls you back into him.

☁ It's close enough you could see it's face though. Half of it's face is stretched unnaturally, tinged a soft blue, but darkens as it twists up in recognition of your act of denial. There's a large white star on the other half, which begins to whirr wildly, spinning and spinning and spinning.

☁ For a fleeting second, your traitorous brain turns to Astro and his twisted and the similarities between that and this...thing.

☁ The star on it's face suddenly shoots out and you tackle Cosmo to the ground as Tisha takes off to warn the others to get to elevator. There's a crash as the machine Cosmo was working on is shattered, ichor spilling out over both of you as glass rains all over the floor. Whatever is in front of you screeches and two arms reach for you.

☁ You're quick to grab Cosmo, hauling him up and taking him with you as you both take off towards the elevator. There's two sets of footsteps behind you, but with a quick glance, you see it's only the one twisted, but with four running limbs being used rather than the regular two. It's catching up fast, too fast, and for a second you swear it's going to grab you, but a hand around your waist makes you're entire system shudder before you and Cosmo are both being yanked into the elevator, which shuts much faster than usual.

☁ Everyone in the elevator is silent before Tisha is letting out a blood curdling scream, grabbing at the edges of her box. "What was THAT?!"

☁ "I don't know!" Goob cries out, big eyes already welling with tears as he pulls at his fur. Scraps is trying to help him best she can, but even she's pale and struggling to control her shaking.

☁ You couldn't outrun it. You couldn't outrun it. YOU COULD NOT OUTRUN IT. As a distractor, that's one of your only roles, and you couldn't do it. Scrambling, you shakily get to your knees, crawling to where Cosmo is slowly sitting up. His eyes are darting everywhere before landing on you, meeting you halfway and cradling you to his chest.

☁ You clutch onto his sweater with white knuckles, shaking so badly you fear tearing the fabric. The way he holds onto you is much the same however, so you don't think he minds too much.

☁ "Maybe...Maybe next time we..." You struggle to find words, throat closing as you fight more tears. Your tail gives a whip behind you before curling around Cosmo, lacing itself between the center of his curl for a better hold.

☁ "We don't." Glisten shudders, smoothing out his bow before rubbing the space between his brows. "We can't- I don't even think the mains would know how to handle that."

☁ "It kinda looked like Astro." Rodger mentions, fingers tracing a crack in his glass before retracting. "Do you think it's possible the Ichor is mutating?"

☁ "Mutating?" You shake your head. "That- That can't be. That's-" You pause before growing suddenly angry. "That's not fair!" You're suddenly seething at the aspect of it all. A new terrain to learn, new twisteds, new methods of containing them; a whole new set of injuries...Of scars. "I can't. I can't do it! I can't!" You cry out, turning to hide your tears in Cosmo's sweater as he numbly rubs your back.

☁ The elevator gives a cheerful ding, a direct contrast to everyone else's mood in the elevator. It opens to the vibrant and cheerful colors of the lobby and you hear the footsteps of the others rapidly approaching, but to you, you're just reminded of-

☁ "Cosmo! Y/N!" Your attention is quickly redirected to where Sprout and Astro are eagerly approaching, the former wrapping you both in a tight hug that the remaining partner is quick to join.

☁ It's a comforting presence and it makes your heart steady itself before fingers are picking at your fur. "Did something happen? You're both covered in ichor." Astro frets, immediately making that ill feeling return to your guts. You debate not telling them before immediately erasing the thought. They needed to know they had too. If anyone could at least begin to get a handle on how to survive...whatever that was.

☁ "There's something about floor 50."

[thenaughtynorth]

Breaking Judgment

After being betrayed by The Judgment Day, the reader destroys their locker room. Damian Priest, also betrayed by the faction, offers support and admits he cares for her. He stays the night to protect her, and the tension between them hints at something more brewing beneath the surface.

Damian Priest x female reader

Warnings: Kayfabe lmao

Word count: Roughly 2,700 and it’s actually proofread to the best of my ability

I love me some Damian Priest

———

The moment you slammed Finn’s leather jacket to the floor and stomped on it, the rage consuming you felt like a tidal wave. The Judgment Day had always been your family—or at least, that’s what they told you. Finn had been the leader, Liv the schemer, Raquel the enforcer, JD and Carlito two dumb stooges, and Dominik…well, Dom was just along for the ride. Together, they had made you believe you belonged. That you were one of them.

Until tonight.

“You’re just not good enough to run with us anymore,” Liv had sneered, her lips curling into a smirk that made your stomach churn. Raquel stood beside her, arms crossed, saying nothing. Finn didn’t even look at you as he passed judgment like it was beneath him to care. Dominik had just muttered an apology under his breath and avoided your eyes.

That was the moment something inside you snapped.

So here you were, standing in the middle of their trashed locker room, your breath heaving and your fists trembling. Clothes and gear were strewn everywhere. Finn’s jacket was ruined, Raquel’s duffel had been emptied out and dumped, and Liv’s makeup bag was shattered in the corner. But the pièce de résistance was Dom’s PS5, which now lay in pieces at your feet. The satisfying crack it made when you smashed it against the floor was the only thing that had brought you even a shred of satisfaction tonight.

But it still wasn’t enough.

“Feel better now?”

The deep voice behind you made you spin around, your heart lurching. Damian Priest stood in the doorway, his large frame blocking the exit. His dark eyes were fixed on the mess around you before settling on your face.

“What do you want, Damian?” you spat, your voice sharper than you intended.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “I saw what happened,” he said simply, his tone calm but firm.

“So what?” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Come to rub it in? Tell me you told me so? Because I don’t need it right now.”

Damian’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Trust me, I’m not here to gloat. But you made a scene out there, and it’s only a matter of time before Finn and the others come looking for you. You’re lucky I found you first.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Lucky? Yeah, sure. Real lucky. My so-called family just threw me to the curb, and now I’ve got nothing.”

“You think you had something with them?” Damian’s voice was sharper now, cutting through your self-pity like a blade. “They used you. The same way they used me. You were just too blind to see it.”

You flinched at his words, but deep down, you knew he was right. You’d been there when Damian was cast out, just like you were tonight. You’d stood by and done nothing, believing Finn’s lies that Damian had been the problem.

“That’s different,” you muttered, looking away.

“Is it?” Damian challenged, stepping closer. “Because it looks pretty damn familiar to me.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as the weight of your mistakes pressed down on you. “I didn’t think they’d… I didn’t think it would end like this.”

“That’s because you let them get in your head,” Damian said bluntly. “They’re good at that. They make you think you’re part of something bigger, like they actually care about you. But the second you stop being useful to them? They throw you out like garbage.”

His words hit harder than you expected, and you felt your defenses crumbling. “So what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What am I supposed to do, Damian? Because I don’t have a clue.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. For a moment, he looked like he was debating whether or not to answer. Then he stepped closer, his voice lowering.

“You do what I did,” he said. “You fight back. You don’t let them win. And you sure as hell don’t let them see you break.”

“And I’m supposed to just… do that on my own?” you asked, bitterness creeping into your tone.

Damian hesitated, his gaze softening slightly. “No,” he said quietly. “You’re not doing this on your own. You’ve got me.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. “Why would you help me?”

“Because I know what it feels like,” he admitted. “I know what it’s like to think you’ve found people who care about you, only to find out it was all a lie. And…” He trailed off, his eyes locking with yours. “Because I’ve always liked you. Even when you stabbed me in the back, I couldn’t bring myself to hate you.”

The confession made your breath catch, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You’d spent so long convincing yourself that Damian was the enemy, that you hadn’t stopped to consider how he might have felt.

“Damian…” you started, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“Don’t,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’m here. And if you want to take them down? I’m with you.”

You nodded slowly, your chest tightening with a mixture of guilt and gratitude. “Okay,” you said quietly. “Let’s do it.”

Damian nodded, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Good. But first, we’re getting out of here before Finn finds this mess.” He glanced around the room, letting out a low whistle. “Nice touch with the PS5, by the way.”

You couldn’t help the faint smirk that crossed your lips. “He had it coming.”

“Yeah, he did,” Damian said, opening the door and motioning for you to follow. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

As you walked out of the destroyed locker room, a part of you felt lighter—like, for the first time in weeks, you weren’t completely alone.

The parking lot was eerily quiet as Damian’s car sped down the road, the hum of the engine filling the heavy silence between you. The adrenaline from trashing The Judgment Day’s locker room had long since worn off, leaving behind a cold ache in your chest. Damian sat in the driver’s seat, his expression unreadable as his hands gripped the wheel.

“You really went all in back there,” he said suddenly, his tone neutral but edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

“They deserved it,” you muttered, staring out the window.

“Yeah,” Damian agreed, though his voice was flat. “But that doesn’t mean it was smart.”

You turned to glare at him, anger bubbling up again. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said calmly, his eyes fixed on the road. “But I’m giving it anyway. You think smashing their stuff is going to fix anything? You think Finn’s just going to shrug and let it go?”

You clenched your jaw, guilt and frustration twisting in your stomach. “I don’t care what Finn thinks,” you snapped.

Damian let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be this worked up about it.”

His words hit too close to home, and you turned back to the window, refusing to let him see the tears threatening to spill over.

“Look,” Damian said after a long moment, his tone softening just enough to cut through your defenses. “I get it. They screwed you over. I know what that feels like. But if you’re going to survive this, you need to start thinking with your head instead of your emotions.”

The truth in his words stung, but you couldn’t deny it. “I didn’t know what else to do,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely audible over the hum of the car.

“That much was obvious,” he muttered, his tone still sharp but lacking malice.

Silence settled between you again, heavy and oppressive. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, your mind racing with everything that had happened tonight. Finally, you forced yourself to speak.

