#i LOVE the way they're looking at each other!!!

[egophiliac]

Hi there! I really love your comics and how expressive they are. How do you go about making the characters in your comic so expressive?

thank you! 💚💜💚 I am REALLY bad at explaining things, so my apologies if this doesn't make a lot of sense, but maybe there's something helpful in here somewhere. :')

1. warm up! drawing is a physical activity, after all! so if I'm planning on sitting down and drawing for a while, I usually start off by taking a couple of minutes to doodle a bunch of circles and lines and random shapes, just to get my drawing arm goin' again and get back into the physical groove. just stuff like this:

and just do that for however long you feel like! you can kind of feel when your arm starts to loosen up and your strokes get more confident. it makes it a lot easier to get those swoopy big lines and gestures!

2. play around with how you use your lines! paying attention to the shapes that they're making will change a lot about how much force and life your drawing feels like it has. (no way is better than another, it just depends on what effect you're going for and how it looks as part of the larger whole.)

and you can also use lines against each other to get different vibes:

it's not really a matter of "you need to make sure all your lines are always doing this all the time", it's more like...being aware of it, and getting that into the general thrust of a pose, if that makes sense? like a lot of smaller lines of action, beyond the big one that goes through the spine.

(just gonna use my own art as examples, apologies)

if you have a good foundation of tension, then all of the little bumps and contours of a character's details won't get in the way of it, and it'll still come through.

and don't forget about negative space either! the spaces between things have their own interesting shapes too!

I don't mean this to come off as, like, all these extra things that you need to be constantly thinking about and stressing over. more like...just try different stuff and then see how it works and how it changes the feeling! if you find a good shape, see if you can exaggerate it and make it more interesting, and how that affects things! angles and shapes are a LOT of fun to experiment and mess around with, especially when you're going more cartoony. :D

3. acting!

just...spending a little time to think about what the characters are actually doing! (aka the "figuring out what everyone is doing with their hands" bit.) this is more a personal preference, but especially in multi-panel comics, I like to have them be in the middle of doing stuff. not just big actions, but smaller things -- like even just how they're sitting or standing -- so that it feels like we're looking in on the middle of a scene, instead of a couple of characters just standing around neutrally and staring straight ahead while talking at each other.

this probably sounds really obvious, but it is one of the most fun parts for me! I love trying to find some little action or something that they can be involved in, especially if it's relevant to their character or adds an extra joke. (for some reason this usually involves me being mean to Sebek) (I'm sorry)

it doesn't need to be everyone Always! Doing! Something! all the time, especially if starts becoming distracting (sometimes they do actually need to just be standing around neutrally and staring straight ahead, especially if there's a bigger action going on that you want the audience to focus on instead). but even just figuring out some kind of non-neutral pose for them to be in can add a lot and make it feel less generic!

3. thumbnailing!

this is, again, very much a personal preference; unfortunately, every artist really is different, and we all have different processes that work better for us. so I can only speak to my personal experience! but I find what helps is to start REALLY rough -- not so much as in messy, as in not trying to start right into actually drawing everything out. like, literally just starting with stick figures and :O faces.

it probably doesn't sound relevant when talking about Drawing Expressively, but I find it's really, really helpful to have already figured out what everyone should be doing (acting!) and what the overall general layout and flow of things should be, before getting into the actual meat of drawing the characters. like having a sketch for the sketch!

(good compositional flow is something I struggle with, and text layout especially, so this stage also helps a LOT with making sure things are fitting where I want them and staying consistent/not breaking screen direction/etc.)

then after that, I can go ahead and focus on getting those Shapes and Lines and Angles and all that, without having to think too much about the layout or where things should go!

(of course, the downside of that is that my thumbnails are usually way better than my actual drawings, alas alas.)

4. this is more philosophical, but...give yourself some slack. the stress of Making Things Look Good is, ironically, often the biggest problem. (see: thumbnails looking better than the actual drawings.) so...let yourself draw shittier and without regards to accuracy. make things just for yourself without thinking about posting or showing them to anyone else. draw stupid faces and wrong proportions because they feel better that way. focus on what's fun and not on getting a perfect end result. "draw expressively, not well", as they say -- you can always tighten up things like proportions and details later, if you really want to.

that's all WAY easier said than done -- god knows I haven't really managed it -- but even just aiming for that attitude really, REALLY helps. if your lines are confident, they'll look a lot more alive and expressive than lines that are exactly technically precise but have no rhythm in them. (this is why tracing photographs tends to look so weirdly stiff and unrealistic, by the way -- even if you're drawing realistically, you usually need to exaggerate and stylize a little bit so it doesn't look lifeless.) it's a balance between caring about what you draw, but also being willing to let things go a little bit.

↑ I hope some of this helps! I don't know if any of this was actually what you had in mind, let alone much of it actually made sense outside of my head. :') but hopefully you (or other people) will be able to get something out of it!

#art #twisted wonderland #(not really related but since that's what the examples are) #i'm so sorry most of my art advice boils down to 'SHAPES ARE FUN' #(they are though)

[thealternateuniverse]

How did you handle it?

1st part here

A/N: Didn't expect the number of likes on the first part, thank you so much 😭

Also, I know now who does Paige's braids now. I saw her on tiktok.

Warning/s: Read at your own risk

----------------------

Following Ice's most recent live stream, Y/N's phone is constantly vibrating, and her Instagram feed is overflowing with follow requests and mentions. She didn't leave her apartment on the weekends after hearing from her teammates about their near-brawl on Friday night. She was trying to blow off some steam at the time, but she lost her cool and almost got into it. Azzi gave them a good earful, and Geno had more to say. Y/N apologized to her teammates, explaining that she was acting out of character at the time.

She felt a little better and forgot about her parents' divorce for a while. Not until her father texted her that he will be at her game next week. Dad is always the one who comes to her games; mom is too busy and cannot make time.

Frustrated, Y/N drops the dumbels.

"Yo! "KK, give me back my phone!" KK is running for her life, clutching Paiges' phone. Paige, on the other hand, looks terrified as if her life depends on with whatever is contained within her phone.

"Whaaaat! Dude, I just caught you stalking---asfghgjjhkjlhlk!" Paige caught up with KK and placed her palm on her mouth.

"Shut up!" She took her phone.

KK sounds like a dying goat now, with Paige's hands still on her mouth. Paige lets go of her and KK gasped for air.

"Shit, Hah! I just did not saw you do that P!" KK is shaking her head, laughing.

"I swear K, if you open your mouth I'll make sure that you will nev---" KK immediately zipped her mouth.

"You got it P! Your 'lil secret is safe." KK gave her a mischievous wink.

These two are as mischievous as ever.

Shaking her head, Y/N slips off her sweat-soaked muscle top, revealing only her sports bra. She could see Paige and KK's jaws drop from her peripheral vision. She turned towards them.

"What? "You guys have some saliva here." Y/N pointed to the side of her lip. The two appear to have come to their senses and instantly pretend to do something. Weird. It's as if they're seeing each other for the first time, taking off their clothes. Y/N twisted her hair into a sloppy knot and resumed lifting. She was halfway through lifting when Nika slapped her bum.

"Babe, I need you to braid my hair. Do you have a sec?"

She nodded to Nika and followed her. They walk past the others who were working out, and Y/N couldn't help but notice Paige and the way her biceps and deltoids popped while doing that damn pull up. Get a grip, Miller; you see your teammate doing this on a regular basis. Y/N reprimanded herself.

"So is mine eye enthralled by thy shape," Nika recited dramatically.

Nika came out laughing after noticing Y/N glancing at Paige.

"Don't worry, babe; she gets it a lot. And... Damn, did you just realized she's fine? You have to keep up; you have a home court advantage here." Nika winked. Y/N gave Nika a puzzled glance. It's not that she likes Paige; she just admires the muscles. That is it.

"I don't know what you're talking about, babe." Y/N said making Nika snort.

"Okay, alright. I'm blind, I can't see, must be my poor eyesight."

Y/N endured Nika's teasing while doing her hair; she doesn't want to appear defensive, so she allows her friend and pretends that Nika Muhl seeing her looking at Paige Bueckers didn't affect her.

"Thank you, Baby. "I love the braids." Nika blew her a kiss before they returned to their routines.

------------

Paige glanced around cautiously before scrolling through her phone. She couldn't afford to repeat the same mistake that had led to her being caught by KK. She wasn't stalking, though; the algorithm following Ice's live had led her to Y/N's tagged photos and edits on Instagram. It was kind of annoying that Y/N was now known for being the "pretty girl" from the team instead of for her talent as a player. Paige had witnessed firsthand how great Y/N was during her time at Stanford. If it weren't for her MCL injury during her second year, she would have been neck and neck with Nika's stats in the last 2022-2023 conference.

"Girly, you are still not done? Man you are really living up to be a stalker ." KK tried to glance at Paige's phone, Paige was quick to hide it.

"I am not!" Paige responded defensively.

"Of course, why stalk when you can see her every day. Home court advantage." KK playfully raised her brows and gestured towards where Y/N is, shooting 3 point shots. Yeah, Paige mused to herself. Paige knows she's got the home court advantage, always playing on familiar turf. Y/N, on the other hand, is a social media ghost, her posts as rare as a shooting star, reserved only for strategic brand alliances. Just like she guards the offensive players on the court, she protects her privacy with the same intensity, keeping her personal life shrouded in mystery.

"You are not gonna like this." KK's gasp breaks the silence, drawing Paige's attention as she leans in, sharing her latest sports article discovery. With rapt interest, they both delve into the words, their silent communion speaking volumes as they absorb every line, lost in the world of sports unfolding before them.

Sports Agent Katherine Taylor-Miller Entangled in New Romance Amidst Divorce

In a whirlwind of events, sports agent Katherine Taylor-Miller finds herself at the center of media attention following news of her divorce from husband Craig Miller. The prominent figure in the sports world, best known for representing basketball star Breanna Stewart, is reportedly embarking on a new romance with Los Angeles' top firm lawyer, Drew Ross.

While Taylor-Miller has remained tight-lipped about the circulating photos online, indicating her involvement with Ross, sources close to the situation confirm that the divorce proceedings are well underway. The couple, who share a daughter, aged 22, are navigating this transition as their family dynamic shifts.

Adding a layer of complexity to the situation, their daughter, a talented athlete in her own right, has been making waves on the collegiate basketball scene. Initially playing for Stanford University during her freshman and sophomore years, she has recently transferred to the University of Connecticut for her junior year, following in the footsteps of her mother's client, Breanna Stewart.

The unfolding saga has captivated both sports enthusiasts and gossip followers alike, as speculation mounts about the implications for Taylor-Miller's career and personal life. As the situation continues to develop, all eyes remain on the high-profile sports agent and her newfound path forward.

Paige's confusion bubbles to the surface in her question. "Wait, so... that is Y/N's mom?"

KK nods solemnly. "Yep. Didn't expect that."

Paige's brow furrows as she scans the article again. "That article is nasty. It was unnecessary to mention, Y/N."

The two exchange a knowing glance before their gaze shifts towards Y/N, who remains blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the tabloids.

KK weighs the options for a moment before nodding resolutely. "Very. She's not gonna like it. Do we tell her?" KK's gaze seeks approval from Paige, who meets it with a shake of her head, silently acknowledging the delicate situation and opting to shield Y/N from unnecessary distress for now. "She'll find out sooner."

KK lets out a low whistle, her disbelief evident in her tone. "Unbelievable. I never thought her mom is Katherine Taylor. That woman was a badass, but yeah, whoever wrote this has some unpaid rent due." Paige nods in agreement, a hint of frustration tainting her expression as they both recognize the injustice of the situation.

The sudden thud startles both Paige and KK. Their heads snap towards the source of the sound, only to find Y/N on the bench-side taking a water break, her hand suspended and her phone on the floor.

"That's what we're talking about."

----------------

Y/N absentmindedly follows her teammates to Subway after they decided to grab some lunch there. Despite the buzz of camaraderie around her, she's lost in her own thoughts, savoring the simple pleasure of a break from today's events. Just as she starts to believe her day couldn't get any better, her world is rocked by the unwelcome intrusion of her parents' divorce being publicized.

Her heart sinks as she grapples with the sudden exposure of her family's private turmoil. Y/N has always been fiercely protective of her personal life, preferring to keep it shielded from prying eyes. The earlier article had already crossed a line, but this latest development feels like a betrayal of trust, a violation of the boundaries she holds sacred. She can't help but feel a surge of anger and frustration at the unnecessary intrusion into her family's affairs, a bitterness that threatens to overshadow the sweetness of her teammates' company.

Y/N finds a glimmer of solace in the silent solidarity of her teammates. As they gather around the table at Subway, not a single word is spoken about the tumultuous news that has shaken her world.

In that moment, Y/N feels a profound gratitude wash over her, a deep appreciation for their unspoken understanding and respect for her boundaries.

"The salad won't eat itself," snapped Paige, jolting Y/N from her deep thoughts. Y/N mechanically took a fork, but her salad remained untouched.

"Eat up, Miller. You need your energy." Paige commandeered the fork and began mixing the salad for Y/N.

"How did you handle it?" Y/N's voice trembled with vulnerability, causing Paige to pause mid-stir.

Paige didn't respond immediately, her mind racing to grasp the depth of Y/N's question. It didn't take long for the realization to sink in—it was about the divorce.

"When your parents divorced? How did you handle it?" Y/N's eyes glistened with unshed tears, a vulnerability she hadn't intended to reveal. Paige felt a pang of empathy twist in her gut. Y/N's question caught her off guard.

"Nevermind," Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she wiped away the threatening tears. Determinedly, she finally began to eat her salad, hoping to distract herself from the emotional turmoil of the day.

As she savored each bite, Y/N made a conscious effort to push aside the weight of her parents' divorce. Her phone buzzed incessantly with texts and calls, but she only mustered the strength to respond to her dad via text. All she wanted was for their divorce to be finalized so they could all move forward with their lives.

Her thoughts drifted to the inevitable changes ahead. Her mom and dad would each go their separate ways, free to pursue new relationships if they so chose. While the idea of their family no longer being whole was a painful one, Y/N knew it was time to accept reality.

Above all, she yearned for one simple request: no more articles portraying her solely as her mother's daughter. She was determined to forge her own path, to carve out her own identity separate from her family's legacy.

-------

"You okay, babe?" Nika asked Y/N, slinging her arm around her shoulders. Y/N responded with her most convincing smile. "I'm fine," she assured Nika, though the skepticism lingered in her friend's nod. "Just so you know, we're here for you, okay?" Nika offered a comforting hug. "Thanks, babe."

As they strolled back to the university after lunch, Nika, Azzi, and Aaliyah had already forged ahead for their afternoon classes, while Paige had disappeared into god knows where. Y/N's afternoon lay open; no classes to attend. She pondered whether to take a stroll around her apartment's neighborhood or indulge in a swim in the pool.

Waving goodbye to her teammates as they reached the university's parking lot, she contemplated driving back home.

Sighing, Y/N parked her car and headed towards her apartment, only to be surprised by a waiting Paige Bueckers holding a pint of Ben & Jerry's chocolate fudge ice cream.

"Paige, don't you have a class or something?" Y/N asked, noticing Paige still in her training attire: a UConn Huskies hoodie, basketball jersey shorts, socks, and slides.

Paige handed her the pint without saying anything.

"You asked me how I handled my parents' divorce," Paige shrugged.

"W-well forget it. I didn't mean to ---"

"It was hard. I thought we were a happy family, that they had vows, through thick and thin, for better or worse type of shit. I was angry, wondering what could possibly make them decide they weren't meant for each other. They had me for Christ's sake. It hurt to think that one day they'd meet someone new and start over, and what about me if that happens?" Paige took a deep breath before continuing.

"The good thing is, I was able to understand that it's better to have that divorce than to pretend they're still happy. I saw how happy my father is with his new family, happier than he was with my mother... All I'm trying to say is, whatever you feel in your current situation is valid—all the thoughts running in your head, the what-ifs, they're all valid. You'll come to terms with it soon, just give yourself time to feel it. And don't forget, you have us. It sucks to be a divorce child if you don't have siblings. It's okay, Miller. You can mope, you can lash out, feel it all the way."

Y/N burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, surprising Paige, especially considering they were in a parking lot. Y/N didn't know why the floodgates had opened—was it the news of her parents' divorce? The stress of the article? Or perhaps simply the ice cream? Regardless, she found herself releasing all the pent-up emotions.

"Christ, Miller. I didn't expect you to break down right here," Paige panicked, attempting to pacify her, though Y/N continued crying loudly.

Paige gently grabbed her hand, and together they walked towards Y/N's apartment, Y/N still sobbing loudly.

"People will think I made you cry." Paige said shaking her head.

They entered Y/N's apartment, with Paige leading the way as Y/N was too preoccupied at the moment. Paige settled Y/N on her couch and opened the ice cream she had brought. Y/N accepted it and took a spoonful, still teary-eyed.

Paige looked at her friend in disbelief, finding her oddly cute in this vulnerable state, with red, glistening eyes and puffy cheeks from crying.

They sat in silence, letting the ice cream provide comfort. It worked, as Y/N's tears eventually ceased.

"Thank you, Bueckers. I needed that cry and... the ice cream. How can I ever pay you back?" Y/N leaned her head on Paige's shoulder, grateful it was Paige who knew her favorite ice cream flavor.

Paige pretended to ponder the question. "You don't have to. Just get back to being yourself," she said, gently ruffling Y/N's hair. Y/N sighed in contentment.

"I mean it, though. Thank you for being here. I was resigned to being miserable today," Y/N said, her voice filled with gratitude. They exchanged glances, and Paige found herself momentarily lost in Y/N's mesmerizing eyes. There was something about them that drew her in. She quickly looked away, not wanting to get too carried away and do something she shouldn't.

"Yeah, it's nothing. Get yourself together, Miller," Paige replied, more to herself than to Y/N, feeling her ears grow warm.

"Are you okay? You seem... red?" Y/N asked, noticing Paige's flushed cheeks.

"Not as red as you are. You look ugly when you cry, Y/N," Paige remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N stiffened at the comment. This was the first time she had heard Paige address her by her first name. The surprise on Y/N's face caused Paige's brows to furrow.

"What?" Paige asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Nothing, you've never called me by my name before. Or maybe you did, I just didn't hear you," Y/N shrugged, trying to downplay it. She didn't want to make Paige feel awkward.

"I just don't know what to feel hearing it from you. It sounds different," Y/N admitted.

Paige choked on her response, caught off guard by Y/N's vulnerability. This woman will be the death of her one day. -----------------

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #kk arnold #nika muhl #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #paige bueckers x reader

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Chapter 97: An Old Love Story

Okay, say it with me: FOIL!

You can see it too, right? Looks like Martha x Henry (Henderson)'s story is a foil of Twilight and Yor's story.

Henderson was in Twilight's place; the smart, lonely young man so focused on his ideals that he was blind about who was in front of him and his very own feelings.

Martha was in Yor's place, the strong and graceful girl too young and inexperienced to know her own heart and that she was in love.

This is exactly what's happening with Twiyor, the main couple of the story, and I think we may get to see one of the possible endings for our beloved Twiyor through Martha and Henderson story.

Now, what do we know about these two 🤔...

We know that Henry Henderson has a daughter and a son-in-law. It was mentioned he writes to them, but there was no mention of his wife. This leads me to believe that:

His wife is no longer alive.

He lives with his wife, so there's no reason for him to write to her.

He is divorced.

So, with this information we still can't know what's the current relationship between Martha and Henry, but we can take a guess 😉

From the way the story is being told, it almost feels like it's a semi-tragic love story, doesn't it? We can almost assume that they didn't end up together...or did they?

Theory one: Yup, everyone is right and Martha and Henderson eventually went their separate ways for reasons we'll probably get to know in the next couple of chapters.

If this theory is right, I think it's beautiful that they are getting a second chance 💖They certainly look more mature, confident, and calm (also elegant!). I love the way they look at each other, so much trust and love 😌

Theory two: I know this one is a long shot (and Henderson just said in that panel that "She is merely and old friend") but maybe...they're actually married. Why am I so bold to even consider that possibility?! Well, there's this panel:

The matron is clearly teasing Master Henderson, don't you agree? If she does it, it's because she knows something. Either she knows that there was something between those two in their youth or she knows they are married. I don't know, but they way she said the word "partner" and the fact that Master Henderson is married made me think that Martha is his wife. I know, I know...it's a remote possibility, but you have to remember that marriage is mentioned a lot through different characters and couples during the story, so maybe those two were actually married. (But, it's quite possible it's theory one).

Other things to consider...

How long have Ostania and Westalis been at war?

