#talked to my other friends about it and they were all like

[imstillalexcomic]

The first time I came out to a coworker, it was early May, 2024.  I had just started HRT the week before, and I wanted someone at the office to be in the know just in case it was necessary for some reason.  She’s a wonderful person who I look up to and trust immensely.

I didn’t come out to any other coworkers until October, when I decided it was “go time” to start telling folks at large as I couldn’t hide being on hormones forever.

There was a massive work event going on that week, and I think the stress of it all gave me a push to open up.  The night before this comic, I came out to my cubicle row buddy, and he was as lovely and accepting as someone could be.

The next night, I came out to Yuqun on the stage of a music festival that was part of the multi-part event we were working.

I’ve talked before about not having had any “girl” socialization growing up, last week’s comic touched on it a little and ended on the idea that there’s hope to create some “girl” memories.

I like to ask my friends first if they’re ok with being featured in a strip.  The ask goes a little like this:

“I’m going to do this anyway, but I’m asking permission.”

My phrasing definitely sounds kind of sinister, but I’m not great with words sometimes so I’ll have to ask for your forgiveness.  What I mean by this is that these are experiences that I am going to talk about no matter what, but the permission I’m asking for is if they want their character to look like them (to the best my drawing ability allows).

I asked Yuqun a couple months ago about if she was alright with this strip, and in particular, using the pictures we took.

She said yes!

…I mean, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have used them.

Anyway, a couple weeks ago she mentioned that she keeps checking my strip and hasn’t seen the one with her yet.  I thought that this would pair well with last week’s, so it was "go time" again.

Yuqun helped me create my first “girl” memory that night, and I’m eternally grateful.

Love you, Yuqun.

[ijenoyou]

Ojos lindos.

Joaquín Torres x StarkF!Reader

WARNINGS: none rlly i think it’s just some nice fluff strangers to friends :3

note: helllowwwww it’s been a while since i’ve written sum for marvel lol anywayssss i rlly enjoyed the new cap movie!! and def did enjoy danny ramirez as the new falcon :3 so yeah i hope yall like this ohhh and if i like this storyline enough i’ll probably make it into a series ;) OH also the reader is supposed to be iron heart !!

Since Sam needed a new team for the Avengers the very first person that came to his mind, aside from Joaquín, was you. You definitely had Tony Stark’s brilliant mind and that helped you build your own suit not wanting to use the one your father made you while you were stuck in the Blip.

And Sam needs someone like that, smart, strong and brave. So when you offered to help him rebuild the team he was more than happy that you did. And he even was more happier to the fact that he got to see you. Since the passing of Tony Stark you disappeared leaving him with the wonder of where you went.

But you had to. Thanos had blasted you with the power of all the stones the moment he saw you get ahold of the gauntlet not knowing that the mixture of the power would cause your body to absorbe it.

So you had new powers, one’s that are quite hard to control, so you did what was safe to the people you care for which was disappear.

But now all was good, your powers are more than safe to use now that you know your way around them. And when Sam found out about the things you could do he knew in his heart he should take you under his wing just like he did with Joaquín Torres.

“She told we could have any room we want.” Sam told Joaquín when they arrived to the old Avengers base.

The both of them grabbed their own baggage and began walking inside the building.

Joaquín’s eyes were shining like crazy. He always thought being an Avenger wasn’t something in his path.

“Uncle Sam!” You said as soon as you saw them walking to the area that had all the old rooms the old team used. You arrived earlier since you wanted to clean up the area for the new arrivals.

Sam smiled and left his things on the floor, he then extended his arms signaling for you to hug him. Since you were quite far holding a broom you decided to teleport.

Joaquín hadn’t seen something like that. The pink glow that appeared in front of him when you appeared of the blue was something that surprised him and it made him lift the right corner of his lip, amused to the fact you were clearly too lazy to walk a few steps to greet Sam.

“So, this is my new child, also known as the new Falcon, Joaquín Torres.” Sam said while grabbing Joaquín’s shoulder.

Your eyes traveled towards him and smiled. You looked different from what he was used to. One of your eyes had a pink glow and the other didn’t, he tried not to let his thoughts show on his face after seeing your new appearance.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sam’s been talking a lot about you since we were on our way.” Joaquín said while reaching his hand out for you to shake. “I’m a big fan of your work, I was a volunteer on the charity you created a few months ago.”

Your smile became even bigger at the mention of the charity you created in honor of the fallen Avengers.

“Really? Thank you so much! I thought I recognized your face from somewhere else.” You said with a sweet tone. “People usually tell me about my father’s work and not mine so thank you, really.” You shook his hand.

Warm.

That’s what he felt inside him when he touched you. He noticed how small your hand was compared to his and how soft your skin felt against his calloused palm.

The both of you didn’t notice how Sam walked out the scene and began searching for a specific room. He wanted the one Steve used since he heard amazing stories about the incredible shower head pressure.

“Want help finding a room?” You said while taking one of this bags from the floor.

“Oh don’t worry I’ll take it!” He tried to take the bag from you.

Too late. You had already teleported a few feet away from him with a playful smile.

“Come! I think you might like this room.”

He smiled and nodded.

He walked behind you for a few moments when you stopped in front of a door that had the number 10 on it. You pushed a few numbers on the pad that was next to the door and the door opened by sliding.

“This one used to be one of my favorite rooms. “ You said with a soft tone.

You left Joaquín’s bag on an old chair and turned to him with your hand on your hips.

“You like it? The view here is amazing, my favorite out of all the rooms.”

He couldn’t believe his eyes. This room had a perfect view to the forest that connected to the base, he couldn’t help but notice how big the room is. Way bigger than he ever imagined with huge windows and a balcony that already had some furniture on it.

“I really do.” He left his things on the floor next to the old chair and walked to stand next to you. Admiring the view.

“My father built quite a lot of rooms for everyone.” You said. “He wanted everyone living under the same roof.” You smiled at the memory of the old team fighting to get the nicest rooms over the base.

Joaquín turned to see you.

You not noticing that he much preferred to have you as the increíble view you mentioned instead of the forest.

“Que ojos tan lindos.” He didn’t realized what he said until you turned towards him with a lifted eyebrow and small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“You think? I’m still getting used to the new color but it’s quite cool.” He didn’t know you understood spanish. A blush began spreading to his face and his right hand scratched the back of his neck with a bashful smile.

“Sorry I just..” He tried to speak but being caught red handed specially by you made him lose control of his words.

“It’s fine!” Your shoulder pushed his. “I don’t mind people looking at my eye, I mean, the staring was bound to happen.” You explained and began walking away from him. “I’ll let you get settled okay? Dinner’s at 8! I’m cooking enchiladas, hope that’s okay.”

Joaquín nodded. “I love enchiladas.” You gave him a thumbs up and walked out the room.

He turned again and stared at the windows for a few seconds until he registered what you said about the staring. He quickly turned on his heel and sprinted to the hall. “For the record I wasn’t staring at your eye! I was just admiring them!” He shouted for you to hear.

A big laugh was all he hear from down the hall. He smiled and turned which caused him to have a mini heart attack at the sight of Sam behind him.

“Dude! Make some noise the next time you stand behind me.” Joaquín said while putting a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat at a fast pace.

Sam made a face at him. That damn look Sam had almost all of the time when he found something cheeky. Like he knew a secret about you.

“You and little Stark became friends really fast uh?” Was all he said while crossing his arms over his chest.

[ ]

A plate of enchiladas appeared in front of Joaquín and Sam’s eyes.

“Here you go!” You said while sitting in front of them at the aisle of the kitchen instead of the big dinning room. You had said it felt way bigger with just the three of you, but Sam reassured you that with time and effort that would soon change.

“So, do you know when Bucky’s coming?” Sam asked while cutting his enchiladas.

You nodded, your hand reaching for a napkin. “Yes! He told me he’s coming next week after he visits the wakandians for a new update on his arm.” You explained after taking a big gulp of your iced coca cola. “He’s been staying up here with me for a while so his room is already set up.”

That caught Joaquín’s full attention and Sam noticed. Sam decided to play a little game with the knowledge he now has. His new child had a crush on little Stark. Oh my, how small the world is.

“Really? And what do you guys do? I’m assuming is just the two of you.” Sam told you with a cheeky sneer.

Your cheeks became flushed and that made Joaquín furrow his eyebrows, just a little.

“Well we just spend time next to one another you know? Sometimes I’ll be reading and he would be sitting next to me while he learns how to share a TikTok.” You explained with your eyes locked on your food.

Sam lifted an eyebrows and began asking more things to get a rise out of Joaquín. “How nice of him, right Joaquín?” Sam elbowed him causing him to cough.

“Oh? Yeah…”

“He doesn’t stay a lot.” You explained sensing the weird tension in the air. “He sometimes comes when I tell him I miss my father.”

The strings of Joaquín’s heart were pulled. He couldn’t imagine what you felt. From what Sam told him, it was just you and Tony Stark. He then met Pepper and became partners but for a while it was just the two of you, against everything.

He knew your father was your rock, he was all you had since your mother died while giving birth, the doctors not noticing she was having an internal bleeding causing her to slip away without too much fuss. The info being shared by Sam.

“But now, you two are here so I won’t be feeling as lonely as before.” Sam nodded as the same time Joaquín did.

After dinner Sam had to take a call from the White House, leaving you with Joaquín to wash all of the dirty dishes you used.

It was nice. Joaquín felt a cozy vibe coming from the moment, soft jazz music playing on the background, you next to him drying the plates with a cloth he would give you after he scrubbed them.

“I totally think he faked that call because he didn’t want to help wash the dishes.” You said playfully.

A laughed erupted from Joaquín’s chest and nodded. “For sure! I mean did you see the look he gave us when he stood up?”

Now it was your time to laugh. “That damn look he has! It’s like he knows something about you, isn’t it?” The both of you exploded of laughter. Making fun of Sam was one of your favorite hobbies now that he was more present in your life.

“Thank you for the compliment by the way.” He heard you say while putting the last plate on its designated place. “Yo también pienso que tienes unos ojos muy lindos.”

He almost choked when he heard those words coming past your lips.

“I didn’t know you spoke spanish.” He explained bashful.

“Tony made me learn quite a handful of languages when I was a kid.” You told him. “Spanish was my favorite by far, I think it’s a very romantic language, don’t you think?”

“It sure is.” Was all he said while turning his body to you.

The both of you didn’t notice how close your bodies were. He could feel the warmth coming from your body, that’s how close he was to you. He could see with clear perfection every lash and every beauty mark on your face. His eyes stopping their path on yours. Joaquín could see the pink glow with perfection and it felt like time stopped.

He wasn’t attracted to your eyes just because of the pink color but because he felt really seen under your gaze. It felt like you were going under every inch and corner of his mind, leaving your mark in it.

And you felt the same thing.

“I-I think it’s quite late, isn’t it?” Your voice brought him back to reality.

He stepped back, instantly missing the warmth of your body. He cleared his throat and sighed.

“Oh right.” He spoke. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

Your lips curled and nodded. ��Of course.” Your voice came out almost as a whisper. “I’m off to sleep, if you need anything my room is next to yours actually.”

He bit his bottom lip and smiled. “Okay then, sleep well mini Stark.” That damned nickname Thor gave you years ago made your skin tickle. A funny feeling forming inside your chest.

**

Que ojos tan lindos - what beautiful eyes

Yo también pienso que tienes unos ojos muy lindos - I also think you have beautiful eyes

[moody-alcoholic]

Inspired by: Service Dog Johnny by the amazing void-my-warranty. I had the idea of; what if the roles were slightly different. What if Johnny invited Simon to come and fuck his girl to get over his fears.

Anyway. I'm super nervous about this because I really don't think I can do SDJ justice but enjoy none the less. Also void if you're seeing this you're awesome thank you for gifting the world SDJ.❤️

Part 1

Summary: John MacTavish x reader x Simon Riley (kinda), WC: 3.2k

CW: +18 content MDNI, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, angst, implied past abuse.

Enjoy <3

---

It’s Friday when Johnny springs the news his friend is coming round that evening. He didn’t give you much time to prepare, or get the house clean but you do the best you can. Johnny does go to the store for you and picks up some beer for them both. 

“You don’t need to do anything special.” Johnny says opening a beer. 

“I don’t mind, it's not that big of a deal, I like cooking.” You say, he comes over and wraps his arm round your waist kissing your neck.

“What exactly does he need help with?” You asks stirring the food. 

“Well, it’s.” He sighs, taking another sip of the beer. You turn to look at him, he seems nervous. 

“Would you ever be up for a threesome?” He asks suddenly. The question shocks you a little, you reach over and pick up your glass of wine. You weren’t expecting that, not the most unusual thing Johnny has asked you about when it comes to sex though.

“I mean, would you?” You ask taking a sip to quell the nerves. 

“Depends on who the other person is.” He says, running his hand through his hair. You take another sip and put the glass down. 

“What has this got to do with Simon? Is he the person you would want to have a threesome with?” You ask frowning. He takes another swing of his beer. 

“It’s not that simple.” Johnny says, you shake your head, now you’re even more confused. 

“I want to help him have sex.” Johnny says, holding his hands out. 

“Help him have sex by having a threesome?” You ask. 

“There’s more to it than that. It’s not just a threesome.” Johnny says. “He’s, he’s been through alot. Being intimate, it’s something he’s not very used to.” 

“Okay. Is he shy?” You’re not sure what to say, you've never even met him. 

“Shy? No, not Simon, well-” Johnny’s sentence gets cut off by the ringing of the door. 

“Just trust me, okay?” He says coming over to you and resting his free hand on your shoulder. You nod, you trust him. Now all of a sudden you feel nervous, you weren’t nervous before now, Johnny leaves the room to answer the door. So he’s invited Simon round for sex? Did Simon ask for this or is this one of Johnny’s master plans?

Or well, maybe he’s not here for sex because Simon has intimacy issues apparently. He should be talking to a therapist, what does Johnny expect to do? You have to keep a straight face though, you don’t want to make him more uncomfortable then he probably already is.

You turn off the stove hearing Johnny laugh as he comes in with Simon. You turn and smile at him, you put your hand out to shake it as Johnny introduces you. He’s not what you expect and he doesn’t seem shy. 

He’s massive, bigger and taller than Johnny, he’s definitely good looking, fit, brown eyes and blonde hair. With the way he holds himself you can tell he’s a soldier, Johnny does the same when he’s nervous, he probably doesn’t even realise it. 

“Thank you for cooking, you didn’t have to.” Simon says as you all walk over to the dining table. 

“I told her the same,” Johnny says, nudging him.  

“I don’t mind, besides when was the last time you had a home cooked meal?” You say going back into the kitchen while Johnny and Simon sit down. You finish your glass of wine swallowing the nerves, it’s going to be fine. What's the worst that could happen, you all have sex? 

That wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

…

Johnny and Simon seem to get on great, after a beer they both relax. You just enjoy listening to them talk about their last deployment. You don’t mind letting your second glass of wine mull you out. After everyone is finished and your stomach’s have settled Johnny insists on moving to the living room.

You all end up on the sofa, you find yourself relaxing against Johnny as he wraps his arms around you. Maybe Johnny won’t bring it up or maybe he’s waiting for Simon to bring it up. It’s not your job surly, you look up at Johnny, blinking at him, maybe he’ll get the idea. 

He smiles and kisses your forehead. Maybe not. You sigh looking back over at the bottle of wine and unopened beer cans on the table. 

“When was the last time you got laid LT?” Johnny asks suddenly. You snap your head back up to look at him. He’s got a cheeky grin on his face looking over at Simon. You hear him clear his throat, now you feel bad. Fucking epitome of subtle as always Johnny.

“Why do you want to know?” Simon replies, you look over at him. He’s resting the beer on his knee, he doesn’t seem nervous. More irritated that Johnny asked him. 

“Just looking out for you Si. Need you to blow off some steam before we’re back to work and you’re busting my balls again.” Johnny chuckles, at least that makes Simon smile. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask him trying to steer the conversion away from the awkwardness hanging in the air. 

“No.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. You let out a breath sitting up. Johnny frowns at you. 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You say, Johnny smiles his hand resting on your hip for as long as can. 

When you make your way back down you hear Johnny talking. You hang back for a second and eavesdrop. 

“I wanna help you Simon.” Johnny says.

“You don’t have to.” Simon replies.

“Well of course I don’t have to. I want to.” Johnny replies, Simon sighs and you hear a can open. “I think it would be good for you, if you want. We’ll take it slow, promise.” 

You feel a lump rise in your throat at Johnny’s words, you always knew he was close with his unit but you didn’t know he was this close. You let out a breath and slowly walk back into the room. You see Johnny move his hand off Simon’s thigh and you go over to pick the empty cans off the table. 

“Need anything?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level. Johnny and Simon both shake their heads. You go into the kitchen anyway to throw out the cans. You hear Johnny coming in, his hands slip round your waist. You smile at his touch and turn to face him. 

“Do you mind doing this?” Johnny asks, his thumb comes up to brush your cheek. 

“Do you?” You ask. He smiles, nodding his head. You smile back, reaching up and kissing him. 

“We’ll take it slow. You want to stop at any time we will.” Johnny says his hand rubbing your arm. 

“I don’t think it’s me you need to be worrying about.” You say. 

“Sorry I sort of sprung this on you, I didn’t know if he would agree.” He says, you frown. 

“Did you speak to him about this before tonight?” 

“I hinted at the idea.” 

“Hinted?” You scoff. “John MacTavish, you're the least subtle person I have ever met.” You wrap your arm around his waist pulling him against you. He hums with that cheeky grin on his face. 

“What happened to the bra?” He asks. You smile. 

“One less obstacle.” He kisses your forehead. You follow him back into the living room, Simon has moved onto the recliner. This time when you sit back on the sofa you don’t lean against Johnny. 

Simon seems to be suddenly extremely interested in what’s going on on the news. Johnny’s hand lands on your thigh and rubs it. He turns and leans in to kiss you, he takes his time mapping your mouth out, you relax into the kiss forgetting Simon’s there for a second.

Johnny’s hand slips up your shirt groping your breast. You hum in his mouth and he pulls away from the kiss. He removes it, gripping the hem of your shirt. You raise an eyebrow at him, what you’re just going to fuck while he watches or maybe joins in.

Johnny tips his head to the side smiling. You swallow the nerves and hold your hands up so he can slip your top off. A satisfied noise leaves Johnny and before you can start to feel really embarrassed about anything he’s already locked his mouth round one of your nipples.

You can’t help moaning and running your hand through his hair. He had it cut while he was away, you want him to grow it out again so you have something to grip onto. Johnny’s tongue flicks your nipple and he gently nibbles it before he pulls his mouth off with an audible pop. 

“What do you think, Si?” Johnny asks, looking over at him. You look over to see Simon press his lips together. “Pretty ain’t she?”

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as he nods, it doesn’t last long though. Johnny pulls you closer to him, planting his lips on yours and pressing his tongue in your mouth while his thumb rubs circles on your nipple still wet from his mouth.

He breaks from the kiss pressing his forehead on yours. “How ‘bout you go show Simon how good you are?” He says, it’s almost a whisper. You nod and he gives you one last quick kiss before you stand up. 

Johnny's hand lingers on the small of your back for as long as he can as you step over to stand in front of Simon. He doesn’t look that nervous, you know he is though, the way his lips are pressed together avoiding your eye line. His hands gripping the chair arms. You’re not sure what to do, make sure you don’t freak him out is probably a good start. 

“I’m not a virgin.” He says, you clench your jaw feeling awkward. “It’s just been a while, I'm out of practice.” 

“How long?” You ask.

You bring his hand up and place it on your breast. “I like having my nipples played with.” You say letting go of his hand, encouraging him to squeeze. You smile at him, you need to keep yourself open and calm. 

“Couple of years,” he says, like it's the most embarrassing fact in the world. Now you just feel bad for him, again. You reach down for the hand resting on the chair arm and pick it up. You can see the bulge in his pants, that's good, one less obstacle you need to worry about. 

His hands are rougher than Johnny’s, his grip is tighter, you’re not sure if it’s out of nerves or not. If he relaxes it will be easier, you don’t think that's going to be happening any time soon. His thumb brushes over your nipple and you reward it with a hum, trying to make your body relax even more. 

His other hand comes up to your other beast and before you know it he has both his thumbs running over your nipples. It feels good, if this were any other situation-or Johnny you might be able to cum just like this. 

You feel Johnny step up behind you, his hands land on your waist as he pulls you back against him. 

“Wanna see what else she likes?” He asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. Simon looks up at him and nods. Johnny leaves you and Simon drops his hand as you both watch Johnny move the coffee table out the way. When he’s done he goes over to the sofa and pulls the throw down on the floor, sitting down with his back against the sofa. 

“Come.” He says gesturing at you, you raise an eyebrow and walk over anyway, he spreads his legs and pats on the floor between them.

“Pants off, back on my chest.” He says, you nod pulling them off. This time you don’t get embarrassed thinking about Simon seeing you. You sit down between his legs and rest up against his back. You look over at Simon who’s face has turned a light red. Maybe this is too much, too fast. 

He hasn’t said stop though. Johnny reaches over and pulls your knees up so Simon has a perfect view of you spread out against him. You can feel his own cock pressing against your lower back, his hands run down your thighs eventually pressing on your clit. 

You try not to squirm, keeping yourself still. You let out a breath as Johnny moves his fingers round soaking them in your juices before pressing them back on your clit. You moan this time at the new sensation, his fingers pressing little circles with ease. 

That’s good though right? You should be looking like you’re enjoying yourself. This is a fun activity not something to be afraid off. 

“She likes this too, Si. Wanna feel?” Johnny says then presses a kiss into your neck. You watch as he shifts in the chair, for a second he looks like he doesn’t know what to say. He lets out a sigh and stands up out of the chair, he steps over then kneels down in front of you. He watches for a second as Johnny changes his strokes. 

You see Simon swallow before he reaches out. Johnny’s fingers are replaced with his. It’s a whole different sensation. His movements are slower, more unsure but the pressure is there and from having them both play with your nipples your body is slowly building up to that sweet release. 

