#so i am TIRED and things are going much slower

[tangledinink]

*casey jones enters the set* *live studio audience applauds*

✩ the gemini ✩ [ start ] [ prev ] [ next ]

[moonfurthetemmie]

School kicked our asses today and kept us busy; sorry about not answering any of the H!DS asks

though maybe I should. say something before I go to bed NAJSJS

[dollyfiles]

stepbro!rafe sneaking into the hot tub with you during a family skitrip

cw: smut, stepcest (scroll if uncomfy), teasing, explicit language, use of the words “brother” & “sister”, fingering, sex in a hot tub, p in v, unprotected, doggy

the ski lodge was quiet. everyone else was asleep and the whole world was buried under deep white snow. you weren’t tired though, not really, but you needed to get out. everything felt too much under the watchful eyes of your dad and your new stepmom. you needed space, so you crept down the hallway barefoot, wrapped in nothing but a thin robe and your favorite black bikini.

the hot tub on the back deck was luckily still running, steam curling up into the cold night air. you let the robe slip off your shoulders, which landed in a soft puddle beside the tub. you slid in with a slow sigh, the warm water lapping at your chest, bubbles prickling up your skin. alone. exactly what you needed right now.

you sighed, the heat of the water engulfing you perfectly as your eyes began to close, until the big glass door slid open with a whoosh and you jolted. rafe stepped out onto the deck shirtless, wearing nothing but grey sweatpants and that shit eating smirk.

his hair was messy, still damp like he’d just showered, and his eyes dragged down your body without any ounce of shame. “well,” he said, voice low and amused, “i was wondering where you disappeared to.” you tilted your head, unbothered, though your pulse kicked as you watched him approach.

he stepped into the tub without asking, sinking into the water with a groan. the space between you two was small, deliberate. your leg bumped his under the surface, but you didn’t move it though, didn’t dare to. “i needed a break,” you said, glancing at him from beneath damp lashes. “the fake-family-vacay energy was killing me.”

“so you decided to come out here, in the middle of the night, looking like this, not expecting me to join you?” he asked, making you smirk. “hmm..maybe i did.” you saw tense up, eyes glued to your mouth now. “you know it’s fucked, right?” you blinked at him, slow and dangerous and it almost made him loose control. “what is?”

“this.” his gaze lingered, “you and me. our parents… upstairs. practically planning the wedding.” rafe sighed, frustration bubbling inside him. “yeah, i know,” you whispered, “and yet here you are.” he grinned then, feeling caught. his hand moved beneath the water, brushing your knee under the bubbles, “ya’ wanna stop me?” you inhaled sharply, trying to steady your voice. “no.”

rafe inched closer just a little, voice dropping as he was facing you fully now. “you shouldn’t look at me like that. don’t make me come out here, and watch you in this little fucking bikini, and act like you’re not begging for it.” you smiled, slow and sweet, then leaned in until your faces were inches apart. “and what if i am?”

that was all it took.

rafe surged forward, hand tangling in your wet hair, before he kissed you. it was hungry and hard, mouths crashing together like the tension had finally snapped. the water sloshed around you, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, bodies pressed together in the heat.

“god,” he muttered between kisses. “i’ve been going insane all week.” you gasped, nails digging into his skin. “you think you’re the only one?” he connected your lips again, slower now but deeper, his hands roaming under the water, all heat and sin and secret, and neither of you pretended to care anymore.

it should’ve been an innocent family trip, a trip meant to “bring everyone closer” before the wedding, but for you and rafe, things had already gotten too close. you weren’t siblings. not really. not by blood. but your parents were engaged. it was more than just wrong.

your back hit the smooth wall of the hot tub, breath catching in your throat as his body moved into yours. you didn’t move away. rafe didn’t want to either. his hand stayed in your hair, the other already ghosting under the surface, fingers trailing the inside of your thigh like he was playing with fire.

“you know,” he said, voice low and teasing, lips brushing the corner of your mouth, “you could’ve just said you wanted me. no need for the mysterious vanishing act.” you smirked, “you think everything i do is about you.”

“i’m right though, aren’t i?” you didn’t answer. instead, you slid your foot up his leg slowly, toes curling against his calf. “maybe i just wanted some time to relax without the family awkwardness. you crashing it is just… unfortunate.” his laugh was a low. “bullshit. you wanted me to find you. you’re the one practically naked in a tub looking at me like you want me to misbehave.”

you tilted your head, lips parting slightly. “and?” rafe groaned, his mouth crashing into yours, hand cupping your face as you kissed again, deep and messy, tongue sliding against yours in a way that made you whimper into his mouth. he was quick to move between your legs, slotting your bodies together under the water.

“we’re gonna get caught,” you breathed, gasping when he kissed down your jaw, nipping your soft skin. “someone could come down.”

“then be quiet,” he murmured against your neck. “think you can do that?” you shook your head. rafe grinned, sucking a mark just beneath your collarbone. “guess it’ll be really hard for you then.” his hand slowly made his way up your thigh, fingers brushing against the thin fabric of your bikini bottoms. you sucked in a breath at the contact, clutching the back of his neck. “ray…”

“wish i could feel how soaked you are right now, if it wasn’t for the fucking tub,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “shut up,” you whispered, cheeks flushed, but you didn’t stop him. not even close. he tugged the fabric aside slowly, fingers finding your soft folds beneath the water. you gasped, hips jerking against his hand as he started to tease you, rubbing slow, tight circles over your clit.

your fingers gripped his arm, head dropping back against the tub’s edge, mouth falling open. “fuuuck,” you moaned, barely holding it in. “you’re so fucking hot like this,” rafe muttered, watching your face. “all needy and squirmy. just for me.” you bit your lip, eyes fluttering.

“you’ve been thinking about this all trip, haven’t you?” still not forgetting to tease him. “every night.” his voice was rough now. “every time i saw you walking around in those little tank tops… no bra. you fucking wanted me to look.”

“you didn’t exactly try to hide it.” rafe chuckled in disbelief, “because you drive me crazy,” his fingers sliding lower. two of them pushed inside you with one smooth motion, and your whole body arched into him. “oh my god, ra—” he covered your mouth with his, swallowing the noise as he pumped his fingers into your needy cunt, curling them just right until you were grinding helplessly against his hand.

“you’re gonna cum just from my fingers, aren’t you?” he groaned, “just from being a little whore for your brother.” you nodded frantically, moaning into his kiss. you were just falling into the pleasure of his touch when he suddenly stopped, pulling his hand back.

you gasped, half a cry, eyes flying open. “what the fuck?” he leaned in close, licking his fingers slowly. “you wanna finish? then turn around.” your breath hitched. “rafe…” , but he was dead serious now. “i’m not playin’. i want you. right now. turn around before i lose what little control i have left.”

you hesitated, eyes raking over the big window front of the lodge. one second. two. but then you moved. slow and trembling, hands bracing on the edge of the tub as the water sloshed softly around you. rafe groaned, taking in the view of your ass barely covered by the fabric, back already arched for him, waiting.

“fuck,” he whispered, not wasting another second and pulling down his shorts just so his hard cock could spring free, lining himself up. “we are so screwed.” and then he slid into you.

you both gasped, your knuckles white against the edge, his hands gripping your plush hips, pulling you back onto him with a low, broken moan. he filled you inch by inch, slow and deep, and for a moment, you two didn’t move. just breathed.

“you okay?” he whispered despite the need to already move his hips, voice raw. “yeah,” you nodded, panting. “don’t stop.” so he didn’t. he started to thrust, slow and controlled at first, water rippling around you two as he fucked into you. your soft moans filled the air, breathy and desperate.

rafe leaned over you, one hand sliding up to grab your throat gently from behind. “you like being bad, don’t you?” he whispered. “letting your brother fuck you while our parents are sleeping upstairs.” you whimpered, nodding as he moved deeper. “no one else gets to touch you like this,” he growled. “only me. say it.”

“you,” you moaned out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he hit that particular spongy spot inside you. “only you.” he moved faster now, the water splashing, bodies colliding in heat and tension and utter recklessness. at this point it was more than obvious what you two were doing by just listening to the sound of skin slapping and muffled moans.

you were close. he could feel it in the way your body tightened under his hands—the way your breath caught, sharp and shaky, every time he moved just right. “gonna come for me like a good little sister?” he murmured, slow and taunting. “right here, where anyone could walk out and see you like this?” you whimpered, face glowing red at the thought.

you were trembling now, hips rolling against him, chasing every second of friction like you couldn’t help yourself. his hand slid down your stomach under the water, finding the exact spot of your clit again as if he knew your body like the back of his hand, and you choked on a moan, your whole body arching into him as he rubbed slow, perfect circles.

“come on,” he whispered, lips against your cheek, voice rough and dark. “let go. i wanna feel you lose it for me.” you bit your lip, eyes squeezed shut—and then you shattered. it was with a strangled gasp, body shuddering hard against him as you tried to stay quiet, biting your own arm to muffle the sound.

“good girl,” rafe murmured breathlessly, “so fucking good for me.” he followed seconds later, groaning into your shoulder, buried deep inside you as his hips stilled, covering your tight walls with his seed. you two just stayed there, panting, flushed, soaked in more than just hot water. your back pressed to his chest, body trembling in the water.

rafe kissed the curve of your shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around your waist like he didn’t want to let you go. but reality was creeping back in, sharp and sudden. “we should—” you whispered, voice hoarse and breathless. “yeah,” he said, equally quiet. “i know.” he moved slowly, carefully, pulling out of you beneath the water. you gasped softly at the sudden loss, hand reaching for his under the water out of instinct.

you both shifted, wordless, adjusting yourselves—tugging at soaked swimwear, trying to make it all look just a little less sinful. your bikini bottoms clung too tight to your skin now, and his drawstring was a mess. rafe leaned back against the side of the tub, dragging a hand through his wet hair, eyes flicking toward the house.

and then, suddenly a light upstairs..

tags: @inbred-eater @dearapril @isasweetie @beausling @rafecami @rafeysbrat @rafesangelita @drewsephrry @rafesbowbunny @rafessecret @littlelamy @sturn777 @bradshawed @cherrygirlfriend @trusweethrt @inspiredangel @whinyangel @et6rnalsun @luckycrys @bluemerakis @lacyydollette @nemesyaaa @bruisedfig @rafekisser @rafeysbangs @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @deansbeer @tinythebunni

[natsaffection]

Redline. Bonus 5.1 | N.R

Older!Motorsportboss!Natasha x Younger!Racing!Driver!Reader

Warnings: Mention of sex, feeling of replacement

Word count: 10,8k

A/n: I didn't think I'd type the title above ever again, but I'll have to do it a second time tomorrow, as there will be a second part..thank you so much ☀️ for this grandiose idea!!! Let's see if one of you finds the "mistake"/difference to the other parts..

The morning sun hadn’t even kissed the sky yet when your alarm buzzed quietly beside you. You silenced it with a quick swipe and glanced to your right. Natasha was curled up beneath the covers, her red hair spilling across the pillow in a rare moment of peace. Her breathing was soft, slow, even, and you took a second to soak it in.

You slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake her, and tiptoed across the suite to grab your gym bag. Your heart was already pumping, not just from excitement, but from something deeper, older. That itch in your chest that only the track could soothe. It was race season again. Time to put on the helmet and become who you really were.

The gym was empty, the way you liked it. No cameras. No agents. No engineers. Just the rhythmic hum of your breath and the burn of muscle as you pushed yourself through circuit after circuit, focusing on agility, reflexes, core strength. Every crunch, every punch, every bead of sweat was a promise you made to yourself, and to Natasha.

This season was going to be yours. Again.

By the time you stepped out of the shower, skin still tingling from the heat and heart pounding with post-workout adrenaline, you were practically vibrating. You wrapped a towel around yourself and padded back into the room, already mentally drafting a cheeky comment to wake Natasha with, something flirty, maybe teasing about her sleeping in while you were already hustling.

But the bed was empty. Still neatly made. A flicker of confusion passed through you. You checked your watch. Not that early..

You dressed quickly, tugging on a clean hoodie and joggers, and made your way down the hall to the team’s suite of offices. Most were still dark, except for one. Natasha’s. The door was open just a crack, enough to let the light spill out across the floor.

You approached slowly, the buzz in your veins dimming just a bit. Inside, Natasha sat behind her desk, eyes locked on her laptop, posture stiff. A dozen tabs were open on the monitor..data, driver analytics, telemetry charts. She didn’t look up right away when you stepped in. But you didn’t need to see her eyes to know something was off. You felt it, the way you feel a car start to slide just before the tires lose grip.

“Nat?” you said softly.

Natasha looked up, and her face didn’t match her usual morning calm. She had that tight look around her mouth, the one she wore when she was about to say something she didn’t want to.

“Hey. You’re up early.” Natasha said.

“I could say the same about you.” You leaned against the doorframe. “Didn’t expect to find you buried in data at six am.”

“I needed to get ahead of some things.” Natasha sat back in her chair, folding her arms. “Come in. Sit for a second.”

You blinked. That tone.

Not “I missed you.”

Not “How was your workout?”

Not even her clipped professional cadence.

Something else entirely. You crossed the room and sank into the chair opposite Natasha, studying her with narrowed eyes. “What’s going on?”

Natasha hesitated for a beat. Then she spoke.

“Willow Petrov.”

The name landed like a dropped wrench in a silent garage. Your brow furrowed. “From Formula 2?”

Natasha gave a short nod. “She’s twenty, Russian, ran with LunaTech last season. Three podiums. Got the best reaction time average in the pack. I’ve been watching her for a while.”

You tilted your head slowly. “Okay… why are we talking about her?”

Natasha exhaled. “She’s driving for us now. As your teammate.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. You blinked again, slower this time. Your brain raced to catch up, to reorganize the shape of your expectations. “What?”

“I signed her last night.” Natasha said, voice calm but unreadable. “It’ll be announced this afternoon.”

You stared at her. “I thought we were running solo again this season.”

“We were. But the board’s been pressuring for a second driver since last year. Sponsors too. We need more data from track simulations, better car-to-car telemetry feedback. And frankly, Willow’s too good to let go.”

A dozen thoughts flooded your head at once. You remembered Willow, bright, sharp, fearless. The type who cut corners like a knife and grinned at the podium like she belonged there, even when she didn’t win. A rookie, yes..but a talented one.

“She’s good.” you said slowly. “I’m not saying she isn’t. But this…changes things.”

“I know.”

“We have to split test runs, telemetry data, garage time. I’ll have to share my race engineer. She doesn’t know the car. Hell, she doesn’t know you. And I-”

Natasha stood then, walked around the desk, and crouched in front of you, placing a gentle hand on your knee. “Hey. Look at me.”

You did. “You are still my number one. On track. Off it. Nothing about that changes. But this team isn’t just about us anymore. It can’t be, if we want to grow. I need you to help me bring her in. Mentor her. Lead her.”

You searched Natasha’s face, heart twisting with something you didn’t want to name. Not jealousy. Not fear. Just..uncertainty.

“Can I think about it?” you asked quietly.

“You don’t have to decide anything. Just meet her. She’s arriving tomorrow.” You nodded slowly. Tomorrow. Everything was already changing.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur.

After the bombshell about Willow, you had thrown yourself into team meetings with a sort of sharp-edged focus, the kind Natasha had come to recognize over the months. When you were rattled, you didn’t fall apart, you doubled down. Your voice was steady during briefing, your analysis sharp as ever, but Natasha could feel the undercurrent. The quiet weight behind your eyes. The slightly-too-stiff posture. The questions that weren’t really about strategy.

Still, no one else in the room seemed to notice. To them, you were the reigning champion. The top driver of the Romanoff Racing team. Unshakeable.

Natasha knew better.

“Alright.” she said as they wrapped up for the day, clapping her hands once as the crew began dispersing. “Tomorrow we welcome Willow to the garage. I want everyone on their A-game. Let’s show her what a real team looks like.”

You didn’t speak as you gathered your notes. Just nodded and slipped your phone into your pocket. Natasha let you walk beside her in silence down the corridor, until you reached the private team garage, a sacred space for the two of you when the world felt too loud.

You finally spoke, voice quiet. “You think she’s ready?”

Natasha glanced at you. “She’s raw, but she’s smart. She’ll adjust. But she’s not you.”

You gave a tiny laugh under your breath. “That supposed to make me feel better?”

Natasha smiled faintly. “I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m telling you the truth, Y/n.”

Dinner that evening was something simple. Homemade pasta. Natasha had cooked, which in itself was a rare gesture, part apology, part grounding ritual. You sat on the couch, legs tangled under the blanket, eating straight from the bowls, a slow jazz record playing softly in the background.

You finally started to loosen. You leaned into Natasha’s side, head resting on her shoulder, chewing quietly.

“She’s going to ask questions about you.” you murmured after a long stretch of silence.

“She might.”

“You gonna tell her we’re together?”

“I’m going to tell her you’re my top driver.” Natasha said with a smirk. “Everything else, she’ll figure out the moment she sees us look at each other.”