“Why are you really helping me, Damian?” you asked, your voice trembling. “After everything I did to you—why do you even care?”

Damian sighed, his grip on the wheel tightening. “I told you. I know what it’s like to be where you are right now. And maybe I should walk away. Maybe I should let you deal with this on your own.” He glanced at you briefly, his dark eyes softening. “But I can’t. You know why.”

You sat there in silence, the weight of his words from earlier settling over you as the car pulled into the hotel parking lot. Did he actually like me?

The elevator ride to your room was tense and quiet. You could feel Damian’s presence beside you, solid and reassuring despite the tension in the air. When you reached your door, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the key card reader.

“Something wrong?” Damian asked, his voice breaking the silence.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening with fear. “What if they come after me?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What if this isn’t over?”

“It’s not over,” Damian said bluntly. “But that doesn’t mean you have to let them win. You’re not with them anymore. You don’t owe them anything.”

“I know,” you said quietly, though the fear in your chest didn’t subside.

Damian sighed, his voice softening slightly. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll stay.”

Your head snapped up to look at him, surprise flickering across your face. “You’d do that?”

He shrugged, his expression neutral. “Yeah. Just for tonight. Don’t get used to it.”

You nodded quickly, swiping the key card and pushing the door open. “Thank you,” you said quietly, stepping inside.

The room was small and unremarkable, but it felt like a safe haven after the chaos of the night. You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands fidgeting in your lap as Damian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on you like he was still analyzing every move you made.

“You need to get some rest,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“And what about you?” you asked, glancing at him.

“I’ll keep watch,” he said simply, “make sure they don’t do some stupid shit.”

You frowned, guilt gnawing at you. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “Because I’m not letting Finn and the others blindside you. Not on my watch.”

His words sent a strange warmth through your chest, but you pushed the feeling aside. “You could sit on the bed, you know,” you said reluctantly. “It’s big enough.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You sure about that?”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks burned. “I’m not going to kick you out if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m more worried about whether or not you can keep your hands to yourself,” he chuckled, leaving you speechless. Had the circumstances been any different, he might’ve had a good point.

He kicked off his sneakers and moved to sit on the bed, making you super aware of his ginormous figure next to you. The warmth was radiating off of him, and it was as if the darkness had heightened your other senses, because my god did he smell incredible.

The silence was heavy, but it carried a different kind of tension now. You shifted, lying back on your side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You couldn’t stop your mind from racing—about Finn, Liv, Raquel, Dominik, and most of all, Damian.

“I still don’t get why you’re doing this,” you said quietly, glancing over at him. “Why you care so much.”

Damian turned his head to look at you, his dark eyes unreadable. “I told you. I really care about you.” He leaned back, resting on one elbow as his voice dipped lower. “You’re not just some teammate to me. You never were. I thought maybe the feelings had gone away, but mierda, I still fucking adore you.”

Your breath caught at the intensity in his gaze. “Damian…”

“I’m not looking for apologies or promises,” he interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “I’m just telling you the truth. Whether you believe it or not is up to you.”

The room suddenly felt warmer, the air charged with an unspoken tension. You weren’t sure what to say, your emotions tangled in a mess of guilt, fear, and something far more dangerous.

“You should get some sleep,” Damian said, his tone softer now but no less commanding. “You’ve had a long night.”

You nodded, lying back fully against the pillows. But as you closed your eyes, you felt the mattress shift slightly, Damian’s presence grounding you in a way that made your heart race.

“Damian?” you murmured, your voice hesitant.

“Yeah?”

You hesitated, your throat dry. “Thank you. For… everything.”

He didn’t respond right away, but then you felt him shift closer—just barely—and his voice dropped to a near-whisper.

“Don’t make me regret it, baby” he said, his tone carrying an edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, your heart pounding as you felt the weight of his words settle over you. And as the tension in the room hung heavy, sleep felt like the furthest thing from your mind.

[hannahssimblr]

Astrid, 

Hope you got my postcard from Phuket, and that the Bangkok one shows up, eventually. Maybe it is actually lost, like maybe I’m doing something wrong at the post office. It’s fine if they all go into the abyss. I am writing just to write, because it feels romantic or whatever. You probably hate the idea of this. I could just text you. I texted you forty-five minutes ago. Still miss you. 

We’re in Phi Phi now. Islands, very beautiful. I bet you already know about them, but I’d never heard about this place before I came here. The landscape is kind of mental, like giants made it. Weird to look at. We went out on a little boat yesterday to see the sights. Jonas jumped off and swam, and I did not. My tattoo is still healing. Stupid fucking thing. I waved over a boat of girls and told them Jonas was saying he fancied them, and then he got annoyed with me, because he wasn’t saying that, and he was embarrassed. I think he should learn to talk to women without wanting to die, and he says I think about women too much, that I’m too invested and I should think about something else. History, philosophy, whatever. Why would I when there are women like you on the earth?

At night, instead of going out and drinking, we go to bed early, in our bunks, him on the top, me below like always, and he tells me all this shit about the Suez canal, or what the Falklands war was all about, since I was stupid enough to ask a follow up question once. Then I fall asleep to escape the boredom. We get up at six and do activities, then. Lots of walking. My body hurts. 

Jonas finally tried those scorpions he was banging on about, and now he’s sick, btw. Food poisoning. I don’t really know how to take care of him, except coming back to the hostel every few hours, making sure he has water. Until he’s better, I guess I’m just wandering around on my own. Luckily, it’s nice to look at. Maybe today I’ll swim with my arm out of the water. Running out of space. Love and miss you can't wait to see you.

xxx Jude. 

I snap open the lid of a bottle of water and carry it into the hostel room. It smells bad there, but I’ve stopped saying it, because it makes Jonas look like he’s about to cry. He’s curled up on his bunk, a complexion like curdled yoghurt, as a chink of morning light spills through the blinds and over his shivering body. Mostly naked. Too hot, then too cold, then sipping water, then throwing it up. I hover in the doorway. 

“I’ve water,” I say, and he just stares. Resigned, half-dead, maybe. “Should you go to hospital or something, do you think?”

“No, I feel slightly better.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want the water, or?”

“Yes. Bring it to me.”

I approach him like a leper, not sure why, as I’m fully aware he’s not contagious, but it’s been ten days since I’ve thrown up, and I’d like to maintain my healthy aura. He regards me with bleary eyes as I back away. “It is good you are an artist and not a nurse.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m not so good with illness.”

“Even though you are always ill.” A tentative sip from the bottle. “You went out this morning?”

“To the post office.”

“Another postcard to Astrid.”

“Yes.”

I can tell he wants to laugh but lacks strength, managing only a feeble wheeze. “Is she missing you as much as you are missing her?”

“No, I don’t think so. She’s much better at distance.”

“She’s an independent person.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me what she is doing today.”

“It’s Wednesday, so probably going to reformer pilates. Then she’s supposed to meet a friend from university for lunch. After that, I don’t know. Something spontaneous and thrilling, probably.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

He manages a watery smile. “You’ll be doing nothing again today? Missing her?”

“I was thinking I might wade into the sea, actually. Keep walking out until I disappear, wailing after Astrid like the pathetic little freak I am.”

“It’s Wednesday?”

“Yes, Wednesday.”

“I signed up for something today.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll be going, by the cut of you.”

“No,” giving up on the water for now, he rolls onto his back, watching insects congregate around the plastic light fixture. “You could go in my place. It’s a… meditation thing.”

I pull a face. “Meditation? That thing where you sit cross-legged and go like ‘om’?” I demonstrate, but feel bad for making him laugh. Apparently a bit painful for him. 

“Yes,” he says. “Kind of. You might find value in it.”

“Is that the kind of guy you think I am? With like, dirty feet and harem pants?”

“Since I am the one who signed up, is it the kind of person you think I am?”

“Not far off.”

“Well, meditation has many benefits. It’s not just for the dirty-feet-squad. It’s good for people who suffer with various mental health concerns, and people who have racing thoughts they cannot stop and such things. Maybe it will inspire you to stop thinking about women’s breasts.”

I scoff. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“So you can think of more productive things that will inform you, and grow your mind rather than rotting it away.”

“Like the Falklands war, for instance.”

“Yes, like the Falklands war,” he says, suddenly animated. “Thank you for saying that. Or the targeting of Libyan migrant workers on suspicion of being mercenaries by—”

I take a brisk and decisive step out of the room. “Well! Glad you’re feeling better, Jonas. See you later. Keep drinking that water, et cetera.” I swing the door shut and amble away, down the hostel hallway and back to the beach, rearing for another day of nothing, bored senseless by the edge of a lonely ocean.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[tonysbed]

Secrets I keep | Part 2

Max Fewtrell x Norris!reader

Lando Norris x Sister!reader

Daniel Riccardo x Norris!reader

summary: You and max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

not proofread

series masterlist | masterlist | previous | next

-

“I hate people” You say as you sit down at the small table in Daniel’s kitchen. He sets breakfast on the table and raises an eyebrow “I know, but why now?”

You turn your phone to him and show him the post that kika had send you earlier in the morning “Is it that unbelievable that two super attractive people are friends?” You chuckle at his words which makes him smile.

It slowly fades “Has lando said anything to you about it?” You shake your head but lean a bit back “Actually.. He did ask me yesterday what we are” Daniel raised an eyebrow “Really? And how did that go down?”

“Told him we’re friends. Then I asked why. He said he was just wondering and then told me to forget he asked” You shrug and take a bite of your breakfast.

“Hm. A tad weird no?” He says, sipping his coffee. You shrug “He can believe whatever he wants. And he’ll know where to find me if he has questions” Daniel nods and focuses back on his food.