“Put your fingers in her.” Johnny says after a few seconds. Simon looks up at him then quickly to you, you smile and nod at him. He shuffles on his knees again taking his fingers off your clit almost like he’s unsure. 

You watch his adam's apple bob then he presses a finger into you. You can’t help moaning, his finger stops, you smile at him and he continues to press it in until he can’t anymore. You feel Johnny’s cock twitch behind you. He’s enjoying this, he moves his fingers back to your clit. 

“Feel good love?” Johnny asks in your ear, you nod. “Use your words darlin’ tell him how good you feel.” 

“Your finger feels good Simon, you can use more if you want.” You say looking up at him. You think you see the faintest smile creep onto his lips. The next time he pulls his finger out he adds another. The new stretch makes you part your legs further, scooting your position slightly so his fingers rub against your g-spot with each thrust. You moan again, this time tipping your head slightly. You want to come but not until Simon’s ready, you don’t want to scare him. 

“See not so scary after all.” Johnny says, you can hear the smile in his voice. You look up at Simon who seems like he’s in a world of his own, maybe that's where he needs to be to get through this. You wonder what happened to him, you didn’t bother asking Johnny. It must have been something horrible. 

You let out a moan trying not to clench down on Simon’s fingers, you don’t want to spook him. Johnny hums in your neck, you know he’ll know you’re close, sometimes it feels like he can read your body better than you. 

“What to make her cum?” Johnny asks, you almost want to nod and scream yes. Simon looks up again, he hesitates for a second, his fingers stopping in you. He nods and you smile at him. 

“Just don’t take your fingers out okay?” Johnny asks, you swallow, you don’t want either of them to take their fingers off you. Simon nods again, his fingers start moving again, he makes sure to press in all the way. He speeds up too, you’re not in control anymore, maybe it’s for the best. 

Johnny’s fingers on your clit are relentless, you’re focusing on not spooking Simon or clenching around his fingers until you cum. Johnny hums in your ear and it sends shivers down your spine. He can tell your close cock twitches behind you. You’re not sure if you need to give an audible warning to Simon though. 

Your breathing increases as does your moaning, you’re close and you need to make your mind up. 

“Johnny.” You call his name, it’s almost like you need to wait for his permission, you’re not sure what to do.

“Yeah baby, come for us.” His voice low in your ear. Christ, that's all the permission you need, you tip your head back and close your eyes moaning as you clench down on Simon’s fingers. He stops moving but you don’t care. Johnny rides you through the orgasm as Simon’s fingers leave you. 

“See, not so bad.” You hear Johnny say. You open your eyes as you feel Simon get up to his feet. 

“Si?” Johnny asks as he moves to leave the room. You sit up.

“Bathroom.” Is all he says as he leaves the living room.

“Is he okay?” You ask leaning forward between Johnny’s legs. You turn to look at him watching out the door. You both hear the downstairs toilet door close. Johnny looks back over at you and smiles, you can see the concern in his eyes though, he’s not as slick as he thinks he is. 

“You did great.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you. You can’t help feeling like you’ve done something wrong though. Maybe it was all too much for him. 

“I’ll go check on him.” Johnny says helping you to your feet. You smile at him and nod. Maybe he just needs a second. You feel bad all of a sudden. Johnny leaves and you shiver, the room suddenly feels cold. You’re just standing there naked, you’re not sure if things are going to continue. 

You reach over pulling the other throw off the couch and wrap yourself up. At least this way if he wants to keep going you don’t have to go through the hassle of taking all your clothes off. You want to sit down but your curiosity gets the better of you and you head over to the living room door. 

You hear the toilet door open. No one says anything, you make sure to keep out of sight of the hall, trying to focus on listening. 

You hear Johnny sigh. “You did so well mate.” There’s a sniffle in response, is he crying? Now you really feel bad for eavesdropping. 

“Wanna stay the night?” Johnny asks, there’s no response.

“Want a mask?” He asks, you frown, a mask? “Guest room, in the chest of drawers.” You hear movement and step back over to sit on the sofa. You’re still getting comfy as Johnny walks in. He smiles at you and comes over to sit next to you. His arm comes round your shoulders and he pulls you up against him. 

“Simon’s going to stay the night.” He says kissing the top of your head. You nod trying to swallow the guilt of eavesdropping on their conversation. Johnny reaches over to pick up the remote and unmute the TV. 

“Is he okay?” You ask. 

“He’s fine. He just needs a minute.” Johnny says. You nod 

“Thank you.” He says. “Really I mean it. You didn’t have to do this.” You look up at him and smile, it makes you feel all warm inside.

“I love you johnny.” You say. 

“I love you too.”

---

[enigmeyyy-writes]

I definitely think a lot of this is really interesting now that I'm rewatching the show again to write my fanfictions...

Katara definitely had her faults (and it was kinda wrong of her to tell her older brother that he didn't love their mother as much, especially because he most likely had more memories of her alive in comparison), but she was still a 14-year-old girl thrust into adult responsibility in the middle of a war. She is misunderstood a lot of the time from a fan's perspective because (in all honesty) a lot of us watched the show as kids and either thought she was super cool or super annoying. I even only started to find Katara annoying after I was older--and that was mainly because in times when she did attempt to "solve" things or "fix" something she wasn't mature enough yet to understand how to handle it responsibly. Sokka was a lot like this too, and we see him getting blamed a lot less. Both of them were standing in as leaders in their tribe during the war, and both of them left. Sure, the Avatar showed up, but even Aang was running away from responsibility until he realized he had to face the consequences of his actions!

Past this point is a lot of me talking about how I'm addressing a lot of this in my fan works, so check it out if you're interested!

I think a lot of my thoughts on this topic stem from the fact that I want to explore the emotional and responsibility commitments the characters of ATLA have weighing on them. In the AU I'm writing, for example, the characters (set in canon) are aged up and a lot of them have more people they are attached to. Since this was a Katara-centric post, I'll also include what I have in mind for my Katara fic.

Growing Pains centers around the letters Katara sends home to her and Sokka's childhood friend, Mali. He was the oldest of the boys left behind by the tribe because he just didn't quite make the age cut, and now serves as a hunter and protector for the tribe. He was definitely upset when his friends left him, but he knew that if they were to travel with the Avatar he had to stay and protect their tribe. Katara sends her letters detailing the stories of her adventures to Mali but soon realizes that she left a lot behind at home for what was turning out to be a perilous and risk-filled adventure.

And on the Aang side of things (because let's face it, a twelve-year-old boy having childish immaturity and the weight of the world on their shoulders is NOT the best combination), I wanted to explore more of his energy and experience of learning maturity after hardship in a Book 3 and post-war fic titled Spitfire.

Spitfire centers around one of Zuko's childhood friends (an OC because I think he deserved friends he could actually trust prior to joining the Gaang) named Soru coming to terms with the fact that he never truly was against the Avatar even though he's from the Fire Nation. Escapism at its finest--truly. As Aang has to come to terms with the new reality the world is entering after the defeat of Fire Lord Ozai, he has to learn how to deal with the weight of the political aspect of society the rest of his friends (and former enemies for that matter) were already wrapped up in.

All in all, I really think exploring aspects of the characters of such a beloved show that aren't really addressed is such an interesting thing to do. I applaud all other ATLA writers on the platform (and any platform) for either just sticking to canon or coming to terms with the flaws that are either over-exaggerated or under-represented in fanfiction, but I am not one of you! I want to explore the inklings of depth we get from this fun show, especially since I'm approaching this from a perspective in which the characters are older and arguably have more responsibility on their shoulders.

I'd really appreciate it if anyone would check out my stories (will be posted on here and ao3) or at least show interest in them! I've worked really hard to put all the details together behind the scenes, so any support or showing you enjoy my works/ideas is greatly appreciated!

I just watched Avatar for the first time all the way through, and yeah, it’s great, but the one thing that surprised me was how different Katara was compared to the fandom interpretation I’d seen and internalized before watching.

Like, before you watch Avatar, you’ve seen all these memes about Katara and her mom, and based on those memes, you assume it’s one of those lines you have to get used to hearing at least once every episode. But then you watch the show and realize that she only talks about her mom maybe five or six times per season and you also realize she only brings her up when she’s trying to comfort someone or empathize with them because that’s how she processes her grief and that’s one way she connects with people.

Or you hear the infamous line, “then you didn’t love [our mother] the way I did” and you prepare yourself for one of the worst character assassinations ever only to see the scene after nearly three seasons worth of context and realize she was kinda right. She’s been the mother, the nurturer, the comforter. She’s been patient, gentle, and accommodating where everyone else has gotten to be insensible and reckless and childish, and the one moment where she allows herself to feel her grief, suddenly she’s this evil bitch and not, y’know, a 14 year old girl whose been thrusted into adulthood in a way no other character has. A 14 year old girl who should be allowed immaturity and raw emotion and anger instead of the patience and grace she’s been forced to extend to every character without even the smallest amount of gratitude or even consideration in return.

Or you see all of the clips where Katara puts Aang in the “friendzone” and you expect to have this wishy washy back and forth where Aang is putting his feelings out there only to have Katara neither commit nor express any clear reciprocation or rejection. Then you watch and realize that, as cute as the ship is initially, that there’s never a point where Aang returns any comfort or grace to Katara despite her always doing this for him to the point of coddling. That for as much as Aang says he loves her, he never seems to outgrow his perception of her so he can recognize her as someone who feels grief, anger, and pain as much as she expresses love, kindness, and maturity. And instead of having moments where he learns to see her beyond her strength or compassion, you’re instead given moments where Aang forces his feelings onto her, both romantic and non-romantic, and Katara is expected to just…shoulder those feelings the way she shoulders everyone else’s.

Katara is the most misunderstood character in the show. As much as people recognize the complexities of Zuko, Sokka, and Azula, they struggle to do the same for Katara because they see her struggles as somehow lesser, and therefore, less deserving of sympathy. They can handle her so long as she’s being endlessly patient and loving and kind, but the moment her endless love, patience, and kindness runs out, she’s suddenly this annoying bitch who can’t shut up about her mother or reciprocate Aang’s feelings. But Katara’s trauma does matter as much as anyone else’s. No, she wasn’t banished from her kingdom. No, she didn’t lose her entire community, and no, she isn’t the only one who lost her mother. But the difference between her and everyone else whose experienced loss because of the Fire Nation is that she’s never given time to process her trauma. Aang gets to lean on Katara constantly. Toph gets to express her feelings to Katara, and yeah, Sokka also lost their mother, but unlike Katara, he isn’t put in the position of being a substitute for everyone’s parent. He even admits that he sees his sister as a mother. The only characters who ever comfort Katara or allow her to vent is Zuko and her father and that’s, like, three scenes in a show where the other characters are consistently given opportunities to seek out Katara for unconditional support.

The fandom interpretation of Katara has been so bastardized that even those who haven’t watched the show know her for this fanon version and not for who she is. She’s such an interesting character beyond her fandom limitations, though. She’s brave, hot-headed, and hopeful as well as gentle and caring. She wishes to learn waterbending, not only because she wants to fight in the war, but because she wants to continue her culture’s practices because, and people often forget this, she also lost an entire subculture within her already fractured tribe. And she wants to defeat the Fire Nation both because of her deep love and empathy for other people, but also because she wants to avenge her mother. But because some of the fans have reduced Katara to a bitch who constantly whines about her mother and friendzones Aang, you wouldn’t know any of this, and it sucks because she’s the only character whose been dumbed down to such an extent.

[teambyler]

The most hypocritical anti Byler argument:

"Why can't two boys just be friends? Why do you have to make everything gay!?"

Whenever I hear this argument or some variation of it, I think back to my two cousins, one a girl and the other a boy. (One from my dad's side of the family, the other from my mom's.) They were maybe six years old at the time, and they were innocently talking and playing and giving each other math and spelling-bee quizzes. ALL my family were giggling, saying they were going to be boyfriend and girlfriend.

I also think back to all the times I see young girls being judged on their physical beauty and told they're going to have a handsome boy when they grow up because they're so pretty.

From childhood, boys and girls have their sexuality assumed for them. Their SEXUALITY and romantic possibility are talked about openly in front of their face. They're made to look at themselves sexually before they even want to.

So when people yell at Byler fans saying "Why do you have to make everything gay?" I want to scream at them:

"Why do you have to make everything straight!?"

Why do you insist on sexualizing children to be heterosexual even before they're ready to start thinking of themselves in those terms?

Why do you have no problem with Mike kissing El in season 1 right after she asks him if he's like her "brother"?

Why do you idealize their relationship when they were children, while simultaneously trying to shame Byler fans for trying to "sexualize children" even though these are fictional characters and the actors who play Mike and Will are already adults?

Why do you shame any thought or possibility of homosexual romance, while imposing heterosexual norms on everyone?

It reminds me of people who say "You can be gay of course... just don't shove it in our faces (by holding forth that you're gay, kissing in public, etc.)." When no one bats an eye when straight people do the same thing. They're willing to give lip service to LGBT+ people, but actual equality they don't accept.

It's Straight Privilege in action: the norms and standards that straight people enjoy quietly do not to apply to us.

This hypocrisy even distorts how Milkvans view Mike and El. We're told that if Mike and Will get together, that would mean Mike "used El" and El would never be able to forgive him.

Not only does this disregard that people can have amicable break-ups and still be close friends: it also shows that the idea of a platonic loving relationship between a Mike and El is beyond their comprehension. To them, the only loving relationships boys and girls can have with each other are romantic ones.

(Now, before anyone objects: sure many people accept Robin and Steve, but that's because Robin is canonically gay. We all know that before she came out many of us (me included!) were shipping those two as a couple!)

If someone ships Mike and El WITHOUT her confronting him about his poor treatment of her in early s4, without there being an honest conversation about that, this definitely raises an eyebrow from me. The "love confession" didn't address this: his fear of losing her did NOT explain failing to comfort her or failing to say he loved her. Theoretically it's possible for these two to repair things. (And if Milkvan is endgame I hope that they do by addressing this!) But for some Milkvan shippers this need to address Mike's behavior doesn't even enter their minds because they're idealizing their relationship. In other words, THEY are imposing their idea of a relationship on these two, much in the same way my family was imposing their own ideas on my two cousins without regard to the people involved.

So if anyone asks "Why can't two boys just be friends? Why do you have to make everything gay?" it's purely hypocritical and dishonest. No, we just want THIS relationship between Mike and Will (which is clearly being built up as romantic) to be gay out of a sea of heterosexual relationships on TV.

No. THEY are the ones who rule out a boy and girl just being friends. THEY are the ones who insist on imposing romance on a boy and girl when they're not ready. THEY are the ones who insist on "everything" being one way.

-teambyler

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 16

Summary: Your Westview fam reunites with you and Boston as you prepare to leave the city.

A/N: I believe this is what @jerullium and I would call a filler episode but hey! Enjoy if you like Wanda fluff

-

You know what the call is about.

“Hello?” you practically sing, your eyes on the road.

“Stop that” Wanda warns you.

“Stop what?”

“Changing the music. You know I don’t like that girl!”

“Babe, Chappell is great” you play dumb.

“I’m the only redhead you can love”

“Yes, darling. Have you asked the kids yet?”

“Just about to. I’m picking them up before my mother steals my car and crashes against a police car. Again”

You want to laugh at how annoyed Wanda sounds. Honestly, you’re dying to meet her mother.

“Let me know if they agree to come so I can get your tickets”

“I can do that…”

“You’re all flying first class, and that’s final. Gotta go. Love ya”

“Me too… you’re playing her music again!” she says and you hang up, laughing.

“You guys are adorable” Val says, sitting next to you in the car.

“Yelena likes to call it ridiculously corny”

“So, not that this is any of my business… but why are you looking to work abroad if you are in a relationship with Wanda? I don’t think she’d be willing to move, right?”

“Well… that’s why I was curious about that summer program you mentioned with an NGO”

Valkyrie knew enough people and organizations to find something that wouldn’t mean moving to a different country indefinitely.

And as it turned out, you had a few common friends, including none other than Sharon Carter.

She was a couple years ahead of you in college, but you’d always gotten along. Thanks to Val, you knew she was ready to move back home -her whole family was in Boston- and you were hoping she could take an interest in working for Romanoff Medical Center.

After everything Melina had done for you (even if it was out of self interest to provide Yelena with a mentor), you didn’t feel comfortable just leaving without a thought after your contract was up.

As you go meet Sharon at the restaurant, your mind drifts to Billy and Tommy. Would they be excited at the prospect of seeing you? Wanda had only mentioned they went through a rough patch, but you were always too afraid to ask the details.

The sight of Sharon waving at you brings you back to reality.

“Carter girl” you greet like you did in college, hugging her.

“Look at you, all grown up”

“Look at you, working for WHO”

“It’s nothing, really” she shrugs it off, greeting Val as well.

There’s some talk about work, just chit chat while the waiter was hanging around waiting to take your order. Once he’s done and you have some space to talk more freely, Sharon turns to you, a smirk on her face.

“You still a player?”

That makes you choke on your drink, while Val whistles.

“What? Here I was thinking this one was a family gal”

“Wait, hold up. That’s insane. In college, she used to charm every girl. Not even the ones with boyfriends were safe” Sharon says, making you blush.

“I don’t seem to recall…”

“Jean Grey.”

“Ok, got it. No need to go further into detail” you interrupt her, suddenly remembering that yeah, you had been a bit of a player in college. “Now I’m with someone who has two kids, so I’m looking to return to Westview”

“Romanoff Medical is going to need a great Head of Trauma” Val chimes in.

“The pay is spectacular”

“Mhm. Heard Melina can be hard to deal with” Sharon says and you sigh.

“Honestly? Not as much. Not if you do your job and you’re good at it. Like me” you wink at her.

“Well, I’d be looking to start in a month or so, because I really wanna get some rest and be with my family”

“Timing couldn’t be better… except I need someone to cover for me this weekend. Do you mind?”

“That’s going to cost you a mimosa”

“Done” you say, waving at the waiter.

—

Wanda is stalling.

Things were getting better between her and the kids. There was no arguing, even if Billy had decided to quit the soccer team.

She knew they still missed you, but they were starting to heal. And your relationship was going well, but Wanda was afraid of so many things.

Of screwing it up again. Hurting the kids.

Getting hurt.

Though you’d never ever do it, she trusted you completely.

She’s still thinking about how to bring up the trip to the kids when she gets a text from you.

Y/N: Hey, it’s been a couple of hours. If you’re not ready or think it’s not the best idea to bring the kids, I get it. They always come first. Just know that I love you no matter what :)

Wanda smiles at that.

She decides to leave her study and go to the twins’ room, where they’re doing some homework.

“Hey, do you guys have a minute?” she sits in Billy’s bed, and Tommy joins them. “So, I know we haven’t spoken about Y/N. She’s been living and working in Boston”

“That’s where you’ve been traveling to” Tommy says, looking up.

“Right. And we ran into each other… started talking. She mentioned you could join me on my next trip and we’d all go around the city together. There are some cool stuff to do and see”

“Seriously? That would be awesome! Yes, I want to come with you!” Tommy says, excited. Wanda’s about to ask Billy when he jumps out of bed, running to lock himself in the bathroom.

“Wait here, sweetheart” she asks Tommy. “Billy? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna go”

“Why? Are you angry at Y/N?”

“No”

“Then me?”

“No” he says, this time with less conviction.

“Then what is it?”

“You’re only making us go so you both can give us the talk” he says through the door, and Wanda decides to open it.

“What talk?” she sits on the floor next to her son, running her hands through his hair.

“The same talk Emily’s parents had with her when they were getting a divorce. About how it wasn’t her fault and they’d always love her even if they weren’t together”

“No, that’s not it at all, Billy”

“She just wants to say goodbye to us”

“I promise you that’s not it. We’re both trying hard to fix everything, my sweet boy. Have our family back” Billy turns around to wipe his face, and Wanda sighs. “Would it make you feel better if Y/N told you herself?”

That makes the boy turn.

Wanda takes out her phone, dialing your number and hoping you’re not too busy with work.

“Hey, beautiful. Got any news for me? Will I get to see my boys?”

“Y/N!” Billy jumps up, leaning his head against Wanda’s to hear you better.

“Billy? Hey kiddo. How are you? I’ve missed you so damn much”

He’s so excited he doesn’t even notice the curse word that leaves your mouth.

“I missed you too! Do you like Boston?”

“It’s alright. Would be a lot more fun if you guys came over to visit me. What do you say?”

“We’ll do some fun stuff?”

“And eat ice cream”

“This isn’t to say goodbye?”

“Goodbye? I have my ticket to Westview in a couple of weeks, Billy. You’re not getting rid of me”

“Ok, yeah! We’ll see you soon!” he says, excited. You laugh.

“Alright then. Now let me speak to your mom”

He hands over the phone, running back to his room.

“We have thirty seconds before Tommy comes running to talk to you”

“Ok, I’ll take it to say I love you and can’t wait to see you all this weekend”

“Will we stay at the penthouse?”

“I’m not sure it’s very child friendly so let’s get a suite at a nice hotel” you say, knowing the place was full of expensive things that could easily break with two kids running around.

Like clockwork, Tommy shows up, kneeling next to his mother.

“Y/N! Can we go to a Red Sox game?”

“I’ll see what I can do, buddy” you say. He keeps talking, asking questions about the city.

Billy joins in a second later, and this is the first time in months that Wanda’s seen them so happy and excited.

She can’t wait to have her entire family back together.

—

Rumor has it, Fury has found a replacement. He only schedules interviews when Darcy’s away and he asks goody two shoes Kamala Kahn to deliver all the CVs he needs to read.

She’d never move to the dark side, unfortunately.

Darcy is running out of ideas to keep the job open.

There’s one, though.

“Fuck it” she decides, walking to Fury’s office and ignoring his secretary when she says he’s busy.

He obviously isn’t, signing papers.

“Yes, Doctor Lewis?”