You gave a small scoff. “You’re obnoxiously confident sometimes.”

Natasha pressed a kiss to your temple. “And you love it.”

Later that night, the apartment had gone quiet. Natasha had gone to wash up, and you stayed curled on the couch, hoodie pulled up over your head, the laptop balanced across your legs. The screen glowed softly in the dark, video after video, all the same subject.

Willow Petrov | Rising Star - F2 Highlights

Willow Petrov Onboard | Monaco Hairpin Dive

Willow Petrov: 2024 Season Recap

Her style was aggressive, but clean. No wasted movement. Calculated chaos. And she had this look behind the helmet, fierce, wide-eyed, maybe even a little reckless. She reminded you of yourself, once.

Too much.

So when Natasha padded back into the room, damp hair tied in a loose knot, wearing only a black tank and sweatpants, she paused in the doorway, smirking at the screen before speaking.

“You stalking your new teammate already?”

You startled, slammed the laptop shut too quickly. “I was just..researching.”

“Mm-hm.” Natasha crossed her arms, clearly entertained. “Researching. With that little frown and everything.”

“I’m not jealous..” you muttered, cheeks flushed. “I’m just…making sure I know what I’m working with.”

Natasha stepped forward, eyes gleaming as she knelt in front of you, resting her hands on your thighs. “It’s okay if you are. A little.”

You met her gaze, trying to hold it, trying to be cool. But something warm bloomed in your chest at how amused Natasha looked, like this was something endearing. Like you weren’t being ridiculous, but…cute.

“She’s not a threat.” Natasha said softly. “To your seat. To us.”

You swallowed. “I just don’t want to lose what we have.”

“You’re not going to.” Natasha’s voice was sure, low, steady. “You’re mine. On every track. In every city. In every way that matters. There’s no one else I want in that car..or in this bed.”

You looked down at her, and your voice was barely a whisper. “Promise?”

Natasha rose onto her knees, kissed you slow and deep, her hand slipping to the back of your neck. “I promise.” she murmured against your lips. And for the first time that day, you let yourself believe it.

The next morning came bright and early, sun slicing through the tall windows of the paddock hospitality suite like a blade. The team’s logo, sleek and minimal, black and red, gleamed from banners, transport trucks, even the espresso machine. A few engineers were already moving in the garage, prepping telemetry equipment and adjusting the simulator booth in the corner.

You stood just outside, arms folded, watching the driveway. You told yourself you weren’t nervous. You’d given track tours a dozen times. You’d welcomed new engineers, new sponsors, new assistants. You’d even done a handshake round with a crown prince once, back when Natasha’s team had first gone international.

But something about this one felt different. When the black car finally pulled up, you recognized her instantly. She practically bounced out, tiny compared to the hulking luggage she hauled behind her. She wore the team’s new windbreaker, sleeves a little too long, brown hair in a messy braid, and a smile stretched across her face like it had been glued there for hours.

Big eyes. Too much energy. Nervous as hell. You swallowed a smile and stepped forward. “You must be Willow.”

Willow straightened like she’d been caught doing something wrong. “Y-Yes! Hi!”

“Hi.” You offered your hand. “Welcome to Romanoff Racing.”

Willow shook it with both hands, her grip too eager, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Oh my God, I can’t believe this is real..” she said breathlessly. “I’ve been watching your races since I was fifteen, I mean, not in a creepy way, I just-God, that sounded creepy, didn’t it?”

You let out a short laugh. “You’re fine..” Willow blushed deeply, nodding rapidly.

Just then, Natasha stepped out from the garage, clipboard in hand, her presence commanding even in jeans and a fitted t-shirt. Willow visibly straightened again, as if she were back in military school. Natasha gave her a nod, eyes cool but not unkind.

“Willow. Good to have you with us.”

“Th-Thank you, Ms. Romanoff..” Willow stammered.

Natasha turned to you, that subtle look passing between you like a secret no one else could read. “I’ve got a strategy meeting with the core team. Think you can show her around?”

You nodded. “Sure.”

“Stick to pit lane, garage, and test paddock. Don’t take her near the media center yet. They don’t know we’ve signed her.” Natasha paused. “And for the love of God, don’t let her try to sit in your car.”

Willow blinked. “I would never- I mean, just looking! I swear!”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed again. Natasha smirked, kissed your cheek (subtle but intentional), and then disappeared into the garage.

Willow watched her go with wide eyes. “…She’s terrifying.”

“She’s not that bad.” you said, walking toward the pit entrance.

“She is. But like, in a powerful-boss-woman way.”

You shot her a glance. “She’s also my girlfriend.”

Willow froze. “Oh. Oh. Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean..I didn’t know you two were, um- wow. Cool. Very cool. That explains the…cheek kiss.”

You arched a brow, biting down a grin. “You okay?”

“Yeah!” Willow squeaked. “Just trying not to implode.”

The track was still quiet, only the faint sounds of drills and tires being moved echoing through the pit lane. You walked her through the various zones: the telemetry stations, tire warmers, pit boxes, the private rest pods hidden behind the main lounge.

Willow asked questions, so many questions. About the car’s brake bias system, about fuel management in wet conditions, about how the team handled your post-crash comeback. Her eyes sparkled with a thousand unspoken thoughts, and despite yourself, you started to like her. She was too earnest to hate.

You stopped just at the edge of the garage, where your race car stood under soft LED lights, its sleek chassis black with crimson accents.

Willow gasped. “Is that yours?”

You nodded. “Every piece of her.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She’s temperamental, high-maintenance, and will betray you the moment you relax.” You ran a hand across the wing. “But yeah. She’s mine.”

Willow stepped forward, a little reverent. “What’s it like? Sitting in her. That moment right before the lights go out?”

You turned to her, studying the rookie’s hopeful face. “It’s like…you disappear. And all that’s left is instinct. Speed. Survival.”

Willow looked down, serious now. “I don’t know if I’ll be good enough.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

“I thought I’d have more time..” she admitted. “To grow. To learn. And now I’m being dropped next to you. You’re a world champion. You’re her partner. What if I screw up?”

You softened. “You will.” you said simply. “We all do. But we get better. That’s how this works. Just don’t try to be me.”

Willow looked up, surprised. “Be you. That’s who she signed.”

Willow nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll try.”

You gave her a small smile. “That’s all you need to do.”

The tour ended as the midday sun baked the tarmac in a golden shimmer. Willow had talked nonstop for nearly an hour, and though you didn’t admit it out loud, the kid had started to grow on you. Somewhere between her overly enthusiastic obsession with brake cooling systems and the way her eyes lit up when they entered the data lab, you felt something unfamiliar settle in your chest.

Not irritation. Not jealousy. Something closer to nostalgia.

You returned to the garage, where the hum of the team buzzed around you like bees, techs checking tire pressure, interns typing rapidly, radios crackling between engineers. The pulse of the season was coming alive again, and you could feel it deep in your bones.

Natasha appeared just as you stepped back into the paddock. She’d changed into her track jacket, her red hair pulled back in a low ponytail, clipboard tucked under one arm. Her presence was casual, but commanding, as always.

“How’s the tour?” she asked, directing the question to Willow, though her eyes flicked briefly toward you.

Willow straightened again. “Incredible. I..I don’t even know how to process it all. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Natasha gave her a small smile, the kind that was rare and real. “Good. I like drivers who know how to appreciate where they are. But now it’s time to stop dreaming and start driving.”

Willow blinked. “Wait. N-Now?”

Natasha gestured toward the second car in the garage, sleek, matte gray, less tuned than your beast but still mean enough to roar.

“Nothing major. Just a few laps. Get the feel of the track. It’s different when it’s ours.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t waste any time, did you?”

Natasha smirked. “Neither do you.”

Willow looked between you, nervous again but clearly vibrating with excitement. “I- yes. Absolutely. Thank you, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Call me Natasha when we’re not in front of sponsors.” she said, turning to toss her clipboard on the table. “Suit up. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Within twenty minutes, Willow was in the car. The Romanoff test track wasn’t part of any international circuit. It was private land, built with obsessive precision, modeled after the most complex corners of Monaco, Silverstone, and Spa, all folded into a brutal loop of tight chicanes, high-speed straights, and elevation changes that punished hesitation.

It wasn’t a track for rookies.

You stood with your arms crossed beside Natasha at the observation deck just above pit lane, watching the camera feed light up as the car pulled from the garage.

“She looks scared.” you said.

“She should be.” Natasha replied. “Fear keeps your hands steady.”

The engine roared to life and Willow was off, taking the first few laps with visible caution. Corners were wide, braking early, no aggressive downshifts. You leaned against the railing, unimpressed.

“She’s holding back.”

“She’s learning the rhythm.” Natasha said, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Watch.”

You did. And after lap three, something shifted. The lines tightened. Her timing smoothed. She stopped dancing around the turns and started slicing through them. Lap four, she nailed the uphill chicane without touching the apex rumble strip. On five, she drifted wide just enough to preserve tire heat without compromising the downforce.

Your brow furrowed. “…Huh.”

Natasha’s smile was faint, knowing. “She’s good.”

“She’s very good.”

You watched in silence as Willow pushed through another two laps, faster each time. Still not elite, but promising. Focused. Hungry. She cut the final corner too sharp on the last run and skidded slightly, catching herself at the edge of the gravel. She brought the car in after that, helmeted head turning as she entered the garage and coasted to a stop.

When the engine went quiet, you let out a low breath. “…Okay,” you muttered. “That can’t go unanswered.”

Natasha turned. “Oh?”

Your smile grew slowly. “Give me ten minutes and my girl back in the paddock.”

“You want to race her?”

You turned to her, eyes gleaming with challenge. “You wanted her tested. Let’s see how she handles the heat.”

Natasha considered you for a beat, then nodded.

“Don’t go easy on her.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

Ten minutes later, you were back in your suit. Helmet in hand. Every step toward the car felt like slipping back into a second skin. The hum of the garage faded. Everything outside the cockpit was background noise.

As you lowered yourself into the car, you glanced toward Willow, who was standing by the pit wall, helmet still on, clearly unsure whether to be thrilled or terrified. You gave her a thumbs-up before the visor came down.

And then, the track swallowed you. Willow took the lead on the first lap, you let her. Let her feel that taste of control, let her believe for a second she had the upper hand.

But by lap two, you were tightening the gap. By three, you were on her tail, reading every line she chose, every hesitation. On the fourth lap, as you hit the blind uphill switchback, you saw your chance.

You dove in, late brake, tighter line, a calculated brush that skirted legality, and took the inside.

Willow blinked. Hesitated. That was all you needed. From then on, it wasn’t even a contest. The next lap was yours, sharp, precise, and punishing. Your car became an extension of your body. Every muscle aligned with purpose. You were wind and fire, all instinct and fury, tearing up the track to prove one thing:

You still had it.

And by the time you crossed the line, your car a full second ahead, the point had been made loud and clear. When you pulled back into the garage, engines cooling with the ticking sound of victory, you climbed out, removed your helmet, and walked toward Willow, whose face was flushed behind her visor.

She flipped it up slowly.

“…Holy shit..” Willow whispered.

You smirked. “Welcome to the big leagues.”

Natasha joined you then, arms folded, the ghost of a grin tugging at her lips. “I think that counts as your initiation.”

Willow looked between you, still catching her breath. “I want to be that good.”

“You will be.” you said, slapping her lightly on the shoulder. “Just not today.”

As the sun dipped behind the track’s final corner, casting long shadows across the asphalt, Natasha’s voice cut through softly, “Looks like I’ve got two monsters on my team now.”

You looked over, and for the first time since the rookie’s name was mentioned, you smiled without reservation.

“Yeah.” you said. “But only one queen.”

——

It had been six days since the race. Six days since you smoked Willow on the track. Six days since the rookie came off the tarmac breathless and wide-eyed like she’d touched fire, and wanted more.

Since then, the team had shifted into full gear. Training simulations. PR meetings. Car telemetry reworks. Everyone was running on caffeine, deadlines, and pit-lane adrenaline. And somewhere in the chaos, you started to feel it:

Distance.

At first, it was small. A skipped coffee. A missed debrief. Natasha pulling Willow aside in the garage, gesturing with that intense, low tone she always used when she wanted to build a driver up from the inside out. You had heard it before. You remembered how rare it was to be spoken to like that.

Now you watched it from a distance. On the fourth day, you showed up early for simulator drills, but Natasha had already booked Willow in your slot. No heads-up. Just a polite nod from the tech.

“Romanoff said to prioritize rookie reflex calibration..” he mumbled.

You had just nodded and turned away, jaw tight. You weren’t the rookie anymore. You weren’t the rescue project. You were the reigning world champion. And somehow, you felt completely invisible.

That night, the compound was unusually quiet. The rest of the team had gone out for a media dinner, but you had passed. Natasha hadn’t even asked if you were coming, she’d assumed you weren’t, too caught up talking setups with Willow, who had practically bounced through the garage all day with her notebook and never-ending questions.

You stood alone now in the garage, long after the rest had left, staring at your car in the low lights. Just you and the beast. The car didn’t judge. The car didn’t compare. You ran your hand across the edge of the carbon fiber bodywork, fingertips ghosting over the Romanoff logo near the cockpit.

How many times had this car saved you? How many times had Natasha? And now it felt like none of it was enough.

A sharp click of heels on the concrete behind you broke the silence. You didn’t turn.

“I figured I’d find you here.” Natasha said quietly.

You swallowed. “Thought you had dinner with the prodigy.”

Natasha approached slowly, a slight edge of confusion in her voice. “Willow went with the tech crew. I was looking for you.”

“You’ve been doing a lot of looking lately.” you said, the words out before you could stop them.

Natasha paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You finally turned to face her. “You tell me. You’ve been glued to her since the day she arrived. Training, testing, feedback loops, hell, you even rearranged my sim time.”

“That wasn’t personal, baby.” Natasha said. “She needs the hours.”

“And I don’t?”

“You’re already a world champion.”

“Right..” you snapped, stepping back. “So now I’m just the legacy act? The girl who came broken, who got rebuilt, but isn’t new enough or shiny enough to get your attention anymore?”

Natasha’s face hardened. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” You laughed, but it wasn’t funny. “You didn’t have to fight for her. You didn’t have to convince her to stay when her nightmares made her puke at night. You didn’t hold her hand when she spun out and started screaming because she thought she was flying into a wall again. She came ready-made. Clean slate. Untouched.”

Natasha flinched, subtle, but it was there. “I never saw you smile at me like that, back then.”

“You mean when you didn’t trust anyone and couldn’t look me in the eye?” Natasha’s voice was low now. Dangerous. “Don’t rewrite history just because it hurts.”

Your breath caught. You stared at each other for a long moment. Everything in your chest was burning, shame, longing, fear. You hated how small you felt. How much you cared.

“I know what this is..” you said quietly. “She’s the driver you always wanted.”

Natasha stepped forward, firm. “Stop it.”

“She is.” you insisted, voice cracking. “No damage. No baggage. You didn’t have to rebuild her. You just got to mold her. And I-“

“You were never a project to me.”

“You say that, but it’s starting to feel like I was.”

The silence between you was deafening. Natasha took a breath, slow, deliberate. “Do you really think I love you because I had to?”

You didn’t answer, and natasha’s expression softened, less sharp, more raw. “I love you because you fought. Because you refused to stay down when every bone in your body told you to quit. I love the way you clawed your way back to the wheel, even when no one else believed in you. That’s not pity. That’s admiration.”

“Then why does it feel like you’ve forgotten I’m still here?” you whispered.

Natasha looked stunned, just for a second. Then she reached out, gently, cupping your face. Her thumbs brushed your cheeks, you hadn’t realized you’d been crying until then.

“I haven’t forgotten you, Y/n.” Natasha murmured. “I’ve been looking at you every day and thinking: God, she’s still the fire I fell for. But I didn’t realize you were feeling this.”

“I didn’t either..” you said, your voice hoarse. “Not until she showed up and you stopped seeing me the way you used to.”

Natasha shook her head. “No. I see you. I always see you. You just started turning away.”

You closed your eyes. You wanted to believe her. Wanted to let it go. But the doubt sat heavy in your gut like lead.

“You need to tell me when I miss something.” Natasha said, pulling you in closer. “Not when it’s too late. Not when you’ve already built a story in your head.”

You rested your forehead against hers. “She’s good.”

“She is.”

“But I’m still better.”

Natasha smiled. “Goddamn right, you are.”

A beat passed. Then you added, quietly, “But I still needed to hear it.”

Natasha kissed you then, slow, grounding, a promise sealed without words. And for the first time in days, you let yourself believe that you weren’t being replaced. You were still the heart of this team. Still hers.

——

The press tent was larger than usual, elevated seating for journalists, polished banners on either side of the platform, and every camera lens locked in with laser precision. The Romanoff Racing emblem hovered on every backdrop, flanked by the logos of their newest sponsors. A gentle buzz filled the air, expectation, speculation, heat from the lights.

And at the center of it all: Natasha.