“So, what is the plan for today?” You ask curious “Well, I’d say finally going to let you hold a koala and I got an invite to a party. You know these people too” He says with a smile. You smile wide “Koalas? Finally!” He chuckled “That’s the only thing you heard, hmm?”

“Absolutely. But yeah we can go. What kind of party?” He shrugged “just a party. nothing fancy” “no fancy clothes?” He shakes his head “Thank god. I didn’t pack fancy”

“As if we couldn’t just go and buy something” You roll your eyes at him “Finish up. I wanna see koalas” “Relax, they won’t run away” “You never know”

-

danielriccardo

liked by yn, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1m others

danielriccardo she finally got to hold a koala! and meet someone who looks happier than her 🐨👀

*tagged yn*

yn happier than me? more than you. You’ll get wrinkles from smiling this much

danielriccardo Im only smiling because you’re here

yn charmer much?

danielriccardo always for my favourite girl

yn dont make me blush, riccardo

danielriccardo 😁

user @/landonorris ???

user tagging lando as if he’s stupid

user he can read yk

landonorris are you ever coming home, or what? 😂

yn never. this place is to beautiful

landonorris daniel, i’d like my sister back

danielriccardo can’t do anything, sorry mate

user now why is he so close to her.. 👀

user sure, friends

user woman and men can be friends yall

*liked by yn*

-

yn added to their story

[caption 1: night out 💙 caption 2: I expected more patience from him.. he stood there for 20 minutes..]

franciscagomez girl, you’re telling me you two aren’t a thing??

yn yeah?

sure…

yn why is everyone so weird all of sudden. I’ve visited daniel alone before

that was different..

yn sure.

landonorris be safe please!!

yn will be. i’m with daniel, remember?

yeah that doesn’t calm me down..

yn ttyl 🫶🏻

yeah yeah 🤍

-

Drinks had been flowing for a good amount of time. It was safe to say that neither you nor Daniel were on the sober side. You stood next to him, while he was sitting on a chair, explaining something to the guy next to him.

One of your friends, who was rather clumsy, pushed you over and right into Daniel’s lap. You let out an surprised squeal and hold onto his shoulders for support. In an instinctive way, his arms wrap around you and leans against you in his drunken state.

You smile at the filming person who is laughing along you, while the friend who fell tried to get back up, which was even harder while laughing.

You helped her and watched them go to the bathroom. You now finally look at daniel, who’s lap you were still seated on. He raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“If you wanted to sit, you could’ve just said something.” You laugh and turn to face the rest of the group “You’re an idiot”

“I’ve been told before” He laughed and you felt his thumb caressing your side. You sigh and let your head fall on his shoulder “Should we go home?” You hum “My feet hurt” “Told you to go in sneaker” “Shut up” He chuckled “I’ll call a cab”

-

You stumbled into the door and steadied yourself on daniel’s arm. You kicked off your shoes “I’m so dead” “Me too. Sleep?” “100%. I’m eating tomorrow.”

He nods and kicks off his shoes as well. You flop down on the couch “that’s not your bed” “I’m to lazy to walk there” He laughed and stumbled over to you. Before he could say anything, you moved and held up the blanket, inviting him.

“Not the plan but sure” He laid down next to you, looking at you. You make him turn and lay on his chest “Definitely comfortable” You mumble before your knocked out cold.

He laughs softly before closing his eyes as well.

-

Lando had been kind of worried about you. He knew how daniel could get when he was drunk. He had stopped the aussie from doing stupid things before while partying. He let his head fall backwards with a groan.

Max looked up from his phone and sighed “Just text her” “So I’ll get the same answer as before? No thanks”

Max rolls his eyes “I’ll be on stream if you’ll need me.” He got up and walked into his streaming room. Lando stayed on the couch. It was already late in australia, he knew that. You should’ve been back already.

His phone lights up and he sees his mothers name.

‘Did you know about this?’ Attached was a picture of you, sitting on daniel’s lap.

He opened the message

Lando sets his phone down. The picture engraved in his mind. This was out of character for you. Or was it? Did he even know who you were? Were you as close as he thought?

His thoughts were interrupted by Max poking his head in the door “Should we order some food? I’m starving” Lando nods “Sure”

“What’s up with you?” Lando shakes his head “Still about Yn and daniel?” “There is a picture from tonight..” Max raised an eyebrow as lando picks up his phone and shows it to max.

Max’s fists clench at his sides and he has to restrain himself from a sarcastic comment “Oh”

“Why would she lie? I mean, she could’ve told me! I’d rather know from her than the internet” “I’m sure she’ll explain.” “I hope.” “Let’s order food and get your mind off a bit.”

-

You had woken up with a raging headache. You tried to sit up, which didn’t work. You look up and see Daniel’s sleeping face. You feel his arms still wrapped around you and pause. Why in gods name are you in this position?

You gently lift his arms and slip out of his arms. You get into the guest bedroom and put your phone down to charge. While your phone was charging, you got some ibuprofen, water and set some down on the couch table in front of sleeping Daniel.

Your phone finally turns on. You’re horrified when you see missed calls from your mom, and texts from various people. You check your moms messages first and freeze again. When did that happen? You on Daniel’s- The fall.

Oh great.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and try calling your brother. It was around midnight in the uk so you weren’t sure he was going to pick up.

“Yn?” “Lando! Oh thank god. Thought you might be sleeping” “no, i’m not. I can’t sleep actually” You hesitate “The picture-“ “I don’t wanna hear it. Why would you lie to me?” “Lando-“

“no. you go and say you’re friends and that’s what I see? Who are you trying to fool here?” “We are just friends!” “sure as hell doesn’t look like it”

“Lando. We were drunk. I was pushed and landed there” “Sure. Well, good to know you’re okay. I’m going to bed.” “Lando please” The line goes dead and you sigh. Great.

You go and call your mother, who was a bit more understanding but still didn’t quite believe the story you told her.

A knock on the door startled you “yeah?” Daniel slowly opened the door “You okay?” You nod “Headache is getting better. Did you take your ibuprofen?” He nods “So..there’s-“ “A picture yeah. Mom and lando already ripped me one.” He sighed and sat down next to you on the bed.

“It is so out of context! This is really annoying.” He nods again and looks at his hands. You stand up “I’m gonna go and eat something. You coming?” “Yeah”

This time, the kitchen was silent. Neither of you knew what to say after last night.

-

“So when is he supposed to be here?” You ask Daniel as you put on your hiking shoes “Any minute. Oscars quite on point when he’s supposed to be there.” In that moment the doorbell rang.

Oscar stood there, smiling softly “Good morning you two! How have you slept?” You roll your eyes “Fine. We really shouldn’t have had that many drinks tho” Oscar chuckled “Yeah I saw. What did Lando say?”

You three make your way downstairs “He wasn’t mad about the sitting in his lap thing at all. He thought I was lying tho when I told him we’re just friends, which isn’t a lie. We’re really not together. Nothing.” You say defeated.

“I’m sure he’ll calm down and you’ll get to talk to him.” You nod “I hope. I really didn’t lie to him” Oscar pats you on the back “It’ll be alright. He’s bark no bite”

Daniel laughs “That’s what i said too! He couldn’t be mad at you forever even if he tried. He loves you way to much” Oscar nods in agreement “He’s always talking about you. Sometimes I feel like I know you better than Lando” You chuckle at that.

“Ill text him once we get back”

-

yn

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, danielriccardo and 926.467 others

yn when in australia ☀️

*tagged oscarpiastri / danielriccardo*

oscarpiastri my hair oh god

yn I loved it 😂

danielriccardo yeah, i’m sure lily loved it too 😂

oscarpiastri I hate you both

yn 🧡

danielriccardo never going on a hike with you ever again

yn why? I made it to the end

oscarpiastri after laying on the floor and refusing to get up because you know who is ignoring your messages

yn now that is mean

danielriccardo no, just the truth

user Is lando ignoring yn??

user I would too if my sister would have something going on with my friend

user we don’t even know if they do

user have you not seen the pictures??

user and? you need to chill out. not every woman who has a guy as friend wants to date him

*liked by yn*

user see? she even liked the comment.

user the difference between daniel and oscar 😭

user daniel is so boyfriend coded

-

Daniel closed the trunk and made his way to the driver seat. You stare out of the window. Neither of you have actively acknowledged what had happened the night before. The hike with oscar took your mind off it all a bit but you were sure. You had to get to lando before it all gets to his head.

The ride to the airport was quiet. Only as you finally made it and Daniel got your stuff out of the trunk, he finally looked at you.

“Here” “Thank you” “I’ll bring you to your gate” You nod and you both walk in silence. It wasn’t as comfortable as it had been a few days ago.

As you arrived at your gate, you hug him. You stay like that for a few moments before you pulled away.