My guess is that we're talking about two different wars between the same countries; very much like WWI and WWII, where there was a brief period of peace before a second conflict. So, probably the first war started while Henderson was in his 20s and the second war started when he was in his 40s (and Twilight was a kid).

It makes a lot of sense that now they're in a period of "Cold War", just like in real life.

The Garden

I am convinced that the Garden is involved in this. I've talked about this before (read it here). After this chapter, I still think the Garden is going to pop up. Want some evidence?

Do you recognize this guy?

That's right 😏 That's Matthew McMahon. What is he doing there? Too much of a coincidence, don't you think?

And also the way this is phrased:

Odd that there was a mention of the word Garden, isn't it? And the fact that the whole story between those two takes place in a garden...🤔

In addition to that, in a previous chapter, Twilight observes how Martha moves like a soldier. Franky mentioned earlier that Garden people are like soldiers. And the Garden has a history of recruiting young skilled/strong people, like Yor. Things keep adding up.

The Consequences of War

This is a prevalent theme throughout the whole SxF universe: how war (violence, intolerance, manipulation of information, propaganda, politics) has affected the life of all the characters.

No matter their background, nationality or education, we've seen it again and again with most of the characters big or small, like Twilight, Franky, Sylvia, Millie, and now we're about to see it with characters from an older generation like Martha and Henderson.

My guess is that this won't be the last time and this pattern will continue while the story lasts. I think what the story is trying to show us is how war is seen by some (politicians and men in power like Desmond) as a natural, inevitable course of action, but at the same time how brutal the consequences are in the smallest stories. That's one of the things that is truly remarkable about SxF.

#spy x family #twiyor #sxf #spy x family manga #spy x family analysis #spy x family theory #sxf chapter 97 #spy x family chapter 97 #martha marriott #henry henderson #loid forger #yor forger #spy x family meta

[toorurs]

our love has always been 10 centimeters apart - aventurine

synopsis: the distance between the two of you is about to close, the distance will be gone, it only takes a few more inches, but he reminds himself that he can’t - he refrains. later on mere inches turn into vast kilometers, going beyond galaxies and planets. years later he finds you again and makes it up to you, closing the distance as he seals it with a kiss; or the two times the both of you were away from each other even though the only thing you’ve longed for was each other, and the one time where the two of you find your way back to one another again.

pairing: aventurine x reader (gn) | wordcount: 2.0k | content & warnings: unestablished relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, reader cries a bit (tiny bit), mentions of alcohol and “sex” (an idiom = get into one's pants) but no graphic mention of sex + they’re not drunk, kissing, making up and making out (one kiss), tba if i find more, proofreading is for losers (its 4am (cet) i'm just too lazy); oneshot

tags: @azullumi (i swear that grey block with spikes from mario literally looks like "alpha sigma boss. you guys agree right?? prove azul wrong.)

img credits: @/magnolia29 on x!

a/n: i started this draft at like 12 an and procrastinated for god knows how long but yeah!! hope this is okay for what sleep deprived me wrote lmfao

“you seriously still wear that thing?”

aventurine points at the wool scarfs you’re wearing, it hangs a bit loosely due to you not wrapping it around your neck enough.

“yeah, got a problem?” you tease, grinning as you look at him. “it’s the first thing i got from you when i was moved to this department.”

ah right. he remembers the day vividly. they said that a certain member has risen quite quickly in the past few months and will now be moved to his department: the strategic investment department.

on the first day of work, aventurine, like the thoughtful senior he is, came up to you and greeted you, offering you a tour around the building and introducing you to the staff and everyone who worked here. you agreed and followed him as he guided you around your new workplace.

the two of you got along quickly, exchanging laughters and telling each other jokes as the two of you were strolling around the building. he remembers gifting you an expensive scarf, one made out of the finest wool in the whole galaxy. you thanked him wholeheartedly and at that he couldn’t help but invite you out for a drink - like the mindful senior he is, of course.

drinking after work became a little habit for the two of you. sometimes the two of you were able to drag veritas or topaz along, but usually veritas denied the invitations, saying “he doesn’t want to mush up his brain due to the alcohol.” as for topaz she usually came along to look after the two of you, but today it seemed like there was an emergency regarding numby, which she had to rush to immediately. leaving you and aventurine alone.

which led you to your current situation, the two glasses of alcohol in front of aventurine are left untouched, everything that happens right now is done with a sober mind. he can’t put the alcohol to blame.

your hands are close, they're a mere 10 centimeters apart from his. it takes everything inside of him to not take your hand in his and smother it in kisses, but he refrains, he can't - he shouldn't even be thinking about something like this.

your soft lips lean forward to meet his, they're a mere 10 millimeters away from his. you continue to launch forward, he doesn't move away, he can't move - he's frozen. you assume he granted you permission to kiss him. your hand snakes towards his, loosely intertwining the tips of your fingers.

your lips ghost over his - the distance between the two of you is gone, it scares him. he fears he might not be able to return if he goes this way. 

aventurine can’t help but pull away from your tantalizing touch, it hurts him. but he’s scared.

he slips his fingers out of your grasp, lurching backwards, uncomfortably shifting on the big sofa and scooting back, to move away from you.

your eyes shoot open, clearly filled with confusion. your lips slightly part open and you tilt your head to the side, irritation is written all over your face.

"s-sorry." he apologizes quickly. "i don't think i'm made for this," he mutters. regret immediately overcoming him and you.

"ah, don't worry. i should be the one apologizing. i'm sorry. i shouldn't have just assumed your feelings. forgive me." you try to maintain a steady tone but your voice and expression betray you. your voice quivers - it breaks, it sounds like you're holding back tears that are about to spill at any given moment.

no, no , no this can't be. it's all his fault. he ruined everything once again, his gift was a mere misfortune, it only caused bad luck. 

your hand that was once connected with his slithered away from its previous position, this time you really were gone.

perhaps this is when aventurine realized that the both of you weren't just mere inches apart but the distance between the two of you went beyond planets and galaxies and thus could never be conquered.

the two of you were worlds apart.

it’s been a few years ever since he’s seen you. (there hasn’t been a single day where he hasn’t thought about you.) apparently someone caught wind of what happened between you and aventurine, of course they reported it right away. initially it was planned to fire you, for making a move on one of the ten stonehearts, especially as someone who stood below him. 

but aventurine convinced them not to do so, saying he’s also at fault and that they should just make you move departments, perhaps you’d learn from your mistakes. it was successful - he was beyond relieved. he didn’t show it, the only thing that was visible to them was a cunning smile. 

behind it, beneath the faux smile, he was clenching his teeth, biting the insides of his lips so hard that they began to bleed (he wishes that you were there to trace the outline of your lips over his once again, mending to his wounds - both, the one on his lips and the one in his heart.) his left hand was trembling behind his back as he awaited their judgment.

eventually you did get moved to another department and aventurine didn’t visit you, too caught up at work and business matters on other planets. 

(it’s a lie - he knows that himself, it’s just to avoid you. it’s for the better he thinks, better for the both of you to not meet. he fears that all the feelings he kept hidden inside his chest will return and turn his world upside down once again.)

one time he overheard some co-workers gossiping about “the person who got into mr. aventurines pants” getting sent onto a mission that’ll take several years. “what a pity that they won’t get to see him anymore.” a female voice giggles as the other voice hums in agreement and they walk away.

lies. all lies, it had to be. both that you “got into his pants” - hell it was a mere kiss that the two of you exchanged (not even a kiss because he shied away.) but it had to be a lie that you were sent away right? right? It’s just rumors, just some gossip that people need to pass their time, it can't be. 

of course, to his dismay, it had to be true. 

his luck was truly a misfortune.

spring has come, the remaining snow melts away and turns into puddles. the skies started to clear up and flowers that were once covered in snowflakes, hidden beneath the white blanket of snow, started to open up again, blooming in their full glory. 

but there was another flower he spotted, one that stood out from the others - you. after all this time, he’s finally found you. 

this time he doesn't falter.

he runs up to you. pulling you into a tight embrace as he hugs you. his nose is buried into the wool scarf you’re wearing, he took notice that it’s the same one he gifted you back then. your scent mixed with his still lingers on it.

“aventurine?!!” you shout, surprised to see him again after all those years. 

“you kept it..” he whispers fondly. huh? you’re confused, what is he talking about? “the scarf i mean.” he says without looking up, as if he knew what you were thinking without having to see what expression you wear or hear your voice and which sound you’ve uttered.

“of course, i did.” you say bitterly. “after all, it's the last and only thing i have left from you.” you whisper, a frown finds its way onto your face.

“no. that’s not true.” he protests, finally looking up. it's just like the last time he saw you, your eyebrow furrowed, your eyes telling him that you’re on the verge of crying - similar to when he rejected your advances. “you have me now.” the words barely above a whisper.

“oh aeons, dont, please. i beg of you.” aventurine is quick to put his gloved fingers on your eyes and rub them softly, collecting the tear drops that are about to run down your cheek. “you know i hate seeing you like this.” he whispers quietly as he removes his glove from his hand and rubs circles over your cold and reddened cheeks. 

“i missed you.” you hiccup in between your cries, aventurine continues to catch your tears, he won’t allow you to cry any more - especially because he’s the reason why you’re tearing up.

“pshh.” he tries to quiet you. “ive missed you too, probably more than you know.” as an attempt to reassure you.

“i’m here now, i’ll stay with you, i’ll follow you wherever you go.” he leans forward, this time he’s the one initiating the kiss and you gladly return it. his chapped lips meet yours, kissing you messily. there’s some biting and teeth clashing but he couldn’t care less, neither do you - after all this is what you’ve been waiting for.

there's no distance, no fronts, no walls to separate the two of you. he's never felt this kind of love - your love. he hasn't been held this lovingly for an eternity, this is the first time he actually somehow feels human.

boundaries is a word foreign to the two of you, they've never been there - they never will be there because from the beginning on aventurines heart has only sought after you.

it used to terrify him, the way his heart always seemed to jump out of his rib cage upon seeing you. the louder and faster the pumping got the closer you leaned in - just like back then.

but exactly because of that or rather because of you he discovered a new part of himself, diving into an ocean of emotions that were anchored to the bottom of the water, anticipating the daz they'll be discovered and treasured in one's heart. those feelings were unknown to him until he met you.

"what should i say once we meet again?", "what should i do to prove that i'm ready now and don't fear to love or be loved anymore?", "how can i prove my love to you?"

those questions have haunted him in his restless nights, the ones that made him wake up from his deep slumber where he dreamt of you, forehead glistening with cold beads of sweat, gripping his bed sheets tightly. (all of his thoughts and dreams are filled with you.)

the beauty of this world has always been hidden beneath a window curtain, he was oblivious - blind, just how breathtaking the world can truly be.

but you came along, pulling the curtains away, revealing the outside world to him. you stepped into his life and shattered the glass that kept him confined behind the window.

you confessed your unyielding love for him. you love him - you've always done and you always will - you imagined a future which he was a part of. where the vibrant colors of the sun not only greeted you but also him as he laid next to you, side by side. watching as the rising sun kisses your skin with its tendrils of sunshine. 

(he'd follow the rays of sunshine and kiss the same spots they marked, he'd leave a trail of kisses along your body.)

how can he ever repay you for what you've done for him?

a mere thank you wouldn't suffice - not in a million years.

if you were to ask him if he'd give you the sun, the moon, the stars or the whole sky - he would.

if you were to ask him if he'd get on his knees for you - he would, no questions asked. be it when he prays to you, pleas leaving his lips and dripping off his tongue or when he'd kneel down on one of his knees to tie your shoes or propose to you - he would.

if you were to ask him if he'd stay by your side all night or rather all life long - he would. he'd be your light that'd guide you even though the flame went extinct, he'd be your flesh you'd nibble on, he'd be your blood you live off.

he wouldn't hesitate for a single moment, he'd give you everything you yearn and long for in a single heartbeat.

after all, that's the least he can do for you.

@azullumi here extra paragraph again hhihihihuuh anyway when's the stoner!chuuya x stoner!reader fic like where??? also azul i love you a lot. you deserve the best - you deserve the world. i hope you get accepted into your dream uni, get everything you've worked hard for (u deserve it, you're a person full of determination) and yeah convince ur teacher to extend the deadline!!

e/n: it's 4am rn im sooooo tired but yeah here!

© TOORURS 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms is not permitted.

#𝓣𝓞𝓞𝓡𝓤𝓡𝓢: works ✯ #—stellaronhvnters. #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail fluff #aventurine fluff #honkai star rail x gn reader #honkai star rail imagines #aventurine hsr #aventurine x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr angst #honkai star rail angst #hsr fluff #hsr imagines #aventurine headcanons #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream confessing to you. 

AN: Wow this one was long too because I got carried away.

Mark Lee

Mark would be the type that wanted to keep it quiet and private. Just the two of you. In your apartment, over two cups of coffee. It was a peaceful moment where in you two are enjoying the peace when Mark couldn't stop himself from staring at you. He likes you ever since you two were in high school. He doesn't want to confess because he's afraid of ruining your friendship. But in that moment, he just feels like doing it. So he holds your hand, starting with something like, "There's something I wanted to say," and then before you could say anything, he tells you that he likes you. You'll be flustered with the sudden confession, but only smiles, confessing to him that you also like him too. He'll be happy to hear your confession and once the tension is gone, you two will start teasing each other, asking when did you two start liking each other.

Huang Renjun

Renjun would do it during a late night walk from a coffee shop run. You two just finished a huge school paper and are now on the way to your place because Renjun wanted to make sure that you get home before he goes to his place. Your neighborhood has always been this quiet, making Renjun nervous. This is the moment that he's been waiting for. For months, he has been pining over you and it was a risk for him to confess to you, but he just wanted to tell you so that he wanted to know if he should stop pining over you or not. So when he grabs your hand, you were surprised, but Renjun acts like it was nothing even swaying it lightly. His hands never left yours until you two reached your place, that's where he confesses to you about his feelings. Surprised, you weren't able to answer his confession because he ran away quickly! (You texted him that you like him too.)

Lee Jeno

It's been bugging him for months! Jeno's pining for you is so hard to watch especially for his friends, they think that he should just confess to you because they don't like seeing Jeno's love strucked pining over you and the other one is that, they know that you like him back! (they're just keeping it as a secret.) So after many convincing, Jeno mustered up the courage. He said at first, he'll do it through text but he couldn't find the right word to do so, so he asked you if he can call and you said yes. As soon as you said hi, Jeno bursts. Literally confessed to you so fast that you weren't able to pick up anything other than, "I like you." he seems so out of breath after the confession but apologizes to you because of the sudden confession but you only laughed it off and told him that you like him too!

Lee Donghyuck

I feel like Haechan follows some superstitions like when you confessed to someone during the first fall of snow, they'll be yours forever something like that. Haechan thinks that it's true that's why he asked you to meet him during the first snow, as predicted by the weather forecast. You met him at the school's playground and Haechan thinks that you look cute in your winter coat, even placing his scarf around you so that you'll be more warm. He looks at the sky and then thinks that any minute now, it's going to snow but it didn't. He'll ask you to wait for a few minutes glancing at the sky once again, making you realized what's happening. You told him that he doesn't need the first snow to happen, because you like him too. Haechan would be in relief to hear those words from you, you two will end up laughing because of the situation. When he walked you home, that's when the snow fell, making you two be in awe with the weather. 

Na Jaemin

Oh I think that Jaemin would confess to you at the spur of the moment. It'll be on a vacation trip. The two of you are sitting on the chairs, watching the waves crash while the moon glisten on the ocean. You two are just sitting there, talking about the future and something deep, like what would happen to you and your friend group once you guys graduated and you two are just laughing and being silly, until Jaemin stops and glances at you. That's when it caught you off-guard that he's been staring for too long. "Do you know that I've always liked you?" and you tried to laugh it off, telling him to stop fooling around until he says that he's serious. You two will have a staring contest, his eyes looking at you lovingly. Waiting for an answer from you. Instead of answering him, you pulled Jaemin for a kiss, which surprised him but he only smile as he leans to kiss you once more. 

Zhong Chenle

"After this, there's something important that I wanted to say to you," would probably a hint Chenle will give you. He's the type who'll confess after a huge event, let's say, you're the main star of a musical prod in your university. You've been working hard and have been practicing nonstop for the show, and then Chenle told you that he's going to say something to you after you finish the show because he wants you to focus on the prod first. But it distracts you more! because you're curious about what he wants to say to you! You tried to ask Chenle about it but he brushes it off. So at the day of your final show, Chenle shows up with a bouquet of flowers on his hands. It'll be just the two of you, somewhere backstage, hidden from the crowd. He'll say first that he's proud of you, and that he likes you which made you cry, overwhelmed with joy. 

Park Jisung

You know those romance high school anime where they confess during graduation? Yeah that's how Jisung confesses to you. It'll be during your graduation because it's a risk for Jisung. It's now or never, so if you even rejected him, at least he won't be seeing you anymore. He'll be the type to text you to meet him at your classroom or maybe at the school's rooftop (if you guys are allowed there lmao.) When you reached the meeting place, you'll see him with his diploma, wearing his school uniform and you'll be caught off-guard at how incredibly handsome Jisung is. He'll approach you and then it took him a minute to say word, eventually, stumbling through his confession. "I don't need your answer yn, I just want to tell you I like you before we part ways." he added. And instead of answering him, you gave Jisung a hug, surprising him with your action. 

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct reactions #nct dream reactions #nct drabbles #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

[russellsppttemplates]

A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fluff #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

[himezoro]

Hello!! Could you please do what it would be like to date Luffy?? He's my favorite character and I loved your Zoro headcanons!!

— tysm for requesting !! i've recently came back from my trip and still recovering from my mental breakdown lol, so writing for luffy aka my son is all i need <3 i hope it brings you joy and light ⋆˙⟡♡ i have other requests in my box and i promise to do them all, i won't let you down !!

ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ : monkey d luffy's guide to relationship (check out roronoa zoro's guide here and here if you're interested)

dating monkey d luffy would include :

endless, countless and heartfelt laughters. luffy is an outgoing and fun person to be around. he's always having fun on the way of making his dream come true, making each day bright and sunny. he won't be trying that hard to make their s/o laugh, his authenticity, fearlessness and lack of danger estimation would do the trick. but expect him to yell his s/o's name everytime he pulls a prank or tests his flexibility by making funny faces. if his s/o happens to be sad, he would also try his best to cheer them up by first, making them laugh to forget about their worry. when in bed with his s/o, he would let soft and intimate laughs escape his throat when talking to them or listening to their stories. laughing is an intimate and loving act according to luffy's guide.

physical touch. luffy's a sucker for hugs, tender gestures and pdas!! he has no shame hugging his friends like a koala, but with his s/o?? they would barely be able to breath lmao. luffy would sleep with his arms fully wrapped around his s/o's back, with his chin on the top of their head, sometimes, he would sleep on top of them with his whole weight just to show "how much he loves them", or with his head on their lap. anyway, luffy’s s/o is always at arms length thanks to his ability, much to his delight. the boy's clingy, but so adorable and natural about it. however, if their s/o needs some space, luffy would understand, although a bit saddened, so expect him to ask for a hug when they're ready. if their s/o really hates physical touch, it would be difficult for luffy to adjust (he's just a big soft plushie please take care of my baby)

receiving random compliments at random times. luffy's very honest and genuine, and even though he lacks real communication skills, he never lies. therefore, if he sees their s/o with a new outfit and he finds it nice, he will vocalize it in his words. "your coat is brown like a juicy steak, it looks tasty! you should wear it more often", "your hair looks like a cloud this morning", "your eyes sparkle like lasers!!".

him being involved in his s/o's hobbies/occupations. luffy is naturally curious. people often feel like he is pestering and "in the way", which can hurt his feelings, but he is genuinely interested in his friends' activities. he has so much admiration for them. but with his s/o? luffy would not only pester and ask what they're doing, he would also be trying to learn alongside them, with stars in his eyes. if their s/o's a fighter and fighting with a particular weapon or style, luffy would sit quietly and watch for some time, clapping his hands and feet at any random movements from their body, before joining and mimicking. if their s/o was reading or doing anything more intellectual or academic, luffy would sit by them, his arms crossed on the table and his head on top and listen to them talk and tell about what they're learning. if his s/o is patient and pedagogical, he would be so happy and confident enough to ask questions. he will then brag to usopp and chopper about his recent learnings with confidence and pride, saying how "(your name) taught me!!" (he will also turn around to his s/o to check if what he's saying is correct). it is very important for luffy to know what his s/o is doing and what they like, and for them to share their activities together. because on luffy's part, he would include his s/o in every single thing, even on shenanigans with usopp and chopper if they'd like.

hungry kisses and messy makeout sessions. the first kiss with luffy was soft, quick and intimate: a simple peck on the lips. also, at the beginning of the relationship, they were few, as the captain is more of a hugger. however, when his s/o would explain luffy that kisses could involve tongue, dear lord. luffy got insatiable. with his first french kiss, the move of his tongue got so messy he let some drool escape from his lips, trailing out from his s/o's lips. he also accidently bit his s/o's bottom lip so hard it stayed swollen for a couple of days. luffy would take note on his s/o's preferences and always surprise them with that one kiss that would leave them out of breathe and shaky. during make out sessions, not only his tongue would be insatiable, but his hands as well. this boy cannot stand still, he would trail his hands all over his s/o's body, especially the inside of their thighs or their ass. oftenly, after pulling away from his lips, he would look at his s/o's eyes and say "more" before diving in again.

aside from the messy kisses from heated and hungry make outs, luffy's kisses are always spontaneous and playful. he's hanging from the chandelier with his legs around it? he'll grow his head down just he can peck his s/o's lips. his kisses are never calculated or protocolar, they're just like his sweet personality. he would try to kiss you when you eat to "taste your food", claiming that it tasted better.

learning to communicate. luffy is not a complete moron, but his communication skills and social awareness may not be the best. their s/o will have to use patience in order to have a meaningful conversation about their intimate feelings or their relationship in general. luffy is a good listener to his s/o, however, his responses are not always fitting to the matter at hand, sometimes even immature. nevertheless, luffy is a willing person, especially with his s/o. he would try his best providing more fitting responses to his s/o's matters and expressing his needs as well, especially if he feels he has been saddened by their behaviour.

entrusting him and reassuring him. of course, luffy is a confident person, not only in his skills, but also in his dream of being the King of the Pirates. however, if their s/o does not vocalize their trust in his dream, skills or character, luffy would be saddened and pouty. it could trigger his jealousy. he is the captain of a fantastic crew with fantastic people and he feels entrusted with that role, but the one trust and validation he needs is from his s/o. if their s/o compliments him or refer to him as "future King of the Pirates", he would be beaming so hard and brag about it a little.

having a number one fan and devoted partner. luffy loves all of his crewmates and would do anything for them. but his s/o is special. he would always cheer them up, be their cheerleader, talk about them at any given times (a little like tom holland with zendaya lol), protect them from the smallest ant, raise them high. he will always stand for them. if his s/o's in danger, the smallest hint of common sense hidden in his brain gets completely lost and he goes feral. he won't let anything happen to his s/o, before letting anything happen to his dream. his dream is with their s/o: there's no Pirate King with his s/o, no matter what. losing his brother already broke his heart, and he knows losing his s/o will hurt the same, so he does not let anything happen to them. <3

he's the definition of a golden retriever boyfriend, but i feel like he would rather eat from your plate than giving you his lmao. he won't mind sharing with you, but he would enjoy stealing food from your plate.

#one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece imagine #one piece headcanon #headcanons #one piece headcanons #luffy x reader #opla x reader #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy x reader

[woso-dreamzzz]

Melting Pot

Hardersson x Child!Reader

woso-dreamzzz Kids x Child!Reader (Princesse)

Summary: A melting point of universes

The school building isn't one that Magda stared at a lot, despite it being just across the street from her house.

It was a selective school, only accepting a handful of students after hours of vetting and interviews. Magda wasn't quite sure what the requirements actually were but she's glad that she passed them.

"Morsa," You say as you stare up at the building," What if they don't like me?"

Magda looks out across the schoolyard, where a small handful of kids are playing around.

There's a section nearer the back with a few little babies. Another section with some kids playing around with a football. A different section with a climbing frame where one little girl is sitting at the very top.

"They'll love you," Magda assures you.

You didn't have the best run of schools in Germany, with one particular teacher scaring you into an anxiety attack so bad Pernille had to pick you up early.

It was one of the reasons that Magda had campaigned so hard for this school. The brochures and the reviews insisted that it was perfectly inclusive and because the pool of students were so small, the classes were really tailored to each child and their needs.

It was perfect and Magda thanks her lucky stares that she had secured a place for you.

"Intimidating, isn't it?"

Magda looks to her side to see a woman standing next to her.

"A little bit," Pernille says politely.

"We thought the same when we first came too."

There's a little girl standing next to her, staring up at Magda with wide eyes.

"It'll get better," Her mother says," I'm Alexia, by the way. This is my Pequeñita."

"Magda. And this is Pernille and Princesse."

"It's nice to meet you. But, really, it'll get better. My girls love it here."

Magda looks at the singular child. "Girls?"

Alexia smiles, jerking her chin to the other side of the road where a tall woman with dark hair is walking over with two children.

"My ex, Jenni."

"You talking bad about me, Ale?" Jenni asks good-naturedly. She's holding the hands of a girl with ribbons in her hair and the other on her hip is gripping the life out of a stuffed fox.

"Always," Alexia teases," This is Magda, Pernille and their daughter. They're new."

"I was wondering who got the new place," Jenni says," Nice to meet you. This is Bambi and Osita. I'd shake your hand but they're full."

Pernille laughs. "It's fine."

You shuffle a bit closer to her, tugging on the sleeve of your jumper as you walk into the schoolyard.

Pequeñita starts pulling away the moment she spots a pack of similar-looking children, zeroing in on the smallest of them and Alexia lets her hand go so she can attach herself to the girl.

Bambi also disappears off to a corner of the playground where a group of girls are making daisychains.

Osita sits in Jenni's arms.

"Hi, there," A cheerful woman that you identify as a teacher says," You must be Miss Harder and Miss Eriksson. It's nice to finally meet you all." She crouches down. "And you must be my new student."

"Hi," You whisper.

"Ah, a shy one. I think you'll fit right in." She looks back at your mothers. "We've still got fifteen-twenty minutes or so before school starts. You're welcome to hang around the playground to get her settled."

"Thank you."

You squeeze Morsa's hand tight as she leads you around the playground.

There are still a lot of parents hanging around so you don't feel awkward still clinging to Momma and Morsa.

You stay mainly silent as you stare out across the playground.

"Lots of blended families," Momma notes, jerking her head around the playground at where she's noticed exes and custody agreements that are clearly a little sour.

"Inclusive too," Morsa says.

There's a little baby wearing hearing aids sitting on her mummy's lap over in the corner with the rest of the babies.

"International as well."

You're in a melting pot of languages and culture, something you can pick out even over all the shrieking of the playground.

There's languages you recognise and accents that you don't.

You relax a little.

There's a shriek nearby and you turn your head to see that throng of similar-looking girls wrestling around while a tall woman sighs and her smaller partner tries to separate them.

"Big family," Morsa laughs as the smaller woman gets tackled to the ground by the rest of her kids.

You're still looking around when a football comes rolling to a stop in front of you.

You look at it.

A group of girls come running over.

"Can we have our ball back please?" It's one of the taller ones that ask, the one that looks fairly similar to the group that's tackled their mummy to the ground.

You nod, gently kicking it back. She grabs it, turning to go.

"What's that?" A smaller girl points at your bag.

"It's my Wolfsburg keychain."

"Wolfsburg? Like the football club?"

You nod. "We used to live in Germany. Wolfsburg is our German team."

"Who's your English team?"

"Arsenal."

The smaller girl shoves her way forward, holding out her hand. "I'm Bean," She says," My team's Arsenal too."

"And mine!"

"That's Bug. She's technically my niece because my sister Leah's her mummy even though we're the same age."

"Hi," You say, gently letting go for Morsa and Momma's hands to shake Bean's.

"And this is Peanut and Nena," Bean continues," We play football together. Tesoro too but she's late because her sister Lessi likes staying in bed as long as possible."

Bean passes the ball off to her niece, who does a round of fairly impressive keepy-uppies.

"Do you play?"

You nod. "I play keeper."

"Cool!" Peanut interrupts," We don't have a keeper yet! Do you want to play with us?"

"Yes, please."

You go to move away but Morsa draws you back.

"Hey," She says," We're going to go, alright? Are you good here?"

"Uh-huh!"

Momma gives you a kiss and a cuddle and Morsa does the same before you're released.

You run into goal just in time for Bug to release a wicked shock that you jump up to collect easily.

#hardersson x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the special au #melting pot

[its-avalon-08]

hey can you write that Carlos Sainz is his wife Y/N (she is also Spanish) are nicknamed the couple the funny ones in the paddock because they often play pranks on each other on TikTok and they often tease each other because they have the same personality as it's their humor and that they are both tactile

glitter and lucky socks

the air in imola crackled with nervous energy, race day for the emilia romagna grand prix. but amidst the tension, a familiar giggle echoed through the ferrari garage. there, carlos sainz, in his pristine red race suit, was doubled over, socks clutched in his hand.

"no, no, no!" he wheezed, laughing so hard he was struggling to breathe. "that can't be real! y/n, you didn't!"

across the garage, you, his ever-playful wife, smirked, phone in hand. "y/n! you dyed my lucky socks pink?" carlos' voice, laced with mock horror, reached your ears.

you winked, feigning innocence. "what socks, cariño? i haven't seen any pink socks around."

carlos knew that look. it was the same mischievous glint he saw reflected back in his own eyes every time he'd snuck toothpaste into your shampoo or replaced your coffee with a peppermint smoothie (much to your initial disgust since you hated it, but ultimate amusement).

"oh, come on," he whined, getting up and moving to grab you from your waist. "mi amor ¿por qué debes burlarte de mí? (my love why must you tease me?). y/n still holding up her phone, to record her shenanigans, had small tears in her eyes following her husband's reaction. after posting the tiktok the caption read: 'sending some extra luck to my favorite driver (don't worry, they're his backup pair) #f1 #pranksforsainz #losdivertidos

the video had already blown up, with comments like "y/n is savage" and "carlos, your wife is a menace!" erupting like virtual popcorn.

charles leclerc, carlos' teammate, strolled by, phone in hand. he glanced at the video, then at carlos' pink-socked foot, and burst out laughing. "mate, you're doomed!"

carlos groaned, but a smile tugged at his lips. you two were known in the paddock as 'the funny ones'. your constant pranks, playful teasing, and the undeniable fact that you seemed to share the same mischievous personality – it was all part of your humor, your way of showing affection. as charles saw the way carlos and y/n looked at eachother he chuckled as he remembered the times carlos had put a whoopie pillow down on y/n's chair infront of the ceo of ferrari much to her horror or how y/n had replaced carlos's hair gel with glitter. the two were madly in love and in such a serious world, they still found time to be human.

charles continued to recall how carlos would always hold you in anyway he could, how he would grasp on to your pinky finger in a crowd, how y/n would always hug carlos from behind, the way carlos and y/n's hand were permanently intertwined. amidst all the pranks and jokes, the couple knew each other inside and out.

later, after the race (which carlos, miraculously, managed to win, pink socks and all), you found him in the pits, a towel draped over his shoulders.

"so," you said, leaning in for a kiss that left him breathless, "about that luck i sent your way..."

carlos chuckled, pulling you into a hug. "you're lucky i love you," he mumbled against your hair.

"and you're lucky i put the real socks back in your bag before you left for the grid," you whispered, earning a playful shove that sent you both into another fit of laughter.

as mechanics swarmed around them, celebrating the win, charles shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. there they go again, he thought. those two are a riot. but then he saw you plant a big, lipstick-stained kiss on carlos' cheek, and a warmth spread through him. maybe a little paddock romance wasn't such a bad thing after all.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more <3 happy reading! 🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris #charles leclerc #formula 1 #f1 imagine #formula one #red bull racing #y/n #romance #request #ava speaks #cs55 #cs55 x reader #cs55 imagine #cs55 fluff #cs55 fic #scuderia ferrari

[skamenglishsubs]

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 6

Out here in the real world it's been a week since the cliffhanger ending of episode 5 where Simon broke up with Wilhelm, but in-universe it's just the next day, and Wilhelm is being comforted by Felice.

Subtext: This entire episode is incredibly meta, there are so many times characters say things that reference earlier seasons or episodes, or the entire series as a whole. This is the first time, and Felice is saying what we're all thinking. IS IT REALLY OVER?!? 😱

Blink and you miss it: Felice gives Wilhelm her sunglasses and dries his tears so he can hide the fact that he's been crying. Also, look at that gorgeous Swedish summer. It is so pretty.

Culture: The third-years are painting the banners that go on the trucks on graduation day.

Culture: They're also signing each others' student hats, which is a common tradition. You can just sign your name or write something funny or do whatever.

Culture: This car is what we in Sweden call a sossecontainer. It's an old 90's Volvo, it's square, it's ugly, and it was pretty cheap and reliable, so it was very common and popular among working class and the lower middle classes. It was never a high-status car, so it perfectly illustrates the Eriksson family.

Subtext: Oh look, another throwback to season 1 when Sara argued with Simon about their dad, and said that he should stop giving people second chances.

Culture: Oh look, another poem by Karin Boye. This time it's Eternity, a poem about cherishing your time with your loved one, and the text is about how good times feel like an endless summer, which is what it certainly looks like for the kids and their teacher in the lush landscape. But just like in the poem, their endless summer is about to end.

Culture: This is pretty much exactly the reason used when real-world Lundsberg was temporarily closed.

Culture: And Wilhelm isn't wrong, the shitty traditions are in the walls of the place, it's always been like that, and it's always been upheld by everyone involved with the school, parents, teachers, staff, and students.

Subtext: Since this is the last episode, let's prepare the viewers to say good bye to the show, and let's do it with a little montage of students crying and taking their stuff down and emptying their rooms.

Culture: This is a 100% factually true statement, Göteborg is the worst city in the world. Source: I'm a native Stockholmer, and you just have to trust me on this, ok? Look, it's just common sense, alright? Don't listen to people from Göteborg, they're just jealous they're not living in the glorious capital. Also, they talk funny. And they have no sense of humour! And everyone is named Glenn or something.

Culture: I don't think they're referencing an actual school here, and the current Norwegian royal children went to school in Norway, not Switzerland. But the current Danish crown prince went to some boarding school in Switzerland for a while, but then he went to the Danish elite boarding school Herlufsholm. However, it was rocked by a bullying scandal in 2022, so they had to pull him out of that one and deny all knowledge of the events. Feels familiar?

Culture: Solliden is the private summer palace of the real-world Swedish royal family located on Öland, an island off the south-east coast of Sweden. The show has consistently stayed away from every likeness with the real world, but I guess they couldn't be arsed making up a fictional summer palace for the YR royal family so they went with something familiar.

Subtext: Farima is talking about the problems of finding a new school for Wilhelm from an academic perspective, but he's just thinking about how this means he won't be close to Simon any longer.

Culture: Vincent and the boys are pouring one out for Hillerska. It's a way to toast a dead friend, or in this case, a place.

Blink and you miss it: August places a king chess piece on the table before telling his friends that he's Wilhelm's reserve and might be king someday.

Subtext: And he's still so blinded by the glamour of it, despite everything. Thankfully, his friends can bring him down a couple of pegs.

Blink and you miss it: While Wilhelm is returning Kris, the book from last season, the second book in the pile is a book by Kjell Westö, Den Svavelgula Himlen - Yellow Sulphur Sky. It's about a working class kid in Finland becoming friends with his upper-class neighbour family, and his struggle maintaining a relationship with the girl of the family because of their class differences. Slightly on the nose there, show.

Meta: Henry interrupting our boys at the worst possible time is just a running joke at this point. How many times has it happened now? Four times? Five? Read the fucking room, Henry!

Subtext: Last chance to have a party together, but also last chance to see Simon, "maybe ever". Oh no, we have to start preparing for a sad ending!

Culture: Red solo cups are not a thing anywhere outside the US really, but you can buy them as a gag gift in Sweden, because to us they're just a weird movie prop we've seen American movies. Every other party scene in the show has featured regular plastic cups.

Culture: Drinking with the teachers?!? Yeah, sure, why not, everyone is an adult.

Subtext: Emo outfit? ✅ Sitting on the floor? ✅ Full of self-pity? ✅ Exaggerating the catastrophic state of his world in the way only a 17yo disaster boy can do? ✅

Meta: Another throwback to how Wilhelm was referred to as the party prince back in season 1.

Blink and you miss it: Felice hides the wine bottle behind her back before Malin comes in. She knows, Felice. Malin knows everything.

Meta: Another throwback to when Wilhelm was eating the dirt at the very same football field that disaster emo boy Simon is now sitting at together with his friends, who are trying to convince him to go to the final party.

Subtext: This time, August isn't just sorry that he got caught, he is genuinely sorry for everything he did to Wilhelm. He in turn forgives August, and we're all getting closure for this plot point.

Meta: Hey, hey, hey guys, do you remember that scene in season 1 episode 1 when Sara helped hold Felice's hair while she was throwing up? We're doing a throwback here!

Meta: Hey, hey, hey guys, do you remember that scene in season 1 episode 3 when Felice told Sara that maybe you don't have to speak the truth all the time? Well, Sara still doesn't understand why you would lie, but this time she's right, Felice was right to tell the truth.

Blink and you miss it: Stella and Fredrika are making out at the party, Felice saw it, and is making a very funny face. This is also why Stella rudely rejects Rosh, because of course she's gonna choose Fredrika, Rosh was just a distraction to make her jealous.

Subtext: Vincent is talking about Nils, who just came out, but August just saw Sara, and that's the whoever he wants.

Subtext: But despite saying that he doesn't care about anyone else seeing them, he still ducked behind a stack of pallets for this conversation.

Meta: This is a brutal Fleabag reference.

Cinematography: This scene is overwhelmingly lit in that sickly greenish fluorescent hue, but there's golden light coming from somewhere, so Sara and August share one final kiss in that golden light. But there's not enough of it to go around, not enough for their love to last, so August is left standing there alone, and all the golden light is gone.

Cinematography: Wilhelm and Simon left the party sometime after midnight, this is supposed to be a very early morning summer sunrise, and our boys are just gonna be bathed in the golden light throughout the entire scene. Gods, it is pretty.

Meta: Hey, hey, remember that scene in season 1 when Simon was singing that song, and Wilhelm instantly fell for him?

Meta: Hey guys, remember that scene in season 1 when they were discussing welfare politics in class and Simon threw shade on Wilhelm? This is a throwback to that.

Cinematography: Just fucking look at this shit. What a nice view. The nature and the sunrise is pretty, too! Going naked into the water? Yeah, that's a rebirth metaphor as well. Lisa said so!

Subtext: This entire scene is basically Wilhelm trying one last time to get Simon back. They said they weren't gonna, but he's trying anyway. They're talking about that politics class where Wilhelm couldn't speak up because he was "not allowed". So he's still bound by his royal duties, which is why Simon broke up with him last episode.

Subtext: And since Wilhelm is still stuck, he's left on dry land, while Simon swims away from him, free. Guys, I'm thinking we're actually gonna get a sad ending! This does not look good! 😭

Blink and you miss it: Stella and Fredrika are sleeping in the same bed and making out the morning after, and millions of #Stedrika shippers are rejoicing! Yay, fanservice!

Blink and you miss it: Walter is helping Henry up after he passed out in the grass outside after the party, and millions of #Walty shippers are rejoicing! Yay, fanservice!

Subtext: The last photo Wilhelm takes down from his wall is the one with him and Simon, because that's the most important memory of this place.

Blink and you miss it: Wilhelm shuts off his red lightstrip in his room. Those lights have typically been a symbol of his love for Simon, but he's turning it off. Sad ending confirmed.

Meta: Listen, it's a lovely little song that Simon wrote for Wilhelm, but it's 100% fanservice, it's referencing events in the show that Simon actually didn't witness, and it's even referencing the soundtrack to the show itself! I mean, come on! And we're getting yet another sad boy Wilhelm montage of him moping around Hillerska with his earbuds.

Subtext: Remember how the frog snowglobe was a gift from Erik, who in turn got it from their grandpa, the king? It's so obviously a symbol of the monarchy, but Wilhelm is dumping it in the trash. Are we... Are we not getting a sad ending?

Cinematography: The shot of the flag being raised is cut off at half mast, which is a pretty universal symbol for mourning. Oh ok, we're back on track for a sad ending.

Subtext: This is the first time this season that Simon speaks Spanish with his mom, and the first time in the entire series that Sara does, which shows that they're fully themselves again, they've pulled themselves out of the Hillerska world.

Culture: The graduating students are having a champagne breakfast before the graduation ceremony, that's also very common in Sweden.

Subtext: Felice and the rest of the choir decided to have a little rebellion and not sing the boring old Hillerska song, and instead the new improved one that Simon made last season. No-one told him about the switch though, which is why he's so surprised.