She walked onto the stage like she owned it, because, in a way, she still does. Her tailored black blazer, fitted white blouse, and subtle smile made her look every bit the icon. Calculated cool. Controlled grace. She stood at the mic with the same poise she showed when strategizing before a stormy Grand Prix.

“Ladies and gentlemen..” she began, her voice even, but firm. “Thank you for joining us today. As most of you know, Romanoff Racing is entering its fifth season on the circuit. We’ve broken records, rewritten what a comeback can look like, thanks in large part to our champion, Y/n.”

There was a small wave of applause, and backstage, you exhaled slowly as the spotlight grazed you for a moment, just enough to burn.

“But this year..” Natasha continued, “we’re growing. I’ve made the decision to bring in a second driver. A rising star. Someone with the kind of raw instinct and racing spirit I haven’t seen in a long time.”

A pause. “Please welcome our new official team driver: Willow Petrov.”

The tent erupted. Cameras flashed wildly as Willow stepped onto the stage, her team jacket pressed and spotless, her blonde braid tucked neatly under a Romanoff Racing cap. Her cheeks were pink from nerves, but she beamed like a kid on Christmas. There was no hiding her awe.

She took her place beside Natasha and gave the mic a nervous glance before speaking. “It’s… honestly insane to be here. I used to watch her replays on YouTube between my F2 races..” she admitted with a laugh. “and now I’m wearing the same patch. I’m here to learn, grow, and drive my heart out for this team.”

Natasha smiled, laying a subtle hand on Willow’s shoulder as she guided her back a step. Then came the volley of questions, standard press fare at first, then sharper, messier.

“Natasha, was this a long-term plan to bring in new blood?”

“Willow, do you feel pressure being compared to a world champion teammate?”

“Y/n, how does it feel to share the spotlight after carrying the team solo for so long?”

That last one hit. You, seated now beside Willow and Natasha, leaned forward to the mic. Your smile was tight, practiced.

“We’re not here to compete with each other. We’re here to win, together. That’s what matters.”

A professional answer. Unshakable. But inside, something twisted. You watched as Natasha angled slightly toward Willow during the Q&A. A nod here, a subtle prompt there, encouraging. Guiding.

The same way she used to do with you. You didn’t even realize you were clenching your fist under the table until Willow’s elbow bumped you gently.

“You good?” Willow whispered, low enough the mics wouldn’t catch it.

You blinked and looked at her. The girl’s big blue eyes were full of concern, not competition.

And for a moment, you felt bad for being annoyed with her. “Yeah.” you murmured back. “Just waiting for the fun part.”

After the conference, you were ushered outside for the official media line, step-and-repeat photos, handshake shots, and a trio pose in front of the new car prototype. You had done this a hundred times. You knew how to stand. Where to smile. When to tilt your chin for that ‘effortless confidence’ angle.

But today, it all felt tight around the edges. “Okay, Natasha in the middle, Y/n on the left, Willow on the right..perfect!” one of the PR reps called out.

Flashbulbs exploded. Willow grinned wide, clearly new to the pressure but trying her best to keep up. Her hand hovered awkwardly near your back, unsure if she was supposed to pose with you or not.

You glanced at her. Then, with a tiny sigh, you reached out and gently pulled Willow a little closer.

“Relax..”you muttered. “We’re not enemies. We’re just expensive mannequins right now.”

Willow laughed, nervous but grateful. “You’re kind of intimidating, you know that?”

You raised a brow. “Me? You’re the one everyone’s calling the future of Romanoff Racing.”

Willow looked over at you, more seriously now. “Maybe. But you’re the heart of it.”

That stung in a way you didn’t expect. You weren’t sure if it was pity, or admiration, or just awkward honesty, but it cut through the noise.

More flashes. Another angle. Another forced smile. Then Natasha stepped between you for a tighter photo, resting a hand on each of your backs. The press roared, headlines already forming.

“The Queen, the Champion, and the Prodigy.”

You tried not to flinch at the way Natasha’s hand lingered slightly longer on Willow’s shoulder than yours. Tried not to let your smile falter. Tried not to think about how much had changed..and how fast.

Later, when the crowd had cleared and the cameras were packed away, you stayed behind in the now-empty paddock, hands stuffed in your pockets, sunglasses still on. Natasha found you there, leaning against one of the sponsor walls, staring at nothing.

“You did good.” Natasha said softly. “Held your own.”

You gave a small shrug. “I’ve had practice.”

There was a beat of silence. “You looked like you wanted to be anywhere but next to me up there.”

You turned toward her, finally taking the shades off. Your eyes were tired. Honest. “I just miss when I didn’t have to share you.”

Natasha didn’t smile. She didn’t lecture. She just stepped forward and took your hand. “You don’t have to share what we have. But you do have to trust it.”

“I’m trying..” you whispered. “But every time you look at her like she’s something special, I wonder if I’m just…fading.”

“You’re not fading.” Natasha said, her voice low and firm. “You’re shining. And the only reason I even brought her in was because I wanted to protect you. Give you someone beside you on the road. Not behind. Not in front. Beside.”

You closed your eyes, leaned into her touch. It still hurt. But at least now you knew: You weren’t invisible.

Not yet.

The week leading up to the race had been relentless. Training drills. Lap simulations. PR follow-ups. Tire compound testing. A new aero package install that barely made it past Friday’s technical inspection.

And somewhere in between, you had started sleeping with one arm under your pillow and one hand curled into a fist, like you were bracing for something you couldn’t quite name.

Willow, for her part, had thrown herself into the grind with youthful fire, running morning laps in the rain, asking the race engineers questions until midnight, sipping black coffee like it was a secret weapon. Her natural instincts were beginning to polish into something sharper. More refined. You noticed. And for the first time, you stopped feeling jealous, and started feeling hungry.

The qualifying day sun was harsh and dry, high in a cloudless sky, beating down on the Romanoff Racing paddock like a spotlight that wouldn’t turn off. The air shimmered with heatwaves above the tarmac. Cameras hovered, drones buzzed, and pit crews moved like silent machines around their cars.

This was it. Solo time trials. No traffic. No slipstreams. Just driver vs. track, one at a time. Every corner counted. Every tenth of a second was a kingmaker, or a curse.

The starting order for the qualifying runs had been drawn the night before. Willow would go out first for Romanoff Racing. You would go last.

The reigning champion. The final roar.

Inside the garage, Willow paced back and forth in her suit, her gloves half-on, eyes bouncing between her race engineer and Natasha. The kid was wired like a live wire, bouncing with nerves, soaking in every word Natasha fed her through the headset mic.

You sat on a stool in the corner, helmet in your lap, one leg crossed over the other, quiet and observant. You weren’t jealous, not really.. But there was a grating sound in your head you couldn’t turn off. Natasha’s voice. Gentle. Encouraging. Proud.

“Take a clean line through 11, watch the outside rumble. Brake later if the tires warm fast enough.”

“Like that. That’s the right read.”

“Trust your gut, don’t overthink the apex.”

You ground your jaw. You used to hear those words. Back when you needed them. Now, you didn’t get so much as a nod.

Willow stepped into the car and rolled onto the track. The garage emptied to the pit wall, where engineers stood with headsets, telemetry readouts glowing. Natasha followed, slipping on her shades like she was watching her personal investment roll into orbit.

You didn’t go with them. You stayed in the shade. Then you stood up, pulled your cap low, and walked. Elsewhere on the paddock, the atmosphere was different, less rigid, more relaxed. Some of the other drivers were lounging under the sponsor tents, sipping water, exchanging banter, or pretending not to care.

You wandered near the corner where some of the lesser-known, but fast, independent drivers hung out. Guys from underground teams. Not rookies, not legends..just raw talent.

You leaned against a stack of tires, arms crossed, not saying much at first. “L/N, you going soft on us?” one of them joked, a smirking Frenchman named Jules. “You’re not watching your little protégé?”

You shrugged. “She’s not mine.”

“You saying that like it’s not already in the headlines..” someone else teased. “The Queen and the Kid. All eyes on Romanoff.”

Another chuckle. Then a quieter voice chimed in, “You hear about that circuit run? Off-record? Midnight, no cameras, real speed.”

You raised an eyebrow. The group shifted subtly, gauging your interest. You didn’t respond right away, but your gaze held. One of them, stocky, buzz cut, tattooed fingers, grinned. “What, the world champ thinking about getting her hands dirty?”

A few laughs. Someone leaned closer. “Wouldn’t that be something? You on a back-alley grid with the rest of us rats.”

You gave a lopsided smile. Didn’t confirm. Didn’t deny. But something about it thrilled you. The rawness. The danger. The lack of polish. No PR team. No pressure..

Just you and the car.

They saw that spark in you. And they liked it. You didn’t agree. But you didn’t shut it down either. And somewhere deep in your gut, the idea didn’t seem so far-fetched.

You walked back in just as Willow’s final lap flashed across the telemetry screen:

1:20.408

Gasps. Claps. A low cheer from the Romanoff Racing pit team.

P1. For now.

Your stomach dropped. Natasha turned to you, eyes bright behind her sunglasses. “She nailed it. Best lap of the day so far.”

You didn’t reply. Just reached for your gloves. Something in Natasha’s tone, maybe pride, maybe surprise..lit a fuse inside you.

Willow climbed out of the car moments later, flushed and beaming, helmet off and braid soaked in sweat.

“I think I blacked out during sector three.” she panted.

“You didn’t.” Natasha replied. “You just drove like you meant it.”

You met Willow’s eyes briefly. The girl still looked like she worshipped you. But that made it worse somehow. Because now you had to remind everyone who built this team’s legacy.

Your lap was up next.

You pulled on the helmet. Closed the visor. The world shrunk to engine hum and breath.

Radio check.

“Comms clear. You ready?”

“Always.”

“No overdrive early. Hold back on sector one, save the tires for the back half. We only need one clean lap. Not a death wish.”

You tightened your grip on the wheel.

“I’m not here to be clean. I’m here to be fast.”

Natasha didn’t reply. The light turned green, and you floored it. You took sector one tight, ignoring Natasha’s caution. The tires screamed at the high-speed curve through turn six. You leaned hard into the chicane, barely clipping the apex, riding the edge of the curbs with millimeter precision.

Sector two: near-perfect. You braked a split-second later than anyone else dared at turn eleven, kissing the wall on exit without losing speed.

Sector three: the fast zone. No brakes. Pure throttle. Pure fury.

You were flying. By the time you crossed the line, your final time flashed across the board:

1:19.774

Silence. Then a collective inhale from the pit. You sat in the car, helmet still on, staring ahead as the data streamed in.

P1.

Back in the garage, Natasha pulled off her headset slowly. The corner of her mouth lifted. “She’s still got fire.”

Willow watched the screen, eyes wide, but there was no bitterness. Only awe.

“She’s not human..” Willow whispered. “She’s art with an engine.” Natasha didn’t reply. But the look in her eyes said enough.

You returned minutes later, pulling off your helmet in one slow, deliberate motion. Your eyes met Natasha’s. Not smug. Not smiling..Just raw.

“I needed that..” you said quietly.

Natasha stepped closer. “You earned that.”

Willow came up beside you, flushed and panting. “I thought I had it…”

You gave her a glance. “You almost did.”

You stood there in silence, three women. First, second, and the one who saw both sides. For now, Romanoff Racing ruled the grid. But underneath the steel and sweat and smiles..Something else was brewing.

——

The hotel room was quiet.

Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sparkled under a velvet sky. Horns in the distance. Soft wind curling through the open slats of the terrace door. The whole world was moving, just not here.

Here, it was still. You lay on your side, facing the window, bare shoulders half-draped in sheets. Your hair still damp from a late shower, your mind still too full from the day. The numbers of your lap time looped in your head. 1:19.774.

A victory. But somehow, not enough. Behind you, Natasha was lying on her back, one arm tucked behind her head, the other resting near your spine. Not touching. Just there.

The silence between you was soft, not cold, but it carried weight. You don’t know how to speak the ache that lingered in your chest. The quiet, bitter curl of doubt that still whispered..

What if she doesn’t need me anymore?

Then, without warning, Natasha shifted. She reached, slow and deliberate, and pulled you gently onto her, guiding your body across her own like it was something she’d done a hundred times, and it was. Legs tangled. Hands at your waist. You blinked down at her, surprised.

“…What are you doing?”

Natasha looked up, eyes calm, steady. “Reminding you.”

You frowned, confused. “Of what?”

“That you don’t have to be scared.” Natasha said simply. “That I’m not going anywhere.”

You froze. Of course..Natasha’s fingers brushed your lower back, tracing the faint curve of your spine with absent reverence. “I know that look in your eyes..” she murmured. “The one you try to hide behind your helmet. The one that says ‘I’m slipping.’”

“I’m not-”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/n.”

You closed your mouth. Natasha’s voice softened, like velvet over steel. “You think because I’m proud of her, I’ve stopped being proud of you.”

“I know you are..” you whispered.

“Do you?”

You looked away. That silence told Natasha everything. She sat up slightly, pressing her forehead against yours. Her breath was warm. Her voice firm.

“You are not being replaced. Willow’s a driver. You are everything. You are the reason this team has a heartbeat. You are why I built this whole empire in the first place.”

Your throat tightened. “I just..sometimes I feel like-”

Natasha didn’t let you finish. She kissed you. Deep, slow, anchoring. And you melted into it, not because it was heat, but because it was home.

When Natasha rolled you fully beneath her, fingers trailing down your ribs, her mouth never left yours. Her touch wasn’t demanding, it was declarative.

You are mine. You are seen. You are still the fire.

You didn’t speak again. You didn’t need to.

The Next Morning – 6:48 AM

The car ride to the track was quiet in the front. Loud in the back. Natasha drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting easily against the center console. Her face was set, calm, already mentally halfway through the first ten laps.

In the rearview mirror, she watched you. Head against the window, music in your ears, hoodie up, one hand loosely gripping your phone in your lap. You weren’t asleep, but you weren’t here, either. Lost in thought. In routine. In preparation.

Natasha didn’t say anything. She just watched you. Softly. In the passenger seat, Willow was a whirlwind of motion. She had her phone out, snapping photos of the sunrise over the city skyline, the rows of transport trucks pulling into the paddock, the backs of race trailers covered in sponsor logos.

“God, this is insane!!” Willow muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “I can’t believe we’re really here..”

Natasha smirked faintly. “It’s always real at the first corner.”

Willow didn’t even flinch. “I’m ready.”

She meant it. Her excitement wasn’t childish anymore. It was focused. Sharpened. Natasha glanced at her, proud. Then back at the mirror.

Your gaze was on the road. But your fingers tapped once, almost in rhythm to Natasha’s signal light. A quiet acknowledgment.

The moment the car pulled into the underground entrance to the paddock, cameras began flashing. They hadn’t even stepped out yet.

Natasha cut the engine and sat for a beat. “You two know the drill.”

You pulled out your earbuds and tucked them into your pocket. Still silent, but sharp now. Willow adjusted her jacket and reached for her media pass lanyard.

“God, there’s already like fifty of them..” she muttered. Natasha stepped out first. The sound of shutters exploding hit instantly. Flashes. Voices. Shouts.

“ROMANOFF, OVER HERE!”

“WILLOW, SMILE FOR SKY SPORTS!”

“Y/N! ANY COMMENT ON THE RIVALRY?”

You followed, hoodie up, sunglasses on. No expression. Willow followed last, almost jumping at the barrage of attention, but she didn’t flinch. She smiled wide. Waved once.

They didn’t stop walking. They didn’t answer questions. The three of you moved in sync toward the garage, driver, driver, boss. And behind every flash, the story was writing itself:

“Romanoff Racing Arrives, One Team, Two Stars, All Eyes On Gold.”

But behind the headline, between the silences and the stolen glances, only one truth mattered: You were here. And you were ready to burn the track down.

You sat in your chair, arms folded, legs crossed. Your race suit was half-zipped, the sleeves knotted at your waist. Your face unreadable.

Willow was across from you, helmet on the table, bouncing her leg under the chair, nervous energy leaking through the edges of her focused expression.

Natasha stood at the head of the room, pointer in one hand, the other resting on the back of her chair. Not smiling. Not lecturing. Just speaking, measured and exact.

“We’re going soft-hard-medium. Staggered stops. Y/n, you’re opening with pace. I want a gap by lap 12.”

You nodded. “Copy.”

“Willow..” Natasha said, voice shifting subtly, “you’re staying with Costa and Wolfe. Buffer zone. You’re not chasing him, not unless I call for it.”

Willow’s brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t argue. “Understood.”

Natasha clicked a button. A screen lit up with a predictive sim. “There’s a 20% chance of light rain in sector three near the end. If it happens, we hold track position. No unnecessary battles.”

You tilted your head, watching her closely. This wasn’t her usual tone. There was something behind it. A stiffness. An uncertainty.

Minutes later, you sat in pole, visor down, surrounded by cameras and chaos. The air reeked of fuel and heat. A heartbeat pulsed under your palms, yours or the car’s, you didn’t know anymore.