“yn?” “Daniel” He looks at you a bit nervous “We���re good, right?” You smile softly “Yeah, we’re good. I’ll text you when I land.” He nods “Have a good flight” You wave at him as you leave.

caption: Home sweet home 🇲🇨❤️

franciscagomez weren’t you supposed to be back in like 5 days?

yn lando is ignoring me because of the picture. There’s more to that.

oh..hope you guys figure it out. Gossip sesh w alex soon?

yn 100%

-

Max got a bit mean, oops. Let’s see what she’ll do and what Lando does next 👀

I’ll try posting every 1-2 days. I don’t do tag lists btw

[ashtxrie]

summertime (jeongin)

PAIR. musician!jeongin x reader GENRE. angst, right person wrong time, missed opportunities, pianist x violinist, reader fumbling, jeongin deserves better WORD COUNT. 2.1k WARNINGS. mentions of drinking NOTES. oh yeah it's the post-finals ash comeback !

i think i’ll miss you forever  like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky 

june 00

summer had begun. 

sunlight draped through the windows in veils of liquid bronze, winking off of the steinway in the center of the room. yang jeongin sits at the bench, fingers flitting across the monochrome keys. he locks eyes with you momentarily, your violin on your shoulder. you both exchange one of your secret smiles. we’re doing well. 

yang jeongin was only supposed to be your accompanist for one concert, a little over a year ago. it was his first time; his mentor had called in sick that day, so he — a novice of age eighteen — was called on to play with you for your concerto. you were also eighteen at the time — a violin prodigy, a local legend. 

it only took that one concert to note that the chemistry was undeniable. instead of one instrument line chasing another, it was as though time itself warped to fit your tempo. the pianist, no matter how skilled, was never to distract the audience from the soloist — but together, both of you shined the brightest. and so he was called on for your next concert, and the next, and the one after that — until the two of you became some sort of a package deal, where one was never in a concert hall without the other. 

tabloids called it a dual sensation, a collision of harmonizing colors. later, you’d jokingly call it fate. you’d miss how elated jeongin was from your statement, eyes squinted in crescents for the rest of the day. 

“you’re a star,” jeongin smiled one time, after a particularly successful performance. you had received a standing ovation. 

“if i’m a star then you’re the sun,” you replied, expression mirroring his. “just look at the way everyone gravitates toward you.”

even you? jeongin wanted to ask, but he swallowed the question. 

june 01

at nineteen, summer had arrived again. jeongin was going to confess today. after a year of nearly blurting it out loud, he hid flowers in the corner of the room, waiting for the end of this rehearsal. you were shining, as always. 

you reached the end of your cadenza. suddenly, you turned around. “i’m not sure if i told you already, but i’m moving to the states in three months. i was going to tell you earlier, but couldn’t really find a good time to,” you breathed a little laugh. “it shouldn’t really affect you though; you’re really famous around here already anyway.” 

jeongin’s eyes shifted to the corner of the room, where he could barely make out the pale pink petals. he waited too long. he had smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “that’s such a great opportunity, i’m so happy for you.” 

“i’ll keep in touch,” you assured. words thrown out, haphazardly. it wasn’t a promise, and jeongin knew it. but in his mind, he hoped it was. 

you picked up your violin, and jeongin faced back toward the piano like you always had before. you both didn’t say a word for the rest of the rehearsal. 

july 01

one month had passed since then.

somehow, the two of you have gotten closer than ever before. jeongin seemed to find himself going to the cafe with you after practice, texting you late into the night, and running useless errands together. 

“i’m going to get new strings. come with me?” you ask. jeongin knows you just changed it two months ago, far too recent to need a replacement. but he doesn’t dare ask you about it and agrees to go with you anyway. 

maybe another version of yourself would have loved him. and maybe he would have been brave enough to ask you on a proper date, if he was a better man. but he isn’t, so he hopes and dreams and damns himself. 

august 01

two months in. one month left.

jeongin gifts you a music box: a delicate wooden contraption of two figures dancing, lacquer smiles plastered on their faces. he’d spent his month’s paycheck on the custom-made design, and even more on the musical mechanism. 

“play it,” he smiles eagerly. he leans forward, clasping his hands. 

and you do, using both hands to wind it up. it plays a sweet melody, one you recognize instantly. the woman and the man, spinning around and around. you play it again after the song is over. 

later, as you’re cleaning up your sheet music, you find the find the first piece you and jeongin worked on together. the same score that you both had used for that very first concert, the one he landed by chance. 

“let’s play it again? for old-times’ sake?” 

of course he agrees. jeongin could never say no to you, always a call away. 

now you’re sure that you’ve heard that song before, the one in the music box. it’s playing now, after all. 

september 01

your last performance. jeongin would never forget it. 

maybe you both were good, really good, or maybe you were terrible. jeongin doesn’t remember, and he doesn’t care, because he’s playing to your cadences, and you’re playing to his tune. 

after the encore, you rushed over to hug him, thanking him for the past year. 

“do you ever have dreams?” you looked up at him, eyes glistening.

“dreams?” he laughed. “well, i’m in one right now, aren’t i?”

october 01. 

it was no longer summer when you left. 

without the sun, jeongin’s days are dimmer. he runs through his warm-ups in an hour, sitting through a limbo between consciousness for the other twenty-three. 

in the morning he’ll call you, and that is the only time he feels alive. 

you talk about places, and things. sandy beaches and wide roads, skyscrapers and subways and neon lights. jeongin says to wait a few more years, when his brother moves out for college, and he’d fly over too. 

he hangs on to the sound of your voice, ever a hoper, a dreamer, and imagines hearing it for years to come. 

december 01. 

the last day of the year. an almost-snow crowds the corner of his window. jeongin gets to stay in his apartment for half a week. 

his neighbors are more festive than ever before. he hears the sounds of plates clambering, eager footsteps, and a steady drum. 

jeongin calls you, the line connecting on the second try. there’s the faint sound of a piano playing in the background, of you laughing at a residual joke that someone made. he’s alone in his apartment. 

“hello,” he smiles. 

“hello jeongin,” he imagines you smile back. 

“it’s new year.”

“sure is.”

“what are you doing?”

“talking to you.”

he laughs. you smile.

“did you hear the news?” you ask. 

“what news?”

“orpheus’ orchestra is coming around. they invited me to play a concerto with them. i just met my accompanist today, he’s really nice.”

“oh.”

was that who she was laughing with before? he wants to go. with you. you should go together. 

“i’ll buy your tickets,” he starts. you both know it’s impossible. 

“front row seats, i hope?”

“whatever you’d like.”

his neighbors change the channel. sometime, sometime, it sings. 

long after you hang up, jeongin leans against the wall closest to the radio. phone leaving red imprints on the side of his face. 

“happy new years, darling,” he says, softly.

the radio plays. aren’t you a little in love, too?

march 02. 

you don’t pick up jeongin’s calls much these days, and when you do, it’s always brief, ended abruptly. you’re always busy, always needing to go. 

the walls are thin. jeongin thinks of calling you. 

half of the time you don’t pick up, but he likes you, and he wants you to like him too. 

so what if he stalls a little on your calls? two minutes into three, three into four, four into five–

he squints his eyes against the sun. 

he dials your number, and he hears the piano again. a two-minute reverie before you have to leave again — the shortest call yet. you hang up mid-goodbye. 

you don’t call again for a while after that.

october 02. 

it’s been six months since he last heard from you. his neighbors had moved out not long after, and a young man around his age had moved in. his name was kim seungmin — the vocal protege who was relocated here for a local tour — and he was desperate for a piano accompanist. they bonded quickly, and a little part of jeongin reignited at playing an accompaniment part for someone again after so long. 

tonight, in particular, they had decided to grab a drink together. mid-way through the fourth shot, jeongin’s ringtone suddenly plays. 

yang jeongin’s eyes wander over the foreign digits on his phone. an incoming call from an unknown number. he excuses himself and goes outside; he picks it up anyway. 

he hears a familiar voice from the other line. “hello?” 

“sorry, who’s this?” he wonders if he’s drunk already. 

“oh shoot, sorry wrong num– wait. jeongin?” 

“yes?” realization hits him. he calls out your name softly, apprehensively, afraid of it sounding foreign on his tongue. it’s been so long, after all. 

all the walls he’s built for the past six months break, going back to the dreamer of a boy he was one year ago. maybe it was the fact that he missed this sound for so long, or maybe it was the alcohol, but he asks the person on the other line to stay just a little longer. 

“okay,” you say, and it’s silent on both their ends. 

don’t let it end this time, he says to himself, when the line dies. don’t let it end. 

october 05. 

it’s been three years. jeongin’s gotten into fashion, met friends who he regards as family, found a love for diabolical footwear. his days are a lot less lonely now, with him performing with a full-time ensemble with seven other members. they were touring in america, for god’s sake! he finally got to visit the place he wanted for so long. 

he’s known as another name now, remembered as the artist “i.n” instead of jeongin, the one who accompanied you all those years ago. but he never forgot. 

jeongin walks into a thrift store on one of their tour stops with hyunjin, tasking the older to “rate the fit” as he looks for what he describes as “peak vintage sustainability.” 

browsing the aisles, he pauses at a familiar object. a music box, with two figures dancing. 

“you can go ahead actually,” he says to hyunjin, waving him on. “there’s just something i want to look at.” 

he takes a while staring at at his own reflection in the figure’s glossy face. twenty-four, he counts out. he’s almost twenty-four. that means you are too. 

hands shaking, he twists the handle of the music box. he closes his eyes, and lets the familiar melody play until it unwinds completely. he wished it never ended. it would make it all too real. 

jeongin wonders if this is yours. he wonders if you still think about him from time to time, like how he does of you every day. 

he pays for the music box and leaves. 

in the morning, on the train, there’s a woman sitting across from him. she looks to be about the same age as him. the same age as you. he’s in america now, after all. she smiles down at him, hands clutched above at the handle. he’s holding the music box. 

a second, then she is gone. jeongin looks into the sea of people of wherever he’s arrived, when the train’s stopped and he has to leave. 

jeongin wonders if he would still recognize you on the street if you walked by. he’s scared. he’s afraid that his memory of you is becoming hazy, and replays your voice in his head until your last half-assed cut-off goodbye is all he can hear. 

and he finds you, in the girl with a red scarf and the lady with polished fingernails. the musician with a violin case and the girl with a dog. 

maybe you’re not in this city at all. maybe you’re out, in the streets of another foreign town. 

under the roof of a korean cafe.

at a cheap motel, payment upfront. 

it doesn’t matter who you are. he’ll find you everywhere.

in a broken-down apartment, at the last stop of the train. 

he’ll be yours for all of them. 