Culture: After the ceremony, the graduating students will run out of the school to find their parents and family and friends, who are waiting for them, usually with a big sign with the most embarrassing baby picture they could find of them.

Blink and you miss it: August's mom and stepdad have also made a huge sign with an embarrassing picture of August Malte as a kid. Adorable.

Lost in translation: The queen is saying "lilla gubben", which literally means "little old man", a very common term of endearment in Swedish families. The show has been pretty consistent in that Wilhelm's family are all using normal words, just like any other family would. So it's pretty funny that despite everyone else using titles and styles all the time, to Wilhelm, his parents are simply "mamma" and "pappa", as if he was a regular kid.

Subtext: As a graduating student you get little gifts from your family, flowers, champagne, stuffed animals, all with a blue-and-yellow ribbon so you can hang them around your neck. August is family, so the Queen gives him one as well. Of a frog with a crown. Which is a symbol of the monarchy in the show. Wilhelm threw his frog in the trash, August is getting a frog from the Queen. I think there might be symbolism here! I think we're setting up August to become the next king! Do we dare hope for a happy ending?

Cinematography: Just fucking look at this shit. The composition, the contrast, the height difference, the distance between them. It's so pretty. And they're talking about how good it was while it lasted, just like how a TV show with a sad ending can still be an amazing experience. Hint hint.

Subtext: We're saying our goodbyes, Wilhelm and Simon are saying goodbye to each other, Wilhelm wishes Simon a nice summer, just like how Simon wished Wilhelm a good Christmas back in season 1, and just like back then, they both understand that they love each other, but can't be together.

Cinematography: And then Simon exits the scene, again, leaving Wilhelm standing there alone, again, having seemingly chosen his family and royal duty.

Culture: It's common to either rent a truck as a large group of students, or to be driven in a flashy car alone or with a friend. The two girls in the centre are sitting in a very nice Aston Martin, while a bunch of their classmates are on a truck. I can't make out the full text on the banner, but I think it says something like "Lock up your sons because tonight we become like animals".

Culture: Svensson is a very common Swedish last name, so to "be a Svensson" basically means that you're super average and mediocre, you're like everyone else. Whereas these elite kids are used to having everyone else bow and scrape for them, so that message is on brand.

Cinematography: We're in the car, it looks like the ending of season 1, and we're doing a close-up of Wilhelm's face. We're ready for the fourth-wall-break of him staring sadly into the camera, having been once again broken down by the system and not getting the boy. We've said goodbye to everyone, roll the credits, start your crying...

Cinematography: ...except the show isn't ending here. We're having an honest conversation between Wilhelm and his parents for the first time. Because every other time he's said that he doesn't want to be crown prince of the next king, he's been angry or upset, he's been threatening, and definitely impulsive. But he's never wanted any of it.

Cinematography: His parents let him go, they open the door to their van, Wilhelm exits, and the show turns up the volume of the soundtrack. "Energetic music" my ass, it's the Harmony theme! It's the main theme of the entire show playing as Wilhelm runs away.

Subtext: Oh, yeah, August sees him run away, and understands that he's next in line now. Sorry buddy, sucks to be you, but never mind that now. RUN, WILHELM, RUN!!! GET YOUR MAN!

Cinematography: The shows turns into the most perfect rom-com, with Wilhelm chasing down Simon's car through the incredibly lush and green Swedish summer. He catches up to them, tells Simon that he ditched the crown for his own sake, and asks if it's really over between them.

VAD FAN TROR DU?

As if the soundtrack wasn't triumphant enough, it now starts playing As Long As you Are Here as they throw themselves in each other's arms. Happy ending! They're crying, I'm crying, we're all crying! 😭

Cinematography: A montage? With all the best scenes between our boys from the entire show? With the text of the soundtrack perfectly matching the montage? I should be outraged at how cheesy this is, but it is perfect. Perfect. I love it. I swear, this fucking show.

Subtext: Finally we are at the true ending of the show. Wilhelm has managed to escape Hillerska, him and Simon and Sara and Felice have all escaped the hierarchies, the expectations, the duties, and the toxic environment of the school. He arrived in a Ferrari, and is now running away with his boyfriend and friends in a crappy Volvo station-wagon. The stiff suit jackets are gone, they're all in white, his hair is ruffled in the wind, and for the last time ever Wilhelm looks into the camera. And he smiles.

He is finally free.

#young royals #young royals subtext #young royals analysis #young royals season 3

[kinardscoffee]

Does anyone else think that Tommy rehearsed what he wanted to say to Buck in the drive over to his loft?

Cause when Buck opens the door, Tommy seems a bit lost in thought to me. He's looking down at the floor. Telling himself that he's Tommy Kinard and he didn't do anything wrong but Eddie told him that something about Buck just seemed off lately and he feels bad because Buck loves the people in his life to the fucking extreme. He'd easily take a bullet for any of them, and he's even put himself in that position multiple times.

So, Tommy decides to stop by Buck's place before he has to go on shift because there's no way he can focus at work knowing Buck feels excluded.

And he has no idea what to say? "Sorry I stole your best friend and his son. I just wanted to feel a millisecond of that happiness you experience on the daily."

He expects to show up, apologize, and explain that he's not a threat and never would or could be.

And it's flowing. The conversation.

Tommy tells Buck that he just wanted to be part of that family atmosphere that the 118 have. Because that's the root of it, isn't it? To be around people who like you for exactly who you are? No expectations.

Tommy has never had that before.

Sure, the people at work include him, but it's a different type of inclusion. He doesn't know the names of their family members, he doesn't sit down with them for "family dinner" like Bobby does.

They are just coworkers. Nothing more.

But those four individuals that asked for his help that night?

They didn't hesitate once to save Bobby and his wife. No questions asked, no confirmation needed. All because someone didn't answer their phone.

Tommy can't help but feel a warm magnetism between them. A silent confirmation that, no matter what, they will always have each other's back at any given time.

And the people THEY love... they're included under that umbrella of certainty and that's where Tommy thinks he fucked up.

Because Buck is under everyone's umbrella.

So, he's honest. Tommy doesn't know how not to be. He tells Buck he was jealous of all those things, and maybe that played a part in how situations unfolded, but that was never directed at Buck.

And then...

Wait.

Buck tells Tommy that he asked for the tour because he wanted to get to know him. Tommy. Buck explains that this whole thing hasn't been him trying to win back his found family, but join them in including Tommy within their unit.

"... 'cause trying to get your attention has been kind of exhausting."

That's the jump start to Tommy's brain.

His attention? His?

"My attention?"

All this time, Tommy has been making the first move in the name of camaraderie. He invited Eddie to the fight. He invited him to trivia night.

But Buck was just trying to simply get Tommy to fucking look at him.

And now, in Buck's apartment, listening to Buck rambling about how he's not as cool as Eddie and how he understands why Tommy would prefer to hang out with Eddie...

Tommy sees him.

He acts on that magnetism he's felt from Buck since that first night. He thought, after speaking with Eddie, that it was full of resentment, but now, as he presses their lips together, Tommy thinks that, maybe, this could be something.

And he's ready to try.

#i don't really know what this is? #i had a thought and now we're here #911 abc #911 fandom #evan buckley #bucktommy #tommy kinard #tevan #kinley #help me

[sugarandspisces-writes]

Coffee + Crosswords

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Summary: It's Friday at Abbott and you spend a slow morning in the break room with Melissa and Janine.

Word Count: 3.3k

If you were to ask anyone at Abbott what their favorite day of the week was, they were guaranteed to say Friday. Unless you were to ask Barbara Howard. She would not hesitate to tell you that her favorite day was Sunday. Nonetheless, Friday was a day that everyone enjoyed because it meant the weekend was around the corner.

It was a day when things slowed down, and you could step away from the week's stressors and just breathe. Plus, if you were on top of things, you didn’t have to worry about grading papers or making lesson plans for a couple days. But you knew better than anyone that it didn’t always work out that way. Sometimes you still had work left to complete on the weekends no matter how productive you’d been at work.

The students also loved Fridays because learning for the week was done. The biggest task they had to accomplish was showing that they understood the material being taught. Your second graders loved the end of the week because they looked forward to taking their spelling tests. However, today was not about taking tests. The end of the first semester was approaching, and most teachers were counting down the days. It seemed like a lifetime away, and everyone was looking for a way to make the time go by faster. The strategy beloved by the kids, and their teachers if you were being honest, was to have a movie day. For you, there was something nostalgic about watching movies at school. It made you miss the days you were in your kids’ shoes.

It was around 10 o’clock, and you sat in the teacher’s lounge while your kids attended art class. Melissa was in the lounge with you since it was her free period, and you knew Janine was bound to show up at any moment since it was her break as well. You sat at the table near Melissa’s and talked about the events of your day. 

You’d been teaching alongside the woman for over a year, yet you struggled to find your footing around her. One moment she seemed to enjoy your company, and the next she didn’t pay you any mind. However, she was up for discussion today, and the content of your conversation surprised you. She was following up on an issue you’d brought to her attention a few weeks back.

“Did you ever get that stuff figured out with your student?” She pulled her eyes away from the TV and focused on you.

“Oh, um, kind of.” Truthfully the answer was no, but you'd been holding onto hope.

Parent-teacher conferences recently took place, and you spoke with the parents of a student who struggled with math. Despite the effort you’d put into gathering the evidence–worksheets, quizzes, and even standardized test scores–they didn’t believe their child was struggling. Since Melissa had gone through a similar situation, you asked for advice.

Her face scrunched in confusion at your uncertainty. “What's that s'posed to mean?”

“Well, they’re still not budging, so…” You shrugged before slumping into your chair.

“So, what?” Melissa’s shoulders copied your actions, though hers were more pronounced. Her jacket rustled with the movement, the silver hardware clanking against each other. “You just gonna give up?”

Immediately, your posture straightened at the insinuation of admitting defeat. “What? No, I never said that!”

She wasn’t fond of quitters, so your reaction rubbed her the wrong way. “You coulda fooled me.”

Everything you tried had seemingly failed, and as a new teacher, that was discouraging. You’d never give up on your students though, so you had to see it through. “I’m in the process of putting a plan together.”

“Did you get in touch with the math interventionist?” That was one of her recommendations, and she wanted to know if you followed through.

“Yes, and they’re gonna work with him during the summer. You know they have an outreach program for the kids, but it depends on his parents' compliance. They're not gonna let anyone work with him if they don't see an issue.” She nodded in understanding, prompting you to continue on. “If not, they told me they'd work with him at the beginning of next year so he wouldn't slip too far behind, but I’ll believe it when I see it.” Since the district was short-staffed, the schools had to share resources. It was extremely inconvenient, but you had to make do with what you had.

She was pleased that you took her advice and that she wasn't just flapping her gums for the hell of it. “At least that’s something. It shows they're trying, you know?” 

You sighed, upset at the fact that you were still at odds. “I guess, but I feel so bad. He’s having a really hard time, and he gets so frustrated with it. I’m afraid he’ll just give up. Especially since his parents aren’t on the same page.”

She agreed with the point you were making. “There's potential for that to occur, but it’s not a reflection of your teaching abilities.”

“It is though, isn’t it?” It was your responsibility to educate, so wouldn’t the blame rest on you?

“Not necessarily. We do what we can, but we aren’t always capable of filling in the gaps. Sometimes we have to recruit additional forces. It doesn’t make us failures 'cause we couldn’t do it on our own.”

You worked hard to ensure that your students were motivated to learn. If they ever lost their drive, you wouldn’t hesitate to help them regain it–even if it meant you had to spend time with them before or after school. Melissa’s words helped you realize that your setback didn’t stem from a lack of proficiency. “You’re right. It just sucks.”

“When have you known me to be wrong?” She smirked.

“Oh, whatever.” You rolled your eyes, still finding yourself laughing nonetheless.

“But seriously, it’s nothing you can’t handle. I know it’s tough, but you’re doing a wonderful job.”

You had no idea she noticed your teaching endeavors, though you should have known. She kept tabs on just about everyone and everything in your place of work. “Oh, wow. Uh, thanks.” You weren't sure what to say, not knowing if it was a compliment or simply an astute observation.

“Don’t thank me. Just keep doing what you’re doing. He’s lucky to have someone like you fighting for him.”

You smiled now, basking in the unmistakable praise. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.”

“I’m gonna make another cup of coffee. You want some?” She stood from her seat, eyeing you as she awaited your answer. 

“Nah, I'm good.” You shook your head, remembering that it wasn’t even noon and you’d already indulged in a few.

You absentmindedly scrolled through your phone as she busied herself with brewing a fresh pot. There wasn’t much to look at, so you opened the newspaper before you. You flipped through the pages, skimming some of the articles, then landed on the crossword section.

You’d been into word games lately, mostly playing apps on your phone, but you'd take advantage of the physical version today. Until Janine joined you two this would occupy your time. By the time the coffee was done brewing, you’d finished most of the puzzle but found yourself stuck. 

“Blank Hurts, quarterback for the Philadelphia Eagles.” You read it more times than you could count before releasing a huff. It was the last answer you needed to complete the puzzle, and it was putting you through the wringer.

Melissa came to retrieve her creamer from the fridge and caught a glimpse of what you were doing. She squinted to get a closer look at the small print before pulling her glasses over her eyes. As soon as she read it, the answer was clear. She could only chuckle while watching you struggle. You were a Philly native, so to her, it was amusing that you didn’t know the players on your home team. When your huffing and puffing continued, she couldn’t bear the sound any longer.

“Jalen.” She uttered from behind you, solving your short-lived distress.

You glanced over your shoulder and met with the sight of her—arms crossed over her chest, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, and a grin tugging at her lips. 

“Huh?”

Her heeled boots thumped against the linoleum flooring as she came into your direct line of vision. It wasn’t long before she stood next to you, mere centimeters away.

When she spoke again, her manicured finger was pointed at your phone. “Jalen Hurts. That’s the answer.” 

You almost couldn’t process the words she spoke. Your senses were taken over by her amber perfume, the sweet, warm undertones paired well with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. After gaining enough resolve to write, you jot letters into the spaces. 

She retreated to the other side of the room before you could say anything else, but quickly returned with a surprise. She slid a steaming cup of coffee across the table, propelled by a gentle hand. “You’ve got to be the only person who doesn’t know who that is.”

You frowned, but it was impossible to argue with her. Football was the least interesting sport in your opinion. Mainly because you didn’t understand a thing that was going on. “We can’t all be connoisseurs like you.”

“It’s common knowledge, hon.”

“Okay, Vince Lombardi,” you teased, referring to the woman as one of the NFL greats. That much you knew. “Thanks for the answer–and the coffee.”

“You owe me, big time,” she joked. “I made it how I like mine. If you think it’s gross feel free to toss it.”

“Are you crazy? I’d never waste a cup of caffeine.” Especially one you made for me, you wanted to add, but didn't thanks to your better judgment.

You sipped the warm beverage as you thought about your little interaction. It took a minute or two for your brain to reset to its previous level of performance. The organ worked double time to get her out of your head, but she managed to make a lasting image.

She was a woman of details, always so well put together. The all-black outfit paired with her array of gold jewelry was a classy, yet powerful choice. Her makeup was done perfectly, and her green eyes were adorned with the sharpest winged liner you'd ever seen. Striking red hair followed suit, strands curled neatly with color-coordinated cat-eye frames resting atop her head, giving the impression of an effortless blowout. She had a certain je ne sais quoi about her that intrigued you to no end.

You glanced over your shoulder once you heard the door swinging open. Janine walked in and smiled as she saw you and Melissa. She waltzed over to the table and her skirt flowed graciously behind her with the movement. 

“Hi, guys!” She greeted the two of you. “Guess who caught up on all their grading?”

You exchanged hellos and excitement for the teacher as she made her way to the fridge. When she rounded the table with her snack, she stood firmly beside you and playfully nudged your shoulder.

“Whatcha doing?” she asked as she began to eat.

“Nothing much,” you sighed, “I just finished this crossword.”

“Oh, you did the one on the paper! I always did that as a kid.” She shared, smiling at the memory. She knew you were on a crossword kick recently and that you completed multiple every day.

“There was a clue on there about football, which I know nothing about.”

“That makes both of us.” She laughed before sitting in the seat next to you. “I may know a little more than you, though. At least I know what the players look like.” 

“I know what some of them look like!” And by some, you meant none, but Janine already knew that. “Melissa helped me though.” You nod your head toward the woman's direction.

Janine looked at you with a glint taking over her eye that only you could read. You knew she was making a mental note to ask about the interaction later when it was just you and her.

“Oh! Melissa.” Janine smiled as she said her name, elongating the ending. “Are you ready for game night?”

Janine had planned a bonding activity for the teachers, like she did occasionally, in hopes that it would help everyone destress from their busy schedules.

“I’m ready to kick all your butts. Again.” Melissa was undefeated in a few games and took pride in that.

“Someone’s cocky,” Janine glanced at you.

“Nuh uh,” she waved her finger around. “It’s called confidence. Maybe if youse had more of it, you’d be able to beat me.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t play to win,” Janine stated with a satisfied smile. She always claimed that she was only there to have a good time, which in return received an eye roll from everyone.

“Yeah, that’s what all the losers say.” She moved her hand in a circle to emphasize the word ‘all’. She then stood up and pushed her chair underneath the table. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta go find a movie for my kids to watch.”

As soon as she heard the door close, Janine turned to look at it for confirmation that Melissa was out of earshot. “So, Melissa helped you with your crossword, huh?”

“Oh my gosh, Janine.” You chuckled at her insinuation, noting the toothy smile she displayed. She had an inkling that Melissa liked you, but that was an overstatement.

“What?” She looked at you quizzically, though she knew exactly what you were trying to say.

“Yeah, so?” You shrugged nonchalantly, keeping eye contact with her. “She also gave me some more advice regarding the situation with my student.”

A look of "I told you so" crossed the woman's face. “Didn't I say it'd be a good idea to ask her? You should listen to me more often.”

“And she may or may not have made coffee for me.” You casually brought the mug to your lips, eyes closing at the pleasant taste. By some supernatural powers, she had made school coffee enjoyable.

The teacher gasped and her hand clutched your arm, startling you a bit. “Really? Oh my gosh!”

“Janine, please,” you pulled your arm from her grip. “You’re acting like a child.”

“Oh, whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “You know you love it.”

Though you tried to stave off your giddy expression, you cracked. “Must you have to read into everything?”

“Only the things that matter. Like how you're drinking out of her favorite mug.” She pointed at the cup, noting the teal and black ombré design.

“Now you're just making stuff up.”

“Are you kidding me? You cannot be this oblivious!” There was no way she was reading too deep into things.

“It's not oblivion. I'm just being logical.”

“How far has that gotten you?” A hand popped over her hip as she quirked an eyebrow toward you.

“Oh, hush.” You pouted.

During your time at Abbott, you and Janine developed a special relationship. You were a first-year teacher and Janine was in her second year, so you bonded over being new to the field. Teaching was hard for you to navigate in the very beginning. While Janine was still fairly new to teaching, she had learned a lot and grown tremendously in her first year. She was very resourceful and she shared a lot of her tips and tricks with you. Whenever you felt your insecurities getting the best of you, she would always be there to pick you up. 

Because the two of you had become so close, she knew how you felt about Melissa. Janine was very attentive, and you couldn’t get anything past her. She could tell that being around Melissa made you nervous. It wasn’t because you were intimidated by her—you had gotten over that feeling within the first few months of working with her. You were drawn to her tough nature and how the energy shifted when she walked into a room. She was intelligent and had a great personality once you broke through her icy exterior. 

Since the beginning of the year, all you wanted was to impress her, but every time you tried, you just embarrassed yourself. For a while, you weren’t sure why you cared so much. You didn’t know why what she thought mattered until you came to a conclusion halfway through the school year. It all mattered because you liked her. It was a strange thing to come to terms with, but you decided to let the feelings run their course. There was no harm in that, right?

“She's just in a good mood today. I’m 99% sure she sees me as the kid that teaches the same grade as her.”

“That’s not true,” Janine assured you, but she knew how Melissa could be. The woman had to warm up to you before she showed her true colors.

“It is and you know it.” You said affirmatively.

“She’ll come around.” She spoke as if she knew something you didn't.

You looked at her with doubtful eyes and you could see her facial expression change as she thought of an idea. Uh oh.

“I could put you and her on the same team tonight,” Janine said in a sing-songy voice. “Name a better way to get her to warm up to you.” She waited for you to answer, but you were heavily against this. Janine was the proud organizer of game night, which meant she was in charge of making the teams. 

“I could actually think of several, much better ways.” You enlightened her. “She would eat me alive if we lost.” You were not competitive, and you knew winning was important to Melissa.