“Y/n, final check. Comms clear?”

“Clear and ready.”

“Good. Watch your rear into turn three. Wolfe will try to dive late.”

“Let him try.”

“Willow, confirm comms.”

“Clear. Heart rate’s at 110. I’m breathing.”

“Good. Just survive the first five laps. The rest will come to you, okay?”

Your jaw twitched inside your helmet. There it was again..The tone-

Lights out.

The roar was immediate. Four-wide dive into the first corner. You took the inside clean, perfectly timed gear shift, shutting the door on Wolfe and Costa with ruthless precision.

By lap 2, you had already opened a 1.7 second lead.

Smooth. Surgical. Untouchable. Behind you, Willow stumbled. Turn six..wide. Lap four..too much brake into the chicane.

“Willow, pull it together. Reset your rhythm. Don’t chase, stabilize.”

“Copy. Sorry.”

Lap six, Willow found it again. She overtook Costa in a brave, inside line maneuver that nearly kissed the gravel. You heard the pit crew cheer. Natasha’s voice crackled with unexpected joy.

“That’s the fire. Keep it clean. Wolfe’s losing grip. You can take him in two.”

You grit your teeth. The car roared under you like a living thing, engine screaming at full tilt, tires gripping tarmac like claws on glass. You breathed slow. Measured. Intentional. Every part of you synced with the machine, the wheel, the brakes, the tiny flicks of balance that made or broke lap times.

You were leading. Clean start. Clean pace. Fastest lap by lap 11. Smooth as silk, precise as a scalpel. This race was yours.

In your rearview mirror, you saw Willow, P2 now, holding position. Not threatening, not faltering. Just…there. You didn’t think about her. You didn’t have time.

You thought about your line through turn 9, the slight understeer near the tunnel curve, the way your grip was softening on the softs with every corner carve. Your body was singing with focus. This was your world. And nothing, not the crowd, not the pit crew, not even Natasha’s voice, could shake it.

Until lap 34.

“Y/n. We’ve got a situation.”

“Talk to me.”

“Willow’s rear gearbox sensor is pinging. Possible instability. Data’s fluctuating. If Wolfe pushes DRS range and forces a brake duel, that casing could fail.”

You blinked through sweat. “Then pull her back.”

“No. We’re issuing a position swap. Now.”

Silence in your helmet. Your hands tightened on the wheel. What?

The wind outside felt louder. The engine scream thinned into white noise. “…No.”

“That’s not a request.”

“She won’t survive the lead! Not with a blown rear and Wolfe charging!”

Natasha was more cold this time,

“And she definitely won’t if she doesn’t have a wall behind her.”

“I am the wall, Natasha! Let me hold the front. Let me finish this.”

Another beat of silence. Then..

“Y/n. Position. Swap. Now. You protect her or she crashes out. Those are the only outcomes.”

Inside the garage, Natasha stood stiff at the pit wall, headset pressed tight, heart hammering harder than she’d admit. You hadn’t obeyed.

She stared at the live feed, your car just ahead, clean lines, perfect balance, but no sign of lifting. And Willow, driving beautifully, but unaware of just how fragile her car was, was still in second. Vulnerable.

Natasha knew what this was. This wasn’t disobedience. This was fear.

Not for Willow. For you. Letting someone pass when the win was in your hands? When every ounce of your soul knew you were better?

That wasn’t just sacrifice. That was surrender.

Your jaw was tight inside the helmet. Your heart hammered against your ribs, not from fear, but from fury. Your fingers ached on the wheel. Every instinct in you screamed to ignore the call.

This is your race. You built this team. You bled for this damn car.

But Natasha’s voice echoed in your mind, not just the words, but the way her tone had shifted. The ice. The command.

You didn’t want to listen. But Natasha wasn’t asking. She was telling.

You swore under your breath and eased off the throttle. Just enough, and Willow swept past you on the straight. The crowd screamed. The leaderboard updated.

P1: Willow Petrov

P2: You

And behind you, like a wolf in a storm, Wolfe loomed in P3. You gritted your teeth and dropped behind Willow, matching her pace, locking the line tight. If Wolfe tried anything now, he’d hit a wall of steel.

“Thank you.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Not without your voice cracking.

Final Laps

Willow held the front with everything she had. Her lines weren’t as perfect, her exits not as sharp, but they were enough. You buffered every corner, forced Wolfe wide, stole DRS range every time it threatened to open. You weren’t racing anymore. You were guarding.

Lap 39.

Lap 40.

The checkered flag waved. Willow crossed the line first. You followed, less than a second behind.

Back in the garage, Willow was pulled from the car by techs and PR and cameras. The first win of her Formula 1 career.

And you? You climbed out in silence. Helmet off. Sweat running down your neck. Eyes unreadable. You stood there beside the car, breathing hard, ignoring the cameras.

Across the garage, Natasha didn’t move. She just watched you. Not as a manager. Not even as a lover. But as a woman who had just asked someone she loved to let go of something sacred.

You walked past her. Didn’t stop. Didn’t look at her. Natasha reached for your hand, just a brush, but you pulled it away gently, and disappeared into the corridor.

Part 2

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[hoshbrownie]

neg in tags

[britcision]

By the way friends, since I am being reminded that summer is here and therefore so is the heat, here are some reminders for you lot too!

1) active cooling, like an AC, does require you to remove heat and vent it somewhere else.

Nothing that does not vent hot air outside is going to provide active cooling, like magically making your whole room immediately colder

Never believe an ad that tells you you can instantly cool your space without a visible heat vent to outside they are lying

2) passive cooling absolutely does not. It’s slower, has a smaller radius, and is in general less effective, but also requires less energy

Things like filling all your sinks/bath tubs with cold water (or ice water for preference) will provide passive cooling

(You may have heard the term “heat sink” if you’re a computer nerd. Basically, same thing - you put the heat in your cold thing, your cold thing heats up, everything else cools down)

Depending on your humidity, you can do a lot of passive cooling with water - there’s a reason it’s our natural default, but it does require humidity less than 80-90%

(Because you need the water to be able to evaporate and leave)

Ice is, of course, king; if you have a freezer, make as much as you can ahead of the heat wave and keep it in water-tight containers for refreezing

If you don’t have a freezer, hotels have ice machines usually right by the elevators. Clearly you have a very good friend you need to drop off a charger for in the nearest inattentive hotel. Bring big pockets. For the charger.

Also, freeze dish cloths or small towels if you can, by lightly dampening and applying ice. This kicks ass for heatstroke on the back of the neck, so do at least 2 to have one refreezing while you use the other

3) if you sweatin’, you need electrolytes. This is why we’re told they’re specifically for work outs, but the truth is they are for sweat, because you lose salt and shit when you sweat

Get that hydralyte, whatever, and if you can’t immediately get your hands on proper official electrolytes, toss a salt packet like they have at fast food restaurants in your water

Normal water ain’t gonna cut it when you’re a sweaty spaghetti you must be seasoned

If you touch your tongue to the salt and it is wicked delicious, you are probably dehydrated. Add an extra salt packet or two

4) defy purity culture and spread your legs

For real

You lose a lot of heat through your grundle, and keeping your legs closed will trap that heat in your body. Open up and feel the cooling

Also applicable for arms etc be a starfish

5) do not fucking use your oven. Don’t.

Big hot appliance makes big hot home. If you can only possibly cook via oven, do it at night when it’s coldest and you can maybe get some cooler air by opening windows

Use the bbq outside, the microwave, the stove top, the air fryer, anything but your goddamn oven, but honestly? Maybe eat cold food. You will be cooled down

Charcuterie boards comeback round 2?

6) basements are OP, and anywhere you can lie on cold cement kicks ass until all your joints get fucked on by the hard cement

Pretty good for keeping water cold though. Stick it on basement floor

7) hydrate or die-drate

Seriously, we talked about electrolytes and shit, but I mean it. Drink more than you usually would, even if that means smuggling extra water bottles to your local drinking fountains and fill em

If your pee is orange you are dehydrated as hell

You can also eat wet bitches like watermelons to rehydrate yourself, slorp up the juice and if anyone complains tell them it is vital for your health

8) shade! Bring your umbrella, bring Big Hat, fuck the sun it is the enemy you wanna have something between yourself and it while you rest

Sunscreen also good but you do not want your head in the sun for long periods because sunstroke is a bitch and will sneak up on your ass

9) furries I am sorry this one is for you you NEED a fan in the fursuit and you NEED to take it off if you get tired or wanna nap

NEVER fall asleep in your fursuit in the summer, ALWAYS be prepared to get outta it in a hurry, and bring triple water or have a planned water stop

Inflatable folks too you are wearing a dinosaur or a pikachu not fur but that is still a goddamn closed environment and will also cook you

Manual fan, electrical fan, water bottles, ice packs are required for safe summer fun and probably also a shirt inside so you can go into ice cream store

10) con goers, save yourselves $15 and go to a dollar store or local equivalent and buy a cheap folding fan before the con

Bring it to dealers or panels or just out for the day you can buy fans at the con usually but they are marked up because they know you need it

[andvys]

the edges of your soul (i haven’t seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter nine

⭐︎ Pull the trigger on the gun I gave you when we met

warnings: fluff, post apocalypse au, alcohol consumption, drinking game, mentions of sex, mentions of masturbation, mention of virginity, hurt/no comfort (i guess?), angst, sunshine x grumpy, jealousy jealousy jealousy

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: during a game of never have i ever you find out things you weren’t prepared for

word count: 9k+

authors note: i wrote this part in two days, that’s how excited i was to write it hehe. shoutout to @hellfire--cult as always 🤍 we came up with this chapter months ago and now it’s finally here! roe added the last bit aka THE PAINFUL ONE! I am so excited for the upcoming chapters hehe

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

The air is crisp. The wind is cold and harsher now than it was a few weeks ago. The first snow started falling about a week ago, making the journey a lot harder and slower, which isn’t in your favor at all. You want to go home sooner rather than later. You have already lost so much time, when you were alone and even now too. Your sickness slowed you down, slowed them down. 

You are much better now. The fever had gone down five days into your antibiotic treatment. Your cough is still there, not as strongly as it was before but it’s there. On top of that, you don’t perform as well as you used to before the sickness. You get tired quickly, your muscles get sore and you struggle to breathe. 

Nancy told you that it’s normal, that it might take a longer while for you to recover fully. Her brother Mike suffered for nearly two months after falling sick with pneumonia, carrying an inhaler with him at all times, just like you do too, now. 

It frustrates you a little, because now they all watch you like hawks to make sure that you are not moving around too much. You are not allowed to go on runs or scavenge areas, at least not until you’re healthy again. Steve is scavenging with Eddie now mostly, but today Nancy joined him instead, leaving you and Eddie to stand guard on the snowy parking lot. 

You don’t mind. You like spending time alone with Eddie, but you want to do something. Not being able to help is driving you crazy. 

You play with the hair tie around your wrist, the one that Steve left on you, the one you haven’t taken off yet because he told you to keep it when you tried to give it back. You didn’t question where he got it or whose it was. You have a hunch. 

“Fucking Nebraska.” Eddie murmurs as he leans against the side of the RV, looking up into the grey sky. 

“What’s wrong with Nebraska?” You ask, chuckling. 

Eddie shrugs at you, raising his axe, and he points all around at the snow. “That.” 

“Nebraska isn’t the only state that’s covered in snow right now, Eddie.” You smile in amusement. You rub your glove covered hands together as you turn your body towards him. 

He narrows his eyes at you, sighing loudly. 

“Yeah well, we should have been in uh… Wyoming, Idaho or freaking Utah by now but instead we’re stuck in this godforsaken state. I swear it’s only gonna bring us bad luck.” 

You furrow your eyebrows and giggle at him, shaking your head. 

“This state is really on your most hated list, huh?” 

Eddie scoffs as he turns to face you. His cheeks are red, his nose is too. His bottom lip is trembling from the cold. A few snowflakes adorn his curls. 

“Yup.” 

“Well… if it makes you feel any better… It took me a year to get to Indiana from New York,” you admit, shrugging. “Something always gets in the way. Just like now, if it isn’t the blocked roads then it’s the time we use for scavenging. If it isn’t that, then it’s the time we spend looking for gas… and if it isn’t that then… It's a sickness.” You sigh, looking down at your feet as you kick the snow on the ground. 

Eddie’s eyes soften. Sympathy flashes in them. You felt guilty for falling sick, for slowing them down, for being a ‘burden’ as you had called yourself. He felt a little angry for the way you talked about yourself, for the way you thought you had to apologize for not feeling well.  

A soft huff falls from his lips as he bumps his shoulder into yours. He reaches for your hand and gives it a tight squeeze. 

“Sweetheart, if you mention that one more time… I swear to Ozzy I will eat all your Kitkat’s.” 

Your dimples show when your lips curl into a smile. You shake your head at him, looking back into his eyes with a mean look on your face. You raise your hand up and point your finger at him. 

“Not my Kitkat’s.” You threaten, making him chuckle. 

Eddie grins at you. 

“Stop feeling guilty and I won’t steal your candy, Sweets. It’s simple.” He shrugs. 

You roll your eyes at him and he gasps at that, looking at you offended. He throws his hand to his chest and leans back. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me, Sunshine?” He asks shocked, using the nickname Steve calls you by. 

You shake your head at his act, giggling at his dramatics. You lean down and sink your hand into the snow, scooping some up into your hand. You move back up, smirking evilly at him before you throw it at his face. 

“You’re such a dork, Eddie Munson.” 

Another louder gasp falls from his lips when the coldness hits his skin and he stares at you bewildered. He brings his hand up to his face and wipes away the snow that is now stuck to his skin. 

You are slowly backing away, eyes glinting with amusement as you giggle loudly. 

“You did not just…” He glares at you, taking a step towards you. “You little witch.”

Your eyes widen when he leans down and scoops some snow onto his palm before he charges at you. A squeal falls from your lips as you turn around quickly, trying to run from him. 

“Oh, now you’re trying to run?” Eddie chuckles loudly behind you. “Don’t you wanna finish this little snowball fight?” 

“Nope!” You giggle loudly, hoping that Steve won’t come out of the store and catch you and Eddie running around like little kids. 

“Come here!” 

“Nuh uh!” 

You make the mistake of looking back at him, not controlling your steps like you should. Your foot catches onto ice under a layer of snow and you suddenly lose your balance, slipping on the ice with both feet. You try to steady yourself but to no avail, you are falling. Though you don’t feel the rough concrete underneath you like you were expecting. Instead you fall on something soft… well, softer than the concrete would have felt. 

“Oof…”

Only when you’re on the ground and you feel the arms around your waist and your head protected against a chest, do you realize that you didn’t fall on the ground because Eddie caught you and you landed on top of him instead while he took the fall for you both. 

“Ow…” He murmurs underneath you, grunting at the pain in his back. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble as the shock wears off and you quickly turn around to face him, not getting up just yet. Your eyes are wide and your face is serious, at least until you look at him and all the snow in his hair. 

You stare at each other in silence, breathing heavily. His lip twitches first and then yours follows suit. His eyes flash with amusement and before you know it, you both burst into laughter.

Tension falls off your shoulders. Tension you didn’t realize you even had. But this feels good, you can’t remember the last time you laughed. Especially like this, to the point of tears. 

“Goddamn, you’re a klutz,” Eddie laughs as he leans his head back into the snow, not caring anymore at this point. 

You shake your head, unable to stop the laughter that keeps falling from your lips. 

Eddie lets go of your waist and brings his hand up to your back, patting it softly. 

“Are you okay?” 

You bring your hand up to your face, wiping away the stray tear that escaped from your eyes. You nod at his question. 

“I had a safe fall,” you giggle before it gets cut off by a cough.

Eddie continues to pat your back. He presses his palm against the snowy ground and pushes himself up into a seating position, grunting a bit. You turn away from him and cough into your elbow, clenching your eyes shut. 

“Shit, Sweets.” He mumbles. “Do you need your inhaler?” 

You shake your head at him. Once you calm down, you press your hand against your chest and turn back to face him. Your eyes are a little glassy from all the coughing. 

Eddie’s eyes soften, he gives you a tight lipped smile as he pats your back one last time. 

“No laughing for you anymore, young lady.” He gives you a pointed look. 

You snort and roll your eyes. 

“Hey guys, we–” Steve halts in his tracks suddenly when he finds you on the ground with Eddie. His face falls and his eyes flash with confusion when he takes in the position you’re in – Eddie is sitting up on the ground while you are on top of him, in his lap. By the look on Eddie’s state, he knows you both must have slipped and fallen but how did you get to that point in the first place? And why is Eddie’s arm around your waist? 

He clenches his jaw without realizing it. The sourness inside of him spreads quickly, burning in his chest and taking over his whole body. He clenches his fists around the basket he is holding, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He stares at Eddie’s hand and how he places it on your hip. Eyes burning with anger. 

Steve doesn’t like this and he doesn’t even realize why. 