“I’d like to be considered”

“Considered for…” he says without look up.

“The position of Head of Trauma”

Now, that makes Fury pay attention. He smiles, removing his glases.

“I thought you wanted Y/N to come back to her old job”

“Well, she’s taking her sweet time and I don’t want anyone else running the ER. So, I’m your girl”.

“I still have to interview you” he says, pulling out Darcy’s file and reading it. “Darcy N. Lewis. What does the N stand for?”

“None of your business” Darcy snaps, forgetting she’s talking to her boss until Fury levels her with a glare. “Nora”

“Alright. Let’s start, shall we?”

—

Melina’s reviewing schedules when she hears a knock on the door.

“Ah, just who I wanted to see” she says when you walk inside.

“Have I done something?”

“Well, we have a pending discussion about your time with us, don’t we?” the woman says, and you appreciate how she goes straight to business.

“I am leaving after the three months we agreed on” you admit, sitting down in front of her.

“I assumed as much, seeing your girlfriend around these past few weeks”

“I’m sorry, I know you wanted it to not work out” you tease, and Melina huffs, offended.

“I’m not some kind of monster! If you’re happy, I am glad to hear it. I just know it’s gonna be incredibly difficult to find someone who can…”

You interrupt her rant by pushing Sharon’s CV in front of her. She skims through it, raising her eyebrows.

“She worked for the World Health Organization?”

“Mhm. Top of her class, outstanding in every way. She also brings a large network and a lot of prestige”

Needless to say, those are things Melina loves. You’re sure she’d be willing to throw another gala just to show off Sharon.

“We’d have to do a trial, show her around…”

“Already arranged it” you say, smiling. Melina keeps reading the file and you know she doesn’t need any more convincing, so you take your cue to leave. But there’s something more you wanna say, as you stand by the door. “Hey. Thank you for taking me in. You gave me a place to stay and a job when I was completely broken. I can’t imagine what I would have done without your help”

“Just make sure… she’s worth it all. That she values you as much as you do her, Y/N. This is your career, and a big sacrifice at that” the brunette says, her tone softer.

“You’re right. Thank you” you leave with a smile.

—

It feels like everyone decided to fly today. The airport is crowded, you can barely find room to walk and you know Wanda must be struggling with her bag and the two kids who are running around everywhere.

“God damn it” you sigh, hoping they’re managing through the sea of people.

You hear them before seeing them.

“Y/N!” Tommy screams. You don’t realise where he’s coming from until he crashes against your back, jumping as he hugs you.

“Hey, kiddo!” you try to turn around, only to see Billy sprinting at full speed. “Oh, oh”

He gives the final push that knocks you down, and you shriek as they climb on top of you.

“Boys! Honestly, what has gotten into you?” Wanda comes to the rescue a second later. “You ok?”

“Come here, you two” you sit up, hugging them. “Missed you like crazy”

“And what about me?” Wanda pouts. You laugh, standing up and kissing her.

“Of course I missed you too, beautiful”

Right on cue, they both groan and complain as Wanda kisses you back.

“I didn’t miss that” Tommy sasses you and you glare.

“In that case…” you grab Wanda by the waist, pulling her against you and peppering kisses all over her face.

“Baby” she laughs, and you silence her a second later with your lips.

“Blegh” they both say, grabbing their backpacks.

“Are they teens now?” you mumble against Wanda’s ear.

“No, teenage years will be much worse than this. Are you still up for it?”

“In it for the long run, baby”

Wanda has to go straight to a work meeting, but you stop by a second to greet Wendy, and make sure she gets a chance to meet the twins.

“I’ve heard so much about you!” the woman says.

“Tell Wendy what was your favorite story of hers growing up”

“Uh, the one where the kids go to space” Billy says shyly.

“And they take their dog! We have a dog too and we’d take him to space with us” Tommy agrees.

“Alright, astroboys, let them work. We’re going to a baseball game”

“Oh, no! I’m sad I’ll miss it. Have fun” Wanda lies.

You knew she’d be bored out of her mind so you decided it was as good a time as any to take them to the game.

“Yeah, those are so much fun” you say, knowing baseball is incredibly boring for you too. As Wanda says goodbye you pull her close and whisper in her ear. “I’m taking one for the team so be prepared to thank me later, babe”

“Stop” she tries not to laugh, knowing exactly what you mean. “And don’t eat a lot of junk food”

“You heard your mom”

“I wasn’t talking only to the kids”

“Rude”

As you expected, you still have no clue what’s going on but the kids enjoy eating nachos and watching men running around after a ball.

“Wow, Camarena is about to bat!”

“Oh, I met that guy in New York” you say, remembering how Zach was so excited about that player.

You really need to plan something in the summer for him to meet the twins.

As Camarena prepares to bat, you decide to FaceTime Zach.

“Where are yooou?” he says, annoyingly close to the screen. “Without me? Traitor”

“Who’s that?” Tommy says, looking away from the game for a split second.

“My brother”

“Hi, I’m uncle Zach”

“You can’t be our uncle. You’re too young” Billy huffs.

You’re about to tell them to settle when you hear the familiar sound of people cheering and shouting.

“Ah, shit. Not again”

Another ball falls right on your hand.

Tommy takes your phone, lifting it in the air and dancing with his brother as the camera pans to you.

Honestly, why are people so happy over catching a freakin ball?

Pretty soon you hope there’s another coming your way and knocks you down, because Zach is arguing over the phone with the boys.

“We should totally keep it!”

“Are you insane? If he asks for it you can get a picture with him and get him to sign stuff, that’s worth more!”

“It wouldn’t be the same”

Anyway, as the game ends you get called just like last time.

“You again?” the team manager recognises you and you shrug your shoulders.

“Hey, I’m just as surprised as you”

“Alright, how about a picture and a signed bat in exchange for the ball?”

You shake your head no and point at the kids.

“You’re asking the wrong person, pal. Negotiate with these two”

Why are you even surprised when they get all demanding? They are Wanda’s kids after all.

In the end, they get one picture each, two signed baseball balls, one of his hats and a glove.

“Come on, your mom’s waiting for us at the hotel. You two need to shower so we can grab some food”

“No shower when we’re on vacation!” they chant as you drive back.

“Nu-uh, you’re both stinky. Plus you hugged that stinky man”

“Can we have burgers and milkshakes?”

“You had nachos and popcorn and soda. Oh, by the way” you turn to look at them at the red light. “If your mother asks you didn’t eat all that. Just some popcorn”

“We can agree if we don’t have to shower”

“Shower and I’ll take you to the F1 arcade”

Billy and Tommy whisper in the back of the car, considering your proposal.

“Deal”

“Fist bump” you say, throwing one hand to the back seat so they can seal the deal.

You definitely missed acting like a kid with them.

—

Wanda was right. You’d never say it out loud because you don’t want her to get all cocky.

But the kids have been hyper ever since they arrived and you’re a little out of practice with taking care of them.

It’s day two and you’re hoping the museum can provide some distraction while you chill with Wanda.

“You ok, detka? Seems like you ran a marathon” Wanda comments with a smirk.

“I’m super fine. Just ate a lot for breakfast” you lie, but still keep her close to your side, hoping you can sit down and watch the kids run around.

And for a little while, everything’s going well. Until you stumble upon an exhibition.

“Hall of Human Life” you read out loud.

It’s like Disneyland for doctors.

“That’s so cool!” you say, watching the model of an artery with high blood pressure. Tommy and Billy pick up on your enthusiasm, following you everywhere and asking questions as they go through every station of the exhibit.

Apparently, there’s a little contest at the end and you join a group of children sitting on the floor.

“Alright” the staff woman says, looking around. “Who can tell me how many bones are in the human body?”

“206!” you shout from the back, making every kid turn to look at you.

“Correct… uh, let’s just raise our hands to answer” the woman asks, thrown off by the sight of an adult in a children’s activity. “Does anyone remember three parts of the eye? Anyone?”

You’re the only one raising your hand, and the woman gives up with a sigh.

“Sclera, iris and retina”

It keeps happening with a couple of questions and Wanda is torn between letting you crash the activity or ask you to join her in the back.

As you get ready to argue with a 12 year old over an incorrect answer, Wanda decides you better get going.

“Come here, baby”

“Ok, what you said is incorrect. 1 in 500 people have a cervical rib” you keep arguing with the kid while Wanda drags you away.

“Here” she pushes you to the back of an exhibit.

“Hey, I was just…”

“We should let the kids enjoy themselves for a bit, don’t you think?” she asks and you’re about to argue when her lips are on yours.

“Yeah, that’s alright I guess” you sigh, a shiver running down your spine when Wanda bites your bottom lip.

“So, wanna discuss anatomy with a kid or show me what you know in this little corner?”

“I’m definitely staying here” you say, making out like teenagers.

You only notice the activity is over when the kids come looking for you.

“Gross” Tommy says.

“Hey, keep that up and we’ll go through the baby section again”

“Nooo” they both run away, traumatized by the drawings.

“How I missed babysitting the three of you” Wanda laughs.

You walk down the rest of the museum, commenting on your favorite thing in each area. As you discuss if they want to go to the aquarium after having some food, Wanda decides to get some souvenirs from the gift shop, Tommy tagging along in hopes of getting a t-shirt.

“You don’t want a t-shirt, beautiful boy?” you ask Billy, and he smiles when you call him that. It’s his favorite thing, from that John Lennon song.

“I don’t want you to be alone”

“I’ll be fine. Go with Mom, help her shop for something for Pietro and Grandma”

“It’s ok” he insists. You hug him and he leans on your side.

“How have you been? Heard you’re not really into soccer these days”

“No, I only went because Tommy liked it. But it’s not my favorite thing. Plus Daniel was being kind of mean” he mutters.

“Isn’t he Dick’s… I mean, Richard’s kid?” you stumble over the nickname.

“Yeah. He was saying that it wasn’t right that mom was with you and that was why I was weird too”

You take a deep breath, turning to look at him.

“You know that’s not right”

“Yeah. Tommy kicked his ass for that. Don’t tell mom I said a bad word” he remembers and his expression makes you forget the anger for a second.

“My lips are sealed”

In that precise moment, Wanda and Tommy come back. Tommy has some dinosaur stuff that he bought for his brother and they’re busy checking everything out.

“Wow, what’s going on?” Wanda says when you pull her aside.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper, shaking with anger.

“Tell you what? Y/N, calm down”

“I’m going to kill him”

“Kill who?”

“Dick, Richard, whatever his name is. He hurt Billy and I’m going to…”

“I already dealt with it, please calm down” Wanda asks.

“Unless you ran him over with your car, it’s not enough”

“I did threaten him with that” she says, which makes you laugh. “I’m serious. I did tell him I’d do it”

Wanda puts her hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at her.

“Are you better now?”

“Yeah. You should have told…”

“I wanted to but you weren’t there. So I had to deal with it the best I could” she says and you hang your head in defeat.

You hope one day the guilt of leaving like a coward can disappear.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I pushed you away, remember? Let’s just get something to eat. Ok?”

“Ok” you kiss the back of her hand, sighing.

“Look what we got you!” Tommy interrupts, unaware of the tension between you and her mom.

He shows you a plastic dinosaur with a cowboy hat and you scream.

“Coolest thing ever!”

“Three kids” Wanda laughs, walking away as you alternate between rawr and yeehaw sounds, holding the dinosaur up in the air.

—

The kids wouldn’t get on the plane until you showed them your ticket to Westview. Even then, they complained that two weeks was a long wait.

But still, they got on the plane and you were  seeing Wanda next Thursday, as it was her final meeting with Wendy’s team.

“Love you two”

“Love you three” they answered and how you missed hearing those words from them.

Everything is still the same when you go back to work. But the kids visit has made you look at things differently.

You don’t feel so alone, and you’re more optimistic about the future. Even Lorne has noticed and is taking full advantage of your mood.

Yelena’s the one with the attitude as soon as you come back.

“Anything interesting happened this weekend?”

“Ask your friend” she says without looking up from her notes.

“What did you think of Sharon?”

“She’s fine. Whatever”

“Fine as in attractive or fine as in capable? I hope it’s the latter because Bishop won’t be happy about the other one…”

“Can you stop being so fucking annoying for a second?” she snaps, standing up to leave.

It’s like that the entire day. You ask her to do something and she complains, speaks through her teeth or simply refuses to acknowledge you.

The only thing you can think to do of is bitch about it to Natasha.

“Is your sister in her late teenage years or some shit?”

“She’s just pissed because you’re leaving” Natasha doesn’t look up either, well aware of Yelena’s behavior.

“Well, she knew I was leaving after three months! That’s hardly a shock”

“You were the one that said you’d never move to Boston and here you are” she levels you with an icy glare. “You can’t really blame her for hoping you’d stick around longer than three months”

“I guess, but still. It’s nothing personal”

“She gets attached easily. Ask mom how many strays she picked on the street”

“So now I’m a dog?” you say, and Natasha smiles.

“Yeah, like a retriever. You’re always goofy. Plus you catch all those balls like it’s second nature”

“Heard about the other game, huh?”

“I’m not going to assume what Yelena thinks or feels, but you should definitely talk to her” Natasha looks at you. “And for what is worth, you’ve made a good impact on the staff. They’re gonna miss you too”

“Are you?” you say when she stands up to leave.

“Nope. I’m taking your parking spot”

“Hey!”

She looks back and smiles. You return the gesture, knowing what she’s trying to say.

“It’s a nice parking spot” you admit. “Closer to the cafeteria”

“Exactly. See you later”

“Thanks. For helping me out with Yelena. And for wanting to be my friend even though I can be an ass” you say.

“You’re a nice ass. Wait, that came out wrong” she frowns and you laugh.

“I got the point”

Natasha smiles and nods your way one last time. And as far as you’re concerned, you’d really want to keep avoiding Yelena, but you better go and find her.

She’s in an on call room, and all but groans when you walk inside.

“I’m leaving in two weeks. Believe or not, it’s not easy for me to make this choice, Yelena. I know staying would be better for my career. Your mom is paying me shitloads of money. And the city has its charm, I’m not gonna lie”

“Ok, is there a point or…?”

“I’m coming back to Westview because… I found the one thing I never thought I’d have. A family that loves me. After my dad passed away I didn’t really have a place to call home. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here at all, because it was unfair to create an expectation. But I won’t lie and say I regret it. You’ve grown so much and you have so much talent. I’m really fucking proud of being your teacher”

Yelena looks away, and you sigh.

“Anyways, better get back to…”

“Thank you. Even if it was for a short time, I’m happy you were my teacher” she finally says, wiping a tear and smiling at you.

“Thanks, kid. We are a good team” you sit next to her, nudging her knee with yours. “One could even say we trauma bonded, huh?”

“I hate you”

—

The last thing you want to hear after a very bad shift is Lorne’s voice proposing to play a game.

“I just feel like I never got to know you!” he insists.

“Walking in on me changing clothes wasn’t enough for you? Glad you’re knocking after that, by the way”

To be honest, it was fun to watch him shriek as he saw you half naked. And how he volunteered to take the sexual harrassment course even though it was pretty obvious he didn’t mean to be a peeping tom.

“No, I mean things like, your favorite cake flavor, or favorite color. And are you a balloon girl? Or more of a glitter gal?”

“Neither. I don’t want a farewell party” you say, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

It’s stupid to throw a party to someone who’s been part of the staff for only three months. And from day one, everyone knew you weren’t staying.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he plays dumb and you chuckle, signing forms while you check your watch.

You better get going if you want to pick up Wanda from her meeting.

“Mhm. No parties. Seriously” you hand over the charts, glaring at him.

He nods, but you don’t really believe he’ll give up. If Yelena sides with him, you’ll have to accept your fate.

“Ready to go?” Sharon says, greeting you at the hallway.

She’s been picking up some shifts, to see if she likes the job. Melina made her an offer as soon as she sat down for the interview and you’re convinced the only reason she hasn’t let you leave early is because Yelena would throw a tantrum.

“Yeah, I have to pick up Wanda. How’s everything? You like it here?”

“Very much, everyone’s nice. The facilities are amazing and it’s a very interesting challenge. Don’t tell anyone yet, but I’m accepting the job offer”

“Congratulations. They’re very lucky to have you” you say, smiling.

“Thank you, for recommending me. I’ll let you go now” she says when she gets paged.

By the time you reach the address Wanda sent out, she’s wrapping up the meeting.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt, I’m sorry” you say as you walk in on people chatting around the conference room.

“Not at all, please come in” Wendy says.

“Hello, darling” Wanda greets you with a kiss on the cheek. “We were only talking about tonight. There’s this party with some editors”

“Oh, that sounds nice” you try not to sound disappointed, because you were hoping to spend the evening with Wanda.

“Sorry for the short notice but you’re going to be my plus one” Wanda puts her arm around your waist and you relax against her.

“Can’t say no to my girl”

As you’re saying goodbye, Wendy’s assistant stops by. There’s a wave of excitement as soon as Lily shows off the baby.

“I thought it was a boy” Wanda says, approaching her.

“We did too. Apparently our doctor’s stupid. No offense, Y/N”

“Hey, I just rode in the ambulance. But congrats. What’s her name?”

“Marygold”

“I love that name” Wanda and you say at the same time.

Lily hands over the baby to Wanda, and as she cooes at the little girl, you look over her shoulder, your hand on Wanda’s waist.

“She’s such a cutie”

“You both look good with a baby” Wendy jokes and you smile.

“Babe, they’re conspiring to get us pregnant”

Wanda tries to laugh at your joke, but your closeness is distracting. She wants to focus on Marygold but gives up a moment later, and you intercept the baby before she returns to her mother’s arms.

“You’re gonna have to teach me that move” Lily comments when you sway her gently and lull her back to sleep.

“Natural talent, I’m afraid” you joke.

You’re so focused on the baby that you don’t notice Wanda’s intense gaze on you.

Of course, someone else takes Marygold and you leave with Wanda.

“So, work thing, huh? Sounds fun. Is it more business, casual?”

“Just a small dinner, nothing fancy. And we definitely don’t have to stay for long” she says, looking out the window.

“You ok?” you ask after a few moments of silence, placing your hand on her thigh.

“Yeah” Wanda turns to smile at you.

You miss the way she shivers when you squeeze her thigh, and Wanda’s sure you’re keeping your hand there in an innocent gesture.

But seeing you holding a baby, with your strong arms (that are a lot more buff now) practically made her ovulate on the spot.

She has to be extremely patient, but once you’re in your building and the elevator’s doors close, Wanda corners you, her pupils dilated.

“Wanda?” you say, completely blindsided by the way she has you against the metal walls.

“I want you… fuck. I want you to put a baby in me”

Your attention is split between her words and the fact she’s unbotting her blouse in the middle of the elevator.

“I, technically… biologically, I mean” you stutter as she reveals a black lace bra.

“You’re not even gonna try?” she taunts, undoing your pants and sinking her hand to play with your clit through your underwear.

“Fuck, not what I meant, bunny” you mutter against her temple, while she edges you. “Can you behave until we get there?”

“No” she says against your lips, swallowing your moans.

The doors open into the Penthouse and you’re about to carry Wanda to the bedroom when she pushes you away.

“Why?”

“Give me five minutes to change”

“You don’t need to change, you’re gonna be naked” you whine, taking a look at her cleavage.

“So you don’t wanna see the entire thing? It has stockings. And a thong”

“Can I rip it off of you?”

“No. They were very expensive”

“I’ll reimburse you” you insist. She laughs and you pout, but let her walk to the room, with an extra sway to her hips just to tease you.

You pace around the kitchen, like a caged animal. To be fair, last time Wanda was here you didn’t have a chance to be alone.

That makes you remember the thing you bought and stored inside the safe, just to make sure no one would find it. If Wanda wants to play dirty, you should surprise her as well.

While you adjust the new toy, the bedroom door opens and you practically sprint inside.

“Oh, my”

Wanda’s sitting in bed, her hair down. You take it all in, starting from the heels she’s still wearing, to her beautiful slender legs, the stockings held by a suspender belt.

You kneel at the foot of the bed, and she’s happy to make room for you between her legs.

“No ripping” she warns you as a hand reaches for her thighs.

“I’m not…”

“I’m serious” she says, gripping your chin between her fingers. “Say you understand”

“I understand”

“Good girl”

“You know, you should be the one begging” you say, your hands going up and down her calves while you kiss the exposed skin. “Weren’t saying you wanted me to get you nice and pregnant?”

“It doesn’t hurt to remind you I call the shots”

“Do you, now?” you smile up at her and Wanda holds her breath. She understands a second too late, that you have something of your own to tease her with.

With a chuckle, you push her thong aside and dart your tongue out, tasting her. You both moan and she places her hand in your head, pulling you closer.

You can tell she’s close when you feel her movig her hips against your mouth, so you slow down, until she’s whining.

“I didn’t say you could stop” she says.

“You better watch your tone or I’ll fuck the attitude out of you, baby” you stand up, puling your shirt up. Wanda’s hands go down your abs, which is amusing. Ever since you got back together, it hasn’t been lost on you how she eyes them and tries to get little peaks when your shirt rides up.

“Did you get a new…?” she says when her hand goes lower, feeling the strap on that you’re packing.

“See? I am putting a baby in you” you smile, pushing your thumb past her lips.

Wanda pulls your pants down, and takes the plastic cock between her hands. It takes you by surprise when she spits on it and then smears her saliva all over it. Before you can do anything else, her mouth is on it, and the pressure goes directly to your clit.

“Come on, let me fuck you” you plead, though you’re on the edge.

“Good old missionary?” Wanda pulls you down with her, your lips meeting in a messy kiss.

“God, yes, I want to hear your pretty moans” you say, lining up the toy against her cunt, and you find no resistance as you slide inside.

“Fuck, yes” Wanda moans, holding the back of your neck. You thrust harder when you feel her heels digging on your back, and she’s everywhere. Her scent is invading your nose, you feel her hot breath against your ear and her moans are all you can hear as you keep fucking her, losing control until she practically screams your name.