“Oh, come on, Y/N!” Janine practically whined. “It’ll be fine.”

“No.” You said firmly, standing from your chair as you noticed the time. You had to retrieve your kids from the art teacher in five minutes. Janine followed your lead and walked out of the lounge trailing behind you. You couldn’t even see her and you knew that she was sulking.

“Quit doing that.” You laughed, looking in the direction of the shorter woman. “It’s not gonna make me say 'yes'.”

“But–” She started but was cut off within seconds.

You whipped around to face her. “Remember what happened at the last game night? When you made her draw eight cards during Uno?”

Janine didn't answer though she knew exactly what you were talking about.

“Don't worry, I’ll refresh your memory. She ended up losing and didn’t speak to you for weeks. Weeks! I can't risk that.”

Janine ended up getting the victory and despite that, it was not a good night for her. “It’s fine, now.” Granted, she wasn't sure if it was, but it seemed like it.

“No. I refuse to let her give me the cold shoulder because of you.” It wasn't even about the crush at this point. You worked closely with her and wanted nothing to compromise that. Besides, she could hold a grudge like her life depended on it.

“Fine, I won’t do it.” Janine relented, though it seriously pained her. She believed wholeheartedly that she could shift the dynamic between you and Melissa.

Though she was defeated, something told you she wasn’t letting go. “Thank you,” you said before heading in the opposite direction to pick up your class.

 “But let me know if you change your mind!” She added as you walked away.

That statement alone made you less confident in her ability to leave it alone. Though she meant no harm, she was hopeless. You knew she'd be fighting tooth and nail not to go against her word. Of course, she wanted to honor your wishes, but once she was set on a plan there was no going back.

Sure, Fridays were a fan favorite, but something told you this one would be the death of you.

A/N: Hello, Hello! This is just a little something to start your week off right. It's been sitting in my drafts for a while and I wanted to get it out. Also, part two of Kiss It Better is on the way! Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #sugarᥫ᭡writes

[lizzieisright]

Moon peppers (4)

(1) (2) (3)

Palestine: what can you do

were!Abby x witch!reader

Summary: Abby runs away from her (former) pack and into your forest. You're not happy with your new (woods?)mate.

Tags: fantasy au, sloppy worldbuilding (fuck it we ball), fem!reader, alpha!abby, witch!reader (so not an omega), sentient forest, stubborn idiots in love who annoy each other.

Notes: how do I keep hating the witch after she saved my life asking for a friend

Taglist: @abbysbae @poxismind @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @pjmispunk @herdelreydear @lmaoo-spiderman @littletinyladybugs (if you want me to tag/untag you for the whole series dm me please)

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Your morning is.. odd. You expected yourself to forget how to control so much magic, but instead it feels better than the last ten years you spent being weak. You really couldn't live like this: it made you feel vulnerable and helpless, and now that your power is back, you feel like yourself again.

In a way it terrifies you. Because you were a completely different person ten years ago, and now you don't want your old habits back. You don't like seeing your tattoos and runes, especially the ones on your forearms, but you try your best to make peace with it. Your tattoos have almost nothing to do with your power - they're just channels for your magic, a spellbook engraved in your skin. They were faint before yesterday, fading away as your powers grew weaker, but they were still there, and they will not disappear until you die. You have to accept it, and maybe, if you don't make stupid decisions this time, you'll change your heart about them. 

You meditate before breakfast to manage your flow of magic exactly like Caitlyn showed you, even though you expect the wolf to wake up at any moment and trash your still room. But the wolf is asleep - you can feel it through the bond, which is annoying: you don't like having your space disturbed like this. You're sure the wolf won't like it too. You concentrate on the bond between you to see how well the healing is happening and it makes you groan - fat chance it will be finished by the evening, with this pace it will take a whole damn week. The thought of spending more than a day with the wolf makes you depressed.

Abby wakes up. This fact alone shakes her to her core: she is not dead. She is supposed to be dead, what the fuck? More than that, she feels almost okay - she is not supposed to feel mostly okay, she fucking died! She knows this, because no way in hell she hallucinated having her throat ripped out. 

Then Abby opens her eyes, tries to move - and goes into survival mode. She is in a still room and she is restrained. All her paws are chained and she can't move. This is worse than death. Oh god, this is so much worse. 

Abby tugs on her chains with all her power, but they down even bulge. Abby growls and coils and tries again, but she only hits the wall with her back. Abby starts to panic: she can't stay here - the fucking witch bound her! She is in debt to the witch! She needs to leave before you come and order her to do something horrible. 

Abby tries again, but this time the door to the still room opens and Abby sees the creepy glowing eyes of yours. Abby starts to move around even more violently - she doesn't want you anywhere near her. You're one of the rare monsters of this world and she needs to either get away from you or to kill you, but she is not staying here. The moment she is free she will rip you to shreds. 

At least you look scared when you enter the room and you keep the biggest distance possible from her. Abby growls and snarls, clasping her jaws around the air, eager to kill you. 

“It's not what it looks like.” You blurt, your arm in the air as if you want to tell her you came in peace. 

Abby growls louder. 

“Listen, I'll free you if you calm the fuck down and turn into human form so we can talk.”

Abby is so angry she doesn't even consider the possibility of calming down or pretending to calm down. 

“Or I can force you to turn into a human.” You say in a shaky voice, as if you're yourself scared of this possibility. 

This actually makes Abby stop. She doesn't want you near her, so she needs to pick the least of two evils. Abby growls and starts to change, her fur disappears and her bones rearrange. The chains tighten around her human wrists and now she is sitting on your floor, glaring at you, her shirt ripped on her sides and her pants dirty.  

“Thank you. I will explain everything and then I'll free you, okay?” Abby just growls at you again. 

You swallow hard: the wolf is even scarier as a human. The woman is big and strong and her claws are out still, her arms are bulging with muscles, and the way she looks at you doesn't help you calm your nerves. Her shirt is red from blood and it only makes her look scarier. You clear your throat and start speaking.

“Yesterday I found you dead, and the woods wanted me to save you. So I did. Right now you're still in the process of healing and if you go too far away from me, the energy will stop coming and you will die. This is why I brought you here. I also knew you would want to kill me or you'd run away, so I chained you. Now, please make peace with the fact that you're stuck with me for a while and then I will release you. Good? Good.”

Abby growls, humbled. She doesn't want to make peace with it, but you do sound logical. And you're still scared of her, which is a good sign: maybe you won't have the guts to hurt her. 

“Am I blood bound to you?” Abby growls and you look offended and angry, which confuses Abby. And also amuses. 

“Fuck you.” You spit. “Not all witches are like this, you ungrateful beast. The only bound you have is the energy one that heals you. After that you're free to leave and please don't ever see me again. Jerk.”

You flick your fingers for the chains to disappear and stomp out of the still room. You knew this werewolf was an asshole, but holy fuck! 

The wolf stomps after you.

“It would not have happened if you didn't take all the moon peppers!” The woman argues and follows you to the kitchen. You turn around and stare at this ungrateful, entitled shit of a wolf. 

“First of all, as if a bunch of moon peppers would have saved you from getting your throat ripped out!” You snap back and get into her face, angry and stubborn. “Second of all, maybe if you didn't fucking attack me and talked to me instead I would have shared some of them!” You flip your arms around in frustration.

“Because witches are famous for being helpful and kind.” The wolf snarls at you and you can't believe the audacity of her. 

But she is also right. She did have all the reasons to attack you and not trust you. You calm down a bit and take a step back. 

“It's still idiotic to attack a witch. I might've not been so nice.”

“You were shitting your pants in fear.” The wolf deadpans.

“As if I wouldn’t find a way to get my revenge without a direct attack. You're exceptionally stupid.” You huff and the wolf growls. “You took my friend's den, covered it in blood and attacked me. Do you comprehend what I could have done if I wanted to? You know why witches use blood binding? Because it  makes us stronger.” You hiss sadistically into the blonde's face.

For a second there's fear in the wolf's eyes, and some part of you feel satisfied. The other part, though, feels disgusted with you. You take a breath. 

“I'm sorry. You just really pissed me off being so stubborn about your own safety.” You sigh and rub your face. 

The silence falls and you go to the kitchen to cook some breakfast for yourself and for this stupid wolf: after all, you will be stuck together and if someone will be nasty and poison the shared time, it won't be you. 

Abby blinks. She feels lost. She expected you to be some kind of creep or a sadist, even if you were afraid of her; and she knew you could've bound her - that's exactly what she thought happened. But she didn't expect you to actually be nice. Well, relatively nice: you chained her for her own good, then threatened her and now you just apologised to her, and Abby feels like a fool if she continues being mean to you. She really doesn't have any ground to mistreat you except some rumours and her awful, but limited experience. She only met one witch before. 

Well. She can play nice too. 

“I'm Abby.” Abby says grumpily, still not ready to believe you: you just threatened to bind her, for god's sake!

You hum and tell her your name as well while you cut vegetables with aggressive vigour. Abby assumes you're imagining cutting her into pieces. 

It's awkward. It is really, really awkward. You're obviously still frustrated and Abby doesn't burn with desire to talk to you either. Plus she is in your home and she definitely doesn't know where to put herself. She settles for a stool near you. Abby stares at your back and your arms silently, and then she is hit with the realisation. 

“You didn't have tattoos before.” 

You smirk sadly. 

“Yeah, well. Before that I didn't have to revive a whole werewolf.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Ask the forest. They made a deal with me.”

How calculating, Abby thinks. Also: how the fuck do you deal with a forest?

“So you still do deals.” 

“It's different.” You say sharply. “I don't blood bind.”

“I get it.” Abby huffs and backs off: a witch who doesn't like blood binding, might be a goddamn oxymoron. “So for how long am I stuck with you?”

“Three days, probably. Maybe more, depending how fast you'll heal.”

“I heal fast.”

“Don't compare your usual healing with coming back from the dead. Who knows how much of your brain died. That's why you can't be far away from me. You go away, you break the bond, your brain dies. Got it?”

Abby hums. She has never heard of anyone being able to revive someone. She thinks you know some old forbidden magic if you can bring people back, and it just doesn't match with what she sees: a scaredy cat who lives in the woods and has to spend hours fishing to get three fish. Your home is cosy and warm, with a lot of natural light and Abby doesn't understand how you could have saved her life: you’re soft and weak and live in a house suited for some kind old lady, not a witch who could bring people from the dead. How much fucking power a witch would need to even do that?

“How far is too far?” 

“If I stay here and you go beyond my shields, you're dead.”

Abby sighs, annoyed. She doesn't want to stay next to you for three days. She is somewhat grateful for being alive, but it's weird. It's very weird to be in one space with you. 

You place two plates and sit opposite of Abby. Abby looks at her plate and wants to hesitate, to think, but she is so fucking hungry she starts eating right away. 

It's not…bad. Edible. (God she will have to eat like this for three more days?)

You watch the wolf- Abby's face and can't help your smile. Unfortunately you're very familiar with the fact you can't cook - Cait and Vi tried it once and since then you don't host dinners anymore; sometimes Cait sends you back with food - but you didn't expect the wolf to be so sensitive to your food. You eat it just fine after all. 

���It's bad.” You laugh. 

“It is.” Abby agrees. “Did you do it on purpose?”

“What? No. My taste senses are just fucked up by a lot of potions.”

You see how Abby tenses and you sigh: it's strange to have your everyday life being seen as some kind of horror story. There's a lot of rumours about witches that are mostly true, but you don't think of Abby as a mindless, uncivilised beast even though she is a were, so there should be room to believe that some witches are not that bad. 

(You think of your past and feel ashamed: it's not like you were “not that bad” all your life). 

“Don't tell me you've never drunk a potion.” You try to appeal to Abby's own experience, but you know she might have a bad one. “From coughing? Pain killers? Never?”

“Are you saying witches brew them?” Abby smirks like you're ridiculous. 

“Well, yes. We sell them for money, that's how everyone gets them.” 

Abby is silent as she chews your food that you think is quite edible, actually - but she drinks her flower milk with every spoon and you take a wild guess she can't stomach it. 

“Okay, listen. Are you a good cook?”

“Yes, actually. Everyone with enhanced senses makes a good cook.” Abby says with pride and you see her blue eyes sparkle. She also has freckles. Which is kinda cute. 

“Then you can cook whatever you want and not suffer.” You offer. 

Abby frowns at you like she expects some kind of trickery. You sigh again and raise your hands in defeat. You tried. 

“Do you have any meat?”

“...No.”

“And I can't hunt.” Abby explains to you like you're stupid. You roll your eyes. 

“There's fish in the freezer. It should be fine.” 

That's how Abby spends her afternoon: cooking fish. She has to ask you for other ingredients and you send her to your still room, which makes her shiver. It's creepy - just like you are with your eyes and tattoos and potion drinking or whatever - and Abby thinks of people trapped in these still rooms and being experimented on. She is happy she doesn't see any kind of animal parts on your shelves. You're out of the house for the most part: when Abby looks out of the window, she sees you sitting on the ground, absolutely still. Weirdo. 

“At least this weirdo is harmless compared to her kin.” Abby says to herself while she cuts the fish.  

You also saved her life and didn't ask for anything in return - not counting leaving you alone after - and Abby really struggles to keep thinking of you as a monster. You don't seem half-bad. And she should make friends here, now that she doesn't have a pack. The thought of being friends with a witch actually makes Abby laugh out loud.

After lunch, which is spent mostly in silence except for your praise on Abby's cooking, you tell her you'll be in the still room and that she can find something to be busy with. You point at books and yarn. Abby rolls her eyes. 

She has absolutely nothing to do. Her instincts are going crazy as well: your home looks like it needs an alpha. You're not an omega, and you don't need Abby's help, but she feels like she'll go insane if she doesn't fix something. She fights her urges, but after an hour she gives up and sharpens your knives. It makes her feel easier and she can read in peace now. 

You come back in a few hours and sit on the opposite end of your sofa, exhausted. Abby doesn't look at you. 

“Tomorrow I'm supposed to go to the village for my check ups. You'll have to come with me.”

Abby frowns. She doesn't want to show her face in the village - what if some of her former packmates are still around and will notice her? 

“Can your deals wait?” You sigh loudly, annoyed: can this wolf be nice for one fucking minute or is Abby trying to establish some kind of hierarchy in your house?

“I am a healer.” You deadpan, tired of dealing with Abby’s shit. “People need me.” 

“It's not safe for me to show up like this.” Abby scrunches her nose.

“I guess it’s connected to the fact that you were dead yesterday.” You say and Abby can only nod. “I can hide you, if you want. There's a spell that will not let people recognise you if they mean harm.”

Abby coils back. She doesn't want any fucking spells to be put on her! But in a second she clears her head and thinks about it: she clearly doesn’t have a choice if she wants to survive. And you offer her help, so maybe it’s not too bad. 

“How can I know you're not fucking with me?” You blink and Abby tries not to look you in the eyes: you look like an owl. And not in a cute way. 

“Can't you smell if I lie? I know weres can smell emotions. Also, the bond we have can make you feel awful if I try to harm you.”

Abby hums, thinking it over.

“Okay. But if you try any funny business, you're dead.”

“You'll be dead too, idiot.” You roll your eyes at Abby and she rolls hers in return. 

The wolf is kinda annoying. You can understand her distrust, but her threats are getting ridiculous. 

The last step of this strange and mostly unpleasant day is getting ready for bed. You look at your small sofa and try to think how Abby will fit, but the other option is the floor, which you assume she won't appreciate. You give her the choice anyway, Abby looks between the sofa and the floor like it's a hard choice, like she thinks the floor is a valid option. Then she agrees to sleep on the sofa. (I'll turn back if I'm uncomfortable, she tells you.) You bring her a pillow and a few blankets: the nights are getting cold and you usually use your magic to keep the hut warm, but you can slip up when you sleep, and wake up to a freezing house. 

“Why don't you use wood like normal people?” 

“It's too much work. I can find a tree that fell, but you need to chop it, bring it here, chop more, store the logs. Nah. Magic is easier.” 

Abby huffs. 

“So you rely on your magic all the time.”

“And you rely on your senses and strength.” You deadpan. 

Abby doesn't say anything in return, having no valid arguments. You sigh and make a circle with your hand, turning all lights off, and then you show Abby where the candle is in case she needs some light for her reading. Abby nods and you wish each other good night. 

You both can’t fall asleep for a long time, too bothered by each other: you don’t like having Abby in your home after she has been so nasty to you for the reason of “the witch”, and Abby doesn’t like being in your home for the reason of, well, “the witch”. She is alive, and she should be happy, but your presence is a constant threat and she can’t let herself fall asleep. You can’t fall asleep because you feel Abby, her life energy like a giant bright light in your living room and it’s hard to ignore it. You try to meditate but it seems to make you even more energised. 

You fall asleep when it’s so dark you can’t see anything beyond your windows. Abby falls asleep five minutes later.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #alpha!abby #moon peppers

[scoonsalicious]

1.1 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntire, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, slight objectification of men.

Word Count: 1.6k

Previously On...: Lily McIntyre met Bucky Barnes. Everything had changed, and now it's only him that matters.

A/N: You know what? Fuck it. Turns out I write more when I'm actively writing for all of you. Plus, I miss you, besties. Yes, I know-- it's only been two days, but I don't care. You guys give me the strength to face the day, and when I'm interacting with you, I'm happiest. So, we're starting the full roll-out of With Friends Like These... Now, there won't be multiple postings per day, so I won't be dropping a bunch at once. We're going to start nice and slow, lol. I hope you like it!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You stood outside the door to the bar, nervous as fuck. It wasn’t every day a girl got invited to spend an evening out on the town with the goddamned Avengers, and though you’d only known Natasha Romanoff for about six months now, you were honored she liked you enough to extend an invitation for you to join her and her friends on their off time. 

Giving yourself a once over in the reflection of the bar’s window, you double checked to make sure you looked good– your hair and makeup were on point, your dark wash skinny jeans hugged your curves in the best possible way, and the black satiny top you wore under your leather jacket showed just enough cleavage to be tantalizing, but not trashy. 

You got this, you told yourself. You took a breath, and walked inside. 

The place was dimly lit, but not too crowded. You were able to spot Natasha easily– it wasn’t as if the striking redhead was hard to miss. She sat at a high top with another redhead, nursing a vodka tonic. Catching her eye, you waved and made your way over.

“Major!” Nat greeted you, going in for a friendly hug, which you happily returned. “I’m so glad you made it!” She pointed to the other redhead– Wanda Maximoff, The Scarlet Witch, you remembered now from having seen her on the news– and introduced you. “Major, this is Wanda; Wanda, Major.” You shook hands as the other woman offered you a kind, welcoming smile.

“Finally, some balance to the force,” she joked. At your questioning look, she elaborated: “We are desperately outnumbered in the girl department when it comes to our friend group,” she said. “It’s just me and Nat versus the boys.”

“There’s Lily, too,” Nat interjected.

“Please.” Wanda said, waving Nat’s words off dismissively. “We all know that Lily is not one of us.”

Nat snorted into her drink. “Lily’s just not really a girl’s-girl,” she offered to you in explanation. “Very much sees herself as ‘one of the guys,’ if you catch my meaning.”

You nodded; you’d had plenty of experience with pick-me girls in the past. “Yeah, I know the type.” You waved down a waitress and put in an order for a frozen margarita.

“So, Major,” Wanda said, taking a sip of her beverage once the waitress had gone, “which one of our lucky bachelors is going to catch your eye tonight?”

“I don’t follow,” you said, confused. 

Wanda turned to Nat and playfully hit her on the shoulder. “You bitch! You didn’t tell her?”

Nat had the decency to look sheepish. “I wanted it to be organic,” she said, offering you an apologetic smile.

“Natasha Romanoff,” you said, realization dawning on you, “did you invite me out tonight to try and set me up with one of your teammates?”

Nat frowned, looking remorseful. “I know I should have said something, but you’re always complaining about how you never have luck with dating, and it just so happens I live in a compound literally full of eligible men, so I thought… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have overstepped.”

The waitress brought over your margarita and you raised it, toasting to Nat. “Fuck apologies; you want to hook me up with an Avenger? Girl, remind me to send you a gift basket!”

Nat and Wanda both laughed, raising their own glasses to toast with you. Wanda leaned over toward you, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.

“Alright, don’t be obvious about it,” she said, “but our fine gentlemen are over at the pool table.” You followed her line of sight and were met with an array of some of the most attractive men you had ever seen. Yeah, you’d seen them on tv, and in magazines, but they were always wearing costumes and masks. But up close? And in person?

“Woof,” you said softly. 