TAGLIST : @star-sim @boyfiejay @jlheon @jwsdoll @dimplewonie @suneng @en-gelic @mygnolia

*tagging my previous gen taglist for this one but from now on the ppl i tagged above will only be tagged in my enha-centric fics! if you'd like to be added to the general taglist (which is everything!) or the skz-focused taglist, please lmk with an ask or comment <3

[duhshereadz]

Jinx and Ekko preparing for battle:

Jinx stares at the paintbrush in her hand, the bristles tapping softly against her palm. Her eyes flicker back to Ekko, who is carefully mixing his own colors in a cracked tin. A nervous energy hums between them, neither sure where to start, both on edge but oddly connected in this moment. She’s still wearing the remnants of her chaotic outfit—scorched leather, mismatched gloves, and the bright blue strands of her hair tangled like a wild storm. Her fingers twitch at the brush.

“Are you gonna sit there all serious, or are you gonna paint?” she asks, her voice a little too high-pitched, as if it might crack under the weight of the moment. She’s trying to hide it, trying to turn it into something playful, but the words feel like they hang heavy in the air. She stares down at her hands, the blue paint that’s already splattered across her palms, mixing with the residual powder of explosives.

Ekko looks up, his eyes softer than she’s used to. There’s something different about him today—something less certain but also more grounded. He tilts his head, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He leans forward, setting the tin of paint down and picking up a second brush.

“I’ll paint,” he says, but his voice is quieter now. “But I’m not just painting, Jinx. I need you to listen.”

She raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t reply immediately, but her curiosity is piqued, despite herself. She twirls the brush in her fingers, her eyes narrowed in that characteristic mischievous way, but her heart’s racing, a nervous flutter in her chest.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m listening. You know I’m the best at everything, even listening,” she says with a wild grin, but it comes out almost fragile. She dips the tip of the brush into a bright purple color, the bristles splattering some paint onto her cheek in the process.

Ekko doesn’t smile this time. His gaze softens, the weight of what he’s about to say pulling him into a rare kind of seriousness that makes Jinx’s playful demeanor falter for just a second.

“You know how we both got here, right?” he starts, his voice low and steady. “How you got to be… well, this version of you?”

Her eyes flicker away, the mention of her past hitting like a punch in the gut. She clutches her brush tighter, her breath slightly sharper now.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I did a few things—exploded a few things—what’s your point?” she says quickly, looking back at the wall like she can hide behind the chaos of the artwork. Her fingers twitch with the urge to pull out one of her many grenades, but she stops herself.

Ekko sighs, his eyes distant for a moment, as if remembering something painful. He runs a hand behind his neck, avoiding her gaze for a second. Then, he looks at her, and there’s a quiet ache in his eyes. It’s hard to see him like this, vulnerable, but it makes his next words hit harder.

“I came from another place, Jinx. Another world. A world where things were… different. And you were different, too. Powder wasn’t broken. She wasn’t lost.” His voice cracks slightly as he says the name, the pain of remembering who she used to be slipping through his tough exterior. “You… you were good, Jinx. You didn’t have to be this. You could’ve been so much more. I was gonna save you. I thought I could—”

Jinx freezes, her fingers stilling on the brush as his words fall around her like rain. The name “Powder” sinks into her chest, a tightness clawing at her throat. She doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t know if she wants to hear it, but part of her is already feeling that desperate pull, the old wound reopening. She looks at Ekko, his face so raw and open now, and something deep inside her cracks.

“Stop it,” she mutters, voice trembling just a little. She’s never been one for softness—never known how to handle it—but she knows something’s coming. Something's broken. And she hates how much she wants to believe him.

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Ekko continues, leaning in just a bit closer, his voice soft but unwavering, “but I need you to hear it. You weren’t always Jinx. You were Powder, and you were good. You still can be. That part of you, the one that cares, the one that dreams—she’s still there. She’s not gone.”

Her heart pounds against her chest, and her grip on the brush loosens. She tries to laugh it off, but the sound is hollow, desperate. “That’s not who I am anymore. I’m Jinx.” Her voice cracks on the name.

Ekko reaches forward, taking her hand in his, his thumb brushing over the paint-streaked skin. His touch is warm, grounding, and for a moment, Jinx forgets to be afraid. He meets her eyes, and in his gaze, she sees a reflection of something she’s been running from for so long: the hope of what she used to be, and the possibility of being something more than the chaos she’s built around herself.

“You don’t have to be Jinx. You just have to be you. Whatever that means. It’s okay to let go of the bombs for a moment. You don’t always have to explode.”

For a moment, Jinx says nothing. Her heart hammers, her breath shallow. She stares at him, trying to read the sincerity in his words, trying to find some way to make them fit. But they don’t fit—not yet. She opens her mouth to speak, but instead, she suddenly stands up, her body tense, and, in a frantic movement, she grabs the nearest can of bright red paint.

“Fine!” she yells, her voice wild again, “But if I’m gonna be good—we’re gonna be good together, okay? You’re still gonna fight with me. You’re still gonna make things go boom!”

Ekko stands up too, a small laugh escaping him despite everything.

“I never said we couldn’t make things go boom,” he says, a little grin tugging at his lips. He steps forward, gently taking the can from her hands, setting it aside with a quiet chuckle. His fingers hover near hers, the air thick with tension. Then, without thinking too much about it, he leans in, just a little, closing the distance between them.

“Jinx,” he says softly, his voice low and steady. “I’m with you, whatever happens. You’re not alone.”

And just like that, the air around them shifts. Jinx’s breath catches in her throat. She’s never felt this way before—not with him, not with anyone. For a brief moment, everything inside her stills, and then her heart beats faster than she can understand. Her mind races—fighting to pull away, to push him back, but the pull between them is stronger than anything she’s ever known.

Without thinking, she moves forward, closing the space between them, pressing her lips to his. The kiss is wild, unsure, and a little broken, but it’s real. It’s not the explosion she’s used to—it’s a gentle, messy collision. When they finally pull apart, both of them are breathless.

Jinx grins, her fingers trembling against his chest. "Guess we’re really doing this, huh?" she whispers, her voice cracked but full of a strange, quiet hope.

Ekko looks down at her, his face soft, but with a spark in his eyes that tells her, for the first time in a long while, maybe they could be something good.

"Yeah," he says, his voice steady, "we are."

[torturedtypewritersdept]

a fucked up sort of eden - pt. two

✯ pairing:

firefighter!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

Rafe Cameron was good on his own, steady and sure, despite his adrenaline based nature; he was good on his own. His sisters long line of blind dates on his behalf leads him to you and from the very moment you walk out on the dinner, he knows he will never be the same again.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, heartbreak, domestic violence (not rafe), injury, ghosting, fluff and fear, firefighter!rafe, past abuse, awkward!rafe, firefighter lingo, smut, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this first chapter was originally posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity and i have rewritten + reshared it here and will finally be continuing the rest of the series :)

The firehouse had become Rafe’s home long before he ever became a firefighter. It began with his incessant need to fix things, his sister’s broken arm at age nine the first of many things on a long, long list of things that he felt responsible for. His moral responsibility led him to the army, where he had become a marine, a sniper to be exact. He had seen a lot of things for a skinny kid just trying to defy his father. Coming home had been an adjustment, living in a world where every noise wasn’t a threat, the biggest one of all. His moral compass led his course again like a broken compass stuck in the one direction. This time, it had led him to a life of volunteering with the men he now called his family. 

Rafe lounged quietly in the living room of the firehouse, his copy of John Steinbeck’s East of Eden draped casually against his long fingertips. It’s a book, a story, that he knows well. He had identified early in life with Adam Trask, its main character. Adam is good-hearted, much like Rafe and his kind nature gets him into trouble. Again, much like Rafe. He cursed his sister in the same way that Adam’s brother cursed him for being his father’s favorite. But, with Sarah it was different. He wasn’t jealous of her. No, he cursed every hair on her perfect blonde head for being wrong about you, for not telling him that you were well – you. He cursed her for convincing him that you wouldn’t hurt him. His reality was very different as he watched you walk away from him, away from the corner booth in the hole in the wall restaurant he had met you at. Yeah, Rafe’s good nature got him in trouble quite a bit, but for some reason he found himself hopeful; hopeful that he’d run into you or he could convince his sister to give him your phone number. He hoped you’d give him a do-over. He hoped you were different in the way that he thought you were. He was brought out of his thoughts at the sound of the fire alarm sounding off, signaling to his brain that it was time to work. He sighed in contentment, a lazy smile plastered across his lips as his best friend, Topper, came into his view, smacking him across the head with the book that was previously in his hands. 

“Let’s go, Cameron. Can’t you hear the bell going off?” 

Topper asked, his lips turning up into a cocky, but annoyed smirk.

“I heard it, bud. I thought you’d do me a solid and handle this one for me.” 

Rafe inquired jokingly and Topper responded with a low chuckle as Rafe rose from where he previously laid. 

“Oh, come on, Rafferty! Don’t you want to go rescue a beautiful woman and let her stroke your savior complex or – your dick, whatever works.” 

Rafe couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his best pal, following his suit as he slid down the pole and into the locker room, layering his body with his uniform and climbing into the rig. 