“Fuck, that was good” she says, as you keep moving your hips, waiting for her breathing to slow down. “I need a minute”

“Ok, I’ll just stay inside and focus on these two” you say, pulling the bra down and sucking on one of her nipples.

Wanda’s protests die down in her throat as you move to the other nipple, readjusting so you’re buried deeper inside.

She pushes you and you’re about to complain when she flips you over, straddling your lap.

“Alright then. Round two”

“Bring it, Maximoff”

—

It’s a miracle you leave the penthouse at all. Between having sex on every surface, eating and sleeping, it’s time to leave for Wanda’s work dinner.

“You look very fuckable, baby” you compliment her mini skirt, knee high boots and long sleeved sweater.

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing all day?”

“I mean, I could picture pulling that skirt up and just fucking you against a wall” you say, laughing when she puts her head against the headrest.

“Lets forget about this work thing and go back to bed, please?”

“That’s not very professional of you”

“I know. But you’re not playing fair”

“It will be worth the wait, I promise”

Wanda gets out of the car as you talk to the valet. She walks inside, saying hello to a few people and picking up a glass of wine. She’s about to greet Wendy when a man gets in her way. It’s one of the assistant editors, though she can’t even remember his name.

“Hey, Wanda. Glad to see you made it”

“Yeah, of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world” she says, though she would absolutely miss it for more hours of hot sex with you.

“I didn’t bring anyone either, so maybe we could be each other’s date?” he jokes, but Wanda doesn’t smile at that.

“Actually, I…” she tries to say but he completely ignores her.

“As a matter of fact, I regret not doing this sooner, but I wanted to ask you out. And I know this is your last trip to Boston but I was hoping we could…”

You walk in that precise moment, smiling at Wanda.

“Hi there, sorry. Had to make sure they knew how to park the Corvette. I’ll have what she’s having” you turn to the man, who shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable.

“Not a waiter. I’m an assistant editor. Working on Wendy’s book. I’m sorry, I didn’t know Wanda was bringing a friend”

“I didn’t know either. Who did you invite, baby?” you play dumb, knowing exactly what was going on.

“No one, my love. This is my girlfriend, Y/N” Wanda leans against you.

“Doctor Y/L/N” you correct her before he can introduce himself. You don’t want to be on a first name basis with this asshole.

“My name’s Bobby. So, what kind of doctor? Eye stuff?”

“Trauma. ER stuff”

“Drunk people and broken bones?” he tries to joke.

“No, more like stab wounds. You’d be surprised how much damage you can do with the tiniest thing” you comment, picking up a tiny fork with a bored expression. “I mean, just the right spot and your entire carotid blows up. Gone in three seconds”

“Oh, darling, not everyone gets your medical humor” Wanda laughs a little too loud, pulling you away. “Anyways, nice talking to you, Bobby”

Bitch ass Bobby.

“Shut up” Wanda nudges your side, but she’s laughing too.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes” she smiles when you pull her close.

“Didn’t like the way he was staring. I mean, you are beautiful and everyone should acknowledge it. But he looked like he thought he had a chance”

“Nothing could be further from the truth”

“Between this and tiny Dick back in Westview I’m thinking I should put a ring on it before they cause any more trouble” you laugh, kissing her temple.

It’s a joke and Wanda can tell, because immediately after speaking you’re gulfing down entrees and talking about your plans for tomorrow, but she still thinks about the ring she found and how it’s been sitting on a box for three months now.

“Everything ok, babe?”

“Yeah, just tired” she says, and it’s not exactly a lie, not after four hours worth of cardio.

“We can relax tomorrow. I’ll cook for you” you promise.

Wendy and other people approach you and you’re charming them in no time. It’s very amusing to learn they all heard the story of Lily’s baby and how you walked in to save the day.

Speaking of which, at some point during the evening, someone calls for a doctor.

“Huh” you comment when you spot Bobby coughing, something clearly stuck on his throat.

“Go” Wanda pushes you, but you lean against the bar, sipping on your drink.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. He has one more minute before it gets dangerous”

But at Wanda’s insistence, you sigh and put your glass down, walking towards the man.

“Alright, here we go” you say, doing the good old Heimlich maneuver on him. Though your grip might be a little too strong as you squeeze his mid section.

Something comes flying out of his mouth and you put him down, looking bored.

“See? He’s fine” you say when you return to sit next to Wanda. He looks anything but, shaking and losening his tie. “I mean, he’s not dying”

Wanda rolls her eyes, but kisses your cheek. You spend the rest of the evening glued to her side, hands wandering down her back and gripping her waist. It’s like you’re addicted to feeling Wanda’s body against yours.

“You’re making it really hard to focus” she teases when you’re finally alone.

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m gonna miss you. I know I’m going back to Westview next week but I…”

“What?”

“It’s nothing” you look away, sighing.

“Detka”

But Wendy takes Wanda to meet some people, and you stay at the bar, looking around the room. When Wanda finally comes back, she can tell you’re tired and she says goodbye to everyone.

“Lets walk for a bit” she asks, taking your hand and pulling you towards a park. You nod and follow her, still thinking about everything you’re feeling.

Your thougts are interrupted by a street musician, singing a song you’re not familiar with.

“I know this one” Wanda says, reading your expression. “Reflecting light”

“It’s really beautiful”

“Come on” she offers her other hand, and you smile, your hands on her waist as she rests her head on your shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” she finally asks and you laugh.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“I know you”

“I just…” you sigh, looking at her. “I’m going back to Westview and I have to undo the mess I left at the hospital. The city will be the same, but I’m not the same anymore… and I don’t know, I’m scared that everything will just feel wrong, or I’ll screw up”

“Sweetheart” Wanda interrupts your rambling. “I don’t think either one of us is the same. But that’s a good thing. It means we learned from our mistakes and we’re stronger. It’s gonna be alright”

“You promise?”

“I can promise you this. I’m here for better and worse”

"Sickness and health?” you joke, but your heart beats faster when Wanda looks into your eyes, nodding slowly.

“Yes, my love. Through all of that” she promises, kissing you softly.

As you sway to the soft music, you both think about the future together.

It’s looking good as long as you have each other.

[cinnamanz]

# MAMMA MIA — chapter twenty-seven!

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

wc: 390

AWKWARD

Y/N STOOD BY THE FRONT DOOR, arms crossed, watching as sophia and her brothers hauled their bags inside. her expression was unreadable, eyes flicking over sophia for a brief second before shifting away like she was nothing more than another suitcase being dragged across the hardwood floor.

sophia wanted to say something. had been thinking about saying something since she first saw y/n standing there, indifferent as ever. but with the way y/n held herself—closed off, uninterested, like she didn’t even care that they were going to be stuck under the same roof—sophia hesitated.

still, the silence was unbearable. so she tried.

before she could, y/n stepped forward, eyes scanning the pile of bags. without a word, she reached for the largest one—sophia’s overstuffed duffel, the one that made her arms ache just carrying it inside—and hoisted it onto her shoulder like it weighed nothing.

"you’re upstairs," y/n muttered, already turning toward the staircase. "follow me."

sophia blinked, surprised, then adjusted the strap of her remaining bag and followed.

the walk up was tense. y/n didn’t look back. sophia didn’t try to make conversation. not yet.

when they reached the top, y/n nudged open the door to the master bedroom, stepping aside to let sophia pass before setting the duffel down at the foot of the bed without a word.

"this is yours?" sophia asked, half expecting y/n to say yes.

y/n shook her head. "guest room. my room’s next door."

sophia nodded slowly, pressing her lips together. she should let y/n go. should let her disappear behind the next door over and pretend this whole situation wasn’t weird.

but before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "your bass playing earlier. it was good. really good." sophia mentally face palmed at how giddy she'd sounded

y/n paused, hand still on the doorframe. she glanced back, expression unreadable.

"and," sophia continued, clearing her throat, "your acting too. at the fundraiser. your roma was—uh—phenomenal."

a flicker of something passed through y/n’s eyes, too quick to catch. but her face remained impassive. "thanks," she said, flat, almost dismissive.

then she turned on her heel, disappearing into her room without another word. sophia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. awkward. this was going to be so awkward.

masterlist ✮⋆｡˚📽️ next

FUCK YELLOWJACKETS ALL THAT SHOW EVER DOES IS BRING ME PAIN I AM IN MOURNING FUCKKKKKKK anyway . GUYS I SAW BILLIE EILISH LIVE 2 DAYS AGO IM GNA COMBUST my sophia pc was there too nd she saw billie eilish live what a lucky pc. also this was quite a lot of stuff on one chap so js ignore that LAWL

@zindoriyo @goofymickeyr @saysirhc @kathleenmikaelson @soobnotfound @jjjaliyah @meganskiendielsbtc @magixpracticality @phamapple @sed7ction @1luvkarina @linnnsworld @hotluvlet @bauzer @saranglasses @kkoga @chaesitonmyface @arihiu @peanutbutterlover05 @kristalag @ssamlovr @sunshinez4 @meiyaes @solentient @jsxjmn @reey0w @vrtualstar @justtluvrr @fruityg0rl @cyberbonesworld @haerinkisser @lafortezalover @cassiespoiler @skz-xii @ninguitar @kimminjswife @yeetaberry127 @p1hbrook @hazel-tanthamore22 @caitlynglazer @minjvers @tormaa1 @nwjnsloona @itzkatflixs @namojoon @falling-intoo-deep @waitsobs @nyssalvr @blushmimi @cindergorge TAGLIST CLOSED

[backofthebookshelf]

It's not a controversial take necessarily -- it's just that the particular environment of AO3, where you can see how many times your fic was loaded in a browser window and where the little heart button has a different meaning than it does on every other social media site, is uniquely bad for the human brain.

For the VAST majority of history, both the history of making art generally and the history of writing fanfiction in particular, you did not get to know how many people gave your work a cursory once-over, or how many people checked your book out from the library and never read it, or how many people overheard a line of poetry and thought "huh, neat" and never did anything else. These interactions were, as they should be, completely anonymous and uncountable. Even in the pre-AO3 days of fanfiction, there was an understanding that page hit counters were kind of crap (for one thing, they would count you every time you loaded the page, and you had to load the page to check the counter, so that was incentive not to look at it that much).

Even in other artistic contexts where you do now have page hit counters on everything, they're contextualized through marketing research, not consumed as a raw value. Marketing talks about conversion rate, which is the % of people who saw something who then went on to do the thing you wanted them to do - for a business that's probably buy the thing, for a nonprofit it might be donate or sign up for a volunteer session, for a fanfiction writer it's leave a comment. At work I work with multiple major companies you have definitely heard of who spend half a million dollars and 1-3 full time employees every year on something that increases their conversion rate by 1-2%. They do this because the conversion rate on our emails is 5%, which is INSANELY high.

And yes, leaving a comment doesn't cost money, but it does cost time and energy. Writers overestimate how easy it is for people to write comments--my coworkers are out here using chatgpt to write boilerplate work emails, I can't imagine ANY of them ever leaving a comment on a work of art they enjoyed. Verbally, yes--and "in a friend discord is much closer to verbally than in a comment form--but in writing? Absolutely not.

As for kudos, I can't help but think that the "likes don't do anything, you have to reblog" culture of social media like twitter and tumblr affects that too (and yes, by the latter days of twitter I was seeing people saying that on there, because the algorithm was so broken). Kudos is essentially a like button, and like the like button on twitter that used to be a favorite button before they changed it and some people never stopped treating it like one, it has meanings for people you'll never understand. "It's just a click!" It is a symbol with vague connotations but no specific universally agreed upon meaning; it tells you how many people clicked on that button, and that's all.

So yes, actually, I guess I am saying that as a writer, you are supposed to assume that many more people liked your fic than you will ever hear from or even know about. And that's a good thing! You have the chance to touch someone's life even though they have no idea who you are and don't think of you as a person so much as a semi-mythical figure called "the author". And that's part of the magic, to me, of creating things. You pour yourself into a thing and then you set it loose into the world and you hope it means to someone else as much as it meant to you. Sometimes, very rarely, someone will tell you so, and that's amazing, I'm not going to pretend it's not, but you have to have enough faith in yourself to believe it happens whether you hear about it or not.

I really don't understand how "without getting kudos or comments a fanfiction author is going to assume that people who clicked their fic didn't like it" became a controversial take.

I don't know why some people think an author should imagine, or guess that people who click their fic enjoyed it it when nobody is telling them that.

If you're re-reading a fic constantly, or leaving it up in your tab so that it re-loads every day for a hundred days the author is not going to know that unless you tell them. They'd love to hear it. It would make their day.

And if you don't tell them you liked their fic, there's no reason for them to assume you did.

[sosasturns]

matt sturniolo WE’RE SO DONE

…IN WHICH READER IS FED UP W/ TOXIC!MATT, BLURB ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ just makin @throatgoat4u’s dreams come true (prompt)

your mother always told you don’t trust these men. that they’d smile in your face, make you feel like the only girl in the world, and still be entertaining somebody else behind your back. she told you to keep your heart guarded, to never be too available, to let a man prove himself before you gave too much.

and you should’ve listened.

now look at you. sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone, at the text messages that keep rolling in. matt’s name lights up your screen like a ghost you can’t shake, the vibrations a constant reminder of everything you’re trying to walk away from.

Where U at? Delivered.

you don’t answer.

Why r U not picking up??? Delivered.

you let the text sit. just like you let everything else sit—the late replies, the half-assed explanations, the way he always left you guessing. left you feeling like you were standing on shaky ground, waiting for him to decide what the fuck this was between you two.

We need to talk Delivered.

you laugh under your breath. talk about what? about how he swore up and down that you were the only one he wanted, but couldn’t say what that meant? about how he had one foot in and one foot out, like he was scared to commit but even more scared to lose you?

you used to fall for this. the endless cycle. the fights, the distance, the making up. the way he’d pull you back in every single time, sweet talking his way back into your good graces, back into your bed, back into your life.

but not this time.

this time, you’re done.

you slide to his contact, hover over the block button. you hesitate for only a second—muscle memory, old habits—but then you do it.

you block him.

Unblock this caller.

a weight lifts from your chest. for the first time in a long time, you breathe. no more waiting for him to act right. no more settling for half of what you deserve.

matt realizes a little too late.

when the calls stop going through, when the messages don’t deliver, when he shows up at your place only to find the locks changed and your car gone. that’s when he starts spiraling, when he starts panicking. because this ain’t how it usually goes.

usually, after a fight, you come back. after a few days, after he texts the right things, after he shows up just enough to make you think maybe this time will be different. usually, you cave.

but you ain’t caving this time.

he calls from his friend’s phone. you hang up. he dms you. you delete it. he texts from a random number.

Baby just talk to me Seen

you don’t even flinch.

i’m cool on you. that’s what you send back, before blocking that number too.

Unblock This Caller.

he’s saying all the right things now.

I miss U

I wanna be with U

I ain’t think i was ready cause I was scared

I just want U in my life

i’m done w these other females Delivered

I’m Sorry Message Not Delivered. Try Again

but not once does he say i’m sorry. he never did.

and that’s how you know you made the right decision.

so you put your phone on do not disturb. close your eyes. and for the first time in a long time, you don’t lose sleep over him.

© SOSASTURNS

TAGLIST: @submattenthusiast @sophand4n4 @secretlocket @mrsdillonx @ch6rm @sweetrelieef @gabri3la-sturns @inspiredangel @sturn777 @et6rnalsun @faiyaz555 @whore4mattsturniolo @courta13 @katie-tibo @ifwdominicfike @raesturns @adoremattsturns @conspiracy-ash @cheriiboo @mattsleftball @applecidersturniolo @chrepsi @grace-sturnz @emely9274 @almloe @yourmother29

[valentina-writes]

The Distance He Keeps

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and you have been best friends for centuries. But all of a sudden he won't talk to you anymore.

words: 1.5k | Masterlist

This is a 3 part series. The other parts will be released in the next days. I hope you enjoy xx

A/N: I honestly don't know if any of y'all are still here, but I'm kinda back! This was not requested, it's kind of a try at starting to write again. I can't promise that I'm going to be really active again and for now I'm not taking requests. We'll see how it goes :)

I was late for dinner, I realized as I hurried through the front door and foyer of Rhys's townhouse and into the dining room. The inner circle, my friends, my family, were gathered around the long wooden table. All of them were already here, eating, laughing and talking. Their words didn't quite reach me. The only empty seat was my usual one, next to Azriel, who had his wings neatly folded behind his back and was engaged in conversation with Rhys. I squared up my shoulders and excused my late arrival: "Hi everyone. Sorry I'm late, work was terrible". The latter was directed mainly at Rhys. I'd have to have a talk with him later. The rest of my friends greeted me, smiling. Only Azriel didn't. In fact, he did not even look my way. My heart froze in my chest. He had been ignoring me for weeks. My breath hitched as I waited for any sort of reaction, but he resumed his conversation as if I weren't there. My eyes started burning at his disregard and I fought to regain compusure. For a split second I contemplated winnowing away on the spot. But this was our first dinner like this in weeks and I could make this uncomfortable for him too.

With long strides I walked over to Cassian, who was seated next to Nesta. I stopped next to him and he happily said "Hi Y/N". Well, this was going to be awkward. My only response was "Move". The conversations around me came to a halt as Cassian's expression turned to amused confusion. "I… what?". My heart hammered in my chest and heat rose to my cheeks. I did not dare look up to see if Azriel was finally acknowledging me. "I said move", I repeated. And then, quieter, so only he could hear it "Please". He stood up without conplaining and from the look I saw in Nesta's eyes, I gathered she must have said something through the bond to make him comply. I slid into Cass's seat and started to fill my plate as conversation around the table resumed as if nothing had happened. But something had happened. For 300 years I'd had my spot at this table. I had never sat elsewhere. Until today. I mumbled a thanks to Nesta and started eating, when I felt Rhys at the edges of my consciousness, stroking softly against my mental shields to be let in. In response, I slammed a second wall down and shook my head at him slightly. He didn't try again.

Dinner was tense. I tried talking to Nesta, but I was so busy not to look the way of the tall shadowsinger that several times she had to ask her questions twice before I realized she was still talking to me. Nobody addressed my entrance. Inside me, my blood was boiling, my heart a pile of glass shards. I had tried to excuse Azriel's behavior during the past weeks. Most of the time I convinced myself that he was simply too busy with work to spend as much time with me as he used to. But this was different, we were at home for Cauldron's sake. He was supposed to be different here, he was supposed to welcome me with a warm hug and hand me seconds at dessert. How could he all of a sudden not care anymore at all? I was so lost in thought that I barely registered Rhys standing up and proclaiming: "Excuse us, Y/N and I have to talk about her work". For a second, I merely stared at him, then I dropped my fork and knife on the table and stood up. It was comically obvious that this was not about my work. When we had just crossed the threshold into the foyer, I heard somebody whispering: "Azriel, what the fuck is going on?". His only response: "I need to go".

Rhys brought me into his study and shut the door. I sunk down into one of the armchairs and waited for him to take a seat. Instead, Rhys leaned against his ornate desk and rubbed his forehead as if in pain. "Y/N", he started after a while, "please, what is going on between him and you?". Pain flared through me at his mention. "Nothing". Rhys's lips twitched into a smile and then he was laughing. "You have been part of my inner circle for more than 300 years. Azriel, I know even longer. He is like my brother. Don't think I wouldn't notice that there is something terribly wrong". Tears burned in my eyes again. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep this from Rhys. Maybe it was a good thing, being able to confide in someone, I beckoned myself. Things were horrible already. This would merely be the last nail in my already finished coffin the Mother had built me. "The day after starfall I came into work", I said, a tear sliding down my cheek. Rhys came closer and knealt down in front of me. "And he just… wouldn't talk to me". A sob escaped my lips. Rhys took my hand in his and his face turned into a frown. "At first - I - he…. I thought he was just busy, but it didn't get any better. It only… only got worse". Tears were now streaming down my face. I could barely see Rhys out of my teary swollen eyes. "We haven't talked in weeks. Months even. At work, he doesn't let me go on any missions and instead makes me do paperwork. We don't train together anymore. We don't spend time anymore. Worst of all, he won't even look at me and I just don't understand what I did wrong". The last sentences were almost inaudible over my sobs. Rhys gently pulled me up by my hands and drew me into a tight hug. My hands clasped around his back and I cried and cried until his shirt was wet and my eyes dry. "Do you want me to talk to him about this?", he asked softly. But I shook my head no against him. "This is bad enough as is. I don't want Azriel to withdraw even more. I thought we were best friends. But I'm so… alone", I croaked. Best friends. We had been inseperable for so long, I almost didn't remember a time before Azriel. His bedroom was next to mine. We worked together, trained together, ate together, spent our free time together. And now that he was gone, the better part of my life was missing. Tears threatened to well up again, but I surpressed them. Rhys hummed softly. "What do you think could have caused this?". I rummaged through my memories, trying to take ahold of the root of all evil. And was catapulted back in time to starfall.

Azriel looked radiant in his dark blue suit, the same color as his siphons. Slow music was playing and we were entwined, dancing to it, as the first souls began their journey across the night sky. My cheeks were flushed from being so close to him and was grateful for the darkness surrounding us. Instances like this one were rare. He almost never let anyone touch him, not like this, at least. "It's so beautiful, isn't it?", I asked him, "But isn't it sad how all souls have to make this journey alone?". He stopped our movements and looked away from me at the sky, as if for the first time that day. "It is. But I don't know if they are truly alone. Wherever they go, I think they will meet again". Thousands of comets rained from the sky. I smiled at his thought and hugged him a little tighter. I hoped he was right. No matter what came after this life, whatever existence the Cauldron had in store for us, without Azriel it would be meaningless. "Do you think we will see us again?" Our eyes met. The golden specks in his were glowing in the starlight and my breath hitched at the softness of his gaze. There were a million questions in this simple one. Words that had been stuck in my throat for hundreds of years, that always went unsaid, that I had been choking on for eternity. "I will find you, no matter where. I promise". My heart skipped a beat. "I love you, I always have", I wanted to say, but it only came out:"And I will find you". His wings cocooned me in, blocking out the noise and light. When he unfoldet them again slightly, we were standing on a deserted terrace under the stars. "Azriel, I…" His face came closer, our lips almost touching - but there was somebody watching.