“Okay,” said Nat, leaning in on your other side. “Let’s size up our options. First, we’ve got Captain America, himself, Steve Rogers. All-American, corn-fed, take-home-to-mamma kinda guy. Such a gentleman, could bench press four of you. Knows how to treat a girl right.”

“And bore her to tears,” Wanda added.

“Wands!” Nat flashed her eyes. “We’re supposed to be talking them up!”

Wanda shrugged. “Facts are facts,” she said. “A sweetheart, really, but very old fashioned.”

“Fine,” Nat said, exasperated. “Moving on, we have Sam Wilson, our resident Falcon. He’s funny, charming, a great dancer.”

“Seriously good moves,” Wanda added with an enthusiastic nod.

“Smart, good listener,” Nat offered. “Incredibly loyal.”

“You make him sound like a puppy,” you said, laughing.

“Oooh, oooh, my turn!” Wanda said enthusiastically. “Next up is our resident himbo, the one and only Thor Odinson. Unbelievably endearing, the body of a literal god: Great hair, an ass you could bounce a quarter off of, arms that could snap your tiny little body right in half if he had half a mind to…”

“Down, girl,” Nat said, flicking some droplets of water from her water glass at Wanda. “Damn, we’re here for Major, not you.”

“Sorry,” said Wanda, ducking down to hide her blush behind her hair. “He’s just so… big. And… beefy. Like, what does one even do with that much man?” she asked, before muttering so low you could barely hear her: “I would really like to find out.”

You and Nat stifled your laughter. “Okay, definitely not going to be Thor for me, then,” you offered. Across the room, another man caught your eye, one Nat and Wanda hadn’t mentioned yet. “Who’s that?” you asked them.

Nat craned her neck. “Oh, that’s Parker. I dunno; he’s kinda on the young side for my taste, but the kid is 18, so if that’s what you’re into–”

“Ugh, no– pass,” you said, realizing she had been referring to the skinny teenager who was hanging on Steve Rogers’ every word. “No, I mean the brunet. Who’s he?” The more you studied him, the more you realized he just may be the most handsome man you’d ever seen. He was currently leaning against a pool cue, engrossed in conversation with Sam. He had a slight smirk on his face, as if he was keeping in a very humorous secret, and it painted his features in an adorably boyish light. 

While you were looking at him, he turned his head and saw you watching him. You should have been mortified at being caught staring but instead, you were taken aback by how striking his crystal blue eyes were. You offered him a soft smile, and were delighted when his own widened in return, his cheeks taking on a dusky hue in the low light, before Sam elbowed him, bringing his attention back to the game of pool. He shot you another look, running his tongue along his bottom lip, before refocusing his attention.

“Oh,” said Nat, following your gaze. “Oh, no, no, no. That’s Bucky Barnes. He’s… not on the menu.”

You turned back toward her, disappointed. “Oh. Of course, guy that good looking’s got to have a girlfriend, right?”

Nat and Wanda exchanged glances. “Not exactly,” Nat said.

“Remember how we mentioned Lily not being a girl’s-girl?” Wanda asked, nodding her chin toward where the boys were racking the balls for a new game. You hadn’t noticed the woman in their midst before– petite, blond, and athletic. 

“Yeah, Lily’s more of a Bucky’s-girl,” Nat added. “Just, you know, Bucky’s not aware of it.”

You must have looked very confused, because Wanda was quick to clarify. “Bucky only joined the team… what? Four years ago?” She looked to Nat for confirmation, and Nat nodded. “He was like a totally different guy back then. Didn’t go out, didn’t want to be around people.”

“Like Oscar the Grouch, but if you took him out of the trash can and gave him moderately better grooming standards,” Nat offered. 

“Yeah,” Wanda continued, nodding in agreement, “and for the longest time, the only person he would talk to was Steve. But then, like, Lily made it her life’s work to become his best friend.”

“I remember it annoyed the shit out of him in the beginning,” Nat added. “Poor guy just wanted to be left alone to process his trauma.” She sighed. “But the girl was relentless. She’s got tenacity, I’ll say that for her.”

“That’s actually kind of sweet,” you said. “That she wouldn’t give up trying to be there for him.”

“No, sorry,” Nat said. “We’re not explaining this well. She basically made being Bucky’s best friend her entire fucking personality. It was like, any other friend she had just–poof! Stopped existing to her. We no longer mattered; everything became about Bucky.”

“It’s a bit much,” Wanda said. “She’s very… I don’t want to say protective is the right word for it, but very possessive of him.”

“It’s like no girl Bucky’s ever dated has been good enough to pass her standards,” Nat said. “And she’s had no problem making that abundantly clear, and I know she’s been the reason for at least a couple of his relationships ending. Poor guy’s balls must be so blue by now, they’re practically black; she never lets him get any action.”

You took a sip of your margarita. “Well, they’ve got to be sleeping together, right?” you asked. Nat and Wanda both looked at you. “I mean, that would explain it, right?”

“Oh, they are definitely not,” Nat said. “Though I’m sure she wishes. I heard him tell Steve she reminds him of his dead kid sister.”

You sucked in a breath. “Ouch,” you said. “Just what every girl wants to hear, I’m sure.” You looked back over to the pool table, admiring the way Bucky bent over to take a shot. “It’s too bad,” you said, turning back to girls. “I mean, he’s hot as hell, but no man’s worth taking on that kind of drama.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

[slasherscream]

She Likes a Boy (And I’m Not Just a Boy)

pairing:  jordan li x fem!reader

summary: You and Jordan are friends with benefits, and Jordan is trying so hard to be okay with that. Somehow, they still fell in love with you despite their best efforts to not fucking do that. But you've only ever fucked them when they're a guy, so they assume you're only interested in them one way. Just like everyone else. You've never said anything to make them think any different so it's obvious, right? So they take what they can get. Which is only half. And they keep you at a distance, because anything else will kill them.

A/N: flashbacks are in all Italics. some smut.

gif credit: artemidosgifs and stannyramirez

“Oh shit, Jordie, wait-” You can’t catch your breath, legs shaking where they’re thrown over Jordan’s shoulders. 

“Stop fucking squirming.” Jordan huffs, licking some of your wetness off your thigh.

Your vision is swimming a little. How long have you been in this position? Or in Jordan’s room? It’s hard to keep track of anything, when you’re with them. His tongue finds your clit again. Insistent, rough swipes. You’re too overworked now for anything gentle to even register. How many times have you cum now? 

“You always taste so fucking good.” Jordan moans, voice hoarse and low.

He puts a hand under your back to press you further into his mouth. With only your shoulders pushed into the mattress you can’t move. Jordan’s eyes are always glued to your face when you fuck. As if he’s daring you to shy away from whatever he’ll do to you next. 

Considering that his favorite thing to do is overstimulate you, you’re not sure the irritation is fair. What are you supposed to do when he’s made you cum four times and is still going? According to Jordan, the answer is simple: lie there and take it. 

Lifting you up. Pinning you down. These are the solutions he’s arrived at. Jordan hates having to chase you just to give you the orgasm you begged him for in the first place. 

“You ready for my fingers again?” Jordan asks, but it’s not a real question, because you don’t get to so much as gasp before he’s plunging three fingers into you again. 

He’s rough as he rocks his fingers into that soft spot inside of you that always makes your eyes roll back into your head. He knows the angle you like him to use by heart. 

“Fucking shit, Jordan!” Your hands fall into his hair, grip like a vice, and Jordan half moans and half laughs against you.

It’s the vibrations that send you over the edge again. The breath leaving your lungs in one rush as that coil inside releases and makes the world go white and your ears ring. 

You come back to yourself slowly. Jordan hovering over you, pressing kisses into the side of your neck. You grasp at his shoulders, pulling him down so that he's laying on top of you. The weight is comforting after the overwhelming head rush. You still feel shaky. He goes down easily, wrapping one arm underneath you.

“I can feel you smirking, jerk.” You laugh weakly, hitting his arm.

“You soaked my fucking fingers. Think I'm allowed a smirk.” Jordan says. 

He lifts his head from your neck and there's that smug look you love to see him wear. It's enough to make you ready to have him all over again. You settle on gently massaging his scalp. 

“I'll tell you what you're allowed.” You tease, grinning at him. 

“Hah! Always have enough energy to be a fucking brat, huh?” Jordan rolls his eyes. 

You wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. “I've got enough energy to make out too! Gimme a kiss.”

“Fucking insatiable.” Jordan scoffs, but gives in. Because he always does. 

It's hard to think when Jordan kisses you. He kisses like he doesn't need to breathe. Or be anywhere else but with you. One of his hands finds yours, locking your fingers together. You squeeze tight. Try not to imagine holding his hand like this outside each other's dorms. Because that only ever makes you feel empty afterwards when all the hormones from the orgasms should leave you floating.

You get a third wind when Jordan rocks his hips against yours and you feel he's hard again. You reach a hand between the two of you, grasping his dick to angle him back inside. Thank God for Supe refractory periods. You sigh when his tip pushes into you. 

“Yeah princess? You want me again?” He tries to sound teasing, nonchalant, but he only sounds like he wants you just as bad.

You rock your hips so that he slides inside fully. Watch him tilt his head back and moan for you as you move. Hungrily taking in the way every sound shapes his mouth. You lean up to kiss at the underside of his jaw. You can't leave any hickies on him but you always kiss him like you want to. God you fucking wish you could. Maybe if you could leave marks people wouldn't chase after them so much. If everyone knew Jordan was yours. But Jordan isn't yours. 

You bite him a little harder.

Jordan's hand finds your throat. You whine, the noise strangled against his palm. You go lax as he pushes you back into the bed. Gently. His fingers flex, a little tighter, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“Gonna be good for me?” Jordan asks.

You nod your head frantically, legs dragging him closer. It's never close enough. No matter what you do. 

“Yeah, I'll be good, Jordie.” You say the words he wants to hear, feeling your head go soft and thoughtless again.

“Fucking liar.” He grinds his hips into yours and chokes you harder when you clench around him. 

You’d been fast friends, best friends, since the moment you stepped on campus and met one another as freshman. Talking to Jordan. Spending time with them. Everything that first year didn’t even feel like getting to know one another. It just felt like coming home.

You didn’t say as much to Jordan. They would have rolled their eyes and scoffed at how sensitive you were, if you had. But you knew they felt the same way. You were the one Jordan went to whenever they were sad. When they were excited. When they were coming into themselves, learning to love who they were after a lifetime of everyone else telling them not to. 

You were the first person to see them. Before Brink, even, you saw them. All their potential. All their greatness. All of them, and Jordan had never forgotten that. 

Jordan saw you too, in turn. You’d never felt like much more than a pretty face, before Jordan. 

You were the type of beautiful that made people look twice when they walked past you. When you were a little girl you soaked in all the praise like a flower. Every: ‘she’s so pretty’, and ‘well look at her!’, or ‘oh wow!’ was nourishment to your little soul.

It would be impossible to pinpoint the moment you realized that was all anyone saw. Even once your powers manifested. Advanced healing, advanced reflexes, limited invulnerability, energy manipulation. You were the whole nine yards. Your parents, when you were thirteen, had sent a video of you using your powers off to Vought. 

A man and woman showed up a day later in suits, wanting to meet you personally.

“She sure is a little looker, isn’t she?” The man had said, and he’d held your hand for too long before he let go. 

They’d come prepared. With ideas for costumes. Which team of teenage Supes you should be placed with. If you should just go straight for television. The adults talked around you. Not paying you any mind as you stared at the costume that would reveal so much skin. You’d never worn a skirt that short before. You hadn’t been allowed, hadn’t even wanted to, really. If you’d come home from the mall having bought anything like that on your own, your parents would have blown a fuse. Now they just sat on either side of you, mile wide grins plastered on their faces. 

All the voices faded to background noise. You realized maybe you were too young to be a superhero. You thought it would involve more... saving people. Running into burning buildings. Getting the bad guys. Saving the day. The people from Vought were only talking about magazine spreads. About what persona would fit your look. 

“What about school?” You’d asked, quietly, and everyone in the room had turned to look at you baffled. 

“What about school, sweetheart?” The woman laughed. “You’ll get a private tutor, of course. But your future is big. You won’t even have to worry about stuff like that anymore. Goodbye lame homework. Hello red carpets!” 

You sat very quietly until they left. Your parents were more angry than you’d ever seen them, when you told them you wanted to wait until after high-school to pursue being a hero. 

You knew telling them you weren’t sure you wanted to do it at all was off the table. 

During high-school you noticed people didn’t listen to you. You would be telling someone about your favorite book; or talking about a movie that changed your whole worldview, only to realize the other person had been staring at your lips the entire time. 

You stopped talking so much about things you cared about. No one listened anyways. 

‘Bimbo.’

‘Airhead.’

‘Slut.’ 

Were all things you’d heard before you’d ever gone on your first date. Gotten so much as your first kiss on the cheek. High-school was lonely, and you couldn’t talk about it being lonely without sounding like an asshole, you quickly realized. The few friends you had would roll their eyes when you’d try and vent. You thought it was just playful ribbing. Friends tease each other. It made you feel included! Until you caught them mocking you behind your back to one another.

‘Look at me, I’m Y/N, and life’s so hard because I’m so pretty and popular. Is she fucking serious? Stuck up bitch.’ 

You stopped venting.

When you got to God-U, you weren’t sure what to expect. College was a chance to reinvent yourself. Even if you weren’t sure you wanted to be a Superhero you knew this could be a chance to find your people. Lifelong friends. 

People who you could get coffees with between classes. Who would go to all your birthdays and want to be there. People you would spend hours on the phone with. Fall asleep studying together. Girls who might like you enough to make you their maid of honor. Guys who would high five you when you did something cool and not try to sneak a glance at your chest. 

You were imagining it all as you unpacked your boxes. Your stomach twisting itself into knots. Living in a half world between excitement and dread.

Then you met your roommate and she gave you the look. The look you’d gotten all your life from girls, and you knew you’d never be real friends. Girls who looked at you like that kept their boyfriends away from you at parties. And they never shared the secrets that friends share because they thought you’d put them in a fucking burn book. The look alone almost made you give up and just go home. 

You went for a walk instead, fighting back tears. That’s when you ran into Jordan. Literally, ran into Jordan. You knocked the both of you to the ground. 

When they’d snapped, “What the fuck dude?” at you, harsh and angry and very them, you’d burst into tears. 

It wasn’t the perfect way to meet your person. But you were glad you met them at all. 

 “Stop moving your eyes away from the screen.” Jordan says. 

“I’m not allowed to move my eyes away from the screen?” You laugh.

“No, this part is really important. You have to pay attention. I wanna see if you catch it.” 

You try your best to keep your eyes glued to the screen, as instructed. But you can’t help the way you keep glancing towards Jordan. She looks good. She always looks good, but right now you don’t even want to look away from her. The colors of the movie flashing across her face, blues and golds, make her look like a painting. 

“Are you watching?” Jordan asks, and you smile at the excitement in her voice. 

You look back towards the movie, wondering what she wants you to see so badly. You look just in time. A small detail catches your eyes and you gasp, reaching out a hand blindly to shake her in your own excitement. 

“Did you see that in the background?” You shake her again, for good measure.

“I saw it.” Jordan laughs.

“That means that he killed the wife!” 

“How do you figure?”

You pause the movie, ready to explain where you think the plot is heading. When you turn to face Jordan you have to take a deep breath. You don’t know whether you love or hate that look. Your feelings on the matter change day to day. 

Jordan is leaned up into the arm of the couch, relaxed, and she’s staring at you with The Smile she wears sometimes. She started doing it a few months into your friendship. Back when you used to talk and then slowly stop. So completely sure that nobody wanted to hear what you had to say. 

Jordan had asked you, back then, why you always stopped telling stories halfway through, or stopped talking about your day, or the latest book you’d read. 

You wanted to lie, at first. Eventually you told a half truth, “I never have anything interesting to say.” 

Jordan had looked at you for a long time. You were worried that somehow, up until that moment, they hadn’t realized how boring you were. But you acknowledging it out loud had made them think about it, and now they were going to ditch you for a friend who was interesting, funny, and smart. 

Instead, Jordan had told you that she loved the way your mind worked, and she’d smiled The Smile at you, for the first time. You hadn’t known how to respond, to the words, or the smile. You turned the conversation back towards Brink’s latest class assignment. 

Later that night you’d gone back to your dorm room and cried, but you’d felt happier than you’d ever felt. 

It made you feel warm and soft that three years later Jordan still smiled at you like that. It felt like your cue to say anything on your mind, no matter how dumb. Green light means go. The Smile means talk. 

“Well?” Jordan nudges you with her foot, still smiling, and waiting for you. 

You shake your head to break free of the spell she puts you in, “Well, look at his sense of style for the entire movie. All his stuff is modern and sleek and then the first time we see his bedroom all the rest of the decor is in line with the rest of the house, except that one thing. All the camera shots are so purposeful and they lingered a little, after he walked away. They wanted us to see he was keeping a trophy. He totally killed her, didn’t he?” 

Jordan pauses for a second and then laughs. “I don’t know how you always guess right. I didn’t see the twist coming at all the first time I watched it.”

“Secondary super power.”

“Connecting all the dots?”

“Connecting all the dots, yeah.” 

“Y/N! Y/N, thank fucking god, you gotta come with me.” Cate grabbed you by the arm, rougher than she’d ever touched you before. 

“I was on my way to class.” You tripped over your feet as Cate pulled you the opposite way you needed to go.

“Forget class! Jordan’s gonna get themself expelled.” Cate snapped. 

“What?!” 

“They’re beating the shit out of Peter in the locker room. Luke’s not on campus. I can’t get close enough to stop them-”

You’d broken into a sprint towards the fighting arena. You didn’t know what the hell was happening. Peter and Jordan had spoken maybe ten times to each other in all the years of attending the same university. 

You’d never gotten anywhere so fast in your life. Andre was standing steadfast in front of the entrance to the boy’s locker room, a small group of other students standing outside. You could hear the sounds of fighting pouring out from the door. 

“Back it up you fucking vultures.” Andre snipped. He might not have super strength but he was still Number 4, and could look intimidating when he needed to. 

“Andre, what’s going on?” You pushed to the front of the crowd. 

“Thank fuck Cate found you. You gotta get in there. Jordan’s gonna fucking mur-” Andre glanced at the phones pointed at the both of you, trying to record even a drip of gossip about top students trying to seriously hurt each other and lowered his voice, “Jordan is actually gonna fucking kill Peter. I’ll keep the crowds back. Get in there.” 

You moved past him into the locker room and your jaw dropped at the state of the place. 

You thought these lockers were bolted down. Apparently not. At least four rows of them were knocked to the ground, heavily dented. A water bottle refilling station had been crumpled to nothing, exposed pipe spraying water across the floor.

“Get off of me you fucking animal.” You heard Peter cry from further in the room and ran. 

Jordan had shoved Peter up against the wall. You were surprised Peter was still conscious. He was lucky he healed so fast. You could see his black eye fading even as Jordan broke his nose. 

“You fucking stay away from her. You understand? I hear you fucking talking like that again and I take the tongue out of your fucking mouth, you asshole.” 

Peter laughs through a mouth full of blood,“Not my fault she gave it up so easy, Li-” 

Jordan throws him into one of the last standing lockers and you see that they are indeed bolted into the ground. Evidently, Jordan throws stronger than Supe resistant steel can take. When Jordan moves to lift Peter out of the crater his body made in the downed locker you rush in between them, putting a shield up. 

“Y/N?” You can see some of the anger fade from Jordan’s face, just a little, at the sight of you.

“Hey, Jordie. Think Peter has had enough.”

Jordan scoffs, “No, he really fucking hasn’t,” he leans around you to yell at Peter, who’s trying to push himself onto his knees, “He’s still running his fucking mouth!” 

“Pussy whipped asshole-” Peter groans.

You glance at Peter on the floor, aghast, “Peter! Stop antagonizing, Jordan. What’s wrong with you?” 

“Unbelievable, honestly. You walk in on Jordan kicking my ass and you tell me to stop antagonizing the fucker?” Peter huffs, pushing his nose back into place so it won’t heal wrong. 

“Name calling isn’t gonna make him stop kicking your ass. I’m trying to help.” You shoot back.

“Well, no one needs your help, you dumb-” 

“Hey.” Jordan interrupts. He’s not yelling anymore, but his voice is the loudest thing in the room. “Watch your mouth, Peter. I fucking mean it.” 

You look back and forth between them. They watch each other for a long moment. Jordan looking eerily calm. Peter looks away first. 

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought. Come on, Y/N.” Jordan grabs your hand and marches you out of the locker room. Past Andre and Cate, who try to stop you both but Jordan waves them off and muscles his way past the crowd too. 