— 

Your morning had been simple, a cup of coffee and your favorite book, Irene Hunt’s classic The Lottery Rose. Though you didn’t know it, you were much like Rafe in regard to your ability to empathize and place yourself within a character’s proximity. In the same way that he related to Adam’s character, you related to Georgie’s as the novel carries you through his life as a child experiencing domestic violence and his journey to healing as he escapes its hold. You felt it mirrored your life in a way – Georgie’s broken arm and your broken heart seemingly two shards from the same cut of glass, melding together like only broken pieces can. The book had saved your life in a lot of ways, the most prevalent one being that a kind nurse had given it to you to read in the hospital after your attack. You’d had a lot of feelings to work through and the book – it just helped in ways even you couldn’t understand and you’d reread it once a month ever since. 

You lounged on your sofa, dog-earring the page you were set to stop on as you read the last words of it before you rose easily from where you sat, grabbing your coffee cup in search of another round of caffeine. You made your way into the kitchen, placing your cup underneath the hood of your keurig as you placed another coffee pod into the canister and latched it closed, a resounding pop could be heard against the low hum of the wind as it brustled through the french doors just off of your third floor balcony. You listened to the sweet sound of your coffee pouring, the echo against your cup sending you into sweet bliss as the smell simultaneously hit your nose. As it finished and you began, stirring the french vanilla creamer into your cup of joe, you heard a faint meow and suddenly realized you had no idea where your cat, jackson, currently resided. You continue stirring your cup, when you heard it again. Though, this time, it sounded more like he was whining. Your feet padded across your living room quickly, the plush white carpet melding into the curve of your feet, following the other faint meows that you heard coming directly from your balcony. You thought nothing of it, moving quickly to open the doors and bring him inside. But, to your surprise, he wasn’t laying in the patio chair or on the rug. No – he was nowhere to be found and as your heart began to race, your anxiety-inducing feline meowed again, this time, rather loudly. It sounded like he was calling for help and as you looked up, you met his green eyes where he stood – in the tree across from your balcony.   

“Hey, buddy. You’ve gotten yourself in a predicament there, huh?” 

You asked, amusedly. He only responded with a meow that sounded more like a screech from a banshee. 

“Okay, okay, okay — I’m coming, buddy. Stay right there.” 

You said in trepidation. 

You moved quickly, not caring about anything other than getting your sweet boy back into your apartment safely. You slid only the white bunny slippers that sat next to your couch on your feet and ran out of the door with only your phone in your hand. 

— 

You stood underneath the oak tree that Jackson sat in, peering up at him through the leaves with one hand attempting to shield your eyes from the sun. The emerald colored leaves shook gently as the wind blew through them and Jackson's fearful meows echoed through your ears bringing tears to your eyes for the third time. You had tried tirelessly for the last hour to get him to jump down to you, assuring him you’d be there to catch him. But, he wasn’t interested. He was scared of everything, just like you and you couldn’t blame him really for taking after his mother. 

“Jackson! Goddamit — please, baby! Just jump. Mama’s right here.” 

You yelled exasperatedly, throwing your head back in defeat as you pondered finding a ladder and potentially breaking your neck was worth it. But, just as the thought crossed your mind, you felt a hand on your back, physically jumping at the foreign assault. 

“Remove your hand from my back. Now.” 

You gritted out, turning around to meet the eyes of a firefighter. He was cute in a I-go-the-gym-seven-days-a-week kind of way. But, he was currently crossing your boundaries so you weren’t interested, in fact, you were fucking disgusted. 

“Calm down, princess.” 

He does his best to soothe you in the middle of your freak out, though he does it in such a condescending way that it reminds you of your arch enemy, Taylor and his fists and just as you’re about to have a full blown panic attack you hear a voice you recognize. It’s sweet, yet savory, similar to a crepe on a Sunday morning. You turn toward the sound, your vision slightly blurry at the stress due to trauma that your body is responding to. The stranger that you now know as Rafe stands in front of you, his voice coaxing you out of the thick cloud of stress that lingered over you. 

“Hi, y/n. How are you?” 

He asks, smiling politely and you can only nod as you swallow thickly. 

“I don’t like this guy very much.” 

You whisper to him, your eyes looking in Topper’s direction and Rafe chuckles lowly. 

“Sometimes, I don’t either.” 

He whispers back to you and it elicited a deep laugh to erupt from the volcano of your belly. 

“Rude!” 

Topper groans, throwing his hands up in response and Rafe isn’t sure what it is, but the way your doe eyes are pulling him, is other worldly and all he wants to do is protect you; currently from his very best friend. 

“Top, i’ll take it from here.” 

He warns lowly and you smile at the way the man known as Top scurries away with his tail tucked between his legs. You wonder if Rafe is some kind of boss of the firemen that now lingered in the parking lot of your apartment complex. 

“What seems to be the problem, sweetheart?” 

Rafe asks and for a moment, you almost let the pet name slide with how good he looked in his uniform, yellow and grey had never looked so good you were convinced. 

“Please, no pet names. It’s just a personal preference.” 

You said, voice more weak than you had intended. He swallowed thickly and nodded. 

“Sorry, it’s just a habit. I like to use words like that to help calm people down when they’re scared. But, you seem to be okay. I’m sorry for overstepping.” 

He responds with a kind smile. 

“I understand. No worries. My problem is crouched on four legs up in that tree.” 

You said, pointing toward the leaves above your heads and he nodded. 

“Well, don’t fear, y/n. I’ll take care of it for you, i’ll get him down. I’m glad you called us. It’s nice to see you again.” 

He said politely. 

“You too, Rafe. But, I didn’t call. I think it was a neighbor. I was debating whether getting on a ladder and breaking my neck would be worth the trouble when your buddy came up behind me and put his hands where they shouldn’t be.” 

You bit out, aggressively. 

“Oh – well, I’m glad we got here when we did. I’d hate to have had to visit you in the hospital, don’t need you all broken, sweet girl.” 

Blush rose to your cheeks at the nickname. 

“Shit – sorry. You said no nicknames.” 

He said, annoyed with himself. 

“I tell you what – youc an call me sweet girl, i think i like that one. But, I need a nickname for you too.” 

You said, eyelashes fluttering. 

“What did you have in mind?” 

He asked, chuckling. 

“Hmm, let’s see. You’re a Cameron, right?” 

He nodded in response, a crooked smile on his lips. 

“How about RC? Do you like that?” 

You asked. 

“I’ve never liked anything more.” 

He said with another roguish crooked grin. 

“Okay, RC. Go rescue my kitty.” 

You replied and he saluted you. 

“Yes ma’am. Be back in a jiffy!” 

You could only giggle in response as you watched three other fellow firemen bring Rafe a ladder and he climbed to the top of it. You were nervous that he’d fall, the nervousness of his sway at the restaurant at the forefront of your mind. He returned only moments later with Jackson in his hands and you watched with a smile as he soothed your feline friend’s anxieties with his words. 

“All good, not a wound in his pretty little fur.” 

He said, handing him over to you. 

“You’re in so much trouble!” 

You playfully scolded Jackson and Rafe giggled. 

“Don’t be too hard on him, he’s just a curious little guy.” 

He replied sweetly, rubbing the fur under Stumpy’s chin. His loud purr could be heard from a mile away, you were convinced. 

“Well, sweet girl. I’ve got to go. But, I hope I see you again soon.” 

He said, his blue eyes meeting yours again. 

“Rafe, what time is your shift over?” 

“About an hour, why?” 

“I’d like to make you dinner, as a sort of do-over or a thank you, whatever you'd prefer.” 

“I’d prefer the do-over I think.” 

He responded cheekily. 

“Me too. Come back here at 7. I’m apartment 3B.” 

You said. 

“Will do, sweet girl.” 

He smiled at the notion that you really could want him after all. 

“See ya, RC.” 

You replied, giving his bicep a squeeze before turning and heading back into your building, Jackson in tow. 

—

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[27spoons]

Feeling Myself | Natalie Scatorccio

summary: Your best friend's been ignoring you since you hooked up a few days ago. Determined to speak with her again, you decide to visit her in the changing rooms after a soccer game. What's the worst that happens?

pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

warnings: porn/what plot, smut (afab!reader), slightly ooc nat (in the name of porn), no proofreading we die like jackie

a/n: this shit corny asf LMAOOOO (this is a "what-if" from part two.) (also see: i had a thought while writing part two. this is 90% smut.) (this is also 10x as crude as the previous smut I've done sorry not sorry)

wc: 3430

[you don't need to read either part to read this.]

part one / part two

A quick recap of the events that took place the past week.

You slept with your best friend at a party. Your best friend who happens to be knee-deep in denial when it comes to her sexuality. She's been avoiding you like the plague since then. You've just finished watching her play a soccer game, and now you're awkwardly standing outside the locker rooms.

Great. Recap over.

Okay, thirty minutes is overkill, especially for Nat, who typically likes getting in and out as fast as possible. Sure, maybe you'd spend thirty minutes in a shower at home, but in a public place? With the floors that definitely have bacteria on them that could kill a Victorian child?

That's practically a carnal sin.

You aren't sure why you're steeling yourself; I mean… odds are she just left through the other entrance, right? And it's not like you aren't allowed in this change room, it's just the general change room for the school facilities…

Whatever.

You stand up straight and throw the door open to the changing room, not that surprised to find it completely empty—save for the sound of a shower running in the back of the space. Realistically, if it is Nat, you should probably let her finish her shower. You don't really know where the two of you stand right now, and intruding on a shower hardly seems like a good time to find out. And, if it isn't Nat, intruding on a shower would be a really, really bad idea.

Still, you decide to investigate further. 

Quietly making your way toward the shower stalls, you glance around and look for anything that could give you an idea about whoever it is, showering and praying to whatever God there is that it's Nat and not some random stranger. 

When you reach the benches in front of the stalls, you let out a relieved breath you didn't even realise you were holding—you'd recognize those combat boots anywhere.