"Get. The fuck. Out. Of. My. Head. RHYSAND", I nearly screamed as I wound myself out of his embrace. "We are very good friends and I know you know almost every thought in my head. But this. This is fucking private". Now, I was seething. How could he? My innermost thoughts, my most guarded memories. I wanted to curse the Mother for putting me through this misery. "I don't know if you noticed, but all of your walls were down. You were practically inviting me in", he reasoned, eyes glinting. "Again, you can see anything you want. But not this", I repeated. My hands balled into fists at my sides. Thick iron walls fell down around my brain, shutting him out. "Interesting", he mused, chuckling to himself. "I think you should talk to him. I don't think you need to worry at all". I was already striding out, planning on fetching Cassian to channel my anger into sparring. "I love you, Rhys, you're like a brother to me. Please keep that in mind when I say go fuck yourself". A hearty laugh sounded from behind me and a whisper in my mind said: "Soon you will understand"

[lauraschiller]

When I was seven years old, I found a room that exists outside of time.

It was shortly after my parents died - I’d rather not talk about that, if you don’t mind - and their friends Rudy and Kirsten took me in. They had asked me to think of them and their three children as family, but I couldn’t quite manage it yet. They were good people and they did their best, but sometimes I just couldn’t stand the noises in that house. 

It felt especially loud to me that day; my ears still ring just thinking about it. I wandered from one corner of the house to the other, my orange plush cat and a tattered paperback copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe clutched in my arms, looking for somewhere - anywhere - quiet. 

I couldn’t read in my own room because I shared it with Melissa, and she was practicing on the piano. If you think that sounds soothing, you’ve never heard the same fumbled chord over and over on a tinny electric keyboard. I stood by the door for a while anyway, curious about what the piece would sound like if she got it right. She looked up, lifted her purple-polished nails off the keys, and frowned. “Do you mind? I’m trying to concentrate!”

So was I, but I shuffled off down the hallway without a word.

In the living room downstairs, Frank and Josh were sprawled on the couch in their sweatpants and sports jerseys, playing a video game. Virtual gunfire shook the floor. Blood splattered across the screen. I flinched. They laughed.

“Scaredy-cat!” Frank sneered after me as I ran.

“Hey, leave her alone,” Josh said. “She’s just a kid.”

I could hear them bickering and shoving as I ducked into the kitchen.

“Boys!” Kirsten called through the door. “Can you please kill each other more quietly?”

They turned down the volume by a few decibels, but kept playing.

She was standing at the counter, chopping a carrot. I must have seen her that way hundreds of times, with her green-and-yellow-striped apron on and her hair - it was still blonde then - falling out of its clip. She put down her knife and pushed the flyaway strands out of her face. “Did you need something, dear?”

“I … uh … ”

“Looking for a place to read?” She smiled down at the book and toy I was holding.

“I … can’t,” I said. My throat was tight. “There isn’t anywhere.”

“In an old house like this, there’s always somewhere.” She cupped my cheek with a hand still wet from washing vegetables and kissed me on the forehead. I usually avoid being touched, not because I don’t like it, but because the feeling tends to linger for a long time. “This is your home. I hope you know that.”

I nodded, the lump in my throat growing tighter. 

She scraped all the carrots into the blender and switched it on. The sound of that machine, a shrill roar that rattled my teeth all the way to the back of my head, made conversation impossible. I fled back upstairs.

Kirsten was right; the house was old. It was a modest red brick split-level, the kind we used to see more of in this neighborhood before they got crowded out by these giant cubes made of glass and concrete. The floorboards creaked. The paint on the walls was cracked and peeling in a few places, forming patterns like spiderwebs. Wind and rain rattled the window panes. I walked in circles, opening and closing the same doors over and over, re-memorizing the layout - bathroom here, linen closet there - as if my life depended on it. I could still hear all the noises of the house - the blender, Melissa’s keyboard, the boys’ shooter game, the constant hum of the fridge and heater, the driving rain outside - jangling wildly in my ears. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I had to get away. 

I grabbed the nearest doorknob, hurled myself through and shut it behind me.

The noises stopped.

My skin tingled.

I was standing in a room I had never seen before, a room I knew at once was somehow different from every other part of the house, even before I could define it. Besides the quiet, the difference was in the light. While the rain had turned the light everywhere else a washed-out gray, here it was the warm gold of an afternoon just before sunset. It flickered through the branches of the maple tree growing beside the house, making leaf-shadows dance on the walls. I was almost a little surprised to see that maple. To my seven-year-old mind, it would have been just as logical for the window to open on a whole other world.

In other respects, it seemed like an ordinary room. Two armchairs stood on either side of the window, their indigo upholstery faded from the sun like a favorite pair of jeans. A little table stood between them with a cloth draped over it, deep blue like the chairs, printed with an intricate pattern of white vines and flowers. Shelves lined the walls, holding books, magazines, little ornaments (including a teddy bear with oatmeal-colored fur, a pair of ceramic dancers in white wigs and ruffles, and an unlit candle beside a black-and-white photograph of people I didn’t know), and a turntable complete with a row of vinyl records ...

It was all so much like home, I could barely breathe.

That tablecloth was my mother’s, made by the grandmother I was named for, with a method called Blaudruck or blue-dyeing that was centuries old. As a child, you take these things for granted - I’d never even asked what had happened to all these things - but now I walked around the table examining it from all angles, smoothed the creases, traced the swirling leaves and petals with my fingertip, and even leaned down to sniff it. It smelled like the lavender sachets my mother used to keep in her closet. 

The records were my father’s. He had trusted me to handle them, even at my age. He had shown me how to slide them carefully out of their cardboard sleeves; to touch only the edges and the center, never the surface; to wipe off any fingerprints with a soft cloth. On that day, however, I didn’t play any of them; it was enough just to flick through them, to look at the cover art - a rainbow arcing through a black triangle; a little green dragon perched on the moon - and puzzle over the mysterious grown-up lyrics printed on the back of the sleeves. 

I don’t know how long I stayed in that room. I only know I never stopped to think about the time, which is the surest sign of being happy. I curled up in one of the armchairs to read my book and pet my plush cat until I could have sworn he purred.

/

“So, what have you all been up to?” Rudy asked across the dinner table that evening, as he always did when he came home from the office.

That question used to make me fidget every time I heard it. When he surveyed us from under his peaked black eyebrows, frown lines carved into his face, I always suspected him of suspecting us of some kind of trouble. It took me years to figure out that this was only his awkward way of making conversation. 

Kirsten, who was used to him, grumbled good-naturedly about the challenges of knitting stripes, which reminded Melissa of how tricky her new piano piece was, which reminded the boys of the new game level they had reached (complete with arguments about who had played it better). I was only half listening, relieved to have their attention off me as I waited for my hot soup to cool down to edible.

“What about you, Hertha? How are you spending your summer vacation so far?” 

My spoon splashed into the soup.

“Reading? Drawing? Watching movies?” Rudy was an unstoppable list-maker. He would fire off options one after another until I chose one, and if I didn’t choose quickly enough, possibly start from the beginning. I waited for what I felt was a suitable pause between words - I’d been reminded often enough that it was rude to interrupt, although how to avoid interrupting people who talked this much was a different matter - took a deep breath, and dived in like a cartoon burglar through a laser grid.

“I was in the other living room,” I said. “Reading. With Leo.” (Leo was the name of my plush cat.)

Rudy’s frown lines deepened. “Other living room?”

“The … the one upstairs,” I faltered. “With the record player.”

“There’s no living room upstairs,” he said. “Just your bedrooms and the linen cupboard. And what record player?” 

“But I really was there!” I blurted out. “It’s not like anywhere else in the house. It was sunny there and … and it smelled like our old house.”

I could pinpoint the exact moment when he decided not to believe me. He gave me the same shaky smile I’d seen from all the guests at my parents’ funeral, the one that said he felt sorry for me, but had absolutely no idea how to help. 

“Oh, that’s … that’s nice,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “That sounds beautiful.”

“Upstairs? Like what, the cupboard?” whispered one of the children. I was staring down into the thick orange gloop that was my dinner, though, and didn’t look up to see who it was. “She was pretending in the cupboard?”

“I knew she was weird. Even before - ”

“Shut up!”

“Kids, stop it.” Kirsten’s clear voice cut through the whispers like a knife. “Remember what we talked about before. If Hertha needs her personal space, then we give it to her. Without judging her. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mom,” they chorused.

I didn’t want them to give me space, only to believe me. But if there was one thing I took away from that conversation, it was this: I should never talk about the other living room again.

A short time later, when Kirsten asked me about it in a smiling, casual way - “So, how was the upstairs living room? Everything comfortable?” - I assumed that she was only humoring me, and gave her the coldest look my seven-year-old eyes could muster.

“I don’t play that game anymore,” I informed her.

She looked at me with something like sadness, but then shrugged and let the subject drop.

/

It was about forty years later that I came back for Kirsten’s funeral.

After the reading of the will, we all somehow found ourselves back at the house, drinking iced tea in the living room as stiffly and formally as if we’d never sprawled on the sofa, read all night in the armchair, or watched cartoons on the old TV that no longer worked. Melissa wore a sleek black dress and a hat with a spotted veil. Frank and Josh wore their best black suits. I wore the only black dress I owned, an old polyester number that itched and clung after our sweltering car ride from the lawyer’s office. Rudy wasn’t there - he had passed away a few years earlier - but someone had lit a candle beside his picture on the fireplace mantel. It felt like his funeral all over again, as well as his wife’s, which in a way it was. 

“So,” said Melissa, stirring the ice cubes in her glass with a sharp clatter. “Did any of you have any idea that Mom would do this?”

“Nope,” and “Not me,” said the men. 

All three of them turned to look at me.

“I … didn’t know either.” I had to cough twice before my scratchy voice would work. “I didn’t know she’d leave this house to me. I never … I never asked her to.”

“Of course not.” Her smile was brittle. “I didn’t think you did. I mean, you’re not exactly the domestic type. What would you want with a whole house? ”

“To live in it, maybe?” Josh suggested, raising his head from where he leaned tiredly against his corner of the sofa. 

“I’m just saying.” She waved her hand in the air to indicate all the space in this room. “It’s too big for a single person. Some of us have families - ”

“Mel,” Josh protested.

“Sorry, Hertha. You know I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not like I begrudge her anything,” she said, turning to Josh. “It’s just - ”

“If you ask me,” Frank chimed in, although no one had actually asked him, “The most logical thing to do would be to sell it.” Melissa relaxed into the cushions and nodded, as if she’d been about to suggest the same thing. “The value of this place has gone up through the roof since Mom and Dad bought it. If we sell it and divide the proceeds between the four of us, it would only be fair, don’t you think?”

“It’s your decision, Hertha,” said Josh, meeting my eyes point-blank. “What do you want to do?”

I had no idea - or rather, I had far too many at once.

Frank was right, but why did he sound so wrong to me? I couldn’t bear to leave this house, but how was I supposed to look after it? What if something broke and I couldn’t afford the repairs? My job at the time let me work remotely, but didn’t pay much. I’d been bouncing from one shabby rental apartment to another, where the landlord took care of problems and if they didn’t, I could just move. I was completely unprepared to be a homeowner. I’d run it into the ground. If Rudy were here, he’d probably agree. I could almost hear him calculating how much the house would fetch on today’s real estate market, but would that be because it was the logical solution, or because I wasn’t really his daughter? Even if I could keep the house, would the others ever forgive me for taking what should have been theirs?

What would Kirsten say if she were here? What would my parents say? 

All these thoughts went boiling up inside my head like lava in a volcano, then erupted in tears. I barely had time to mutter “Excuse me, I need a moment,” before running upstairs, so that these three logical adults wouldn’t see me disgrace my forty-seven years by crying.

Half blind with tears, I reached for the bathroom door so I could sob myself out and wash my face. I thought I saw two doors in the wall instead of one, but that had to be my eyes playing tricks on me. 

I thought of the magical room I used to daydream about as a child. If ever I needed a place like that, it would be now, but surely it couldn’t be real. Still, I missed it more than I had ever missed anything in my life.

If only it were real … 

I stumbled through the door.

This was not the bathroom.

The other living room hadn’t changed a bit from what I’d imagined - no, remembered. My mother’s indigo tablecloth was still draped over the table. My father’s records still leaned in a row next to the player. The two armchairs looked as cozy as they ever had. Even the light coming in through the window was the light of a different day and time. Outside, it had been the kind of hot, humid August day that feels like you’re breathing pea soup. From this window, I could see a full silver moon and a golden street lamp shining over a blue-white blanket of snow. 

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. The time display was blinking as if it had shorted out.

The other living room was real. Even when I looked for it as a teenager and couldn’t find it, even when I told myself it was only make-believe at best and a delusion at worst, even when I moved out to go to college and never felt at home anywhere again, all along it had been real.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, walking softly around the room, and: “Thank you.”

I told myself I was only going to stay until I calmed down, but I couldn’t seem to stop crying. Everything set me off, from the teddy bear on the shelf to the scent of lavender, blending with the lemon soap that Kirsten had always used as if the two of them had just stepped out moments ago. I crumpled up one tissue after another from the box on the table and stuffed them into my pockets. My eyes and nose burned.

I never heard the door open, or the sound of slippered footsteps on the rug. What made me look up was a soft, shaky intake of breath - in a voice that was not mine.

“Oh my,” said Kirsten. “Well … the doctors did warn me.”

She must have taken one look at my black dress, red nose and swollen eyes and guessed from what time I had just come. Looking at her, I could make a similar guess: This was after she’d stopped chemo, but before she had gone to the hospice. Her hair was growing back in soft white wisps. She looked pale and drawn, but not as much as during those last weeks. She wore the soft burgundy shawl Rudy had given her on the last Christmas before his heart attack. She shuffled into the room, wrapping the ends of that shawl around her as if she were cold.

I really had to stop crying now. It would be too unfair to make her comfort me about her own death. Besides, sheer astonishment was drying my tears faster than anything else could have done. In all the years I’d lived or even visited this house, I had never seen another person enter this room.

“How … how is this happening?” I croaked. “How are you here? I thought … ”

“You thought you were the only one?” Her wrinkles deepened into a wry, knowing smile. “Who do you think showed you the way? Or tried to, anyhow. After all these years, I’m glad to see it actually worked.”

She settled herself in the armchair next to mine with a creak and a sigh, waiting patiently for me to collect my scattered thoughts.

“Showed me the … ? Oh!” I thought back to the day I had first found the room. What I usually remembered was loneliness, but in that moment, I heard Kirsten’s “This is your home” as clearly as if it were the first time. “Oh … thank you!”

“You’re very welcome.”

“But you … we never talked about it … ”

“You didn’t seem to want to,” said Kirsten with a shrug. “I figured you needed privacy.”

All these years we had missed out on sharing something so precious to both of us. 

“How did you even find this place? Did you … ” My voice dropped to an awed whisper as a new idea occurred to me. “Did you … create it?”

“Me?” She laughed until she had to catch her breath. “Goodness, no! If I could control time and space like that, I’d make a door to some sunny beach somewhere.” She shook her head and wiped her eyes, still grinning. “No, I found it when we first moved here, before the kids were born. I made such a mess in the kitchen one night, just when Rudy’s boss was invited to dinner. Tomato sauce everywhere, I swear, it looked like a crime scene! I ran to the cupboard for paper towels, panicking all the time, and opened this door instead. You can imagine how that put my messy kitchen into perspective.”

I laughed along with her, not only because it was so rare for the Kirsten I knew to panic, but because I knew exactly what she meant. 

“So you had time to clean before the boss showed up?”

“Oh no, but at least it gave us something to joke about.” Her smile faded away into a wistful little sigh. “Those were good times.”

I nodded slowly. This room did have a way of reminding you of your good times. I ran my finger over the swirling white vine pattern on my mother’s tablecloth the way I used to as a child. The dye hadn’t faded. Nothing ever seemed to fade here. 

“Was it you who put my parents’ things here?”

“Yes, I did.” She peered down with respectful attention at the pattern I was tracing. “They left them for you. I couldn’t think of a safer place.”

I had no words for what that had meant to me over the years except a half-choked “Thank you,” but she smiled and patted my hand as if she understood.

“I, um … I have another question.” One I never thought I’d have the chance to ask before now, even though it had been on my mind for decades.

“You can ask me anything,” she said. “Go ahead.”

“Did you ever … ” 

How did I say this without sounding completely unhinged? It did help a little to remember that certain people - those downstairs probably included - would not consider either of us entirely sane for believing in a place like this. 

“Did you ever want to just … move in here?” I asked, with an awkward wave of my hand around the room. “I mean … like you said, it’s a safe place. The only safe place sometimes, it feels like. Do you ever just want to … stay?”

As I talked, I could imagine all too clearly how she might want to. Since she was dying, a place where time did not obey its usual rules might call to her even more than it did to me. When she left this room, the cancer would go back to eating away at her. She’d have to give up everything she enjoyed: long walks, rich food, even crafting once she could no longer thread a needle. Frank would organize an online schedule for us all to take turns bringing her groceries. She would die comfortable, but vacant, with too many painkillers in her system to recognize any of our faces.

I couldn’t tell whether she was thinking any of the same things. All I know is that when she answered, her face was as calm and confident as I had ever seen it.

“No, dear,” she said. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Why not?”

“Well, you still get hungry, for one thing.”

“Oh.” That matter-of-tact answer made me suspect that, at one point in her life, she might have actually tried it. 

“Also, I’ve been wondering all my life how this place could have happened, and my best guess is that it must be a miracle. Miracles,” she fixed her bright blue-gray eyes on me with something almost like a challenge, “Aren’t meant to hide away in. They’re meant to be shared.”

“A miracle … ” I repeated, halfway between awe and dismay. “Wait - shared? You mean with - ” I tipped my head in the direction of the door, outside of which were the stairs that led to Melissa, Frank and Josh in the living room.

“With your brothers and sister, yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”

Not even the implication that all four of us were equally her children made me feel any less like a bristling porcupine. 

“But - they’ll never believe me!” I sputtered. “They didn’t back then, so why would they now? They already think there’s something wrong with me. If I come after them with something like this, I … I don’t even know what they’d do! They never wanted me in this family - all these years, they never even tried to get to know me - ”

“There is nothing wrong with you. No one here believes that.” Kirsten’s voice was quiet, but very stern, as she interrupted my tirade. “And as for trying, when was the last time you tried to get to know them?”

That silenced me at once.

The shameful truth was that I couldn’t remember the last time I had tried to get close to the others. I never learned to take rejection well; one setback is enough to set all my metaphorical quills on edge. I must have given up soon after moving in with them. If our not feeling like a real family was partly their fault, it was also partly mine. 

Besides, I realized, I might be wrong about that too. Earlier today, hadn’t Josh defended me from Melissa’s comment about me being too single for such a big house? Hadn’t Melissa apologized? And hadn’t Frank done his best to find a solution that was fair to all of us?

“You’re right.” I blushed and lowered my head. “I should try … I will try.”

“That’s all I can ask.” 

Kirsten gripped the arms of the chair and began rising carefully to her feet, signaling quite clearly even to me that she was worn out and wanted to end this conversation. I could have sat talking to her for hours - if you could call them hours in this timeless place - just so I wouldn’t have to say goodbye to her again, but I knew how selfish that would be.

I did, however, have one more question.

“Doesn’t it scare you?”

“Dying, you mean?” She snorted. “Of course!”

“Really? … You don’t seem scared.”

“I don’t like to worry all of you.” She leaned on my arm as we shuffled towards the door, her thin hand holding on with surprising strength. “Also, I’m curious about what happens next. I like to think of Rudy standing by the Pearly Gates, with a full itinerary of sights.” 

I smiled, because that sounded so like him. 

“And if I’m wrong and nothing happens,” she added with characteristic common sense, “At least I’ll never have to find out.”

Just as we reached the door, she squeezed my arm even tighter and looked up at me with sudden intensity, stopping me in mid-step. “One more thing,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Tell your sister and your brothers that I love them.” Her eyes glittered. “And tell yourself the same. I wish I’d said it more often.”

“You show it all the time,” I said. “But - yes, of course, and - Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I love you too.”

I opened the door for us both.

One moment she was holding on to me, the next she was gone.

I’d thought I was all cried out for the night, but I wasn’t. All the better; these tears barely hurt at all.

/

My siblings, of course, were still sitting in the downstairs living room. From their perspective, I must have left the room for only a few moments, just long enough to splash water on my face and take a few deep breaths. 

Standing in the doorframe in the moment before they spotted me, it struck me how old they looked. They had always been older than me, but this was different. The men’s hair was turning from salt-and-pepper to plain salt, and Melissa’s was such a bright gold, I guessed that she dyed it. Their skin was beginning to have that crepe-paper look. All three of them were on their phones, scrolling and frowning, avoiding each other’s eyes. It felt like such a short time since we had been children. In Kirsten’s eyes, no doubt we still were.

I stepped forward.

“Are you okay?” Josh pocketed his phone and came towards me, his blue-gray eyes wide with concern. 

“I’m, uh … better, thanks.” I blinked away the last few tears and cleared my throat. “I need to tell you something.”

He nodded, stepped back and waved a hand for me to go ahead. All three of them looked up with polite, expectant faces. It felt like being a teenager again and having to give a presentation in class, only more so. I wished I had stayed upstairs at least long enough to prepare a speech.

I turned to Melissa first, who I had always thought disliked me the most, just to get it over with. “You’re right,” I said, causing her to raise her eyebrows. “This house is too big for one person … and in some ways, I can see how it would make sense to sell it,” turning to Frank, who nodded in a gratified way and opened his mouth as if to jump right into a planning session. I flung up my hands just in time, however, and no one interrupted.