Your head snaps towards Steve and you frown at the look on his face. Before you even begin to question it, your eyes fall on the basket he is holding and curiosity gets the best of you. You carefully get off Eddie and place your feet back on the ground, accepting his hand that he offers to you. 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together strongly and the fire in him spreads further and up to his face, causing his cheeks to redden. 

You don’t notice but Eddie does, especially when he catches Steve watching how you help him up. How you remove the snow from his jacket and his cheek, making sure that he is clean again before you make your way towards him. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows in surprise, seeing the glare that is directed at him, the murderous gaze. If looks could kill, he would drop dead by now. If he didn’t consider Steve to be one of his best friends, he would have feared him right now. But Eddie only feels smugness and amusement. 

If jealousy had a name, it would be Steve Harrington. 

Eddie’s lip curls into a smirk, and he snickers under his breath. 

“This is too good,” he murmurs under his breath. He is gonna tease him. Oh yeah. He is gonna enjoy this one. 

“What’d you find?” You ask cheerfully as you make your way towards him, smiling brightly already. 

Steve looks away from Eddie and down at you. His eyes instantly soften when they meet yours. The sourness remains in his chest but something else spreads even quicker… warmth. 

You grab the edge of the basket with both hands and peek inside. Your smile falls and your eyes widen. A gasp of excitement falls from your lips when you catch sight of the knitted scarf. 

You look up at him, mustering up your best puppy eyes. 

“Can I have that one?” You plead. 

Steve’s heart skips a beat at the look on your face. Those eyes. He feels his knees falling weak every time you look at him like this. 

He swallows the growing lump in his throat and he nods. 

He almost wants to laugh at your question though. He spent fifteen minutes picking out a scarf for you. He didn’t want just any one. He grabbed the pink one at first before he caught sight of this one. He was unaware of Nancy’s smug face. 

“I picked it out for you.” He mumbles, lip curling upwards when your wide eyes meet his again. 

“You did!?” You nearly squeal as you grab it from the basket, jumping on your feet slightly as you wrap it around yourself. 

Steve’s eyes sparkle as he takes in the pure happiness on your features, all because of a pastel yellow colored scarf. 

“How’d you know this was my favorite color?” You ask, feeling the fluttering of your heart so strongly at this moment, especially when you look into his hazel eyes. 

Steve feels caught and he sinks into himself a little. Heat creeps up to his cheeks and he grows flustered… embarrassed. He clears his throat, shifting from one foot to another. 

He clears his throat, wanting to punch Eddie now more than ever as he catches sight of the smug bastard in the back. 

“I honestly didn’t know… I– I just… remembered you said you had a sunflower field behind your house, so I thought…” he trails off and looks back down into your eyes. They are sparkling for him. Your smile is wider than it was in weeks. You’re happy. “Good to know, though…”

Your heart skips a beat, and your stomach flutters wildly. He remembered your sunflower field? You told him that in the very beginning, when he didn’t even talk back much, when you just rambled his ear off. You didn’t even think he listened to you, let alone remember what you talked about to him. 

“Thank you so much, Stevie!” You smile widely as you take a step closer to him. You rise to your tippy toes and grab onto his shoulder as you press your lips to his cheek, pecking it softly. 

Steve freezes. He tenses up. Not because he didn’t like it but because he did. He liked it. He liked the feeling of your lips on his skin. A little too much. 

You pull away and brush past him when you notice Nancy coming out of the store, carrying two bags. You leave him standing with glowing cheeks. 

The need to escape takes over and despite feeling like his feet are glued to the ground, he forces himself to make his way towards the RV, ignoring the racing in his chest. 

He walks past Eddie but not without sending a glare towards him. He reaches into the basket, and picks out the grey beanie, throwing it at the metalhead without a single word. 

Eddie catches it before it hits him in the face. A loud snicker falls from his mouth when he realizes why Steve is so salty and why his cheeks are like the color of a ripe tomato. He follows him. Of course he does. Eddie sees the perfect opportunity. 

“Thanks for that, man.” Eddie holds up the beanie. 

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Steve grumbles under his breath. He throws the door open to the RV and steps inside. Dropping the basket on the table, he starts taking out the cans of food he found and starts stacking them up in the cabinets. 

Eddie leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“What were you two doing out there?” Steve asks after two minutes of silence. 

“Had a little snowball fight.” That is an exaggeration, and he knows it, but he wants to see Steve’s reaction. “And then we fell.” 

Eddie can’t see his face. Steve’s back is turned to him as he fills up the cabinets. Though he can see how he tenses up and falters a little. 

“Right…” Steve scoffs. “She fell on your lap?” 

There it is. Eddie is surprised; that was quick. 

He doesn’t bother hiding his snickering. He pushes himself off the wall and moves up beside him, tilting his head at the former jock. He smiles smugly when he sees the clenched jaw. 

“Is that jealousy, Big Boy?” 

Steve narrows his eyes at him. He grips the edges of the counter and slowly turns to face him. 

“I’m just…–”

“You’re just what, Steve? Jealous?” Eddie cackles, enjoying this far more than he should. He raises his hand up and places it on Steve’s chest, patting it roughly. “Don’t worry, man. She is all yours, I promise.” 

Steve huffs and he shakes his head, opening his mouth to speak. 

“Yellow is her favorite color huh? I didn’t know that. You didn’t either, she didn’t even tell you–”

“Stop.” Steve sighs. He brings his hand up to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. The tension in his shoulders rises when he realizes the weight of Eddie’s words. Deep down he knows he is right, he knows it. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to admit it. He fears it. He can’t have those feelings. He can’t allow himself to care more than he does right now. He knows where this will end – how it almost ended a few weeks ago. If he allows these feelings, if he lets them out only for something to happen… he will never recover. 

The smug look on Eddie’s face falls when he realizes the seriousness of this situation as he reads the look on his face. 

Steve is holding back. He is holding back out of fear, not realizing that this could potentially make everything so much worse. 

“Steve…” Eddie sighs as his hand moves to grip his shoulder. “I know what you’re trying to do here–”

“Don’t.” Steve warns him. Like he doesn’t want to hear it, like he doesn’t want to even consider his words. “Just don’t, Munson.” 

He couldn’t even finish the sentence. He couldn’t even utter a single word and it frustrated him a little but he also understands it. 

“Fine…” Eddie sighs, and he lets his hand fall back to his side. 

Steve takes a deep breath. He runs his fingers through the mess of his head. His hair got so long in the past few months. The past self of him would be mortified at the sight of him now. 

Steve glances at Eddie. He can’t stand the sympathetic look in his dark eyes. He doesn’t want to be pitied. 

“You know what you need–”

Steve rolls his eyes and he pulls back, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I said don’t–”

“Hear me out, will you?” Eddie mumbles in annoyance. He rolls his eyes back at him and turns around, opening the cabinet where you have put all the special things. He reaches for the bottle. A grin spreads on his face before he turns around. He holds it up with a wiggle of his brows. 

Steve shakes his head, “nope.”

“Oh yeah.” Eddie nods and by the look of his determined face, Steve knows he will lose this argument. “You gotta let loose a little. Swallow those feelings down with a little help of my former best friend.” Eddie grins at the whiskey bottle. 

Steve sighs. 

“We’ll play a little drinking game… and who knows, maybe we’ll find out some dirty truths from your girl's past.” Eddie cackles. 

“She’s not my–”

The door bursts open and you come rushing in, carrying one of the bags you grabbed off Nancy’s shoulder. You halt in your tracks and look between them. The frustrated gaze in Steve’s eyes and the excited one in Eddie’s tells you everything you need to know. 

Nancy comes stumbling in behind you. 

Eddie turns towards you, smirking at the two of you as he holds up the whiskey bottle. 

“Wanna play a game?” 

-

The fire keeps you brittle warm, allowing your cheeks to burn a little. The cold doesn’t even touch you right now, you’re so close to the heat. The bowl of soup is warm in your hands. You keep glancing towards Steve as you watch him eat. 

Eddie is rambling his ear off about DnD, something Steve couldn’t care less about. He keeps humming and grumbling in response. 

Nancy had already finished her dinner. She is rubbing her hands over the fire, warming herself up. 

You found a little hidden spot, behind trees and ruins, allowing you to let the flames burn higher than usual. Allowing you to feel a little more comfortable. You did a perimeter check with Steve before dinner, and he demanded to do it slowly for you, and this area seemed pretty safe and clean. 

“So… how about some good ‘ol never have I ever?” Eddie smirks as he picks up the bottle of whiskey he carried outside before. 

Your eyes light up. The urge to let loose, even if just for one night, for a few hours is so big. You nod at him, putting your now empty bowl on the ground beside your feet. 

“Yes, please!” 

Nancy chuckles at the enthusiastic smile on your face. Eddie’s eyes lock with hers and she shrugs at him, mumbling “sure.” 

Eddie grins at her, knowing she wouldn’t have given in so easily in the past. She sure has changed. 

He looks at Steve last to find him staring at you. Eddie knows that he is curious, it’s in his eyes. 

“I’m not drinking—“

“Oh come on!” Eddie groans, throwing his head back.

“If I am willing to drink then you gotta do it too, Steve!” Nancy says, shrugging at him. 

“Someone’s gotta stay sober.”

“Not like we’re gonna get blackout drunk, man. Besides the area is safe—“

Steve sighs, shaking his head. “You can never know.”

“Steve…” You sigh, pulling the attention on you. You tilt your head to the side, pouting at him. “Please…”

Steve huffs softly. 

Your features, your skin, your hair look so soft in this light. The golden flames make you look even more beautiful. Something flutters in his chest when you bat your eyelashes at him. 

He breathes in shakily, and by the way Eddie snickered beside him, he knows he heard it. 

Steve clears his throat as he shakes his head. 

“You’re not drinking either, Sunshine. You’re still coming down from your sickness and you’re still on pain meds.” He says sternly. 

Now your frown and your pout deepens. Your stomach sinks a little and the excitement wears off instantly. 

“Oh… right.” You whisper. 

Steve watches the way your face falls and your shoulders slump. A saddening look flashes in your features. He is surprised to see you giving up so easily, he expected you to put up a bit of a fight. 

“Shit,” Eddie murmurs. He didn't think about it either. 

You sigh deeply. You look between all of them and straighten your back again. 

“You can still play!” 

Steve can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt bubbling up inside of him. He saw how excited you were when Eddie suggested the game. 

“Hold on,” Steve mumbles as he pushes himself up from his seat. He disappears into the RV, making you all frown in confusion. You hear some rustling, some cans moving around before he comes out again, holding a can of Dr. Pepper in his hand. He makes his way to you, lips curling into a small smile. He holds it out for you. “I know it’s not the same but… you– we can still play.” 

You stare at the red soda can in his hand. Your soft eyes light up as you look up at him. 

His throat bobs when he swallows nervously. His heart skips yet another beat as he looks down into your eyes. 

Steve couldn’t care less about the game. If it wasn’t for you, he would call it a day and go to sleep. 

“Yeah,” he whispers softly. 

You are both unaware of the eye contact Nancy and Eddie are holding. To the looks on their faces and of the mischief crossing Eddie’s face as he grabs the plastic cups he had already prepared before. He unscrews the lid and pours the whiskey. 

“Thank you,” you whisper as you take the soda from Steve’s hands. Blush rises to your cheeks and your hand warms even more when your fingers brush against his own. 

Steve only smiles at you before he makes his way back to his seat. He curls his fingers into his hand, clenching it tightly as he still feels the mark of your touch. A sigh leaves his mouth when he sinks back into his camping chair. 

Eddie holds the cup out to him, and Steve only accepts it reluctantly. 

“Don’t think too much,” Eddie says to him. “It’s gonna be good for you, trust me.” 

“If you say so.” Steve snorts as he accepts the cup. He can’t remember the last time he even smelled alcohol. 

A pop sounds through the circle as you open the can. You bring your knees up to your chest and tug the blanket tighter around you, getting comfortable as giddiness rushes through your body. This reminds you of high school… only this is even better. You’re around friends. 

Eddie puts the bottle back down after handing Nancy her cup. He leans back and looks around the circle, smirking at Steve – the latter already knowing that this means nothing good. 

“So…” Eddie starts, wiggling his eyebrows. “Who’s starting?”

Steve sinks deeper into his seat, he looks down at his drink, sloshing it around in the cup. 

“Never have I ever played DnD.” Nancy says, making both you and Steve chuckle. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows at her, tilting his head as he brings the cup up to his lips. 

“You’re doing me a favor here, Wheeler.” 

Before he can even down the drink like he had planned to do, Steve leans forward and grabs Eddie’s wrist, “hold on. You ain’t downing that drink. We’re not in high school going home safe after. Doesn’t matter how safe this area seems to you, we’re still in the middle of nowhere… during the goddamn end of the world. We’re taking sips, not shots.” 

Steve’s face is stern as he lectures Eddie, who looks like a kid getting scolded by his father. 

You can’t help but giggle. 

“Okay, dad.” Eddie mumbles with wide eyes. “Sips, not shots, got it.” 

Nancy laughs at their interaction. 

Eddie takes a sip, keeping his eyes on Steve, who watches him closely, warning him with his eyes. 

“See.” Eddie shows him the cup. “I just took a sip.” 

“Good.” Steve grumbles before he leans back into his seat. 

Eddie turns back to Nancy, grinning evilly. “Alright Wheeler. Never have I ever… gotten straight A’s in high school.” 

A groan falls from her lips, she rolls her eyes at his lame attempt at making her drink. She brings the cup up to her lips and takes a sip. 

Steve glances at you, expecting you to take a sip as well but you don’t. Your can remains propped up on your knees. 

“No A’s?” Eddie raises his brows at you. “I’m surprised.” 

You shrug. “The best I got were B’s.” 

“Something I could only ever dream of.”

Nancy rolls her eyes at him again, “you were just lazy, Eddie.” 

“Are you saying I’m smart, Nancy Wheeler?” He smirks at her. 

“I’m saying you could have been better, dumbass.” 

Eddie waves her off and looks between you and Steve, “who’s next?”

Steve shrugs and gestures to you, holding his cup. 

You blush a little when he flashes you a smile. You tug your blanket tighter to you and look back into the fire. 

“Um… never have I ever…” You pause, trying to think of something you have always wanted to do. “Gone on a picnic date…?”

Eddie sits still, not bringing the cup up to his lips. Steve is not drinking either. The three of you glance at each other before you all look towards Nancy, who is the only one to take a sip of the whiskey. She scrunches up her face at the bitter taste. 

A sullen look takes over her face and if you didn’t look close enough, you would have missed the way her eyes flashed with sadness before she took that sip. She breathes in sharply and clears her throat before she plasters a smile onto her face as she looks back to you. 

“You have never gone on a picnic date?” 

Steve glances at you too with curious eyes. 

You shake your head. You always wanted to go but no one ever asked you out. Your ex-boyfriend always told you that he wasn’t a fan of date nights – must have been because he was too busy taking other girls out. 

Steve’s chest pains a little at the saddened look on your face. 

“No, but anyways… It’s your turn, Steve!” 

Steve blinks as he stares at you, your eyes now gazing into his. His cheeks flush under the weight of your eyes. He shifts on his chair. 

“Uh…” He can’t focus when you look at him, especially with that little tilt in your head and the innocent eyes. He looks down, at the crackling wood and the golden flames. His heart skipping a little harder. This is ridiculous. “Never have I ever uh…” 

What stupid thing would Robin say? 

What silly line would escape her mouth? 

“Been arrested…?”

Eddie chuckles loudly beside him. “See for someone who doesn’t want me to get drunk, you sure are doing a bad job, Harrington.” He laughs before he takes a big sip of his whiskey. 

You gasp and lean forward, “how, when, where, why?” You ramble. 

Steve’s shoulders shake when laughter escapes him at the look on your face. The wide eyes and the dropped jaw. 

“Oh, Sweetheart…” Eddie trails off. “I got arrested several times.”

“For what!?” 

“For being an idiot!” Nancy chuckles. She witnessed it herself once, Hopper running after a handcuffed Eddie who somehow managed to escape before he was forced into the cop car. 

“Then Jonathan must’ve been an idiot too!” Eddie scoffs. “Didn’t you get arrested with him!?” 

She shakes her head at him, “nope. I just went to the station with him.” 

You don’t notice the way Steve looks away, awkwardly and tense at the current conversation. 

“Why are you all getting arrested!?” You ask, confused. 

Nancy shrugs at you. 

You glance at Steve and raise your eyebrows at him, “did you get arrested too?” 

He purses his lips and shakes his head, “nope. Always managed to get away before the cops were at the crime scene.” He jokes. 

You roll your eyes at him but chuckle softly. 

“So I’m friends with a bunch of criminals, is that it?” You joke.

“Oh yeah.” Eddie nods his head, making his curls bounce. “Bet you’re the worst of us all though.” He points his finger at you. 

You press your palm against your chest, humming. “Cold blooded killer, you said it before.” You joke, looking at him seriously. 

“Exactly.” 