He doesn’t stop until you’re back in his dorm room and he’s shut the door behind the two of you. 

“You were fucking that loser?” He asks, clicking the lock into place.    

“You’re lucky Andre and Cate kept people out of the locker room so there’s no video of everything! You could get expelled, Jordan! What the fuck happened?” 

“He hit me first and he’s not even in the top ten. What’s he at? Number 14? No one’ll give a shit what happens to him. When did you start fucking him?”

“I’m not fucking him! Or… I’m not just, fucking him. I’m… I was dating him. Why were you two fighting?” 

“Dating? For how fucking long? You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.” Jordan’s hair is already a disheveled mess. He yanks his fingers through the strands and makes it worse. 

“We’ve been going on dates for like… three months? Kinda? Maybe.” You say quietly. 

“Three months?! Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me? What the fuck?” 

“Why are you so mad?”

“Friends talk to each other about shit like this! And if you’d talked to me, I would have told you that Peter is a clout chasing piece of shit that’ll never amount to anything. You should’ve heard the shit he was saying today. Fucking piece of shit!” 

“That’s why you were fighting?” You wring your hands together, a knot tying itself over and over in your stomach. “What did he say?”

Jordan stops pacing the room, goes still and turns away from you. 

“Well? What did he say? It was bad enough to make you two beat the shit out of each other! So what was it?” 

“He just… You don’t have to worry about it, okay? He won’t go near you again.” Jordan says firmly.

“Whatever he said he’s gonna keep saying. Just behind my back. I should know.”

Jordan sighs and moves to sit beside you on his couch, knee bouncing with anxiety. “He was… bragging to his shitty friends. About being the first guy on campus to fuck you. About how it didn’t even take that long and… how… he was thinking of recording you. So he could show them how slutty you are. It was…. fucking disgusting.” 

“Oh.” You say. 

You swallow around the lump in your throat. You’d done everything you could to avoid something like this happening. Had kept your dates off campus, to make sure he actually wanted to date you and not just the hot girl ranked Number 3. You’d spent nights staying up on the phone laughing and talking. You’d put off sleeping with Peter for a whole two months, even though you liked him, because you wanted to make sure he liked you. 

You hadn’t even let him call you his girlfriend until a few days ago. You thought he really liked you. But no matter how hard you try… you guess this is it. You’re just something pretty to look at. Even Vought doesn’t take you seriously, despite your powers. You’re the top ranked student in everything. Right behind Jordan. Forensic analysis. Combat. Battle strategy. Still, you only ever get asked about makeup routines and how to maintain your figure in interviews. 

You wipe at your burning eyes and try not to cry about something you’ve already accepted. 

“Fuck that guy. Fuck him. He’s so far beneath your level I’m surprised you can perceive his plane of fucking existence, okay? He’s a fucking single cell organism. He doesn’t even know what a brain is.” Jordan gets up from the couch to kneel in front of you, tries to look you in the eyes. 

“I’m so fucking stupid.” 

“No, you fucking are not. Don’t say that about yourself. He’s fucking stupid. It’s genuinely insane you even wasted your time with him. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing anyone?” Jordan asks, voice quiet.

“I just…. I wanted to make sure he was actually gonna stick around before I even brought him up to you. You’re so … important, why tell you about someone who isn’t? It’s not like you write home to me about any of the people you mess around with! We’ve never really talked about this kind of stuff.” 

“Yeah, but it’s different. I’m not serious about anyone! You were actually dating, Peter. And I would have told you not to.” Jordan rolls his eyes.

“Well, I wanted to make sure it was serious. Before I even said anything.” 

“It wouldn’t have gotten serious if you’d told me about it in the first place. I wouldn’t have let Peter within ten feet of you!” 

“We’re talking in circles.” You huff in frustration, pressing your palms into your eyes to stop the stinging.

“Sorry, I just…. Fucking still wish I was beating the shit out of him, honestly.” Jordan says.

“You are not leaving this room for the rest of the day, Li. Even if he is Number 14, you can’t walk away from a fight then go back for seconds cause you didn’t get it all out the first time. That won’t hold up too well in court.”

“He heals too fast for there to be any marks left on him. It’ll all be hearsay.” Jordan smirks.  

You let out a weak laugh. Jordan reaches out, touching the corner of your lips. “Can we shoot for something a little bigger? If I don’t see you smile soon I’ll actually go kill him.” 

You roll your eyes and slide to the edge of the couch, so you’re resting your head on Jordan’s shoulder, leaning all your weight against him. He wraps his arms around you, rubbing circles into your spine.

“I really wanted it to work out, Jordan.” You mumble into the skin of his collarbone.

“With fucking Peter?” 

“With… anyone.” Your voice wavers and Jordan’s grip gets tighter. “It’s so fucking lonely. I just want to be someone’s favorite person. Not because of how I look, but because they like me. Really like me. And no one fucking does, no matter how hard I try.” The tears start falling now and Jordan pulls back and makes you look up at him, one hand on your cheek. 

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. I fucking… I like you. I’ve always liked you.” Jordan says, frantic as he wipes away the tears as they come.

“It’s not the same, Jordan!” You shake your head, and bite your lip. You’d almost said it’s not enough. Because it isn’t. But you can't think about that for too long. It makes the hole in you ache a little worse. 

“Yeah….guess it’s not.” Jordan says quietly. He keeps wiping away the tears, dutiful and gentle as he goes. 

“You said he hit you first?” You ask, after a long moment of him quietly soothing you.

“Come on, I’m not stupid. Had to let him get the first swing in.” Jordan smirked.

“What did you say to make him hit you?” You ask.

“Told him he was lucky you believe in charity work and giving back to the fucking needy.” 

It’s enough to startle a laugh out of you. You smack his arm weakly before pulling him into another hug. He kisses the top of your head so softly you don’t notice it, too busy laughing. 

“Y/N, good to see you dear. You keeping our Jordan out of trouble?” Brink asks as he comes out of his office, not surprised to see you perched on Jordan’s desk. 

“Professor, we both know that I’m the one getting Jordan into trouble.” You flash the older man your most mischievous grin. 

“Ah, my apologies. I assume that means you’re distracting her from doing her work, as well?” Brink raises an eyebrow teasingly. 

“Yes.” You say.

“No.” Jordan protests, at the same time. 

You throw your head back with a laugh. “It’s a goal I hold most dear to my heart, to distract Jordan from grading these papers. I think I’m succeeding wonderfully, you’ll be happy to know, Professor.” 

“She’s joking, Professor.” Jordan smacks your thigh and you glance down just in time to burn the image of her hand on your thigh into your brain. She almost never touches you, when she’s like this. 

“You know, Jordan, I didn’t happen to lose my sense of humor after I hit sixty.” Brink waves off Jordan’s concern and leans towards the two of you, whispering conspiratorially, “I know the gray hair gives the illusion of being a boring old fart, but I do like to laugh every now and then.”

Jordan shakes her head with a small laugh and you can’t help but watch, entranced, at the way her hair brushes the olive skin of her cheeks. When you look back towards Brink you find him already watching you, a knowing smile on his lips. You laugh nervously, and look down at the wood grain texture of Jordan’s desk. It’s suddenly fascinating. Is it real oak? Cherry?

“You close to being done, Jordan?” Brink asks casually. 

“Uh-” Jordan’s face blanches and you suddenly feel genuinely sorry for distracting her from her work. 

“-relax, kiddo. You’re not in trouble. Geez, what am I, a work nazi? Those papers don’t need to be graded for another four days, right? You work too hard. I was just asking cause’ I was getting a little hungry myself and wanted to know if you could use a break? There’s a great new Indian place nearby, apparently. Professor. Karp was telling me about it yesterday. It’s only a twenty minute ride away. Wanna tag along?” 

“I should probably finish up a few more papers-” 

“She would love to take a break, Professor.” You reach over, saving the work Jordan’s done and shutting down her laptop at lightning speed. 

“Brat.” Jordan mouths the word at you quickly, so Brink won’t see. 

You stick your tongue out at her, not caring if anyone sees. 

“You should come along too, Y/N. Been awhile since we last caught up.” Brink has a twinkle in his eye that you can’t quite place.

You slide off Jordan’s desk anyways, not willing to pass up any valuable Time Spent With Jordan, “I’m not sure if I trust Professor Karp’s recommendation on restaurants, but I’ll try and be very brave about it if the food is awful.”

“Jordan, have I ever told you how much I love this girl?” Professor Brink shrugs on his coat with a laugh. 

“Yeah.” Jordan watches Brink help you into your own coat with a small smile. “Yeah, Professor you have.” 

“Fucking fuck me!” Jordan throws her phone onto the coffee table in front of her.

“Are the parental units being emotional terrorists again?” You ask from your spot on her bed, turning the page of your textbook, mindlessly highlighting another sentence that could be important for the upcoming final. 

“No, it’s just the whole fucking roster is busy.” Jordan roughly runs a hand through her hair, disheveling her bob. 

“Huh?” You look up from your notes.

“The whole roster is locked in for finals but I really need to let off some fucking steam!” Jordan sighs.

“How big is the roster?” You try to sound curious, like a best friend would be, and not irritated, like someone in love with their best friend would be. 

“Too big for me to not be fucking someone right now.” Jordan snips. 

“We are studying right now. Or I’m studying, and you should be studying too, instead of thinking about needing to get your rocks off.” You say coolly, flipping to the next page. 

“I can’t fucking focus.” Jordan groans, but comes back over to the bed and flops down beside you, throwing her arm over her eyes. “What concept are we on now?” 

“Theories on limiting public and private property damage in fights with other Supes.”

“There is no fucking way I can focus on something that fucking boring without having an orgasm first.”Jordan groans, again, “It’s not even about limiting loss of human life or injury?”

“Nope. Property damage.” 

“Fuck me!” 

You both fall into silence. You studying. Jordan, you assume, weighing the pros and cons of downloading Tinder. The thought makes your stomach drop.

Then you get an idea. An awful, horrible, no good, rotten fucking idea. 

Your mouth is opening before you can stop yourself, “You could fuck me.”

“Huh?” You’ve never seen Jordan sit up so fast.

“I just mean- … we really gotta focus and I... I mean if you just need to let off some steam we could always…” You try your best to fumble your way into proper usage of the English language but even the thought of fucking Jordan makes that impossible. 

“Are you serious right now?” Jordan shifts halfway through the sentence, eyes glued to your every nervous, jittery movement as you sit in front of him.

“Wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t a real offer.” You say quietly, not looking up from the book. 

Jordan snatches said book from your lap and tosses it away, ignoring your noise of protest. “You don’t think it’d make things weird?” 

“Weird was when I had to take you to get your wisdom teeth removed and you kept saying the green man was gonna get us while you were still high off the good stuff. Sex is just sex, right?” You try to say it casually. 

“Would… would it be a one time thing?” Jordan asks slowly.  

“It could be more… we could be-” You say, equally as slow. 

“- could be?” Jordan echoes, voice sounding oddly tight and expression carefully blank.

The look is so strange it makes you panic, and if you’d thought of saying something stupid and desperate for one second like ‘a couple’, well, that look on his face is more than enough to send you straight back to reality on the ‘my-life-fucking-sucks’ express in no time flat.

“We could be like friends with benefits!” You blurt out in one breath. 

“Oh.” Jordan says. 

“It was just an idea.” You reach for the textbook again, which landed near Jordan’s thigh. You’re careful not to touch him when you grab it, or sound too disappointed, or heartbroken at the completely lackluster reaction Jordan has to the thought of having sex with you. “A stupid idea, forget it.”

“Why’s it stupid?” Jordan’s brow furrows, tone teetering on the edge of defensive. 

“I mean…” You can’t think of a reason fast enough. “We’re probably sexually incompatible.” 

“Why do you assume that?” Jordan goes from staring at you, to glaring at you. 

You’ve always hated how once Jordan latches on to a line of questioning, you can’t get them to drop that interrogation for shit. A dog with a bone has nothing on a Jordan who wants an answer.

“I don’t… know?” You say, but it sounds like a question. 

“I think we’d be compatible.” Jordan states this like he’d state the sky is blue or water is wet. 

“Have you thought about it before?” You ask, bewildered. 

“What, are you into something really kinky?” Jordan answers your previous question not at all.

“No!” There goes that nervous body language of yours again. 

“Only way to really know if we’re sexually compatible is to actually try it out.” Suddenly, Jordan is within your personal space bubble. 

You don’t really know how to react, your body freezes up on instinct. Jordan’s hand comes up to rub soothing circles into the crook of your elbow. Your shoulders fall away from your ears.

“Can I kiss you?” Jordan’s voice is quiet, soft as he tilts his head to knock his nose against yours. Playful, teasing. But the look on his face is something you can’t place at all. 

You feel his breath on your lips and nod absentmindedly. 

“Don’t want you to nod when I ask you a question like this. Yes or no, Y/N?” 

“Ye-” The words not fully out of your mouth before Jordan is kissing you, a heavy hand pulling you closer by the nape of your neck. 

You pull yourself into Jordan’s lap and try to focus on how good it feels when he nips at your bottom lip, instead of how much you wished you’d asked him to be your boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. Everything. Even if he’d said no, at least then you would have had an answer. Now you’ve only made your life harder. 

You stop thinking so much when Jordan puts a hand on your hip and guides you to grind yourself against him. 

“Y/N’s right.” Jordan mutters, not looking up from his phone. 

“No, she is not. You’re just agreeing with her because that’s your default factory setting. Listen to the context of the argument please.” Andre snaps, drowning his Vought Triple meat burger in ketchup.

“I did. Your grim dark theory on children’s media is lame, and Y/N knows more about the Monster’s Inc universe than you ever will.” Jordan shrugs.

“Hah!” You laugh in Andre’s face.

“Is it really such a flex to be an expert on the lore of a Pixar movie universe?” Cate asks teasingly. 

“Yes.” You say. 

“No.” Andre says, like a sore loser.  

“I agree with Y/N, it’s literally in the explicit text of the movie, Monsters Inc isn’t a post-apocalyptic world. It’s a separate dimension from ours. The monsters come to our dimension to harvest screams of children to get clean, scream energy. God, Andre, pay attention during movie night.” Luke jumps in on the tormenting Andre train, grinning wildly at the other man from across the table. He gets a middle finger for his troubles. 

“I’m glad someone pays attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You sniff haughtily. 

“I literally agreed with you first.” Jordan looks at you from over the top of her phone in a way that makes you blush. 

“I’m glad two people are paying attention to the intricate lore of the greatest movie of all time.” You clear your throat. 

“Thank you.” Jordan’s intense brown eyes fall away from you and you take a gulp of your drink. 

“Bathroom alert, Y/N. A stall just opened up.” Cate tells you pointing to the bathroom door right as another girl exits. 

“I am kissing you on the lips, telepathically.” You say, sliding from the booth you’re all sharing.

“Don’t you telepathically lip lock with my girlfriend.” Luke calls after you, laughing.

“Get some powers of telepathy yourself and make me, fire boy.” You enter the bathroom, shutting out the sounds of laughter from your table with a smile. 

You take the biggest stall at the back and try to go about your business quickly. You hear two faucets turn on, someone washing their hands, and try not to get pee shy. 

“So how was it?” A monotone voice asks, you assume one of the hand washers.

“You know I don’t usually kiss and tell, but it was insane.” A higher, more giggly voice answers. 

“So they really are good in bed then, huh?” The monotone voice sounds a little more curious. 

“Incredible. All the rumors are true. They’re a little… uh, brusque, about the after sex part, if I’m putting it lightly, but the sex itself was great!” The high voice chirps. 

“What? Did they throw you a towel and tell you to kick rocks?” The monotone voice asks. 

“Pretty much.” The high voice sighs. “But they made me cum so many times I think I’d still pick up if they called me again. You think they might?” 

“I say this with all the love in the world: girl stand up.” Monotone voice drawls. 

“You wouldn’t be telling me that if you knew how good it felt to sit on her face.” High voice says.

You stifle a laugh, trying not to get caught eavesdropping, but with Supe hearing it really is hard to mind your own business. Besides, they’re not being that quiet about the conversation anyways. 

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Or you could experience it for yourself. They were just as good as a boy as they were as a girl. Maybe better. I dunno. She was more aggressive as a girl, which was kinda hot.” 

“Jordan Li, pussy eating extraordinaire. Can we go now? Our food is probably ready.” Monotone voice sighs. 

“Fine, but I’m telling you, the things they can do with a strap are-” 

The voices fade away with the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing. 

You find you don’t really want to finish eating your food, when you get back to the table. You spend the rest of lunch trying your best not to look at Jordan, and also ignoring Cate’s concerned gaze boring into the side of your skull. 

You pretend to be sick to avoid having to face the reality of Jordan being more than happy to touch other girls as a girl. They just don’t want to touch you when they’re a girl. You wonder what about you is so uniquely off putting. You wonder why it can’t be you. Why can’t it ever fucking be you? 

Jordan barges into your room on day three of the silent treatment that you told the group chat was due to a raging fever. 

Luckily your eyes, swollen shut from all the crying, and the red nose to match, corroborate the story. 

“We got it all. We’ve got tissues. We got soup. We got pain meds. We got liquid meds. We also have all the ingredients for a hot toddy, if you want to mix your poisons a little.” Jordan begins to unpack everything onto your counter. 

“I don’t want to take anything.” You say morosely, and a little mean, kind of wanting to hate them but just feeling sad. Jordan’s your best friend before anything else, and you could never hate your first real friend. 

“Come on, just a little something. You sound fucked up.” Jordan practically coos, touching your forehead. “Feels like your fever’s gone down a little. Sit up for me.” He says, and pulls you to sit up when you don’t do it on your own.  

“I don’t want to fucking-” Jordan puts two pills in your mouth as soon as you open it to bitch at him. He hands you water to help you swallow it down. 

“Thanks for that. That was really fun for me.” You snap once you’re done.

“It’s for pain and should bring down the rest of your fever.” Jordan lays you back down, tucking the covers all the way up to your chin. You marvel at the way he doesn’t rise to the bait of your very clear attitude. Jordan, catching the look on your face offers you a small glare. “I’m worried. You usually don’t get sick. I’ll check that attitude when you’re better. Now, do you want the damn hot toddy or not?” He rubs your head soothingly.

“Yes, please.” You try not to pout as you watch Jordan make the drink for you. You really hate how hard it is to hate them. “Sorry, Jordie.” 

“Oh, you can go ahead and save that apology for when I make you cry into your pillow, yeah?” Jordan doesn’t even look up from measuring the ingredients.

You pull the covers over your head and leave them there until Jordan pulls them back down. 

You almost hadn’t come to the party. 

You weren’t in a partying mood, as of late. You were in more of a Shakespearean pining era than a City Girls one. But the group had bullied you in the group chat for a week straight until you’d promised to come. The group bullying hadn’t worked so much as Jordan asking you one single time to go had.

So here you were. 

You’d been nursing one drink for the better part of an hour and hadn’t done a single line of cocaine. Jordan had offered you some, but the line had already been placed on the back of his hand. You politely declined, much to his confusion. You only ever did hard drugs with Jordan, and only at big rager parties like this one. 

At the moment you’re nearly sober. Because you didn’t so much as want to touch Jordan right now. Let alone do something like snort a line off of him. Then you’d have to do something like lick the residue off his skin. Which would lead to kissing him. Which would lead to making out with him. Which would lead to fucking him. 

And you think, for the sake of your sanity, you need to be done fucking Jordan Li. 

It’s been about three weeks since you were “sick” and you’d dodged every attempt at getting physical that Jordan tried to initiate since. At first you were able to pass it off as still feeling icky. That excuse worked for a week. Now, you didn’t hang out alone with them and pretended not to see Jordan’s ‘you up?’ texts until morning. 

Your friendship just needs a hard reset. This time spent not having sex will do it. 

Besides, it’s not like Jordan isn’t swimming in fucking choices. What does it matter if you’re one less body off the menu? There are plenty of hot girls at this school. Jordan’s probably already fucked half of them.

You throw back the rest of the drink you’ve been nursing all at once.

“Are you okay?” Cate puts a hand on your arm and you offer her a blinding, completely fake smile. 

“Yeah!” You say, as chipper as possible.

“Jesus christ.” Cate replies, face going all sad and concerned. “What did Jordan do?” 

“Huh?” You blink, confused.

“You are the most pissed off I’ve ever seen you. What did Jordan do? You’ve been avoiding them for like two weeks. What gives?” Cate pulls you closer by the arm so that she doesn’t have to shout over the music. 

“Nothing!” 

“Can you try to lie again but do it better, this time?” Cate frowns.