“It’s just … this house, it’s … it’s more than a piece of real estate,” I went on in my incoherent way. “It’s the only home I can really remember. It’s where Kir - it’s where Mom and Dad took care of us, and … and it’s where we could always come back when we needed to. I don’t … I don’t see why it can’t still be like that. I think … we could all use a place to come back to, sometimes. I know it’s not where we live, most of the year anyway, but this is still our home, and I … I want to keep it. For all of us.”

This was the most personal thing I had said to them in years. I might as well have come downstairs in my underwear. I waited for Melissa to roll her eyes, or Frank to keep arguing, or Josh to look away in quiet second-hand embarrassment. I waited.

“Huh,” said Frank, squinting at me over the top of his glasses. “That’s interesting.”

I braced myself for whatever came next.

“What’s interesting?” Josh asked warily. 

“That the adopted kid takes after Mom the most.” Frank smiled. “Doesn’t she?”

“I know what you mean,” Melissa admitted in a surprisingly small voice. “I always used to wonder where she went to find that … whatever it was … peace, I guess? It made me so jealous.”

“Me too.” Josh shared a rueful smile with her. “Wish I could go there.”

In that moment, the same current I had sensed when Kirsten had told me I was home went buzzing through my hands. Without thinking about it, I knew exactly what to do. I sat down on the sofa between Josh and Melissa and put a hand on each of their arms, and Josh - as if by instinct - reached over to nudge Frank. The current flowed between the four of us at once.

“You’ll find it,” I said to my family.

I believed it then, and I still do. 

Whoever you are, reading this, may you find it too.

There’s a room in your house that exists outside of normal time. No one can bother you because no time passes between you going in and coming out no matter how long you’re there. Until one day someone is already there.

[ekingston]

Hi; I don't know if you're still following the word-stream stuff, but the app is back online on the app store as "booktok - books and podcasts". The reviews marking it as having AI scraped data are still on the page itself, even though the name has changed, and duckduckgo still directs to their page if you look up "word-stream audiobooks"-- although if I don't know how long that will last. The website is seemingly gone, but the app still presumably has access to all the stolen works in the database.

Best regards, -someone else whose fics were stolen

yup

word-stream is back

it just calls itself—in an obvious attempt to profit from the TikTok upheaval—BookTok, now. and it’s not just the app, either: the whole website is back online, same as it was just before Cliff Weitzman took it down.

(in case you missed it, here are the original story & the update.)

fortunately (so far) the fanfiction category hasn't been re-added, but if you go to the store page for the app you can see that it’s still using 'fan-created universes' as advertising.

Weitzman didn't register the app under his own name this time, but through something called 'Oak Prime Inc'. hilariously, however, the email address listed in BookTok's privacy policy still refers to word-stream.com, so if Cliff was trying to scrub the connection between Speechify and his BookTok app, he didn't do a very thorough job.

here's the thing (and i'm about to put this up in a separate, more easily digestible post): if you take a look at the terms & conditions of Cliff's other platform, Speechify, it claims a truly comprehensive license to use the works uploaded to that platform in any way Cliff sees fit, including publishing and monetizing it elsewhere. and i keep seeing posts on Reddit and Bluesky from both readers and writers, happily using the Speechify app to read fanfic, advanced reader copies and their own yet-to-be-published work to them.

this is a BAD IDEA. Cliff has already proven that he will take work authored by others without their permission and redistribute it wholesale if he thinks it might make him money.

Cliff is the financial beneficiary of both Speechify and word-stream/booktokapp. it seems pretty obvious to me that he's trying to claim, via Speechify's terms & conditions, that every work uploaded to Speechify is his to do with whatever he pleases, which naturally includes moving them to this other platform so he can charge people for two subscriptions instead of just the one.

thank you so much for keeping an eye on this, anon, and for reaching out!! like i said, another post will go up today about the above, but i'm going to ask you all to help ensure that my posts & my name aren't the only ones giving voice to this message. when i tried to approach people about this issue on social media, often the—completely justified!—response was 'why should I take your word for it?' and Wikipedia only allowed the mention of Weitzman's copyright infringement to remain on his page when 'The Endless Appetite for Fanfiction' was listed as a source.

it can't just be me. DON’T take my word for it. do your own research (i would love to be proven wrong about this!), talk to your friends, engage with posts on social media similar to the ones i mentioned above (those are just some examples, don’t pile on to the OPs!) and make sure people know what they're jeopardizing. help me protect authors from money-grubbing shitheads like this one.

[darkwicks]

Homecoming

You’re a casual fan, you think. Spider-Man is cool, and you just really like him. That’s all... until you learn that the friendly neighbourhood web-slinger is so much closer than you think.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | superhero AU & Spider-Man Caleb | descriptions of anxiety, fluff, happy ending, mentions of blood and bruises, secrets, slice-of-life (as much as it can possibly be), some angst and hurt/comfort | ~7,6k words

A/N.⠀I really said "I'm going on a writing hiatus" and "I'm gonna lock in" with my whole chest knowing damn well I'm a liar ... anyway yeah this fic was inspired by this Spider-Man Caleb fanart... it made me go crazy.... I hope you enjoy!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

@hunters-association @theseabreezestreet

You were on the verge of a breakthrough. You just knew it.

You were absentmindedly swinging your legs back and forth as you sat at the table. Your laptop was open and displaying several windows—some were images of Spider-Man, some were news articles. Your tablet, and in turn, your notes, had gone completely forgotten. Spending time passively scrolling social media was far from productive, but compared to what you were reading, exam revision was totally dull.

Developing an interest in Spider-Man had been unintentional. You saw him mentioned in the news. Out of curiosity, you looked him up, and all of a sudden, you found yourself deep in the rabbit hole. Before long, you were up-to-date with daily news, keeping up with his movements and making friends with fellow Spider-Man fans. It was swift and unexpected, but you found it more fun than whatever you were previously doing.

He was far from the first superhero Linkon City had seen. There used to be rumours about the God of the Tides and how he ruled the seas for centuries before he found the love of his life. There was also Lumière of the N109 zone, a vigilante who suddenly stopped being active about fourteen years ago. Legends of the Abysm Sovereign and the Foreseer were passed down through generations. No one had proof they existed, only the product of their labour. It was as if they didn’t want to be seen. Still, that didn’t stop your interest from getting piqued.

The difference between Spider-Man and the past legends of Linkon City was that Spider-Man was still active. A web-slinging genius with a no-kill rule, he made the streets significantly safer. Photos and surveillance footage of him were constantly shared, but no one had any luck finding his identity yet. You weren’t investigating him for malicious reasons. You were just, for the lack of a better word, nosy. You wanted to know the man behind the mask instead of the neighbourhood guardian the news always talks about.

You looked at your screen. There was a rough timeline of his appearances the past week. He was in different parts of the city, catching robbers and other criminals with his presumably handmade technology. There wasn’t a strict pattern to how he operated. It seemed that he liked to lurk before making a move. It was how he brought down the corrupted colonels of the Farspace Fleet. Fighting crime appeared to be easy for him, and he wasn’t as destructive as some were. It was impressive. Everything he did had you in awe. His dexterity and swiftness, his strength and courage—he was just what Linkon City needed, you thought.

Just as you were about to go into another deep dive, a hand pushed your laptop shut. Caleb was towering over you when you snapped your gaze to him, brows furrowed as you gave him an offended look. He lightly jabbed your forehead and only smiled in response, seemingly pleased with your reaction.

“You’re supposed to be studying.”

You sputtered. “I was studying!”

“No, you weren’t. You were looking at Spider-Man again.” He tapped his fingers on your tablet, reilluminating the screen once more. “Your exams are next week. You need to focus.”

“I can multitask,” you argued half-heartedly. “And, I’ve never let you down, have I?”

Caleb took the seat across from you with an exaggerated sigh. “I guess not.”

“Why do you hate Spider-Man so bad anyway?” You frowned, trying to move his hand away. He didn’t budge. “He’s keeping the city safe. That’s a good thing!”

“I don’t hate him, but you’ve been distracted. I’m trying to help you.”

“You sound jealous,” you joked. Resting your cheek in the palm of your hand, you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Are you sad I’m not giving you enough attention?”

He pursed his lips, visibly unimpressed. “Set the table. Dinner’s ready.”

“You’re no fun!” you whined. “It’s not my fault there’s finally something interesting!”

You begrudgingly moved your items to the side and got up to make your way to the kitchen, slippers sliding against the floor. The savoury aroma swirled into the air, making your stomach growl involuntarily. Your irritation now forgotten, you made quick work of setting the table and pouring two glasses of water. With your job finished, you waited at the table, eyes drifting over to the TV on the wall. The screen displayed two reporters behind a desk beginning the evening segment. It faded into a clip of men webbed stuck to a lamppost, undoubtedly the work of Spider-Man himself. They were looking to rob an innocent passerby before the webslinger caught them red-handed.

“Huh. That’s where we live,” you spoke up after rereading the headline.

Caleb placed the plates on the table. “That’s why I always tell you to be home before curfew.”

“It’s not like I break curfew anyway,” you grumbled. “You know I hate being out when it’s dark.”

Distracted, you kept your eyes on the screen. The public had mixed opinions about Spider-Man himself. You, along with your circle of friends, thought of him as a hero, feeling safer knowing that he was out there protecting innocent people. From helping an old woman cross the street to busting evil plans, he was using his talents and intelligence for good. He worked tirelessly every day to keep the streets pristine and harmless. The police, on the other hand, weren’t as fond of him. The LCPD openly expressed their distaste for Spider-Man, citing that he was an obstacle in their investigations. Some people thought he was just another guy with a gimmick. These criticisms didn’t seem to bother him at all. If anything, every time someone said anything negative about him, he’d work even harder just to prove them wrong.

You knew it was far from wise to idolise a public figure, but with Spider-Man, he inspired you to do your best every day. You liked to imagine he’d be proud of you if he knew you. You worked hard and powered through no matter how many setbacks you had. As silly and childish as it sounded, he made for great motivation. He was a good guy, he was cool, and—

Caleb waved his hand in front of your face, a warning tone in his voice. “Pipsqueak.”

You jolted, snapping back to the present. “Sorry!”

“Why do you like Spider-Man so much?” he asked, poking at his food. “You got a crush on him?”

You sputtered. “What? No!”

He gave you a look that urged you to continue. Heat rose to your face as you felt a spotlight shining down upon you, giving you the floor. It was hard not to feel embarrassed about something that felt so childish. You hummed thoughtfully, trying to think of words to say. Knowing you were going to sound like a child regardless, you sulked, defeated, and finally gave him a response.

“It’s just… I really like superheroes,” you mumbled timidly, fiddling with your fingers. “I admire people who use their strength for good. Like you!”

The corners of his lips twitched. He seemed pleased. “So do you like me or Spider-Man more?”

“You are jealous!” you said with an accusatory tone. “Caleb, it’s not like that! It’s like… You know when you have a favourite celebrity? That’s what Spider-Man is to me.”

He made a face, though he ended up relenting. “Okay. I get it.”

“Yeah! It’s kinda like how you used to like—”

“Your food’s gonna get cold,” he interrupted, flustered. “I put all my effort into making your favourite. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“Fine,” you drawled out, unable to hold back the smile from stretching across your lips.

Spider-Man eventually faded to the back of your mind throughout dinnertime. You found yourself engrossed in conversation with Caleb, slipping into the normal banter and routine with ease. Somewhere in between, he changed the channel to natural documentaries instead. When you gave him a questioning look, he just shrugged and said that you should take a break with him. Not one to deny his requests, your laptop went forgotten as you spent the remainder of the night on the couch with him.

It was nearing midnight, and from the way that you yawned, you were nearing your limit as well. The documentary was long finished; the past few minutes were just advertisement after advertisement, regular products with unnecessarily catchy jingles. You glanced over at him, suddenly curious. Unlike you, he didn’t seem to be tired at all. If you were more awake, you’d notice the anxious bouncing of his leg or the worried furrow in his brow, but fatigue was catching up to you fast. With another yawn, you pushed yourself to your feet, taking the throw blanket with you.

“Goodnight, Caleb.”

He smiled at you. “Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fully sated and worn out, sleep came as easily as breathing. Images flickered behind your eyes, displaying dreams and vignettes in film reels. You dreamt of endless summers and sweetness, of growing up and exploring the world. When you woke up the next day, only a fragment of those memories remained. Caleb was already gone when you left your room. He left a note saying he’d left early and that breakfast was in the fridge. After treating yourself to his homemade cooking, you set off for classes and got the day started. It wasn’t very eventful. Classes weren’t particularly interesting. Lectures were about things you already knew, and a majority of your classmates were absent, leading to little to no conversation. Before long, the academic day was over, and it was time to return home.

The streets were bustling with activity as you waded through the crowd. Clamour and chatter were more than loud, people surrounded you, and the scent of car fumes mixed with savoury food bombarded all of your senses. You were starting to see now why people liked to say that Linkon City never sleeps. With everyone getting off work, the city was beyond crowded. Restaurants were fully seated, as were the cafés. Traffic went by incredibly slowly. Dogs barked to the sound of car horns and people were emerging from the train station in groups. You gripped your bag tightly, anxiety clawing at the back of your mind. News and posters about pickpockets were nearly a regular occurrence; it was better to be safe than sorry.

You managed to make it to a street where there were less people. You recognised some of the vendors out and about, offering them warm smiles as you walked past. Occasionally, you stopped by and bought a few snacks to take home. Now having your hands full, you were more than ready to go home and unwind. You hummed a catchy pop tune under your breath, leisurely walking down the path when the TV screens in the electronic stores came alive. You came to a stop, standing in front of the clear glass. It was a news segment. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the screen displaying surveillance of Spider-Man was context enough.

He single-handedly stopped a burglary, moving with inhuman agility and fighting with incredible strength. It showed a group of men bound together by his webs, cursing and fruitlessly struggling to break free. It took a few seconds before the familiarity of the background sank in. The convenience store, the townhouses and the DVD store… The incident happened not too far from home. A frown overtook your features. Despite the crime rate being significantly lower thanks to Spider-Man’s efforts, the curfew was still in place, and the unrest remained. It was not any different for you.

As you made a move to continue your walk, you felt something being snatched from your grasp—your bag. The thief ran at full speed, deftly navigating through the crowd as you yelled for help and followed him, aggressive footfalls slapping against the concrete. Absentminded apologies left your lips whenever a complaint was heard from a passerby. Your chest was beginning to ache, but you needed it back. It had everything. Your phone, your wallet, your house keys with the chain Caleb bought for you. You couldn’t afford to lose it.

The traffic light turned red just as the thief crossed to the other side. You contemplated just dashing through, but anxiety kept you rooted to your spot. They were going further into the distance. You bounced on your heels nervously, eyes glaring at the timer. 40, 39, 38…

It was now or never.

Cars honked at you as you ran to the other side, the combination of noise nearly sending you jumping out of your skin. You pushed through your fatigue and kept running until you tripped over your shoelaces, collapsing to the ground with a loud thud. You hopelessly reached out, watching the thief’s silhouette disappear into the distance. Tears of frustration sprang up to your eyes and you buried your face in your hands, uncaring of how you looked to other people. You weren’t fast enough. All your important things were gone, about to be left somewhere you could never find, and your information would be stolen—

“This yours?”

Your bag was dangling in front of you. Were you so distraught that you were hallucinating having someone come to your aid? You blinked and stared at it dumbly, your mind trying to grapple with the situation. The person crouched down to your level, and Spider-Man’s face came into view.

Wait…

You screamed in surprise, frantically pushing yourself away from him. “What—”

“Hey, hey, It’s okay. It’s just me. I webbed him. He’ll be stuck there for another three hours,” he said casually, speaking as though he was just another regular pedestrian and not the famed vigilante of Linkon City. “I had to look at your ID card to make sure it was you, but I’m glad I got to you in time. Here, take it.”

You barely managed to catch the bag as you were still gawking at him. What felt like a thousand questions were popping up rapidly in your head. How did he know? When did he get here? What was going on? How was he so fast? Caught off guard by your stunned silence, he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly, feeling awkward under your stare.

“Everything okay?” Spider-Man asked tentatively, waving a hand in front of your face. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, your reaction slightly delayed. “N-No.”

“Listen, I have to go. There’s gonna be a robbery on Ninth Street.” He helped you get on your feet, carefully making sure you had your balance. “Get home safe, okay? And don’t leave past curfew.”

“Okay,” you said, dumbfounded. It didn’t take long before you managed to snap yourself back to awareness. “Yeah, okay. Thank you for getting this back to me.”

He did a casual salute before aiming his web shooter at a building, swinging away with ease. Digging through your bag, you were relieved to find that everything was intact. Once the confusion went away, excitement came rushing in. You hastily grabbed your phone and dialled Caleb’s number, lips curling into a grin. He picked up after the first ring.

“What’s up?”

“You will not believe what just happened to me,” you said in one breath. “I just met Spider-Man.”

A loud crash was heard in the background.

You hesitated. “Are you busy? It sounds like you’re in the middle of something…”

“Everything’s fine, don’t worry about it. So, you met Spider-Man?”

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you.

“Uh, pipsqueak?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I did! I’m walking home right now. Someone tried to steal my wallet and I couldn’t catch them, but Spider-Man did and he got it back for me. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Someone tried to rob you?” You could practically hear the frown in his voice. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You blinked. “You’re at work. What were you gonna do?”

He fell silent. It took a couple of beats before he spoke up again.

“Well, I’m glad you got your stuff back. Just make sure to be home before sundown. Tell me when you’re back, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back in time for dinner, I promise.”

“It’s okay! Take your time,” you reassured him. “I’m heading home now. See you.”

You had a pep in your step for the rest of the way, feeling in high spirits after the encounter. The weight on your shoulders was lifted, leaving you feeling lighter. You didn’t realise how much you needed to breathe. Relieved would be an understatement—it was as if everything fixed itself in front of you. You didn’t generally consider yourself a lucky person, but today, you had won. The encounter with Spider-Man replayed itself in your mind, echoing his voice, reminding you of the proximity you shared.

After sending Caleb a quick text to let him know you got back safely, you began to cool down from the day. You tossed your keys on the counter and went straight for your room, determined to change out of your sweaty clothes. Since he was normally the one to cook dinner, you didn’t have to do much preparation in the kitchen. You put away the clean dishes, washed the leftover ones in the sink, and decided to tidy up a little. With your tasks done, you returned to the living room and flopped down onto the couch with a groan. Though you didn’t hold high expectations for what was on TV, you turned it on for background noise anyway, half-listening to the dialogue in the show that was playing.

The clock on the wall continued to tick. Caleb would get off work soon. You ended up smiling to yourself, excited to tell him about your day. Lying comfortably on the couch, you continued to passively scroll through social media to kill time. You were beginning to hear the telltale sounds of people returning home. The sound of a car door closing, your neighbour’s doorbell ringing, eager dogs overjoyed to see their owner home. Considering the traffic you’d seen earlier, Caleb returning a little later than usual wouldn’t be that irregular.

With that in mind, your worries were eased a little. But as minutes faded into hours, nighttime came, and not a single call or message from Caleb was seen. Worried, you sent him a text, only for them to be left on delivered. Calling him led straight to voicemail. Growing increasingly agitated, you called him again and again, only to achieve the same result. He always told you if he was going to be late. He always picked up after the first ring. But your attempts to get through to him went unseen, and it was getting harder trying not to sink into your anxiety the longer his silence went.

You paced around the room, fingers clutching your phone as the call went to voicemail again. Your eagerness for dinner had long dissipated and was replaced by immense dread. Worst-case scenarios were starting to appear in your mind, fuelling your panic with its increasingly violent visions. You chewed on your nail as you paced back and forth, trying to reach Caleb to no avail. The situation was growing more dire with each passing second.

You glanced at the time. It was three in the morning. You were wide awake on pure adrenaline and distress. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel tired. It was as though all of your senses were on high alert. Everything was too loud, too much, and your clothes felt rough against your skin. Instinctively, you made your way into his room and crawled into his bed, hugging his pillow and rocking back and forth. The smell of his detergent and perfume soothed you enough to have you breathing normally again. Your fingertips dug into the material, knuckles going white and shaking from how rigid your grip was.

The world started to feel less daunting when you finally calmed down. You felt exhausted, completely boneless. Your eyelids were getting heavier, and as you lay there surrounded by everything he owned, you found yourself falling slowly. The room is dim with only the city lights outside peeking in through the curtains. You felt a cold draft coming through the window, sending shivers running down your spine. Fabric rustled and you felt the mattress dip, immediately jolting you awake. A mixture of relief and fury washed over you.

“Caleb?”

His breath hitched.

You blindly patted the nightstand in search of the lamp switch. Once the room was illuminated, you squinted at him through half-lidded eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” you asked groggily. “I’ve been—”

Your eyes dropped to his outfit. It was the same suit that Spider-Man wore, although more torn and worn down. Whatever tiredness was left in your system dissipated when you saw him. You sat still for a few moments, trying to contemplate whether you were imagining things or if this was real. You didn’t know where to begin. It was as if time stopped. There he was, the person you had been waiting for, standing at the foot of the bed like a deer caught in the headlights. You stared at him with your mouth agape, your mind struggling to put the pieces together despite the obviousness in front of you.

You didn’t know where to begin. Did he always sneak back home like this? What happened to him? In the end, you settled for the most urgent one in your mind—

“How long have you been hiding this from me?”

He forced a smile, the gesture awkward and tense. “A couple of months.”

“Months?” you asked, voice rising in volume. “You’ve been—you—god, I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’m sorry.”

You pursed your lips. “Come here.”

He tentatively complied, sitting down in the spot next to you. Your hands cradled his face, thumbs brushing over the bruises and making him grimace slightly. He didn’t say a single word. It was as if he was also dumbfounded himself. You were still upset, but the longer you looked at him, the more the anger faded. At least he was home. Injured, but still home in one piece. It was leagues better than the thousands of scenarios your mind was conjuring up earlier.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I know,” he murmured, voice uncharacteristically meek. It was unlike the Caleb you grew up with.