The game continues and the lines get sillier as Eddie keeps refilling the cups with Whiskey. You notice how the tension in Steve’s shoulders disappears after a few bigger sips of the liquor, how the redness in his cheeks glows stronger beneath the orange hues of the campfire. Your heart flutters every time his eyes flash with amusement, with happiness. Every time his laughter echoes, you feel something in you heating up in a way it never has before. 

For a moment, the world out there is gone. It’s just the four of you, being normal people. You aren’t out here trying to survive. You aren’t out here surrounded by death. You aren’t out here barely pushing through this world. Right now, you can be a group of friends having fun… just that. And you enjoy it so much. You have never felt more welcomed than you do with them. 

Nancy’s eyes shine with tears of laughter as Eddie continues his story of the girl who threw up on his shoes when he tried flirting with her. His goal was to ask her out on a date, not realizing that she was fully drunk until it was too late. 

“God… why do you always have the lamest dating stories, Munson?” Steve laughs, blinking away his own tears. 

“That poor girl! She must have been so embarrassed!” You mumble, trying not to giggle as much. 

“Sweetheart, I threw up right after. We were both embarrassed.” 

You break into laughter again, though your face cringes in disgust at the image of it in your head. 

“Did you ever see her again, after?” Steve asks, his lips twitching as he tries to stop laughing. 

“Yeah, in the school hallway. It was awkward as hell.” Eddie admits with wide eyes. 

“God…” Nancy mumbles, amused. She leans back and tilts her head up, looking up into the sky with a lazy smile on her lips. 

“Yeah…” Eddie chuckles to himself as he looks into the fire. His finger traces the rim of his cup. 

For a moment, silence takes over. Only the crackling of the wood is heard around you. You watch the flames too, contentment filling you. 

You don’t notice his eyes on you or the way they scan your face, the way they look at you. You don’t realize that he is smiling or that his eyes are sparkling. If only you looked up. 

“Never have I ever had sex.” Eddie snorts, knowing he will make everyone drink this time. 

“Of course,” Nancy snorts and straightens up in her seat again, bringing the cup to her lip, she finishes the remains of her whiskey. 

Steve rolls his eyes as he follows suit, finishing the last bit of his drink. He turns to face you and a frown appears on his face. 

Eddie notices the look on his face when he has taken the biggest gulp of the night. 

You avoid their eyes, blushing furiously as you continue to stare into the fire. Your shoulders, your whole body is tense. Embarrassment is written all over your face. You sit still. The soda can frozen in your lap. You haven’t taken a single sip and you don’t plan on taking one as your fingers play with the loose string on your blanket. 

Steve’s eyes widen when the realization hits him. 

Oh. 

Nancy’s lips part in surprise, her eyes soften when she sees just how flustered you are. 

Eddie is the last to realize but when he does, he nearly chokes on the whiskey. He gulps down and coughs a little. Bringing his hand up to his chest as his wide eyes search for yours. 

“You… You’re a virgin, Sweetheart?” He gasps, knowing he should be approaching the topic a little more gently but he is too shocked, too intoxicated to let that rational voice in his head tell him what to do. 

Eddie is flabbergasted. 

And Steve… Steve’s eyes are filled with confusion and disbelief. His heart is pounding in his chest. How?  

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry but… how?”

Eddie asks the question that repeats itself in Steve’s mind. 

You bite your lip and look at him, avoiding Steve’s eyes. You feel too embarrassed. 

“You’re not fucking with us, are you?” Eddie squints his eyes, finding it hard to believe. 

“Nope.” 

“But… You said you had a boyfriend!” Those words come tumbling out of Steve’s mouth. 

Eddie’s and Nancy’s heads snap towards him. This is something they didn’t know about you. 

You roll your eyes and huff, “just because I had a boyfriend doesn’t mean that I slept with him. Besides… that was the exact reason why he told me I was immature… the exact reason why he cheated on me.” You mumble, looking down. 

Steve’s eyes harden at that. His chest burns with rage over that prick that was given the chance to date you only to fuck you over. 

Nancy leans forward, her protectiveness kicking in, shooting off the roof. 

“He cheated on you because you weren’t ready to sleep with him?” She scoffs, slurring her words a bit. Her blue eyes burn with anger for someone she doesn’t even know. “What– Men! Men fucking suck!” 

You smile a little. 

Eddie moves closer and pats Nancy’s back. 

“Hey, not all of us are bad,” Eddie chuckles. 

Steve looks down at his cup. His heart aches at the thought of how you felt back then. He knows your heart was crushed and you were devastated. You don’t have to tell him that for him to know. 

“I hope he died. Gruesomely. Fucked in the ass by an infected–”

You crack up at her words. The tension slips away as amusement takes over and you and Eddie start laughing loudly at her. 

Steve leans forward, he puts the empty cup down and presses his palms together, entwining his fingers. He glances at you, his eyes tracing your features while you are distracted. 

“So uh… nothing?” Eddie asks after your laughter dies down. His curiosity gets the best of him. His eyes keep glancing towards Steve to catch his reactions. 

You shake your head shyly. 

Nancy eyes you, wanting to make sure that you are comfortable talking about this. 

“No… It’s not like I don’t have the need…” You admit, surprising yourself even. But you feel safe talking about this, comfortable. Like you won’t get judged. “I mean– I had my own you know…”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, playing coy, playing dumb. 

Steve straightens up a bit, nerves growing wild inside of him as he stares at you. 

Eddie bows his head a little. “No? I know what?”

You avoid Steve’s eyes still. Heat rises to your cheeks, not from the fire but from the embarrassment inside of you. From talking about this in front of the guy you… you like. 

You blink. Tapping your fingers against your knee. 

“A helper…?”

Eddie almost bursts into laughter. He enjoys seeing you like this. He enjoys the way Steve is cracking his knuckles beside him, shifting on his chair. 

Nancy licks her lips, holding back her smile when she realizes what he is doing, when she realizes how red Steve’s cheeks are. 

Frustration bubbles up inside of you when you notice the mischief flashing in Eddie’s brown eyes. 

“For fucks sake! A vibrator! A fucking vibrator!” 

Nancy giggles loudly beside you. She is definitely gonna bring that up later. 

Steve nearly falls over. His heart almost beats out of his chest. His eyes are glued on you. Heat spreads across his whole body and before he can even stop it, images start cursing through his mind. Images of you… of you on your bed, of your hands on your body, on your bare body that he had seen already. The realization strikes that he was the first to see you like this, to touch your soft skin, to hold you. 

Suddenly his heart does more than just flutter. 

Eddie smirks at you. His shoulders shake. 

“Yeah, just wanted to make sure it was that.” 

You roll your eyes at him. 

“You fucking dick!”

Nancy and he chuckle at you, sharing amused glances. 

“Now…” You start after a moment of silence. “I don’t know if it’ll ever happen, and I regret not giving my virginity to my ex…” You admit a little shamefully. 

The three of them look at you in question. 

“Why do you say it won’t?” Steve asks. 

You chuckle softly and shrug as you look up at Steve, “look around us, Steve. It’s the end of the world… I could die tomorrow and I think it’s obvious to say that the chances of finding someone in the apocalypse are pretty scarce.” 

They all fall silent, looking at you with pity – something that you don’t want, something that you hate. 

But they notice that you are actually afflicted by it. 

Eddie narrows his eyes, shifting in his seat. He looks at Steve, noticing the way he watches you intently. A sliver of yearning in his hazel eyes. 

If he doesn’t take the chance… 

Eddie clears his throat. Licking his lips, he looks back at you. 

“Listen, if I didn’t have my sweetheart, I’d offer to make your first time the best night of your life,” he says cockily. A smirk tugging at his lips when he feels Steve’s angry eyes on him. 

You don’t even pay much attention to his comment. You nearly give yourself a whiplash by how fast you turn towards him. 

“You have a sweetheart!? Wait! Are you talking about your guitar? You showed me pictures of it and–”

“Of course not my guitar!” Eddie interrupts you, grinning. “I have my love waiting for me in California!”

Your eyes lighten up and you sit up straighter, curious to hear about his love story. 

But Steve and Nancy roll their eyes and groan. 

“Don’t listen to him, he never wanted to tell us… so obviously he is bluffing.” Nancy murmurs. “If he had a sweetheart we would have known about her or him!” 

Eddie scoffs, though the smile on his face doesn’t disappear, instead it grows even wider. 

“Honestly Nancy… If I were really single, I would have tried my luck with this young lady I have in front of me the moment I saw her. She’s funny and sweet and she’s hot as hell. Who wouldn’t try to make a move on that piece of ass?” 

Your eyes widen, and you instantly grow flustered, cheeks burning like crazy. 

The bitter taste on Steve’s tongue returns and he can’t even hide his frown this time when he looks at the metalhead beside him, only to realize that he fell right into his trap. Eddie is already looking back at him with a smug smirk on his face. 

Nancy is watching you, how you flush all over while you sip your soda. She holds back her smile, thinking that it’s cute. 

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I see you as nothing more than a friend.” He makes the message very clear… to Steve. 

Yet, it does little to calm him down. The same sour feeling as he felt before spreads through his chest. 

Silence fills the space around you for a moment and the air suddenly shifts. You don’t know what it is yet. You don’t notice the look on Nancy’s face and how the amusement slowly fades as the alcohol kicks in differently, affecting other kinds of emotions now. 

“Well.” Eddie looks around, clapping his hands together. “Anyone else got a confession to make?”

Steve shakes his head just like you. 

Nancy hesitates. A sullen look suddenly takes over, crossing over her features out of nowhere. She blinks rapidly as she stares into the fire, chewing on her bottom lip. 

“I love Robin.” 

You slowly look towards her, unlike Eddie who snaps his head into her direction, looking at her in surprise. 

But Steve, he already knew, well– he suspected it. He knew about Robin’s feelings. He knew that she fell in love with Nancy. He remembers how guilty she looked when she confessed to him, fearing that he would hate her for falling in love with his ex-girlfriend. He remembers how scared she was, how she looked at him, like she thought that she was about to lose her best friend. He hugged her then and promised that it was okay. His love for Nancy was in the past and it was never real love to begin with, nothing to mourn over. Puppy love. And the thing that happened back in ‘86 was nothing more than a moment of desperation to feel the only real thing he once thought he had. 

Eddie’s smile slowly fades, lips curling downwards as he stares at Nancy’s glossy eyes. She is his best friend but it’s something he didn’t know. It’s something she wasn’t ready to confess. To speak into the universe. To let out. 

“She… She confessed to me. She told me that she loves me… that she’s in love with me. And then she died…on the same day.” She whispers and bows her head to hide the tears that are about to slip down her cheeks. 

Steve breathes in shakily, he looks away and closes his eyes. 

“I never said it back.”

Your heart breaks for her. She kept it all to herself for such a long time, it must have been eating away at her. Her sniffles pains you even more. You lean forward and place your hand on her knee. 

“Shit…” Eddie whispers, staring at her with sad eyes as the realization slowly sinks in. “I didn’t know, Nance.”

“Yeah…” She whispers, not looking up just yet. “And now… I can never say it back.”

You don’t know what to say. Eddie doesn’t either. You’re both not even sure if words are what she needs or if she just needs to let this all out. 

“I-I honestly never made a move on her before that because I thought she hated me…” She confesses, talking without a filter now. Her emotions take control, guided by the alcohol in her system. 

You frown at her words, gripping her knee tighter as you try to see her face but it’s covered by her long hair. 

“Why would she hate you, Nancy?” 

Eddie looks between you both, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Because of what I did to Steve.” She whispers, slowly looking up at you. 

Anxiety builds up inside of you and you begin to feel nervous. 

“W-What did you do to Steve?”

Steve snaps his head towards the two of you, shaking his head with a panicked look on his face. “Nancy–”

“I cheated on him. Hurt him. I thought Robin would hardly forgive someone like that. That Robin wouldn’t even like someone that did that to her best friend… Even if that happened a long time ago…”

Steve closes his eyes with a sigh, murmuring a quiet ‘fuck’.

Eddie winces under his breath. 

You draw back instantly, your hand falling off her knee. You take in a sharp breath. The realization rushing through you coldly. You grip the soda can tighter and look down. 

Nancy was the girl he told you about. 

She was the one who hurt him, who broke his heart. 

All this time you have been traveling with them and you didn’t even know. 

You feel like a fool. 

And it’s sadness and insecurity that hits you the hardest. She was the girl. And you are nothing like her, not even in the slightest. 

Steve looks up at you slowly. He tries to catch a glimpse of your face but it’s tilted so far down.

You don’t know what to feel, what to think. 

How can he be around her? You’d never be able to travel with your ex-boyfriend who cheated on you, lied to you, acted like he loved you. You could never be around him, let alone be his friend… unless you still loved him. 

Suddenly it’s nausea that bubbles up. Your heart sinks to your stomach. And now you wonder, would you have known sooner if you just put two and two together? If you would have taken a closer look? 

“I never knew.” Eddie murmurs, patting her back. 

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” Nancy whispers. “A-And that’s all… that’s all I got to confess. What about you…? Do you have anything…?”

You suddenly feel suffocated and you no longer want to sit here in this circle. It’s all become too much and all these questions running through your head begin to drive you crazy. You want to be alone. You need to think. 

You clear your throat as you get up, picking up your discarded bowl from before and your empty soda can. You take a quick look around and force a smile on your face when Nancy looks up at you with her big eyes. 

“I’m gonna go to sleep. I’m tired and my head is starting to hurt again.” You lie. You avoid both Steve’s and Eddie’s eyes. 

“Oh.” Nancy mumbles, her shoulders slumping. 

“Good night.” You whisper before you brush past Steve, ignoring the way he looks up at you in concern. You quickly make your way into the RV and shut the door behind you before any of them can question you. 

You set everything down on the kitchen counter. Gripping the edges of it, you lean against it and close your eyes, sighing loudly. 

You are confused and shocked, not understanding how it all went over your head for months. You could have known sooner. You should have. You wish you did. 

A part of you wants to know more, the other part doesn’t. 

You clean up your bowl and put everything away before you make your way into the tiny bathroom to brush your teeth. You hurry, wanting to be asleep before anyone comes in to check on you. 

Not even the mint flavor of your toothpaste can get rid of the bitter taste on your tongue though. 

“Sunshine?” 

You almost groan in annoyance. Almost. You would have if it wasn’t him. You spit out the paste and rinse your mouth before you walk out. You plaster a smile on your face when you notice him standing by the kitchen counter. 

He offers you a smile, “I uh… are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

Your eyes soften. You press your lips together and shake your head, “no, I just… I wanna get some sleep.” 

He brings his hand up to the back of his neck as he nods, “alright…”

You don’t move and neither does he. 

Steve is so selfless. He’s so kind and sweet when he allows himself to be. He would do anything for his friends, showing you that he would do absolutely everything for the one he loves. There is not a single bad thing about him. So… how could she do this to him? 

“I’m–”

“So Nancy…” 

Steve can’t read the expression on your face nor can he figure out the emotion in your voice but if he didn’t know any better, he would think it is hurt… sadness. But why? 

“Yeah…” Steve whispers. 

He doesn’t know why he feels the urge to show you, to tell you that he doesn’t feel anything for Nancy, that he hasn’t felt anything for her in years, that he could never again. 

You swallow harshly and nod. You take a seat on the bench and he follows you after a second, sitting down beside you. 

“Do you…” You pause, not knowing if you’re actually ready to find out. 

“I don’t love her anymore if that’s what you think.” Steve confesses, wanting – needing you to know. 

He wishes he could ignore the way your shoulders slump in relief or the way your eyes fill with something that looks like hope. 

“No?”

He shakes his head, “no. It was uh… It was puppy love but not real love, if it makes sense?” 

“Oh.”

Steve takes a deep breath. He continues to look into your eyes, wanting to catch each and every one of your reactions. 

“It was the first time someone else… cared for me. That someone seemed to like me for me and not because I was this popular guy… I only knew loneliness thanks to my parents being complete assholes.” 

Your eyebrows furrow as though you’re in pain. The sympathy and the sadness the flashes in your eyes reminds him of Robin. 

Steve runs his fingers through his hair, swallowing the lump that grew in his throat. 

“I’m so sorry, Steve.” You frown, knowing how that ended for him. 

“It’s okay, Sunshine.” He shrugs, his whisper is soft. 

How could she look into his hazel eyes and not fall for him harder every day? How could she look at him and think that he wasn’t good enough? That there could be someone better out there? How could she look at him and not think that he was the best thing that’s ever happened to her? 

There is little distance between you and your hand finds his before you can even think rationally. 

Steve looks down at it. It’s not the first time he feels your touch like this. It’s also not the first time he feels that electric feeling cursing through him. 

“But then… Robin came.”

“Wait then… you for Robin–”

“God, no, no…” Steve shakes his head, interrupting you quickly. “She just… She just filled that loneliness, and it made me realize that I was just chasing Nancy… pretending to be in love… Just to noy feel alone again…” He explains, cringing a little. “And then, Robin kind of started dating this girl, and I felt that bit of bitterness inside of me cause she was spending a little less time with me.” 