Is confronting her while she's in the shower the most intelligent idea? No. But honestly? You're more than a little frustrated and pretty sure that she'll continue to avoid you unless you do something now.

So, you do the mature thing, much like she did.

You storm to the front of the stall and bang on the door, "Natalie?!" You call out, voice slightly shaky at the idea that it might not be her after all. 

A long, tense moment of silence passes after you speak, save for the sound of water hitting the tiles below. You start to panic, worrying that you really did just knock on a stranger's shower stall, scaring the everliving shit out of—

"Are you fucking kidding me?" A voice, unmistakenly belonging to a certain Natalie Scatorccio, rings out over the sounds of the shower, "You couldn't fucking… wait until I wasn't fucking showering?!"

"You've been avoiding me!" You yell back, "What the fuck was I supposed to do? You haven't been showing up to class, you've been avoiding my calls… I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know!" She yells back, "Maybe wait for me to come to you when I'm ready to talk, ideally not when I'm in the fucking shower?!"

"Yeah, well…" You mutter, realising that… yeah… maybe this wasn't the best time, but you're already here! There's no backing down now! "That's not the point!" You eventually continue, "Why have you been avoiding me since Friday night?"

She doesn't respond for a long moment.

"Well?" You scoff, calling over the water, "Natalie? Are you gonna answer me—"

The stall door flings open, revealing a very naked and very wet Natalie Scatorccio.

Your jaw drops. Sure, you saw her naked during the night of the party, but this is much different. She looks very upset with your sudden appearance, and for a moment, when she draws her hand back, you worry she's about to clock you in the jaw. And, honestly? You'd probably deserve it.

What you aren't expecting, however, is her to grab the back of your head and mash your lips against hers, all tongue and teeth.

It's only a moment's hesitation before you return the kiss, and she's drawing you back into the shower stall. "We better be alone," Natalie murmurs, tugging your hoodie off and over your head as it begins to soak through. "I'm not about to have one of the girls walk in on this." 

"No, uh, yeah, we're alone." You stammer out, kicking off your shoes and pants, "I wouldn't have caused a scene if there were still people in here—"

"Good." Nat breathes out as she tugs you into the shower's spray, despite the fact you haven't even gotten the chance to remove your underwear yet. "Because I haven't been able to stop thinking about this." And her lips are back against yours, free hand immediately moving to find purchase between your thighs, fingers rubbing you through the damp fabric. (Which, you'll note, is now damp for more than one reason.) 

"Holy fuck—" A shaky exhale parts from your lips, your head falling back to hit the shower wall, one hand attempting to find some sort of grip on the wall while the other grasps uselessly at her wrist, "Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to you in the time we weren't talking?" You ask breathlessly, hips pushing into her hand.

"I spent a lot of time thinking about this." She murmurs, fingers pushing the soaked fabric aside and pushing two fingers through your slick folds, teasing the length of your slit for a few moments before she quickly sinks two fingers into the wet heat at the apex of your thighs.

"F-fuck—" A full-body shiver rakes through your form as your back arches off the wall, a shocked gasp leaving your lips once she starts fucking her fingers into you with reckless abandon. "Jesus Christ—" "You seem to be saying his name a lot. Last I checked, it's my fingers inside of you and not his." She says with a smug grin, resting her free hand on the wall next to your head. "Unless you got really religious in the past few days."

"Asshole." You grunt out, nails digging into her wrist as you desperately roll your hips against her hand, "You are knuckle deep inside me, and I'm not about to just start saying your full name—"

"No." She cuts you off, "But you could just say Natalie."

"That's not—" She cuts you off when she stretches you further with a third finger, and you're almost positive her wrist has to be cramping with the angle it's at, but she shows zero signs of stopping or slowing down. "—the point—" You stammer out, eyes screwing shut as squelching sounds from her fingers fucking your pussy manage just to be loud enough to be heard over the rush of water beating against the porcelain.  

"No, you're right. The point is that you shouldn't be thinking of anyone else while I'm the one inside of you."

If there was something you expected Nat to say, that was not it, but you can't help the way you clench around her fingers at the comment.

"Oh, shit." A low laugh spills from her throat, "You like that, huh? When I'm all possessive? Didn't realise you'd be into that sorta stuff."

"Fuck off." You mutter, "I've never heard you get possessive before. It's kinda hot."

"Yeah? Guess I'll have to keep that in mind." Her palm grinds hard into your clit as her fingers brush against that spot inside of you that has your hips bucking and losing the rhythm you had found. "Oh. That was a fun spot." Nat murmurs to herself, "I liked that. Let's do it again."

So, she does. She presses her fingers right against that spot with every flick of her wrist, and you can't help but wonder how the fuck she became so damn good at this when at times, it felt like she barely had two brain cells to rub together that night of the party—

Shit, you didn't even notice the fact she was trailing her lips along the hollow of your throat, tongue collecting the water that streams down your body from your face. "Nat—" You gasp when you feel her teeth bite at your jaw, "Shit—"

"Mm, yeah." You can feel her grin against your throat, "See? Knew you had it in you to say my name. Just needed some gentle encouragement, is all."

You can't even form coherent thoughts at this point. You aren't sure what turns you on more: doing this in a public place where anyone could walk in and hear the deplorable things currently transpiring, the fact that Nat seems to be eager to have you like this, the way her lips trace along your neck reverently, or her completely making you forget the whole reason you walked into the changing rooms to begin with.

Nat spends some time alternating between the stretch of three fingers and the ruthless pace of two, occasionally completely retracting her fingers in favour of circling your clit with the pads of her index and middle before sinking them back in.

"You, fuck, I'm close." You stammer out the next time she sinks her fingers back into the tight heat, "Don't fucking stop—"

She shakes her head against your neck, "Not stopping." A shaky exhale, and you start to feel her hips rolling against your thigh, "Not stopping until I feel you fucking come around my fingers."

Your eyes roll back into your head at the words that fall from her lips, and you find yourself gripping her arm again for support. "Oh, holy fuck, Natalie—"

With a stuttering movement of your hips against the heel of her palm, you find yourself crashing into a climax that you were not expecting to get right in the fucking changing rooms.

And, despite how you clench around her fingers and your knees buckle slightly, Nat doesn't even stop. Not for half a second. The crude sounds of her fingers fucking your spasming pussy at breakneck speed don't slow, and your head thrashes back and forth against the wall, "Nat, fuck, wait—"

"No." She hisses into the side of your neck, biting at the skin, "I'm not done yet."

Thank causes a broken groan to slip from your lips as her fingers press against that one spot over and over again to the point the edges of your vision start to turn fuzzy amid the ecstasy. "F-fuck, I just came—"

"I know." She growls out, fingers seemingly plunging in deeper to your tight heat with every thrust of her wrist, "And I want you to come again."

"Oh." You exhale, eyes screwing shut again, "Oh…"

Nat grins at your breathless sounds, "Yeah, baby. Like that." Three fingers, "Fuck, love how tight you feel around my fingers. How fucking wet you are for me." "We're, ah, in a shower. Of course, I'm wet—"

She bites down on your neck particularly harshly at your words, "Shut up. You know that isn't what I fucking meant."

"N-no, but it's funny—"

You barely even register it when Nat drops to her knees before you, bringing one of your legs over her shoulder, "God, shut up."

And, well, you don't get a chance to speak again before she's burying her face against your heat, fingers continuing in their harsh movements as her tongue attaches itself to your clit, swirling around and sucking at the nub.

One of your hands immediately finds itself tangled in her blonde hair, the other trying to hold your body up against the stall wall behind you, which proves… to be a hard enough task on its own, given that the walls are slick with water and smooth.

"Oh, fuck—" You hiss out, tugging slightly on her hair, "Shit, give me a second—"

Nat doesn't. She doesn't stop or slow, either. Hell, she doesn't even humour you with a response, just choosing to focus on her task at hand: making you come again.

It's slightly embarrassing how quickly you're right back on the precipice of an orgasm. You'd probably be mortified if you could form thoughts other than "yes" and "please."

You swear you can feel the way Nat smirks against you as she wraps her lips around your clit, creating a suction that has a full-body shudder raking through you and—

…

Even Nat has to stop for half a second when she feels you come again, less than a minute after the first one. "Fuck." She breathes out, looking up at you with her jaw slightly slack, fingers still buried inside of you. "Did you just…?"

Realistically, you could lie. But you get the feeling this is a hypothetical question.

"I… I told you I needed a second…" Comes your stammered response, "That's… I'm not… I don't… it's just…"

A dark chuckle leaves Nat's mouth as she removes your leg from her shoulder, ensuring you can stand properly before she rises back to her feet, "Mmn, I'm not mad. If anything, it's kinda flattering."

You scowl slightly at her, "What-whatever." 

You decide it's her turn, now. 

As fast as you can move without slipping on the tile, you pin Natalie to the wall in your place, lips finding her neck, tracing up the path of a water droplet with your tongue, then further up still until your lips are back on hers.

One of Nat's hands comes to rest on your shoulder, the other tangling itself into your hair as your kiss grows more and more heated. Although it's a little tricky to do with the slick walls, you spread her thighs slightly and press your knee up between them, encouraging her to grind down onto your leg. It's your turn to smirk now, finding some sort of pleasure in the way she immediately presses her pussy against you, hips rocking with urgency.

"Yeah," You grunt against her lips, "like that. Keep doing that." The blonde whimpers back, grinding herself faster, "Please." She breathes out, "I need more."

"What?" You chuckle, "Sorry, I didn't get that. Mind saying that again?"

She slaps your shoulder, "Stop being such a fucking tease, asshole. What do you want me to say? That I want your fingers inside of me?"