“But it can wait,” you said, pulling him into a hug. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I was worried about you.”

His arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he held you close to him, a shaky breath escaping his lips. He held onto you with a desperation you’d never seen before. He relaxed into your touch just the slightest, reassured by feeling your warm body against his. You pressed your cheek to where his heart would be, feeling its steady rhythm remind you that he was here—that he was home.

Your voice was meek when you spoke. “I thought you left me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“So you decided with radio silence?” you snarked back. Something in his expression flickered, making you calm down once again. You frowned at the amount of bruises visible on his face and the dried blood on his split lip. Softening, you told him, “Go take a shower and get changed. I’ll patch you up.”

He didn’t argue. He only nodded and disappeared into the bathroom, walking sluggishly. The sound of running water filled the stifling stillness as you took a proper glance around the room. There was an evidence board, several open books, and a well-used first aid kit on the desk. Your heart sank. Just how long had he been doing this, getting himself hurt and having to mend himself? Didn’t he trust you? Why did he keep this a secret from you? You heaved out a sigh and hid your face in your hands, frustration and sadness simmering beneath the surface.

There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but this wasn’t the right time. Right now, all you could do was be there for him.

He emerged a handful of minutes later, dressed in comfortable clothes. You scooted over and patted the space next to you, lips pressed in a taut frown. Now that the suit was off, you could see the hits he’d taken more clearly. Splashes of blue and purple were scattered across his skin, some big and some small. There were a couple of cuts and scrapes close by, both old and new. It was the worst you’d ever seen him.

“Sit,” you urged timidly. You gingerly applied the ointment on his bruises, careful not to hurt him as he stared up at you. He looked so vulnerable and so fragile that it made you feel like your heart was going to burst out of its confines. “Talk to me. Please.”

“It was Gran,” he said. “She made a serum. I didn’t know it until a few days later. I was stronger, faster… I could hear everything. I could feel everything.”

“How come I never knew this?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. I’m supposed to be your hero, remember?” He laughed in a self-deprecating way, avoiding your gaze. “I had to stay strong. Figure things out, get stronger… Make sure you’d always be safe.”

Setting the first aid kit aside, you pulled him into your arms once again. He held onto you tightly, fingers grabbing the fabric of your shirt so tightly that his hands were trembling. You raked your fingers through his hair and brushed them back, keeping them away from the wounds on his face. For a moment, it felt like there were only the two of you in the world. All you could hear was his quiet breathing as he latched onto you, unwilling to let go.

It broke your heart to see him this way.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t rely on me.”

“No, that’s not it,” he sighed. “I’d go through anything for you. I just… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t keep any secrets from me anymore.” You pulled away. He looked up at you with a pained expression, years of secrecy and isolation making themselves known in his glossy eyes, the quiver of his bottom lip. “Can you do that for me?”

He nodded weakly.

“I need words, Caleb,” you said, your voice firmer than intended. You cupped the side of his face, feeling him clasp your hand with his own, warm and calloused. “Can you promise me that?”

“I can,” he exhaled shakily. “I promise.”

The tears you were holding back brimmed at the corners of your eyes, small droplets sliding down the sides of your face. A hushed whimper broke out of you. Caleb held on to you like you were his lifeline, refusing to let go for even a split second. The gravity of his words weighed heavy, as did him baring his heart. He melted in your embrace, sinking deep into your comfort as you gently scratched his scalp, easing every worry he was holding.

“Don’t lie to me again, okay?” you murmured into his ear.

“I won’t anymore. I swear.”

—

Though months seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye, the emotional turmoil stayed deep in your heart the entire time.

Life had turned completely upside down. With the new knowledge of him being Spider-Man looming over you, you were having trouble placing yourself. Some days, you felt excited and happy for him. He was more open with you when it came to his successes. He’d tell you about the petty criminals he caught or the passersby he helped while swinging through the city. He was passionate about his identity as Spider-Man, and he was committed. You wanted to support him in every step of the way. Some days, you’d feel like you were sinking. You previously didn’t worry all too much when Caleb returned home late, but since that day, fear and anxiety kept you company on lonely nights.

He didn’t always return looking completely beat up. Sometimes he was unscathed. Sometimes it was just a couple of bruises. But you hated being home alone, especially in the dark where everything seemed to get much worse. You were losing sleep because you’d stay up to wait for him to come home. You needed to see him with your own eyes, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep in peace. He tried to give you estimated times to soothe you, but it didn’t always work. You’d wait in the living room, rock yourself back and forth as you wondered if he was coming home.

Your mind wouldn’t let you forget that he lied, either. You already forgave him a long time ago, but you remembered. You’d question yourself, question him, and what would come after was an overwhelming sense of guilt. He was trying. He was more open. He was showing you an important part of himself, bringing you along with him on his journey, yet doubts still lingered in your mind. He kept his cheerful disposition, constantly reassuring you that everything was going to be fine, but your mind was filled with what-ifs. What if he was hiding more from you? What if he was lying? What if he thought of you as a burden?

It was irrational to feel this way. You knew that very well, and yet, you still felt like you were fading out of his life. You talked to Caleb normally, interacted with him like you always did, but something felt different. It was as if he was drifting further and further away from you. Your outstretched hand, desperately trying to reach him, and his fading silhouette. Everything had changed. You felt like you were losing him in real time and there was nothing you could do about it. Everything had changed, yet it was all the same. You still had breakfast together. He still picked up the phone after the first ring. He still smiled at you, looked at you like you were his whole world. You were teetering between security and uncertainty. You didn’t want to feel this way, but you were helpless. These feelings came by themselves, and the more time you spent alone, the more difficult it became to ignore them.

Your sentiments towards Spider-Man had only grown stronger with the knowledge that Caleb was him. His name was more well-known in the city, growing popular among kids and women, and he was constantly being praised by the press. You supported him. You had total faith in him, trusted in him and his strength. But sometimes you’d stay awake stressing about how safe things truly were. More fame meant more notoriety among criminals, and you’d often wonder how long it would be before something drastic happened. You wanted the best for him, you really did, but something guttural gnawed at you. The desire to keep him to yourself, the need to protect him. You wanted to sink your teeth into his flesh, to keep him in your maw. You wanted to hide him away somewhere only you knew.

You dreamt of it sometimes—of risking your life for him just to keep him safe. You constantly wondered if things would be easier for him if you left. You knew there was much that he wasn’t sharing with you yet. You knew it would take time regardless of how much he trusted you, Still, you felt as though you were being kept in the dark. Being Spider-Man seemed to be so easy for him. It suited him, even. You couldn’t see anyone else doing the same thing that he did. But you didn’t know what you were meant to be. You felt for him very deeply, as did he, but the vagueness in the air bothered you more and more every day.

Were you only being selfish?

You thought back on one of the mornings you spent with him. A full spread of breakfast lay across the table and the news played in the background. The sun was shining bright, peeking through the gap between the curtains, and the weather was good. But there was a sense of foreboding that loomed over you, one that you couldn’t keep to yourself. You called his name softly, leading him to look away from the screen.

“Are you okay?” you asked. He blinked at you, confused by the question.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Somehow, it wasn’t enough.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t know.

“I’m good. Sorry, I just thought you looked a little distracted.”

The lie slipped out of you with ease. You felt childish. You felt burdensome for needing reassurance from him that he wasn’t going to leave you behind, but you could never bring yourself to say it. Between your pride and the overwhelming fear of rejection, the words you desperately wanted to stay would remain within the confines of your mind. He didn’t seem to be convinced by any means, but he didn’t push the matter. A part of you wished he did.

It wasn’t a fight. There was nothing wrong. Even when he returned home blood and bruised, exhausted out of his mind, you took care of him with love and care. It didn’t matter that you didn’t understand why he was risking his life. Caleb never broke his promises or broke away from the path to his goals. He wasn’t about to let you stop him. With great power comes great responsibility, he said. But was this responsibility thrust upon him, or was he doing it out of his volition?

You hated feeling helpless. You knew he didn’t need you to do anything, but you felt like you weren’t an integral part of his life anymore. You felt like a bystander, like someone he was slowly forgetting. You shouldn’t feel this way. You should feel happy that he still cared about you, that he cared about the city to give his all into protecting it, yet your mind just wouldn’t let you. Your thoughts on Caleb hadn’t changed. You still thought he was the most important person to you, but what used to be admiration and even love for Spider-Man was turning into resentment little by little.

Some days, you hated him. You felt like a little kid without her favourite toy. You felt like a lonely child in a class full of people. You knew it was useless to dwell on these things, so you tried to occupy yourself. You put all your effort into your studies. You kept yourself busy doing chores even on the days when it was his turn. You didn’t wait to eat dinner with him; you went out for food and drinks with your friends, came back a bit later than the sunset. It wasn’t as if he’d notice. He wasn’t home when you needed him to be.

His name was constantly trending on social media. Spider-Man rescues bus from hijackers. Spider-Man stops bank robbery. Spider-Man comics and merchandise releasing. His name became the talk of the town, earning the attention of the rest of the country. The newfound fame kept him even busier to the point where people were starting to dig deeper into his true identity, leading fans and investigators to wait outside your home. You kept ignoring them, but they were persistent. Your declining of their questions only made them more curious. Not only did you feel like he was slipping out of your grasp, but also like the safety of home was in jeopardy.

It wasn’t his fault. You couldn’t blame him for it. But sometimes you wondered if he knew just how much this was affecting you, as self-centred as it seemed. The satisfaction you expected from uncovering the truth about Spider-Man never came. The final piece of the puzzle was right in front of you, living and breathing under the same roof as you were, and all you could harbour was disappointment.

What Caleb was doing was major. He was keeping the city safe—keeping his home safe, for you and everyone. You found yourself sinking further into guilt and bitterness, the light at the surface growing smaller as you fell deeper and deeper. It was childish of you to be throwing a tantrum over something like this. So, you decided to grin and bear it. He understood you like the back of his hand; doing the same to him was the very least you could do. You pestered him less about his missions, stopped trying to call again and again when he didn’t respond. He’d always come home, even if it took days. He never broke promises. He promised he wouldn’t.

If he noticed the change in you, he didn’t mention it. His actions, however, said otherwise. He did his best to pay more attention to you. He tried to spend as much time with you as he could despite your conflicting schedules. He listened to everything you spoke about, promised you to be careful when you asked, and continued to protect you in his own way. You didn’t know exactly what it was that seemed to switch the dynamic completely, but at a certain point, you were no longer drowning in the pool of negativity. The sun seemed to shine brighter, the flowers in full bloom, and your cheeks ached from how much you’d been smiling. The lingering sense of foreboding faded into nothingness, replaced by pure optimism and trust. The future didn’t feel so glum anymore.

You supposed all you needed was time.

Time to heal, time to process everything. Time had a way of turning wounds into scars, healing phantom pains into a comfortable stillness. The claws that had your heart in a death grip had loosened, letting go of the chains they wrapped around it. You felt lighter, happier. Some semblance of normalcy had returned—as normal as it could be considering his dual life, but you weren’t going to take it for granted. You felt like you could finally breathe after being underwater for so long. Even here, where you were alone in the apartment, you didn’t feel lonely. It was… normal. A relief. It didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

It was quiet save for the sound of your nails tapping against the keyboard. It was a sunny afternoon. Having had a productive morning, you aimed to finish the rest of the day in the same way. You were focused and determined to finish the essay quickly so you had more free time. But as the hours went by, that determination waned, and you found yourself at a dead end. You blankly stared at the blinking cursor on the word document. It almost felt like the thing was mocking you. Fatigue and boredom were catching up to you increasingly quickly. You knew the material by heart. You knew what you wanted to talk about. Yet no words came to mind—you were drawing a blank, and the thoughts in your mind were already drifting off elsewhere.

The counter was littered with snacks, surely something Caleb would chide you for. Your tumbler was long empty, left with nothing but melted ice cubes at the bottom. The dishes awaited cleaning in the sink and the TV remained turned on, playing a rerun of some generic soap opera. Defeated, you closed the word document, eyes drifting to the window beside you.

Outside, the skyline was painted in hues of orange and blue. Birds flew over the horizon, ready to migrate elsewhere for the upcoming spring. Your chest rose and fell with your exhale as you let your mind wander. You used up your creativity for the day, you thought. You haven’t made significant progress on the essay since you started it a few hours ago. Before you could beat yourself up about it, three loud knocks were heard from the window. Caleb’s masked face peeked over the wall as he gave you a gentle wave. Giddy, you got off your chair and skipped over, fingers deftly undoing the lock on its doors. You slid it open, allowing him to crawl in.

“I thought you were busy fighting crime,” you teased, watching as he took the mask off. His hair was tousled and his cheeks were flushed from exertion. “Are you slacking off?”

He huffed, amused. “I can multitask.”

He unhid his hand from his back and handed you a large bouquet of sunflowers, the gesture immediately making you melt. Flowers weren’t that out of the ordinary. Caleb liked bringing you gifts and trinkets he thinks you’d like. You got an equally large bouquet during your high school graduation and another one when you were accepted into university. You took it with a smile, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’ and curiously looking at him. He bounced on the heels of his feet, seemingly nervous about something. His brows knitted together.

“You okay?”

He met your gaze. “Do you still think Spider-Man is better than me?”

You blinked a few times, confused. From the way he said it, it appeared that it wasn’t the first time he thought of something like this. You chuckled and crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to the other leg.

“Getting jealous of yourself, Caleb?” It was your turn to be amused. “I never said he was my number one hero.”

“You never said I was your number one hero either.”

You sighed in mock exasperation. “Why is this important? You’re the same person.”

“I just wanna know,” he said, uncharacteristically sheepish.

“First of all, that happened once,” you corrected, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Second of all, I love you. Spider-Man or not.”

His lips curled into a smile. “You love me?”

Warmth blossomed across your chest, rising all the way up to your cheeks as your lips parted in surprise, sputtering incoherent syllables. You awkwardly turned your head away, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Love had never been discussed, not really. It just felt like an unspoken commitment since you were children. He was the most important person to you, and you were the most important person to him. You never really thought about labelling your relationship.

Your eyes widened when you remembered you always referred to him as your partner whenever you spoke of him to your friends. You already gave it a label without realising it. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish, struggling to come up with a reply. You could feel his gaze on you, hear the satisfaction and mischief in his words. Clearing your throat, you tried to compose yourself and decided to follow through. You couldn’t take it back anyway, and even if you could, you didn’t want to.

“Yeah. I do,” you said, feigning indifference. “I thought you knew that.”

He couldn’t stop the smile from expanding into a grin. A breathless chuckle left him. His cheeks seemed to be getting even pinker as he fidgeted in his spot. He scratched the back of his head with flustered giddiness, struggling to keep eye contact with you. You didn’t think you ever saw him this shy. He was always your brave hero Caleb, the same boy who held you when you had nightmares, the same boy who held your hand when the thunderstorms got too loud. He was the same boy who defended you from bullies and got into trouble for getting into a fight with them. He was the same man who held nothing but affection in his words for you, the same man who would fall into playful banter with you.

You sighed softly, the corners of your lips twitching up. “You’re not gonna say it back?”

Though he didn’t need to, there was still a hint of insecurity in your tone. You looked at him expectantly, still watching as he tried to maintain composure. You weren’t used to seeing him this way, but you thought you could learn to do it. It made for a rather nice sight.

“I love you too, pipsqueak,” he finally said.

You beamed at him, placing the bouquet on the counter before leaping into his arms, delightfully laughing when he caught you effortlessly. You looped your arms around his neck and hooked your chin on his shoulder. Your legs were wrapped around him, your body supported by his arms around your waist. He held you as if you were as light as a feather. He nuzzled into your hair, letting out a content sigh. The air felt so light, so carefree. The remnants of your worries disappeared into the air, replaced by pure joy and unbridled affection.

“So… What’s the plan? Are you done with the day?”

“I’m going back to work. They need me,” he replied. With a jovial tone, he continued. “But I’ll be back for dinner.”

“You mean it this time?” You pulled away, searching into his eyes for honesty. You were still prone to worrying. His vigilante lifestyle was full of unpredictable moments, so it consistently kept you on your toes, leaving you unaware of what to expect. You were desperate for his words to be true. You felt as though you’ve been away from him for way too long. You craved his presence, his warmth—you craved him.

He gave you a boyish smile. “Yeah. I do.”

And that was a promise.

[goodkushnalchohol]

OVERLY ENTHUSIASTIC ‧₊˚ੈ joaquin torres x fem!reader. fluff / suggestive? / you’re an avenger / after endgame / sam and bucky trio / intentional use of lowercase / not proofread

the blip wasn’t good for anyone really, except joaquin torres. yeah, of course he lost some friends and family but the outcome of it was pretty good for him. he became lieutenant in the air force, befriended sam wilson, and got awfully close to being the falcon - yet sam wouldn’t admit it.

even since before the snap, he had deeply admired the avengers, which included sam, bucky, and you, but he would never tell his friends which person he admired more.

you briefly met once in the compound for sam’s birthday party and he was surprisingly shocked at your skill in playing poker. that evening he left with an ache in his stomach and a yearn in his heart for a woman he didn’t even talk to. he threw silent curses at wanda in his head for keeping you at her side the whole night.

and though he kept silent about it to avoid getting laughed at by sam, his friend could tell he had taken a liking towards you - his stares were quite obvious.

the second time he saw you was at your very own promotion ceremony, you had been given the spot of being the presidents first man in the air, meaning you were sent on high risk air missions at the presidents command. which took a lot of work to accomplish, and was one of the many reasons why joaquin took an interest in you.

in his head you were the perfect pair. two highly trained pilots both at high ranks in the air force, you were practically made for each other. and when sam called you in to help with a mission that seemed too big for just captain america and the falcon, he realised there was so much more to you beneath your skin.

it was eight am on the dot when you arrived in the compound, the sun was shining brightly down on you as you walked, the sound of your boots hitting the pavement echoed with each step. right now, in your eyes, this was a simple mission sam needed help on - nothing extraordinary.

but you were blissfully unaware of who watched you take your strides from the upper levels of the building.

‘oh my god there she is! she’s getting so close i’m so nerv-‘

joaquin’s face was pressed to the glass wall of the common area, where he eagerly watched as you neared the entrance of the building. ‘she’s gonna see you if you keep staring like that, and that won’t be a good real first impression.’ sam spoke with humour in his tone, clearly teasing the boy.

‘how is she gonna see me if im all the way up here huh?’

‘you do know she was an avenger right? she can more than likely sense someone staring at her, that someone being you.” sam poked a finger in the tan man’s chest, who had finally pulled away from the window and approached sam.

he scoffed at sam, and felt a pang of anxiety in his chest when his friend uttered those words. ‘well jokes on you, because i was a stealth pilot!’ he said, gesturing to the air force logo on his shirt with a smirk

‘so was she.’

sam patted his friend on the back, laughing as he did so. ‘for someone so skilled in tech, you are so dumb with words.’

the door to the room buzzed as it opened, allowing your entrances to be known. your eyes immediately found sam’s, the two of you breaking into giddy grins after in so long.

‘good morning cap.’ your voice was dangerously sly, sarcasm lacing your lips as you joked.

‘now don’t you dare start talking to me like a 1960s war veteran.’

you both laughed, bringing each other into tight hugs once you finally reached one another. you pulled away, eyes meeting with another young man behind sam. you smiled cheekily, watching as the he stumbled over his introduction.

‘good morning lieutenant or um - ma’am - y/n, it’s uh, nice to meet you officially.’ he gave an awkward grin as he shook your hand, glancing at sam briefly with embarrassment in his eyes.

‘ugh don’t start with that official bullshit, call me y/n.’

sam chuckled at his teammate, finding his new behaviour funny. ‘y/n i want you to meet my newest recruit, joaquin torres.’ he couldn’t have been much younger than you, maybe a year or so behind you in flight training.

you smiled at the fondness in his eyes, remembering how he once introduced you to bucky and steve the same way before the blip, back then you were the new recruit, who received all the snarky jokes and comments.

‘looks like you’ve finally passed on the bird suit, i am so not gonna miss red wing.

the two men shook their heads laughing, well aware of your feelings around the drone. ‘uh no way, i still got him on my new suit, you’re never getting rid of him. i never understood why you and nat don’t like him.’

you raised your hands in mock defence, chucking to yourself. ‘it’s like an insect following you around in fights, it’s annoying.’ joaquin and sam exchanged glances, tutting at your words. ‘hey i love red wing, just so you know.’ joaquin butted in, that boy really wanted you like him, but he can’t stand red wing slander.

‘suck up.’

his head spun to face you, a hurt expression etched on his features. ‘alright alright, why don’t we go to my office and review the mission.’ sam waved his hand dismissively, brushing off your comment towards joaquin.

‘can’t have you two having a brawl before we even get started.’

after you gathered in sam’s office to discuss the missions rules, actions and procedures, you eventually noticed how skilled joaquin was in his work, and how he looked more than happy to obey sam’s orders. he seemed to be the perfect fit for sam since bucky went askew to become congressman, maybe - just maybe, you could stick around to fill the space you were previously in.

you were currently laid on the large leather couch in the room, and was researching more about adamantium when sam suddenly left, claimed he had samples he needed to check on, leaving you and joaquin alone in his office.

the silence was peaceful, and you were content to work alone, joaquin on the other hand, was not. the poor man who was given the task of getting more information on the buyer was clawing his eyeballs out as he stared at his computer screen. he wanted to talk to you so badly, but he was just so nervous of seeming uncool that he didn’t know what to say.

luckily for him, you were the one who broke the silence.

‘i saw you staring at me from the window by the way, i couldn’t tell if you wanted me to notice or not.’ he groaned into his hands with embarrassment, sam was right. as always.

you peered at him from the top of your computer, laughing at his weird antics. ‘i’m sorry, i didn’t want to come off as annoying and i think your really cool - because you were an avenger and stuff -‘ not for any other reason. ‘and i was eager to meet you.’

a small smile broke out on your face from his sheepish confession, and you put your computer to the side. you soon found yourself in a deep conversation about the avengers, talking about who you thought was the strongest or funniest or overall best.