You nod in understanding as he keeps talking. 

“I tried dating around as well… But nothing worked out, no one wanted me for anything other than sex.” 

You frown at his words, feeling anger and a sliver of jealousy burning in you. 

“So I kind of… set my eyes back on Nancy again, not because I still loved her but… She was just the closest thing I had to a ‘real’ relationship. It was dumb to chase her again, to go after someone who hurt me. It took me a moment to realize that there are other versions of love that can be fulfilling.” 

“Robin.” 

He gives you a small smile, tapping your hand with his finger. He eyes the lilac hair tie around your wrist. It’s yours now. For safekeeping. 

“Robin.” He nods. 

He stopped seeking her out when he let go of a love he thought was… love. Maybe it should calm you down a little but it doesn’t. 

“And now… that Robin is… gone?”

He knows what you’re asking. 

You want to know if he will do it again, if he will chase after her again. 

Steve shakes his head, humming. “I would never make that mistake again,” he chuckles, cringing at his younger self. “Besides, I don’t feel lonely.”

“Oh… Eddie and Nance?” You ask. 

You secretly hope that you are the reason for that he doesn’t feel lonely anymore. 

“No, I felt lonely with them too. I was… grumpy, remember?” He asks, cocking his eyebrow as his eyes flash with amusement. 

You shake your head, “then what–”

“You came.” He confesses. 

And it makes your heart flutter like crazy. Your eyes fill with so much hope. You straighten up and curl your hand around his as you gaze into his hazel eyes. 

“You are… as stubborn as Robin was.” He whispers. “You remind me of her.” 

Oh… 

And then it hits you. 

It hits you harder than anything else ever has before. 

He never liked you for you. 

He gave you a chance because you reminded him of the one person that meant everything to him. He gave you a chance because he saw her in you, because he could pretend. 

You were never to him what he is to you. 

You are a replacement. A placeholder. 

And here you thought you found someone who likes you for you. 

But of course not. 

How did you never see it? Every time he talked about Robin, every time that he mentioned a memory, and– His eyes, they are looking at your wrist. At the hair tie, and– It was him… he put that on you, and now you knew. This wasn’t just anyone’s hair tie… this was Robin’s.

Your hand slowly slips away from his, looking down at the floor. You caught feelings only to find out that he saw you as a replacement for his soulmate. For someone he thought of as family, as a sister. He sees you that way, he will always see you that way and not as a woman. Not as someone who can try to give the love he wants and needs. 

Because you are like Robin… and you are the opposite of Nancy.

You’ll never be like Nancy. She looks like… a woman, a strong woman that knows what she wants, that is experienced, that is mature, that knows how to handle most of the situations with a clear mind and you– You are reckless, a klutz like Eddie had called you, and you also were–

“You want a kitkat before bed, Sunshine?”

Immature.

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx

[22ayla21]

Hi!! I read your scene where the amphoreus husbands took revenge on their wives which led the kids to be concerned, I loved it so much!!

Could you do a scene that takes place a while after the incident with the kids in the morning where they notice their wife actually struggling due to pain and takes care of her?

Thank you so much! I love your works, they keep me going <333

Daddy's Mistake

Children's reaction to "daddy's mistake"

The morning at home started out a little different than usual. Mom was limping more than yesterday, and dad, surprisingly, hadn't left her side all day, helping her even with the little things she could handle on her own.

- Mom, are you okay? - the eldest asked when he saw her carefully leaning on a chair before sitting down. She smiled as always, but the children noticed that this smile was... strange.

- Everything is fine, - she answered calmly. But the youngest sister frowned.

- But you weren't limping like that yesterday... - her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

- Are you sure?

Mom just nodded, and meanwhile dad, who usually didn't get involved in such conversations, immediately moved a pillow for her comfort and put a cup of tea in front of her.

It was... strange. Very strange.

- Dad, what did you do to make you so concerned about mom now? - the middle child asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Mydei froze for a moment.

- Me?..

- Well, yes, - the eldest now also joined in the investigation. - You must have done something, if you are now so attentive to mom!

- I... - he coughed into his fist, avoiding their tenacious glances. - I am just... showing concern.

But the children were not fools. They looked at mom. Then at dad. Then at mom again. And then the middle daughter turned out to be the bravest:

- Did you accidentally hit Mom?!

Mydei choked on air.

- WHAT?!

The youngest sister looked indignant.

- Dad, did you hurt mom?!

- Of course not! - he was indignant, but seeing how the children were boring into him with suspicion, he suddenly lost confidence. And mom just sat, silently sipping tea, and did not even try to save him.

- Then why is she limping?!

Mydei glanced quickly at his wife, but she only smiled reservedly, enjoying his torment. He swallowed.

- Just... an accident.

- Oh, dad... You try so hard, but you still ruined everything, huh? - the eldest sighed compassionately.

- Exactly, - Mom nodded with satisfaction, taking a sip of tea. And the children, completely confused, but certain of one thing - Dad was clearly guilty of something - continued their breakfast, casting suspicious glances at him.

The wife tried to keep her back straight and walk as if everything was fine, but the children, as always, were too observant. If in the morning her limp could still be hidden, then by midday even the most inattentive of them noticed that their mother was moving slower than usual.

- Mom, are you in pain? - the youngest son pulled her hand, looking up from below with concern. She smiled, stroking his head.

- No, I'm just a little tired.

But children were not so easily tricked. The daughters immediately looked at their father, who was behaving... strangely. He was watching his wife too carefully, offering her to sit down, bringing tea, even taking on her share of the work.

It was... suspicious.

- Dad, did you do something? - asked the eldest daughter, folding her arms across her chest. Anaxa froze for a second, but then returned his face to its usual imperturbable expression.

- Why do you think so?

- You're acting... too nice. Like you're making amends.

The middle daughter narrowed her eyes.

- Did you do something that hurt mom?

The wife almost choked on her tea. Anaxa looked away, clearly trying to come up with an answer that wouldn't raise any more questions.

- I just... maybe... overdid it a bit with the training.

- You made mom train? - the eldest was indignant.

- Well... you could say that.

The youngest son frowned and approached his mother, hugging her tightly around the waist.

- Dad, you should be more careful! Mom isn't as strong as you are.

The wife almost burst out laughing, but she held back, watching Anaxa struggle with her pride. He wanted to object, but he knew that making excuses now would only make the situation worse.

- I'll... take it into account.

- Okay, - the youngest son nodded, pleased that his words had been heard.

The daughters looked at their father suspiciously for a while, but, not having gotten a confession from him, decided to leave the matter. But the wife was clearly enjoying the whole situation. Especially when Anaxa, realizing his guilt, carefully helped her sit more comfortably and even brought a pillow.

- Well, well, now you've suddenly become so caring? - she whispered when the children turned away. Anaxa only chuckled, but a mixture of guilt and hidden threat was visible in his eyes.

- I'm correcting my mistake. But don't think that next time you'll be able to escape so easily.

She grinned.

- We'll see.

The children began to notice this in the morning.

At first, everything seemed normal: their mother woke them up as usual, ate breakfast with them, but when she got up to clear the dishes, her movements were slower than usual. She limped slightly, and a barely noticeable expression of discomfort flashed across her face.

- Mom, does something hurt? - one of the sons asked, frowning.

- No, no, everything is fine, - she answered quickly, but her gaze slid briefly towards their father. And that’s where it became interesting.

Phainon, who was sitting next to her, immediately perked up, distracted the children and barely noticeably moved a chair towards her so that she could sit down. Later, when they were walking through the house, the children noticed that he literally adjusted his steps to hers, as if he was ready to catch her at any moment.

- Mom, are you sure everything is okay? - the youngest repeated insistently.

- Of course, - she answered, smiling softly, but glanced sideways at Phainon again.

But father... he looked guilty. All day long he had been extraordinarily solicitous of mother: handing her a cup, offering her a seat, doing all the housework himself, and when the children noticed her limping again, he immediately picked her up and carried her into the other room, despite her indignant protests.

- Dad, did you do something? - the eldest son finally asked, narrowing his eyes. Phainon froze.

- Um... of course not, - he answered too quickly.

- Then why is mother limping, and why are you acting like a guilty puppy? - father cleared his throat, and his wife only chuckled, shaking her head.

- That’s... um... a long conversation.

The children looked at each other, still puzzled. They didn’t know what Father had done, but he had definitely done something. And since he's trying so hard to make amends, it means there was something serious.

Now they have a new riddle. And they'll definitely solve it.

[tojisteddy]

Soft daddy simon is actually so so hot like when hes normally mean but hes nice and ugh. Please please more nice dad !! Maybe when blackcat reader gets hurt / has a nightmare ? Im a slut but im a bigger slut for h/c

Thunder & Lightning | cw: 18+ mdni, fluffville, softdom!Simon, dd/lg dynamics, dad bf!Simon, daddy used once tho, blackcat!reader

It was late, too late for anyone in the house to be up. But he heard it, the shift of feet back and forth, a tugging of carpet and then the little opening and closing of the end table that stood in the hallway. Like a cat trying to get in to a closed room, except you hadn’t just come in like you usually do.

Simon sighed, taking his aching body and leaving from the comfort of his bed.

“What’re you up to kiddo?” His voice filles the hallway but it’s nothing but soft, the gentle look in his eyes tells you that as he leans on the doorframe. He looks down at the state of you, scarf on, eyes wide but the tinest bit of tiredness in them, cuddled up on to the bench by the window, flipping through some book.

“I’m reading.” You say softly.

“It’s 2 am.”

“I’m an early riser.”

And then, there’s a flash of white light from the clouds that fills the hallway, a loud rumble to follow. Simon isn’t scared of it, he’s had to work long nights in the pouring rain, swim through flooded waters, the commotion of a fight— he’s used to it. So much so he has to hear that white noise or something for him to go so sleep. You on the other hand, his precious little baby, brown eyes widen at the boom, your body doesn’t jolt, but the blonde senses the tenseness in your shoulders, the ever so minuscule twitch of your finger as you flip to the next page of the book.

You’re scared.

And no, not just from the thunder and lightening, a fear that hides in your tiny freezes to see if it hit anything or just to stop, but leaps out when he’s not there. It’s something else, something clouding your mind. But he made sure to get you to sleep before the storm came through in your room, he had work to finish. But you’re up now. Precious thing. Simon nods to himself, walking towards you with his heavy footsteps. Then lifts you without a second thought, setting the book on the end table and patting your back, “Let’s sleep in your room, yeah Kitty? Get you t’sleep.”

You hum, but you’re unconvinced, wrapping your arms around his as he lays you down in your fluffy bed, your head softly hitting your cheetah print pillows while Simon climbs in behind you, tugging you by the waist closer to him. His chest meeting your back, his large calloused hands rub all over, to soothe you.

You don’t know how much time passes. But you can hear Simons breathing get slower, every pitter patter of rain hitting the window and the roof.

“I had a dream… that I got struck by lightning,” you whispered, staring towards the wall, the little dots forming in your eyes. “And then I couldn’t get out of the rain… the water kept rising… and I couldn’t see you.”

There’s a pause, you shuffle your feet on the sheets, deciding it’s better to warm your legs in between Simons. You wave yourself off, “It’s stupid, you’re sleeping.”

Theres a grunt, the older blonde shushes you, “ ‘S not stupid swee’art. Just was scared is all, ‘nd your dreams got to you. But ‘m right here, right? Daddy’s right here.”

You let out a sigh of relief, “That’s right.”

“ ‘M not goin anywhere either. Love you too much.” He takes your hand from underneath the comforter and kisses it, then kisses your shoulder blade.

And it does the magic trick, settles you finally, your tired eyes close as you cuddle into Simon.

A peaceful night at the Riley house despite the storm outside.

a/n: that’s for the request!! I’m slowly (extremely slow) but surely trying to knock these out. Sorry for the wait. I woke up at 3 am and randomly wrote part of this.

most recent masterlist

[stellar-haikyuu]

guardian angel ☆ sawamura daichi x reader

synopsis: you think the new security guard at your apartment is good at his job—maybe a little too good. his protectiveness soon extends beyond the lobby, slipping into your daily life. details: fluff | strangers to lovers | ~970 words | gn! reader | timeskip! daichi | this is inspired by my dormitory security guard (she's so sweet i love her <3)

Your daily work routine was starting to suck the energy out of you—nobody wants to deal with nosy coworkers and an overly passionate boss. As much as you tried to enjoy the small things each day, you were tired of trying and reaching. You wanted something to look forward to.

Unexpectedly, you get your wish; you meet Sawamura Daichi, your apartment building’s new security guard. 

At 7 AM, you’re surprised by the new face in the lobby as you note your time-out in the security logbook. His bright smile, deep voice, and broad features immediately catch your attention—a stark contrast to the other personnel you’ve met in all your years staying at this building.

You find yourself wanting to stay longer and chat with him, but alas, you have a schedule to catch up to. However, it means that you walk to work with a grin on your face, without a dreadful thought crossing your mind.

And soon enough, even your officemates notice the spring in your step. They always ask you who’s got you in an extra good mood. With every passing day, you find it harder to come up with a lame excuse.

Your motivation doesn’t go unnoticed, either. Your superiors think you’ve finally gotten out of your funk, but truthfully? You just try to avoid overtime so you can get home as soon as possible...to see a certain someone, of course.

You often catch Sawamura-san when he’s about to end his shift at 6 PM. He initiates small talk with you as you fill out the logbook to time-in, and you write even slower on purpose each time.

Hell, at some point, you give up the act. You stand there in front of the main desk as you talk, not caring if the other staff and residents stare at you as they pass by. It doesn’t matter, because it means you return to your room each day with butterflies in your stomach.

Both of you are so used to this routine that when you get sick for a few days, it’s immediately obvious that something is wrong.

A fever, cough, and colds get you out of nowhere, knocking you out for about three days now. Luckily, you’ve had some medicine to spare—you’re not one to get sick that easily. 

However, you groan as you realize you may need to buy more at the pharmacy across the street. Not to mention, your food stock is starting to run out; you were supposed to do your grocery run this weekend.

Just as you’re trying to gather your strength, someone knocks at your door. You jump in surprise, as no one ever really comes to visit. 

You open the door to see Sawamura-san, who has just gotten off his shift. When he asks if you’re okay, you almost tear up at the concern in his voice. You only realize how tense he was after he visibly relaxes and sighs in relief after you tell him nothing bad has happened. 

He immediately asks what he can do for you, and while you try to refuse at first, his insistence eventually wins. He runs to the convenience store and pharmacy without question, making sure to list down every single thing you need.

Sawamura-san is a godsend, you think, when he returns in half an hour with the plastic bags. He even offers to make you dinner, as well as something you can reheat for breakfast and lunch the next day.

And that’s when you tell him to call you by your first name—no formalities and honorifics. In return, he tells you to call him Daichi.

Your heart flutters for the rest of the day, and you think that maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to make a move.

In the following weeks, you give him your affection. You always buy an extra snack at the vending machine for him. You create a playlist of songs that he can listen to. Eventually, you invite him to eat dinner together after his shift ends on Friday.

He playfully asks if it’s a date, but when you say yes, you see a new side of Daichi—a flustered mess. He literally forgets to reply for a moment before agreeing. Cute.

Gradually, you both seek each other’s company outside of work. Sometimes, when he’s too exhausted to go home, you let him crash on your couch. You make meals together and tell each other stories about your lives at the dining table.

It’s only a matter of time before Daichi confesses that he really, really likes you. And for the first time since he was a kid, he gets a goodnight kiss—from you.

Things fall into place naturally after that. But a few months later, Daichi is swapped to the night shift for a change. He’s content knowing that you’re safe in your room while he’s on duty, but he’s a little bummed about not being able to stay with you at night.

So, on his first day, you go down to the apartment lobby to keep him company. Sometimes, you bring him dinner and snacks, choosing to share your meals with him. 

On nights you have trouble falling asleep, he has you on video call, rambling about his day until he finally hears you snoring. You rest easy, knowing that Daichi is watching over you. 

It's no surprise that he takes great delight in knowing that his contact name on your phone is “guardian angel.”

masterlist

[angelltheninth]

Can you do the first Grumpy x Sunishine prompt with Kenji Sato?

That's a very good relationship dynamic. Not my absolute favorite but definitely up there.

Pairing: Kenji "Ken" Sato x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, roommates, domestic fluff, grumpy x sunshine, cheek kisses, being overworked, not actually unrequited feelings, Kenji Sato is bad at feelings

Prompt: Roommates from Opposite Vibes... One’s all color-coded calendars and 7AM smoothies. The other hasn’t done laundry in three weeks and growls before coffee. They clash. But one rainy day, the sunshine one leaves soup on the grump’s desk with a dumb little smiley note. It breaks them. - List

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Got my friend to watch this. Now she's in love with him just as much as I am.