“Jesus Christ, does everything have to be about Jordan? Must my whole entire goddamn life revolve around Jordan Li?” You snap, the way someone who isn’t mad about anything does.  

“Okay.” Cate says slowly. Like she’s trying to placate a wild animal. 

The tone alone makes you roll your eyes and move to disappear back in the crowd of drunk twenty-somethings. But she firms her grip on you, the leather of her glove digging into your skin. 

“Y/N-”

“I’m fine, Cate. I just have to get over it.” 

“Get over what?” Cate narrows her eyes at you. That shrewd look she sometimes wears when she knows something before someone else falls onto her face. 

You wonder if you’re completely transparent about your pining or if Cate missed a dose of her medication. Is she starting to hear the buzzing of your frantic, angry, miserable thoughts? Or is she just naturally perceptive? 

“So, this is where the real party is hiding!” An arm is thrown around your shoulders suddenly and you are careful not to sigh, because Jordan may not be as perceptive as Cate, but they’re pretty damn close. Especially when it comes to you. 

You’ve never moved away from them holding you close like this before, so you can’t do it now. You try to just be still. Don’t lean into his warmth, but don’t cringe away either. You probably used to melt against him, when he touched you. Pathetically. Desperately. A sunflower following rays of light across the sky. 

“-Princess?” Jordan gives you a gentle shake and your head snaps to the side to look at him. “You okay?”

“Yup!” Apparently, you didn’t say that convincingly because he starts to scowl at you. Surprisingly enough, the thought of withstanding a Jordan interrogation does not make you want to be at this party for much longer. “I’m gonna head out, though.” 

“What?!” Twin exclamations of confusion form Jordan and Cate both.

“Not feeling it. I think I need to get some more sleep. I got a headache, or… something.” You shrug.

“Or something?” Jordan echoes.

“You are not going anywhere, yet, dear friend.” Andre throws his own arm around you, appearing from thin air, and tugging you away from Jordan. You’ve never been more grateful to him. 

“How do you figure that?” You laugh.

“We’re about to play truth or dare in the other room and you dodged playing last time. You can leave after you’ve played. You can’t get known as the truth or dare dodger.” Andre says. 

“You say that as if being a party game dodger is like being known for dodging the Vietnam draft.” You snort.

“No, it’s worse. People that dodged the Vietnam drafts are heroes. Truth or dare dodgers are cowards. Come on.” Andre begins to drag you towards the other room and you go along with minimal dragging of your feet across the floor. 

The room is crowded, but all the faces are familiar. They’re all within the top twenty, or the groupies that hang around everyone in the top twenty. You pull Andre across the room to a spot on a raggedy couch you have to squeeze the both of you into. No room for Jordan, who you want to avoid. Or Cate, who is too fucking perceptive. 

You wish you’d grabbed another drink for yourself. Jordan winds up across the room from you, in an optimal position for trying to catch your eye and give you a concerned look every ten seconds. 

This does not make Truth or Dare more fun to watch. 

Vulgar dare from one classmate to another. Forcing someone else to admit an uncomfortable truth. One humiliation after the other. Pick your poison on whether you want to debase yourself through the damnation of your own words or a physical act. All challenges of self-mortification being doled out by people who secretly don’t like each other very much, but all call each other friends anyways. 

“Earth to Y/N the space cadet.” The girl sitting next to you gives you a playful shove. You try not to glare at her. Her name escapes you. You think she hangs around with number 6. Or something. 

“What?”

“Cate picked you. Truth or dare.” She says the words ominously, causing teasing jeering to rise from the entire group. 

“Well, Y/N, what’s it gonna be?” Cate raises her eyebrow at you challengingly. 

“She doesn’t have to play if she doesn’t want to, guys.” Jordan rolls his eyes.

“Dare.” You say, wanting to get this over with. 

The room erupts into excited noise. You don’t know why. Cate, of all people, would never force you to do anything humiliating. Or truly scandalous. It’s why you trust her enough to say dare, instead of truth. But you never pick dare, because anyone else would abuse the power. Everyone looks too eager to see Number 3 do something embarrassing. 

As if Cate isn’t your closest friend beside Jordan. As if she’d abuse the trust you place in her. It makes you sick. You don’t wanna be here. At this party, or at this stupid fucking school.

“I dare you…. to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.” 

“What?!” Jordan turns to give Cate the nastiest, most disgusted glare you’ve ever seen.

“She doesn’t have to do it if she doesn’t want to. You know I’m all about consent.” Cate shrugs innocently, crossing her legs together and giving you a smirk. 

You sit for a second, contemplating your next move. There are plenty of pretty girls at this party. In this room. If nothing else, the top twenty and their groupies are photogenic (hell, some of them are only in the top twenty because of their looks to begin with. You hope you’re not one of those.) But there’s only one girl you want to kiss at this party. 

There’s only one person in the world you want to kiss at all. 

You take a shaky breath, feeling like the walls are closing in. Andre nudges you subtly, catches your eye, as if to say: ‘you okay?’ but there’s something else in the look too. Something that says it’s not just Cate, who knows. Probably your whole friend group knows how you feel. Probably the whole school. Probably anyone but Jordan sees it. And Jordan probably does see it, because they’re too fucking smart not to, and they’re choosing to ignore it. Because it’s easier that way. Because your feelings are probably too inconvenient. Because you’re not their type. Because you’re clingy, and stupid, and not good enough- 

You stand up. The room is a wall of noise, and smell and sound pressing in on you. You see Cate smirk. You see Jordan looking away. You see every girl in the room sit up straight. Delusional, if they think any of them could ever be anything, compared to Jordan. 

You walk past every other girl in the room, and stand in front of Jordan, who still isn’t looking.

You kick his ankle with the toe of your heel, to get him to look at you. His head snaps around, the curls of his hair sticking to his forehead, and he looks comically confused. And it’s really too fucking much, for someone as smart as Jordan to look so confused. So fucking baffled, about what’s happening here. But it’s a pretty convincing act. That only makes you more angry. 

You make an impatient motion with your hand. A ‘do it already’ movement of your wrist. The same way you’d crossly signal for another driver to go first at a fucking four way stop. 

He just blinks up at you, owlish. 

"Well? Are you gonna let me kiss the prettiest girl at this fucking school or what, Li?" The room has gone a little quiet, or maybe the blood is rushing in your ears so bad everything is quiet in comparison. 

Jordan stares up at you for a moment longer than is comfortable. And you really start to feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you. You don’t let yourself shy away from the attention. Not Jordan’s, not anyone else’s. You straighten your spine and look down your nose at him, and tap your foot. Try to look like the mean girl everyone expects you to be because no one cares who you actually are. 

As if you could care less if Jordan leaves you stranded right now. As if it will be their loss, if they don’t kiss you, instead of the worst moment of your entire life. 

Jordan shifts. 

You try not to think of how desperate you must look, when you reach out at a speed that isn’t human to hold her face and angle it up, so you can finally fucking kiss the girl you love. 

You wish you could kiss her like it didn’t mean anything. Like she’s nothing. Like you hate her. But you don’t know if this is the only time you’ll ever get to kiss Jordan when she’s your girl, and not your boy. This might be the last time you kiss Jordan ever. 

It has to be. 

You close your eyes tight. Try to ignore the way they’re stinging. You kiss Jordan slow and tender. The way you’ve always wanted to. You tangle a hand in her hair, to bring her closer. You try not to marvel at the way the longer strands tangle in your fingertips. She gasps against you, and her hands find your waist and you are too sober to cry over Jordan touching your waist above your clothes. Like a fucking middle-schooler. 

But the tears start falling anyways. You let out a quiet sob against her lips that you try your hardest to stifle, and Jordan may not have kissed you like this before. But she’s kissed you plenty. She pulls back, startled, like an animal. Big brown eyes full of concern. 

And the spell is broken, and you are standing in front of about thirty of the world’s worst, most unsympathetic human beings, crying, because you kissed your best friend who doesn’t want you back. 

You’ve got ten seconds to leave before someone pulls out their phone and records you. If they haven’t already started. 

So you run.

Through your tears the layout of the house becomes unfamiliar. You try to hide your face a little, and hope people don’t recognize you as you pass them by, sobbing openly. 

Years of pent up feelings are bubbling out of you. The relief. The grief. The way you hate yourself for falling in love with the only person who has ever loved you. Wondering why you couldn’t just be grateful for the kindest, most understanding friendship you never even thought yourself worthy of. Why couldn’t that have been enough? 

Why did you fall in love with them? 

A hand closes around your wrist and you try to yank yourself away but you’re pulled into a bathroom and the door slams shut behind you. 

You wipe your eyes so you can see who’s tried to save you from embarrassing yourself any further. 

It’s Jordan. Because of course it is.

You burst into tears again. 

“Are you fucking drunk? What the fuck was that? Y/N what the fuck is happening right now?” Jordan sounds on the verge of a mental break. 

She’s probably wondering what type of things people are gonna start saying about the two of you on social media. She’s probably mad at you for giving her a PR mess to clean up. 

“I’m not drunk!” You protest, sounding a little like someone who might be drunk. 

“Are you high? What did you take? Lemme see your pupils.” Jordan reaches out to grab your face and you swat her hand away. 

“No one fucking drugged me, Jordan. I’m just a stupid fucking idiot who’s in love with you! There! Are you happy?! Why don’t you go laugh at me with one of your stupid fucking girlfriends. You’ve got so fucking many of them.” You wail, sinking down to the floor, and hiding your face in your arms. 

The room goes quiet, besides the sound of you crying. Loudly. You think you might be having an anxiety attack. You can’t breathe right. But maybe that’s just from the heaving, toddler-like sobs. 

“You’re in love with me?” Jordan asks, quietly. 

“As if you don’t know!” You snap your head up to glare at her. She kneels down in front of you, and puts her hand on your knee and you try not to get distracted by how pretty she is. “I follow you around like a puppy dog. Like your little shadow. And everyone notices except for you, because you don’t want to notice, because you don’t fucking want me. I got the message, Jordan. I got it!” 

“What message?!” Jordan grabs you by the shoulders, voice fraying at the edges, and looks like she wants to shake you.

“You don’t touch me!” Your voice raises to the edge of a yell, and the sound of it echoes in the small room. 

“What are you fucking talking about-”

“-don’t be cute, Jordan. You don’t touch me when you’re a girl! I thought… I thought it was maybe just that you didn’t touch girls when you’re a girl but it isn’t. Apparently you have plenty of fucking girls that you touch and fuck, when you’re a girl. It’s just me, that you don’t! What’s so fucking bad about me? Huh? What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you want me?” You demand.

You think you might sound like an insane person, and you wish you could pull the words back in but the hurt is bubbling out. A river relishing that first burst of freedom when a dam breaks, no matter how much damage it causes. 

Jordan is staring at you like you’ve grown two heads. Mouth agape. You wish you were dead, a little.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Jordie.” Your voice goes small, and you sniffle. “I really tried to stop. But I can’t, I love you. I’ve probably loved you from that very first day. Because you’re wonderful, you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met and I don’t know how anyone…” You trail off, fanning at your eyes to try and pull yourself together. “...I don’t know how everyone else knows you without being in love with you. I wish I wasn’t in love with you, please don’t be mad, please don’t fucking-” You sob, again. 

You find yourself pulled into Jordan’s lap this time. It’s a foreign feeling, to be touching so much of Jordan when she’s like this. You bury your face into her neck and cry, and let her black hair block out the fluorescent lighting. She shushes you, cheek pressing against the side of your head, and that’s familiar. The way she soothes you. Your hands wrinkle the fabric of her jacket, clinging to her tightly. 

“I’m sorry. I can get over it, I promise. I just needed to tell you. I’ve never kept anything from you before. It was killing me, but I can get over it, Jordie, I promise-” 

“Hey, hey, hey, no-” Jordan’s turning you to look at her suddenly. “Don’t fucking… I’m not… I’m not mad at you or fucking… gonna leave you, Y/N. What the fuck? I love you.”

You could start crying from the relief of hearing those words come from her lips again. You thought she wouldn’t ever speak to you again. She grabs you by the chin and kisses you, hard, your teeth clink together and your noses mush and you go completely still and frozen, like a scared deer. 

“I could see the words not fucking register in your brain the way I meant them. I am in love with you. Romantically.” Jordan barely pulls away, you feel her lips brush against yours, every other word. 

“What?” 

Jordan laughs, “Good, now you’re just as confused as I fucking was. Why the fuck wouldn’t I want you? I’ve always wanted you. You’re…you.” 

“I’m me?” You echo. 

“I didn’t…. I didn’t want to make you feel… like everyone else has. Like I was just fucking waiting around for a chance to date you. Or fuck you. As if your friendship doesn’t fucking matter. Or was a consolation prize, if I couldn’t get you to date me. It isn’t a consolation prize. It’s the most important thing to me in the fucking world.” Jordan laughs, and the sound is suspiciously choked up. 

“Oh.” You say, and are crying. Again. Jordan laughs and wipes the tears away with her thumb. 

“But what about when we started having sex? You still… never touched me when you’re like this.” 

“You’ve never said anything about liking girls.” Jordan says quietly.

“You’re not just a girl. You’re the girl. And guy. ” You say, holding her hand against your face and kissing her palm fiercely. She laughs again, and puts her forehead against yours. 

“So what? I’m the one girl you’re into?” Jordan raises a brow and doesn’t look very happy saying the words, oddly enough. 

You tilt your head trying to puzzle out why, slowly, you arrive at a conclusion. “I literally talk about girls all the time.” 

“When?!” 

“I’m constantly pointing out pretty ones!” You snap. 

“I thought you were just being sweet!” Jordan snaps back. 

You close your eyes and breathe in the smell of her cologne. 

“You make me so angry I don’t know how to think.” You say, and kiss her bottom lip softly. “You’re not an… experiment, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re the…” You trail off, realizing this is not one of your romantic daydreams where you’ve thought of the words you’d tell Jordan over and over again. 

In real life you can’t tell people that they’re the love of your life if you aren’t their girlfriend. Unless you want to look crazy.

Jordan, who is your best friend, before she’s anything else, melts. Because she knows you well enough to know what you aren’t saying.

“Yeah.” Jordan nods, sniffling once and trying to look very tough even though her lip is quivering a little. “I… I love you too. Or whatever.” 

“If it makes you feel better I’ve slept with other women before, to make sure I wasn’t just in love with you.” 

“Weird fucking thing to tell me after I say I love you, but go off.” She glares at you. 

“I think you could do with feeling a little jealous. Why am I hearing stories about how good you are at fucking other women while I’m trying to piss at Vought Burger in peace?” 

“What?” Jordan’s brow furrows. 

“Three weeks ago I heard-”

“-I fucking knew you’ve been mad at me!” Jordan grabs your waist, pulling you closer.

“You would have been pissed too, if you heard the shit I was hearing!” 

“If I hear anyone talking about fucking you ever again I’m going to go to prison.”

“Hot.” 

“Shut up and be my girlfriend.”

“Shut up and be my everything.” 

“You’re gross.” But she kisses you, and it’s gentle, and no one else is there to see it. 

And it’s perfect.

A/N: this is my first time doing full on smut for a fic! it beat me the fuck up. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. and this fic took too damn long to write. xoxoxo

#jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #black!reader #hey bee are you ever gonna do a non force field power having reader?? great question! answer is no adjkl #forcefields are THE coolest thing you can have #aside from the song she likes a boy i was thinking of hate that i love you rihanna and neyo while writing #if you see a fucking grammer error point it out i need to get this posted so i can MOVE ON adjkl this one has been kicking my ASS

[comradekatara]

i read somewhere that, after the war, zuko at least hands hama over to the swt instead of keeping her in fire nation prisons 'till the end of her life. Which is nice, I think. But I'm also curious as to how that would work out.

Most notably: how do you think it'd go down if she were to meet Pakku? given they both have some sort of connection to kanna's life, the idea of them being forced to interact even once entertains me very much. like, old waterbending master pakku—white lotus member—who has grown up in a patriarchal society and actively forbidden women from training to fight, under the precedent they are somehow ontologically weaker, fragile, and belonging in the healing huts... THAT guy, meeting his former fiancé's old friend: (or current wife's if you go by canon, which, eugh) A woman who not only fought in the front lines but ended up becoming one of the most skilled, creative, and deadly waterbenders in history. How would he react when finding out that a woman came up with blood bending? How badly would Hama mind-fuck him?? Because I'm confident they'd hate each other's guts-- no way she'd tolerate him,,,

And on a similar note—how would Kanna feel upon reuniting wirh Hama and discovering what she put Katata through, in your opinion? Idk, I'm just full of puppetmaster thoughts today. Hama is incredibly interesting and I wish she wasn't handled so much like a Halloween Specisl creepy witch, (even though katara herself is handled and written pretty well in this episode, i think. but i digress.)

i mean obviously i think about this all the time. i personally think that zuko hands hama over to the swt upon katara's request, and she and aang personally deliver her on appa (sokka is not there, for the very deliberate reason that if he knew what they were doing he would very vocally disapprove). and so katara is sort of retraumatizing herself by doing this, but she also feels like it's necessary specifically because she needs to be able to look hama in the eye and tell her why they're not actually the same (especially now that she actually did bloodbend someone in cold blood). katara has the love and support and safety to step back from her anger and her pain and her grief and hang onto her own humanity and allow herself to be the bigger person even in moments of abject rage and acute trauma, and hama doesn't. hama is a victim of her circumstance, and that's part of what makes her so uniquely terrifying to katara, because katara has that same capacity to make people hurt, she has the same tools at her disposal, and she has the same justifications to exercise that power. but unlike hama, she hasn't actually been pushed past her limits. sometimes she can see the cliff's edge, and sometime she even teeters on the line, but hama was fully just shoved off without a parachute, and that's really what separates them above all. i think katara should be allowed to acknowledge that and forgive herself for that, even if hama doesn't directly apologize to her (although in my mind she does, and it's not enough, but it's also so much more than katara ever expected to hear). even if it is too late for hama, katara deserves to heal.

frankly, i don't really give a shit about pakku or his reaction to hama. i also don't actually think that he thinks woman are ontologically incapable of being talented waterbenders of whatever; he's a pretty worldly guy, the reason he clings to these traditions isn't born of the belief that they're grounded in logical evidence like sokka's is, it's because he believes in the preservation of a system that benefits and valorizes him. pakku thinks katara belongs in the healing huts because he comes from a culture that dictates that women belong in the healing huts. like, he might also subscribe to the bioessentialist logic that women are better healers and men are being fighters, but that honestly doesn't really matter, because (unlike sokka) his epiphany lies not in the fact that woman can fight, but in the fact that his role in upholding these systems has actively driven his loved ones away due to his cruelty. he decides to be kinder, to women and in general, because he realizes that being an asshole has negative consequences. but frankly, who cares what he thinks of hama. realizing that your sister tribe in the south deserves aid and protection after being subjected to a century of genocide is kind of too little too late imo. unlike katara, sokka, aang, or kanna, who can approach this situation from the perspective of being a genocide survivor who even remotely understands hama's trauma, pakku really has no place in this conversation to me.

as for kanna...... god. hama/kanna reunion is genuinely one of the most heart-wrenching concepts to me in all of atla. as a sidenote, hama/kanna fanfic goes so hard every time. there's a total of like 15 fanfics for them on ao3 (last i checked) but they're all sooooooo. fucking delicious. tide locked........... ugh. anyway. i cannot fathom kanna's reaction upon learning that her closest friend once upon a time is not only alive, but also a convicted felon, for crimes including but not limited to manipulating her granddaughter, violating her (and sokka's) bodily autonomy in cruel and perverse ways, and forcing her to participate in that mode of violence in a way that traumatized her forever. even if you don't read them as former lovers (although it is indubitably better that way) it's so gut-churning. kanna lost so many people over the course of her life, and to learn that one of them has returned but in the worst way possible must be mind-boggling and distinctly unreal. like how do you even process that. first, how do you process how much pain she must have went through to become the kind of person who is capable of doing this, and then, how do you process the knowledge that the person you once loved most in the world irreparably hurt the person you now love most in the world? obviously she would always prioritize katara's safety over anyone else's no matter what, but god. kanna has led such a fascinating and impossibly difficult life, and it's not over yet.

#kallianthi #asks #analysis #postwargaang #hama #katara #pakku #kanna #hamaxkanna #hama&katara #also i didn't mention it in the post itself bc i've talked about it before but yeah i very much agree that i wish hama had been framed #differently because i do feel like making her into a cackling witch kind of undermines the whole point of the episode #she's someone who is deserving of our empathy and understanding despite her violence and by reducing her into a caricature #we lose that nuance #but otherwise it's such a fascinating episode.... #kataraaa.... katara i love you katara <33333