‘no way you think tony was the coolest! it’s obviously steve!’

‘absolutely not. you’re only saying that because you’re captain americas sidekick, iron man is way cooler than cap and tony is also cooler than steve. there’s no denying it!’

your efforts to defend tony went through deaf ears as joaquin explained why steve was the best choice. ‘let’s just agree to disagree, alright?’ the man finally stopped his endless rant about steve rogers and eventually agreed to finish.

he sighed softly, pondering more questions to ask you. ‘oh! who actually makes the best jokes. 3..2..1..go!’

‘thor!’

‘thor!’

you jumped up in joy as you finally agreed on something, the both of you laughing as you simultaneously said your answers. the atmosphere was radiant now, with the two of you comfortably talking about this random topic.

‘y’know you’re actually a pretty funny guy, even though i’ve only known you a couple hours.’ you said quietly, as you stared at his side profile. he was also pretty handsome too, but you weren’t gonna tell him that. not yet anyway.

joaquin felt his ego inflate at your words, and the tips of his ears redden, and he only prayed you didn’t notice it. he left his spot at the desk a while ago and was now sat beside you on the couch, with your laptop forgotten about on the coffee table.

you two had also gotten closer with all the jumping and moving about you did, so now you’re placed directly infront of him with your hands on his knees which were almost tucked to his chest.

‘well you’re actually better than what everyone made you out to be.’ he admitted yet still in a taunting tone.

you raised a brow at his comment, curious about how others talk about you. ‘oh? how so?’ your response came out slowly, questioning his words.

he shook his head bashfully, while thinking about what to say. ‘i don’t know how to say it, i guess you’re just.. perfect.’ you laughed at his wording, trying to bring your hopes back down because there was no way he thought that highly of you.

‘you really think so?’

he hadn’t realised the true meaning behind his sentence until you said that, but he did infact mean it. he really did think you were perfect. his breath caught in his throat as he looked in your eyes, nodding as a reply. he really hoped you didn’t notice his face heating up.

‘yeah.’

he reached out to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, lightly caressing your jaw as he did so. the two of you leaned in, getting closer as you nearly met in the middle. he was right there, if either of you moved an inch you would -

‘cmon guys, we gotta head to this base to get some samples and away from all distractions’ sam bursted through the door, gathering his bag and suit as he walked in. he was loud and authoritative, and real glad he put a stop to whatever you were about to do.

you leapt from your seat on the couch, slightly embarrassed at what you were doing. ‘i’ll get my gear from my car and meet you guys in the parking lot.’

once you left the room and left the two men in silence, they both stared at each other in annoyance and disbelief.

‘man i cannot believe you did that.’

‘i can’t believe you did that! i was so close!’ joaquin threw his hands in the air, bothered by his friend’s interruption. sam shook his head at the dark haired man, acting like a single father trying to parent his teenager.

‘is this why you were overly enthusiastic about her joining us?’

©veluques - pls do not copy/post my works on any other platforms!!

[joemomrgneissguy]

via @iamthepulta

When I was around 13 or so, I got introduced to a friend to Christianity after being brought up in a mostly atheistic household. My parents had also just gotten divorced and my Dad had coincidentally decided that then was as good a time as any to start going to church again, and so would start taking us because we seemed interested in it.

As a pretty lonely kid with a big desire to fit in or have community, it was a formative time in my life, and I took to it quite quickly.

But the thing about a lot of evangelical spaces is, there is no room for nuance, and, perhaps more crucially, having doubts is seen as a crisis. If you are saved by faith alone, the thinking seemed to be that faith must be total and absolute.

For teenaged me, that meant not questioning things too much, at least not openly, and just accepting what was said at face value like anything I had learned in school up to that point. There were limits to this, like when my church brought in a guest speaker that claimed evolution wasn't real and that the dinosaurs had survived Noah's flood, but on the whole, I didn't have enough of a basis to dispute anything I was told.

Enter 'Mark'. Mark went to the same middle school as me and the same highschool I attended freshman year, and he was a really annoying and combative atheist. At some point he clocked that I was Christian, and he started arguing with me all the time. Most of it wasn't all that substantive. We were young teenagers, after all. But it often got heated, because how dare he question this stuff that is obvious truth?

I realize now that me getting into arguments with him so much was based out of a certain emotional immaturity, and a desire to justify to him and myself that I was right in making a decision that I myself was unsure of. It was performative, to an extent, so I didn't actually hate the guy when everything was said and done.

That beef died down after a year or so. The arguments were getting nowhere, and Mark turned out to be a pretty good guy with perhaps a bit of an antisocial streak. We started hanging out a bit more, and talking about things other than religion, and were eventually at least nominally friends.

This same thing played out with a friend that was Jewish, and another that was Mormon. This was all around that same time in my life. We bickered over things for a while, and then eventually religion just wasn't a factor in our relationship.

These pointless arguments made me realize the simple idea that arguing over religion, trying to convert people to your side, is ultimately a pointless endeavor because it is unprovable, and that I could just as easily be "wrong" with my beliefs. They had just as much 'evidence' as I did. So no matter how hard I 'believed' in this stuff, I just had to accept that some other people never would, and that's okay.

That is somewhat heretical in an evangelical context, since the whole idea is to evangelize, but it opened me up to there being space for other religions and belief systems in the world, and that they were comprised of good people who deserved nothing but love and respect.

This seed of openness and maturity was ultimately what allowed me to change when I moved for college, where I was exposed to stuff like the actual science behind evolution, friends who were LGBT, and programs challenging ideas of creationism.

I owe my life now to those conversations. My career, my friends, my outlook on life could have never occurred without them.

And it's why I now could never return to the same spaces I grew up with, because I can now see them for the toxic, hateful places they are.

I don't know how to navigate faith these days, but I am eternally grateful to "annoying" atheists in my life, and for the patience people had when I was still figuring myself out.

We need the obnoxious atheists back. I know they engineered their own destruction by being annoying and pretentious, but it has become apparent how essential to the ecosystem they were. The religious fanatics have become too bold without their natural predators. Jesus wojaks would have been torn to shreds in 2011.

[leclercsixteen]

𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒂 ! ᶜˡ¹⁶ ᵐᵛ¹

you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up ⋆˚࿔

𝓬harles leclerc + 𝓶ax verstappen x 𝓶ale reader synopsis: reader was the rookie in the upcoming formula 1 season. his name was in everyone’s mouth and on everyone’s social media page. but, he’s still a person who has homework, feelings, and two nonbiological older brothers—or nonbiological dads, however you want to look at it.

genre: familial, smau and irl, hurt/comfort, fluff warnings: lestappen is shipped but theyre not together, stressed reader, reader replaces liam

author's note: not intended for female readers & not written for female readers. this came to me in a dream.

masterlist. navigation.

Y/N WAS A force to be reckoned with on the track. His talented overtakes and passes on the track helped him climb up the ranks easily. He quickly made his way up to Formula 1, skipping over Formula 2, and became the youngest rookie for the upcoming season. It was no surprise that he was all everyone talked about; Red Bull dropping Liam Lawson to pick up an inexperienced rookie who was still in high school.

He was a high school student by day and a Formula 1 driver, also by day. His schedule was the definition of stressful and he had no competition for the most stressed award. Y/n took online classes seeing as there was no way for him to go to a school while flying all over the world for races. It was surprising to the drivers around him that he was able to do everything, including perform well in his car when it really mattered, and not show any signs of stress.

It was surprising to y/n too; he was covered up to his ears in stress and he felt as though he was drowning every second of the day.

liked by f1, redbullracing, charles_leclerc, and others tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

youruser life recently

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userone god i really need to lock in bros life looks amazing and he's younger than me

usertwo i think we're forgetting the fact that he's a student AND formula 1 driver? like i can barely get through just school but he's a double agent liked by youruser

charles_leclerc why that picture :( ⤷ youruser my parents obviously

maxverstappen1 you couldn't've picked a picture that i took with you? ⤷ youruser of course not :)

redbullracing 🔥🔥 liked by youruser

userthree can't wait to watch you kill it this season! ⤷ userfour alr he aint that good bro ⤷ userthree he skipped f2 and red bull literally dropped liam lawson for him ??????? okay ...

charles_leclerc maxverstappen1 why are you looking at me like that ⤷ maxverstappen1 that's how i look at all of my friends ⤷ youruser you guys don't even follow each other still stop flirting in my comments

userfive red bull check on your driver challenge ⤷ usersix wdym? ⤷ userfive i saw y/n recently with max and charles and he just looked so tired and so out of it. it doesnt look like red bull is doing much to help him out with schooling and his mental health liked by youruser ⤷ usersix nah you're reaching 😭😭 ⤷ userfive y/n literally liked my comment but whatever

Y/N THOUGHT F4 and F3 were bad, but F1 was a whole different rodeo. Their schedule wasn't as hectic during F4 and F3 as it is in F1, but it was still pretty stressful having to do homework on the road when you couldn't talk to anybody about it since most of the drivers dropped out of school. F1 was worse; nobody was in school or they dropped out before they could graduate so nobody understood what he was going through, he was shipped around the world on a weekly basis, he had training day in and day out, and he had to do calculus homework in between practices.

He held his forehead in his hand as he leaned his elbow against the table in front of him. Y/n was currently looking at his math homework like it had 5 heads instead of 0 since it was a piece of paper. The eraser of his pencil tapped against the table that distracted him away from his homework momentarily. The problem he was stuck on stared back at him as he felt almost guilty for not being able to solve this problem.

"You okay?"

Max.

When it was announced that y/n would be taking Liam's spot, y/n had already met with Max multiple times. They were trying to see if the team chemistry would be there between a seasoned driver and an unseasoned one. Their relationship formed quickly as Max became an older brother figure to y/n. Max connected him to Charles, both having some idea what y/n was going through. From there, Max and Charles became y/n's mentor's in Formula 1 and helped him through everything he needed to know.

Y/n turned his head away from the worksheet and he looked over at Max, who was walking over in his race suit as he just got done with his FP2. He wore a worried look as y/n was tucked into the corner of the Red Bull hospitality with a confused and frustrated look on his face.

The rookie sighed as he dropped his pencil and hid his face in his hands. "Not really," he groaned as both his arms and head dropped onto the table; his head laying on his folded arms. "Calculus is going to be the death of me, Max. I can't do this," there was a slight waver to his voice, but he refused to cry in front of his teammate.

Max pursed his lips and sighed. He looked around the room to see if there was anything he could grab that might be of service to the young driver. When nothing came to mind, Max sat in the chair to y/n's right and he turned it so it faced y/n.

"Hey," Max said softly as he nudged y/n's knee with his own. Y/n's head rolled to the side so he could see Max's face and Max could see his. Y/n's eyes were starting to turn red, but Max paid no attention to it because he knew y/n would hate him for it. "If you need help, or a break, just ask, or talk to me or Charles. We care about you, y/n, and it sucks to see that they," he nodded over to the Red Bull team who was working on Max's car, "don't care about your mental health or school work. But, Charles and I do, okay?"

Y/n pursed his lips and nodded, blinking away tears that threatened to fall from his stinging eyes. He cleared his throat as he leaned back in his chair, his arms falling down into his lap as he looked back at the table

"Yeah. I care about you guys too," y/n started, looking down at his hands which were starting to fold his fingers together as a distraction, "but it's hard. I never liked asking for help and it's still a hard thing for me to do, even if you and Charles are trying to tell me it's okay to do so." Y/n rubbed at his nose as that too was starting to sting. He blinked away tears once more. "I just wish people understood. Fans and reporters. I feel like they only see me as the rookie that got picked up, and not as a high school student who happens to be good at racing," he looked up at Max, who was nodding along to what he was saying, paying attention to every word he said.

Max smiled sadly and nodded. "It sucks, it really does. They never understand and they don't even try to. I'm sorry about that, y/n, I really am," his eyes were wide and filled with sadness and sympathy. "They don't have to understand, though. You don't have to care about what they think, alright?" His eyes turned serious as he leaned forward and put a hand on y/n's knee. "You just need to focus on your school work and driving. Your real fans understand and they care about you too."

Y/n nodded along and he sniffed before wiping his nose on his hoodie sleeve. His FP2 was before Max's, so he slipped out of his race suit and into comfy clothes quickly so he could hide himself in the corner he and Max found themselves in now so he wouldn't be bothered.

Max's eyes narrowed at y/n before they glanced at his worksheet. "When is that due?" He asked as he pointed at the worksheet, which was halfway done.

"Um," y/n hummed as he looked over at the worksheet. He wasn't sure, so he had to double check. "One second," he said as he opened up his computer that was previously closed and shut off as he kept trying to look at the answer key. He pulled up Google Classroom and scrolled to his calculus class. He clicked his tongue a couple of times before saying, "Not until Monday." He looked back at Max, who had a smile on his face. "Why?"

"Tomorrow isn't Monday," Max smiled at y/n. They had a qualifying tomorrow, but an idea was brewing in Max's head already for tonight.

Y/n's brows furrowed, "I'm glad you know your days of the week, Max."

Max laughed. "How about we do something tonight? Invite Charles and we just go hang out around town?" He asked with a smile.

It wasn't unusual for Charles, Max, and y/n to do some adventuring in the town they end up having races in, but it was starting to get rare as y/n's midterms were sneaking up in the next month or two.

Y/n went to deny as he wanted to finish the worksheet, but Max held up a hand and leaned forward in his seat. "Don't try and get out of this because of your homework that isn't due until Monday. You're still young, y/n. You deserve to have some fun in your life, yeah?"

The younger driver scoffed a laugh as he leaned back in his seat. He shook his head, "You're unbelievable and I hate you." Max raised a brow and he held out his hands as he waited for a confirmation. "What the hell, sure," y/n shook his head as Max smiled and hit his shoulder.

"Alright!" Max smiled and stood. His hands hit his thighs as he stood. "You can stay in that if you want," he gestured towards y/n's oversized Red Bull hoodie and matching sweat-shorts, "but I'm going to take a very quick shower and change. I'll text Charles as well."

Then, Max left towards his driver room.

A smile formed on y/n's face. Even if he was close to tears just a minute ago, his eyes were dry as he packed up his calculator, pencil case, and tucked his worksheet into his math folder. It felt nice to be liked and to be needed. While he did have a loving family cheering him on from home, it was hard to be away from them during the season. It was nice to have two people who could fill in those roles while they were away.

Y/n made his way to the couch that was in the Red Bull hospitality, but not before grabbing a Red Bull from the mini fridge that was at the end of the couch. It was nearing dinner time and y/n was sure he would fall asleep on the couch he just sat on if he didn't have at least a couple of sips of Red Bull in his system.

As Max showered and changed, y/n played a mindless game on his phone that Charles downloaded a while ago after his own phone had died and was bored. Y/n remembers it vaguely; he doesn't remember where they were or what they were doing, but Charles's phone had died and he asked y/n id he had games on his phone, to which y/n responded no and Charles acted as if he killed Leo. Then, Charles said that it was his favorite game and was convinced that y/n was living under a rock because he didn't have it downloaded.

He played a couple of rounds before Max came out of his driver's room in a surprising pair of sweatpants and one of his classic Red Bull collard shirts. It wasn't common to see Max in sweatpants, he usually wore jeans with his shirts. Max typed on his phone as he walked, and he almost ran into the couch, but he stopped right in front of it before he could.

"You ready?" Max asked once he looked up from his phone. He chuckled at the sight in front of him; y/n holding his red bull can close as he was curled in on himself in the corner of the couch. His phone was close to his face as he played his game.

Y/n looked up and nodded, quickly unfurling himself. "Yep," he said, popping the 'p'. He stood from the couch and adjusted his hoodie. "Charles already outside?" y/n asked as Max started to lead the way to the door of the hospitality. He didn't get an answer from Max, but his confirmation was Charles standing in front of the door once Max opened up the door.

"Hey you two," Charles smiled at them as y/n and Max bent down to slip on the quickest shoes they could (sneakers for Max and Birkenstock clogs for y/n). Charles wore a red hoodie with a small black Ferrari horse on the heart with white sweatpants and creme Puma suede shoes. "Let's go, yeah?" He nodded his head toward the car park where all of the drivers kept their cars during race weekend.

Max and y/n stepped out of the Red Bull hospitality with smiles on their faces, happy that their trio was back together. Sometimes it's hard for the Red Bull duo to get together with Charles, seeing as their teams want to make sure their secrets aren't being shared with their opponent.

"Where are we going?" Y/n asked as the trio started to walk toward the car park; y/n was in the middle with Max to his right and Charles to his left. He looked from Max and then to Charles, both having smiles on their faces as they looked at each other past y/n's head.

"Seriously guys, where are we going?"

liked by oscarpiastri, redbullracing, maxverstappen1, and others tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

youruser had to buy a swimsuit at the store cause they didn't tell me i needed one when we left

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charles_leclerc do people not go streaking anymore? ⤷ youruser you are NASTY! NASTY i tell you

userseven did you get your homework done

usereight alright ..

maxverstappen1 at least you got a new swimsuit out of it, i just got sandy pizza ⤷ charles_leclerc that was your own fault ⤷ youruser maxverstappen1 free protein for quali!!

oscarpiastri whore behavior on main is crazy ⤷ youruser leave me and my whoreiness alone 💔

usernine i wish i had a relationship like y/n and lestappen ⤷ userten so..parents? ⤷ usernine that was unnecessary

usereleven YOU'RE GOING TO GET POLE POSITION TOMORROW Y/N I BELIEVE IN YOU!! ⤷ usertwelve nah he's washed ⤷ userthirteen it's literally his first season 😭😭??????????

lando high school senior & f1 driver by day WHORE by night ⤷ youruser what's up with the mclaren teammates calling me a whore just say you want me and move on ⤷ lando woah alright i touched a nerve there my bad

TURNS OUT WHERE they were going was a beach—actually, first a clothing store, then a pizza restaurant, and then the beach. Charles and Max only told y/n they were going to the beach after pulling out of the car park in Charles's white Ferrari, so he whined and forced them to stop at a clothing store nearby so he could run in and buy a new pair of trunks and even a cover shirt.

Y/n leaned back on the blanket that Charles pulled out of his trunk when they pulled up to the beach. His elbows and heels dig into the sand as he laid back relaxed. He watched as Max and Charles played in the water like children. They had tried to pull him to the water with them, but he just denied and wanted to stay dry. He pulled on his Red Bull sweatshirt from before as the sun was starting to set and it was starting to get windy on the beach.

He must've zoned out, because suddenly both Max and Charles were laughing right next to him and falling down onto towels that they brought. They were sighing and laughing through breaths as they sat on either side of y/n, Max to y/n right and Charles to his left like before.

"You guys have fun?" Y/n asked, a smile on his face as he looked from Max to Charles, and then back to Max, and repeated that a couple of times before he got an answer.

Charles laughed and nodded, "Yeah. It's been so long since I've had fun in the water at a beach. I usually go on my boat, but I haven't been on a beach in so long."

Silence fell onto the three as they watched the sun slowly set and listened to the crashing of the waves and the chatter of birds that were further down the shoreline.

Suddenly, after a beat of staring at y/n and questioning whether he should actually speak up or not, Max asked, "Are you okay, now?" Y/n turned to Max while Charles turned to watch y/n like Max.

Y/n took a breath and looked back out towards the water. He pursed his lips and after a beat, he nodded. "Yeah," he breathed out with a smile on his face. "Yeah, I am. Sometimes I get too caught up in my own head and I act like I never have enough time for a break, and my life is always go, go, go. While it is that way sometimes, I feel like I never ask for help, or for a break." He took a deep breath in, smelling and taking in the smell of the salt water. Y/n looked to Max and then to Charles with a smile, "Thank you guys. Really. This was really nice, and definitely needed."

Charles smiled back at y/n and he glanced to Max quickly before looking back at y/n. "We're always here for you, y/n. Whether it's for school help, driving help, mental help, or even to kill someone," they all let out a chuckle, "we're here for you, okay? You're special, y/n, and we don't want you to lose your young spark just because you're stressed, alright?"

Y/n smiled, teary-eyed. He nodded, "Alright. I love you guys."

"We love you too, but," Max stood and he bent down to pull off y/n hoodie, which went willingly as y/n rolled his eyes, "it's time to get you in the water."

"Maaaax," y/n whined, but they weren't heard as Charles laughed and joined Max in standing. He helped grab y/n and drag him towards the water. Y/n's yells were helpless as he laughed and squirmed in their grip. "I hate you guys!" Y/n yelled before he was tossed into the cold water.

He came back up with a scowl as Charles and Max laughed with each other at y/n. "I know where you sleep."

liked by youruser, maxverstappen1, f1, and others tagged: youruser, maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc much needed quality time before quali 🌊❤️

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userfourteen bro theyre so cute 😭😭

userfifteen they don't want us to ship lestappen then they post pictures of them playing in the water like alright mate

youruser don't be fooled by the smile on my back, i was NOT happy ⤷ charles_leclerc i don't know i remember you telling us you loved us ⤷ maxverstappen1 you know i remember that too ⤷ youruser i told you guys i hated you actually

usersixteen the only family in formula 1

userseventeen can't decide if y/n is their kid or brother ⤷ usereighteen if we're shipping lestappen, kid. if we're not, brother.

maxverstappen1 ❤️ ⤷ charles_leclerc literally just a heart? damn what the hell ⤷ youruser my parents are fighting 💔

oscarpiastri um where was my invite????? ⤷ youruser you can come when you have a mental breakdown over homework ❤️ ⤷ oscarpiastri oh.. hope you're doing okay ⤷ youruser this made me giggle yes i am doing okay thank you oscar 😭😭

lando BAN family's from formula 1 next thing we know they're going to get 1-2-3 positions for the rest of the season ⤷ charles_leclerc no need to be salty lando nowins ⤷ lando I WILL SLASH YOUR TYRES

usernineteen im living for this family we have in f1 like y/n is literally lestappen's son