The mismatched clothes, the strict schedule, the sleeping in, the uniforms, the countless hours you both spent taking care of Emi in shifts, during the day, at night, and yet you and Kenji didn't quite get along. You tried to get him out of his grumpy shell ever since the two of you started living together. A good few months now, you knew each other for years though, and were always opposites.

It took you both very long to get comfortable with each other, then Emi was introduced into the mix. Kenji already wasn't sleeping well despite your protests and now he was getting even less, again despite you telling him that you could take care of Emi too.

Stubborn as always he only accepted help when he was literally falling asleep on his feet. Or at his desk, as was the case this rainy night.

You looked for him in Emi's room, the training room, the living room, he was nowhere to be found. That only left his room. As you slowly opened the door you had half the mind to scold him. He was passed out at the desk, Emi sitting close to him, holding his hand.

"This is the third time this week, Kenji." You still scolded him, while whispering. Emi noticed you approaching and smiled at you, energetically waving at you. Her kaiju eyes honed in on the colorful cup of warm tea in your hand. "I made this for your dad but as usual he's overworked himself again. Maybe you should tell him to go to sleep, bet he'd listen to you." You walked over on your tiptoes, careful not to wake Ken up.

Slowly and gently you set the warm cup at his desk, and then even slower and gentler picked Emi up from the desk. She made a noise of surprise before giggling and nuzzling her head against you.

"You need some sleep too, kid. How else are you gonna grow up into a big, awesome Kaiju? Up you go, Emi." But you weren't sure where to take her. If you moved her back to her room you knew Kenji would panic about her whereabouts when he woke up.

The bed was a good option though. You started to set her down only for her small hands to cling onto your clothes and mumble things against your neck until you relented and were pulled down with her. "Me too? Are you saying I should sleep too?" Emi made a new sound and once again cuddled up against you. "Okay, okay, but just for a few minutes. I don't think Kenji would appreciate me being in his bed. Which only confirms that your dad has awful taste in women."

He was asleep so he didn't hear what you just said and honestly you were glad. Kenji didn't have to know you had a crush on him, not now not ever. You were happy like this, being his roommate, taking care of Emi with him. That was enough, you didn't dare ask for more.

The few minutes turned into an hour.

Kenji groaned as he woke up, his back was killing him from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. The rain still patted against the window, almost a storm and he sighed, somehow still tired.

He looked at the cup you left for him and frowned at how you decorated it with stickers despite it already being colorful enough. The tea was already cold. "Emi? Emi? Emi where are-" His words and worry caught in his throat when he saw Emi sleeping on top of you, her small body curled up against your chest and her hand holding your, both of you breathing at the same depth and speed.

Something about the sight froze him. "Em..." No, she looked too comfortable, and so did you. He couldn't wake you up.

Kenji wasn't the best team player, he will admit that much but he didn't hate the help you gave him either. Instead of waking you up he walked up to the bed and planted a kiss on Emi's forehead.

He paused then, thinking if he should do this or not. If you find out it could ruin the tentative relationship you have, but at the same time he couldn't hold back. Careful as to not wake you up he placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth, getting a sleepy smile in return. "Thank you, I... thank you." As he pulled back he noticed Emi blinking at him.

Kenji's cheeks flushed and he stumbled back, almost falling over.

"Shhh, that's our little secret. Okay Emi?" The baby Kaiju looked from him to you before seemingly shrugging and falling back asleep. Kenji sighed and fell back into his chair. That was close. Maybe he should try to hide his feelings better. Tired and conflicted he glanced at the cup of tea and decided to get a slip. "Blegh. Way too sweet for my taste." Yet he drank every last drop.

[angelhyun]

back to sleep - ldh

[a/n]: happy birthday to my gemini twin ayyy

pairing: bf!lee donghyuck x reader

[wc]: 626, short n sweet

-> cw: none, just pure fluff :)

prelude: Hyuck never got days off. Everybody knew that, especially the poor man himself, working harder than anyone you've ever known. That’s why it catches you by surprise when you wake up with him in bed next to you, making you feel like it was your birthday instead of his. TLDR: A cute, lazy morning in bed with Hyuck on his birthday.

11:59pm

You anxiously waited until midnight, a minute going by way slower than it would on a normal day. Your fingers danced over the keyboard as you prepared to hit the send button, your message already typed and ready to go.

12:00am

happy birthday baby!!! i love u so much more than words could ever express and i hope u never forget how unconditionally proud i am of u. you’re truly my full sun in a world that can be so gloomy :,) hope to celebrate with u soon my love, sleep well <3

You stay on your chat for a bit, hoping to see him typing, but you knew he was likely with his members. It didn’t upset you, as you knew they loved and cared for him just as much as you did. Content with the thought, you put your phone down, curling up into your blankets as you drifted off to sleep.

His hands were running through your hair as your head laid comfortably on his lap. He was leaning against a cherry blossom tree, the petals drifting through the wind, surrounding you both in a peaceful pink haze. “Hyuck,” you started, looking up at him. He looked ethereal, dark brown bangs resting beautifully on his honey skin—the laidback look in his eyes as he gazed down at you, albeit full of love. He didn’t answer, eyes simply boring into yours. “I love you.” you say softly. He remains still, as if he already knows, the words having no drastic effect on him.

Your eyes suddenly open, the sun beaming through your windows, casting a bright light that you assumed woke you up in addition to your dream. You dreamt of your boyfriend quite often, which he found very endearing. He’d cockily tease that he was always on your mind, though you’d never admit he was right. Despite feeling quite refreshed, you felt like you hadn’t even gone to sleep—as if time didn’t pass since your head hit your pillow.

You decide to turn to grab your phone, wanting to check the time. What you didn’t expect, when you turned, was to have a figure laying next to you. That same dark brown hair from your dream was the only thing that was visible above the covers, making you sit up in surprise, waking the man with your sudden sharp movement. “Baby…” he croaks, voice hoarse from the sudden awakening.

You furrow your brows. Was this still part of the dream? You pinch yourself, concluding that it wasn’t. “Hyuck?” you question softly. He turns to face you, now hugging your waist. “Go back to sleep,” he whines. “It’s too early to be awake.” You immediately lie back down, snuggling yourself closer to your man. You were so surprised. He was home earlier than expected, meaning you’d get to celebrate together.

“Happy birthday, baby.” you whisper into the crook of his neck, a smile adorning your face. “Thank you, honey.” he says sleepily. “Did you get my text?” you ask, clearly not reading the room. He yawns before nodding. “It was cute. Thank you again.” he puts on a tired smile, eyes still closed.

“Since you’re here, does that mean we can celebrate later?” you ask, clearly excited about the day to come. “Yes, later.” he croaks again. “I’m jet lagged. Let’s just cuddle and go back to sleep, yeah?” he asks. You nod and give him a gentle kiss, him reciprocating. “Okay, Hyuckie.” you grin, happy with the compromise. “I’m so lucky,” you coo, fingers playing with his hair like he did in your dream. “It’s not even my birthday, yet you’re surprising me.”

“I know, I’m just perfect, aren’t I?” he teases, earning a playful flick on the forehead from you.

[a/n]: literally just got home now (at 1am) and felt the urge to write smth for haechan’s birthday 🙂‍↕️ i’m dedicated to my craft. anyways, please stay tuned for partition part 2–not too sure if i’m going to give it another name yet or just call it that LMAO also i’m posting on mobile for the first time so sorry if the layout is scuffed. as always, thank u for reading ^3^

[yun-fangz]

San twitter links — Dom ver.

Pairing: San x fem!reader

a/n: HELLOOOOO AGAIN! thank you all for the support, im glad you all are enjoying these as much as i am. i want to say thank you again anonies for requesting another member, funny enough, san was one of the next members i was planning to do. 🫣 enjoy!

masterlist.

links/warnings below the cut. mdni 18+, content below.

warnings/tags: twt links, dom san!, certified ass lover!san, unprotected sex, backshots, spanking, dry humping, car sex, cunnilingus (fem rec) fingering, breeding kink, overstim, multiple orgasms, pet play, thigh riding, hand kink, manhandling, brat taming (sorta)

san loves rubbing you through your panties and hearing your whines and pleads for him fuck you. He'd coo as you buck against him, only for him to give your pussy a sharp spank, telling you to be good and maybe he will. link.

needy little thing, san would have you like this in the passenger seat as he drives. he'd rub slow circles around your aching clit as you try your hardest not to writhe under his touch. his favorite thing to do was edge you for as long as he could before pulling off to a secluded area and tossing you to the back, devouring you as if it were his final meal.

my favorite ass loving man.... backshots are a must. he loves having you spread out on your knees as he pushes his cock into you, watching in enjoyment as you immediately get to work rocking back against him. the way your ass moved against him has him quickly losing his composure though as he grabs your hips to meet you halfway, slowly but surely fucking you deep into the mattress. link.

on slower, more intimate nights, san loved to get you off on his fingers. you were spread wide while he toyed with your sensitive pussy. you let your head rest on his shoulder, letting out the sweetest moans he's ever heard. he'd bring you to your release over and over again before eventually pushing you down and ruining you one last time on his cock. link.

you had been misbehaving all day, sending him risky texts and photos while he was at work. the moment he got home he'd waste no time shedding you of your clothes and pounding deep into you, grumbling angrily about how embarrassing it was to walk around sporting a half boner all day. he'd fuck you hard and fast, giving your ass a sharp slap as he did as he pleased. little did he know this was your plan all along, loving how rough he treats you when you misbehave. link.

tsk tsk, another day of you being naughty, causing san to bend you over and spank you back into place with one hand while the other fucks you into oblivion. each time you'd near your peak, he'd go harder, only to pull away at the last moment, causing you to cry and beg for release. but what good is a punishment if you don't learn your place? link.

san loves having you, his pretty kitty, rub your pussy along his muscular thigh, observing how you whine and twitch each time he flexes the muscle. he'd notice how tired you get, as he settles his hands on your hips, guiding you softly on his thigh and pushing you further towards your high. link.

san who loves holding you down by your hips as he makes out with your pussy. he'd take his time running his tongue up and down your folds before circling your clit, holding you firmly on the mattress to prevent you from moving. hearing your whines and soft moans only spurs him on, pushing his face deeper into your cunt and eventually getting lost in the way you taste. link.

you mentioned in passing once on how nice it would be to have a kid with san one day, and ever since then he'd push you into a mating press each time you'd have sex, fucking his seed deep into your womb, secretly hoping it'll take. link

bonus:

san loved coming on your back, watching as it dripped down your spine and ass; you were such a gorgeous canvas, and loves painting on it. link.

the hands are so san..... i need him desperately. link.

© 2024 Yun-Fangz All Rights Reserved.

[bumblequinn]

hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍��️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hi! Spencer Reid x reader where reader is kind of panicking because she’s worried Spencer will get tired of her and find someone that’s more like him personality wise? But then Spence reassures her that he loves her and only her? 🎀🚬🤍🤎

fem bimbo!plus size reader, wc: 589.

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | no i am not going to let bimbo reader sleep, but also i've been posting so much aaron recently, which is funny because i've been so obsessed with spencer recently. thank you for your request!

cw! angst :(

“I guess opposites really do attract huh?”

It was just a joke. A harmless, well meaning joke that completely spun your world off of its axis.

You were aware of the differences between you and your boyfriend, but you never felt bad about it, nor did he ever make you think that you weren't good enough for him. You would have liked to think that your differences was what made Spencer fall in love with you; but now you’re not too sure.

Yeah, sure, you needed help with understanding certain things, and your processing was a bit slower than others, but that didn’t make you stupid or annoying… right? 

What if you talked too much? What about that time that you kept interrupting Spencer while he was reading? Did you irritate him? Did he think about breaking up with you? You’d never had thoughts like these before because you never had a reason to. You always felt secure in your relationship with Spencer, like you were his equal. 

Spencer wasn’t used to your silence, it was unusual and quite frankly it raised the red flags in his mind. He was so used to your rambling about anything and everything that the quietness of his apartment was making him itch. 

“Sweetheart?” He called out softly.

It was almost as if his words scared you, your body jumping at the sound of him breaking the serene atmosphere of his almost dark academia-esque apartment. 

“Yes?” Your voice was hushed and meek and Spencer absolutely hated it.

He set his book down on the side table where he uncurled his legs and patted the spot on the couch next to him. “C’mere.” You looked almost hesitant to move, but nonetheless you got up and sat down. 

He grabbed your hand and held it firmly, but you didn’t make any effort to hold it back. It made Spencer nervous; did he do something?

“Sweetheart,” He reiterated. “Is something wrong?”

“Am I too much?” Your panic was quick to build. “What do you mean?” Spencer’s brows were furrowed inquisitively. “Like - like do I talk a lot? Or - or are my clothes too colorful? Do I ask too many questions?” Your speech fired out rapidly, almost as if you didn’t say what you wanted to know you may never do.

“Hey, hey, hey… no, no, stop.” Spencer was quick to shush you, opting to hold your face instead of your hand. “Did someone tell you that?” You shook your head, “No, yes? I don’t know. It - it was just because of that stupid joke Morgan had made.”

Ah, he remembers now.

“The one about opposites attracting?” You nod feebly. “And it got me thinking… what if I’m - what if I’m not a good match for you? You might want someone that’s similar to you,  one that knows how to play chess and understands all those super cool facts you know.” 

“Honey,” Spencer interrupts with a light laugh. “No.”

He wasn’t laughing at you, he was laughing at the sheer fact that he couldn’t imagine ever wanting someone else.

“I want you. I’ve only ever wanted you. I - I do admit that we are different, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I like that you aren’t like me. It’s comforting, and I just… I just love everything about you. I love you.”

“You promise?” You asked wetly with a pout. His lithe thumbs swipe at the tears trickling down your cheeks as he nodded, “Of course.”

“I love you too, Spencie.” 

There you were. His girl.

© ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused .ᐟ

[postgamevibes]

The city was quiet as you pulled into the parking lot of the community rink. The neon sign placed above the doors left a soft pink glow that casted over the freshly fallen snow. You turned off the engine and looked over at Connor’s car, who was already grinning at you.

“You got them to leave the place open for us?”

You nodded biting back a smile. "They owed me a favor. And you,have been on edge all week."

Connor chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. He looked tired, his eyes were shadowed, his shoulders drawn, but he looked at you like you were the only thing holding him together. "You’re crazy."

You shrugged “I try”.

The rink was dimly lit inside, only a few overhead lights were on above the ice. The chill in the air hit you immediately, but it wasn’t unwelcome. You laced up your skates in the locker room while Connor joked about his so-called superiority on the ice.

"You know I’m going to destroy you, right?" he said, nudging your knee with his.

You looked up with a smirk. "You wish. I’ve been practicing."

He scoffed. "When?"

"Wouldn’t you like to know."

Once you were both ready, he offered his hand to help you up—ever the gentleman—and led you out onto the ice. The first step was always the worst, but with Connor steadying you, it felt like second nature.

"So," he said, tugging you gently to the center of the rink, "what’s the plan? Just skating around until you fall and I have to carry you off the ice?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I am perfectly capable of staying on my feet and not falling, thank you very much."

He laughed. "We’ll see about that.”

The two of you started slow, just gliding in circles around the rink. The cold air made your cheeks sting, and your nose was definitely going to run, but you didn’t care. With Connor’s hand in yours and nothing but the sound of your skates echoing through the arena, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.

After a few laps, Connor broke away and challenged you to a race.

"First to the red line wins. Loser buys hot chocolate."

"Deal"

He let you get a head start—gentlemen, sure, but you weren’t above taking advantage of it. You leaned forward, pushing harder with each stride, determined to make him work for it.

You almost made it.

Connor caught up to you right at the line, skating backwards with a smug grin. "Told you."

You crashed into him, breathless and laughing. "That doesn’t count! You let me win and then cheated."

He raised an eyebrow. "That doesn’t even make sense"

You didn’t answer. Instead, you pulled him by the collar of his jacket and kissed him—quick, sweet, and full of warmth despite the cold.

He blinked, surprised, then melted into a grin. "Okay, maybe you win."

You skated together for a while longer, alternating between slow laps and silly games. Connor tried to teach you a spin, which ended in a very dramatic fall—from him, not you.

"You okay?" you asked, crouching beside him.

He groaned. "My ego’s bruised."

You leaned down and kissed his cheek. "I’ll kiss it better."

Eventually, the chill started to seep into your bones. Connor noticed you shivering and pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

"Let’s go warm up."

You retreated to the locker room, still giggling, your breath visible in little puffs. Connor shrugged off his jacket and handed it to you, watching fondly as you bundled up in it.

"You always take care of me," he said softly.

You looked up at him, heart clenching. "You do the same for me."

He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

You leaned into him, resting your forehead against his chest. "You’re not so bad yourself, Bedard."

He laughed and tilted your chin up for a kiss—this one deeper, slower. A promise.

The night ended with you curled up together on the bench, his jacket draped over both of you, the rink silent but for your quiet laughter and whispered I love yous.

And even though the world outside was still cold and chaotic, here—in this moment—it felt like home.