You grin, "Yeah. That works, actually." One of your hands runs down the flat of her stomach, two fingers run across her folds, not quite delving into the warmth between them. "But the begging is a little hot."

"I'm not going to beg." She immediately answers, "If you aren't gonna fuck me, I'll find someone else to do it."

Your jaw tenses immediately at the comment, and you aren't quite sure if it's jealousy or something else, but the very idea of that pisses you off to no end. "No the fuck you aren't." You hiss out, sinking your index and middle finger into her cunt without another word, earning you a keening sound. "I'm the only person doing this to you tonight."

"God, yes." She almost moans out the words, "Harder."

A scoff, but you oblige her anyway, turning two fingers to three and fucking them into her faster, grinding your palm into her as the digits move, and Nat doesn't think she's ever been more grateful for someone with long fingers.

She presses her tongue back against yours, using the hand that's tangled in your hair to guide your mouth where she wants it—against hers.

The press of your lips against yours makes the movements of your hand slow momentarily, but you quickly recover your speed when Nat tugs at the hair on the nape of your neck, reminding you that there's an end goal to this.

"Mm, my bad." You murmur, pressing a chaste kiss to the edge of her lips, "Your mouth is very distracting."

Nat rolls her eyes, "Yeah? Then maybe you should be somewhere it won't distract you." A half-grin twitches itself onto her lips, and the hand on your shoulder presses down, "On your knees, ideally."

"Just say you want me to eat you out." You lower yourself onto one knee, "Saying what you want is hot." Nat grins down at you and runs her fingers through your hair as you get down on your other knee, "Don't need to say what I want. You're already doing it."

You roll your eyes at her as you press some gentle kisses to her inner thighs, humming when she parts them for you. "Maybe." A small nip to the soft skin, "But I do enjoy you telling me what to do."

"Oh, yeah? What, you into being dominated?" She laughs lowly, "Interesting. I'll have to keep that in mind."

"You say that like you plan on doing this again." You take one of her legs and hoist it over your shoulder, pausing a beat, then taking the other leg and repeating the motion. "Do you plan on doing this again?" Nat gasps when you have her sit on your shoulders, fingers tightening in your hair, "Fuck, you keep pulling shit like this, and I just might keep doing it."

A grin graces your lips, "That so? Guess I'll have to keep you coming back." A chaste kiss to her clit, then you're delving your tongue into her cunt, greedily slurping at the wetness that's collected between her legs. 

Your fingers dig into the meat of her thighs, holding her against your face, encouraging her to squeeze your head like a goddamn watermelon. You could, quite honestly, die happy with your head where it is right now.

Nat is rolling her hips against your face, your nose brushing against her clit as your face remains buried in her pussy, obscene sounds echoing against the walls, and you aren't even sure when the shower clicked off, but you are aware that it makes the two of you much more audible.

You'd pull your head back to tell her or move one of your hands to swat at the button to turn the water back on, but you get the feeling she could care less how audible what's transpiring between the two of you is.

So, you try to put that into the back of your mind, letting the sounds of your mouth against her and Nat's broken gasps act as fuel for the way you fuck her with your tongue. 

It's a handful of minutes before her breathing becomes more stuttered, her grip on your hair starts to hurt slightly, and you don't think she would let you up for air if your face were literally turning blue, but that's okay.

In fact, it's more than okay, considering you feel her pussy pulsate around your tongue as a whimpering moan breaks from her throat, hips continuing to rock against your face for a few more seconds before ceasing. 

"Fuck." Her fingers run through your hair, as if serving an apology for the way she was tugging on it. "You're fucking good at that." You shoot a lazy grin up at her through between her thighs, which were effectively acting as earmuffs. "I aim to please. Happy that my goal was met."

Her head falls back against the wall as she laughs, "Yeah. Now, put me down."

"Mm, sure you can stand?" You tease, nipping at her thigh again.

"Positive, asshole." She rolls her eyes fondly, "Let me off."

A dramatic sigh parts from your lips, but you relent and help her get her feet back on the ground, "Fine, fine." You stand back at your full height, looking down at her slightly as you lean against the wall, "But I really wasn't done yet."

"Yeah, well, I was. I'm not in the mood to get caught by someone in here." She shoves your shoulder, causing you to take a step away from her. "We both got off."

You click your tongue, "Seriously? C'mon. Don't be like that…"

"We can get off more later."

"Oh?" You quirk an eyebrow, "That mean I'm coming back to your dorm?"

"Well. That was fun." Nat ignores the question, pushing off the wall and hitting the shower button again. "Now. I need to finish showering. You staying or leaving?"

You scoff, "Staying, I guess." You spare a glance down at your soaked clothes, "Gonna be soaked the whole walk home, anyway. Not in the mood for that walk."

She laughs deliciously, "Oh, trust me; if I have anything to say about it? You'll be soaked at home, too."

A beat. "And you said my dirty talk was terrible."

a/n: ok NOW crush act two part one next fr fr

[pepstarvanmoon]

I hope this doesn’t come off as me nitpicking Milkvan interactions, but these lines just comes off as odd to me.

In the show, leading up to the store scene, nothing Mike says or does regarding Max comes off as particularly jealous to me.

He gets upset with Max for taking El to the mall (not Max giving him a segway into complimenting her new style (which he does later), and he just gets mad at her instead lmao.)

He spends the beginning of the following episode pitying himself with Lucas enabling it.

“What did I do wrong?” - LIED, plain and simple. He acknowledged that before they went to the mall! El gave him a chance to explain yourself and he DIDN’T. Teenagers, man.

“Then I should be with my species more” - I guess implies spending more time with Max and her having no desire to get back with him. Mike is pissed about the spying (rightfully, imo), and obviously frustrated that him explaining himself didn’t lead to El forgiving him.

Max and El spending too much time in the bathroom, “they’re conspiring against me” - confused as to how he reached this conclusion given what we’ve seen. It’s like he just HAS to say something about it, nevermind El getting her shit tossed last episode. Listen to Will and worry about something else.

Bro is lowkey more mad about being single (and therefore ambiguously straight in Mike logic) than about El and Max being friends.

When he admits that he was jealous and wanted El “all to himself,” it sounds more like an excuse than an explanation.

We know what jealousy looks like in Stranger Things.

If anything, this “jealousy” is more closely aligned to how Dustin described Lucas’ jealousy of Mike and El’s relationship in season one.

I even tried to make an argument for Mike wanting El to himself minus the jealousy, but throughout the season it kinda fell flat.

Showing up late to movie nights (more than once) to hang out with El longer.

Ditching Dustin (the day of his return) and the others to spend more time together before El’s '4PM curfew' (a lie, ofc)

Maybe switch “conspiring” for excluding? Then you could argue he felt left out, like he’s not the closest to El anymore. However, the responses to his “conspiring” accusations were 100% negative.

(This could also play into how he felt getting stuck in the back of the car with Will, but that ventures outside the point of this post)

None of these are considered good things if Dustin, Lucas, and Will’s annoyance are considered, and Max going from “it’s romantic” to high-fiving El after she dumps Mike… yeah.

You can certainly say he’s frustrated. He’s never been in a relationship and therefore has never been broken up with, but Mike explains it like the reason he’s acting irrationally is because he’s 'never felt like this before'? But besides the whole ’Nana’ thing, that’s not really true?

Stupid stuff being 1) lying about his Nana being sick, 2) claiming girls are a different species.

Angry, sure. Jealous? Wanting her to yourself? Don’t make me laugh.

It’s all a bit hypocritical to me, too. So El can’t have ONE day out with Max, but Mike can run off with the rest of their friends while she’s stuck in Hopper’s cabin. Okay.

And, in this specific case, I don’t really buy the “she’s hiding from the government” excuse because it clearly wasn’t that big of a deal for El to have gone out that day. Mike’s concerns were brushed off, and there were no scenes with Hopper reinforcing that (we had our fill in S2 ig).

(I personally think they didn’t want any interruptions to that Elmax scene because it demonstrates how little El knows herself, and being cooped up by Hopper and Mike, though it’s sweet that they want to protect her, isn’t helping her developmental growth.)

Like damn if you really feel that strongly about it, you all could’ve had a movie night in the cabin, but Mike can’t balance his relationship and his friendships, and STILL can’t now!

Well, at least you got that part right.

(Post pretty much ends here. Rest of it is me rambling)

All of this relationship bullshit skydives out of Mike’s mind when Will gets upset btw. UNTIL he mentions girls, then Mike gets defensive.

That whole part of the rain fight gets to me, like Mike truly believes that this is a staple part of his life, getting a girlfriend and abandoning his interests. He can’t date El and play DnD, and if he’s dumped, his priority becomes getting her back instead of reflecting on what happened.

He proves he didn’t have a firm grasp on the situation when he victimizes himself, and when he actually admits to lying it doesn’t matter at that point. El already knows and DOESN’T CARE.

He’s really not confident. Lucas got a one-on-one, mirroring Mike and El’s, scene with Will to apologize, because the relationship drama is no longer important to him in that moment.

(I didn’t think Lumax broke up, but Will said in ep 3 that they both got dumped? Lucas seemed a lot less bothered, and by the time they got to the hospital scene they seemed fine lol. Lumax ‘breakups’ aren’t really taken as seriously anyway with the whole “five times” thing)

Funny how both apologies go unacknowledged because what’s done is done. They don’t care anymore (for Will, I don’t believe that for a second but yk) and there are bigger things to focus on.

It's brought back up in the hospital, but MIKE is the one who doesn’t care that much until El uses her powers on the vending machine as an “olive branch" (in Lucas' opinion, anyway).

I feel like there’s a lot to say about Mike and taking initiative versus when he has to be told to do something, but more on that another time.