#it's brutal out here fic

[cupcakesandtv]

It’s Brutal Out Here pt 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“Stay where you are,” Devi heard her mom telling Fab and Trent. Devi wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Trent give his full attention to someone. “And don’t engage with the police. I know the police are supposed to help but they won’t let anyone near the school.” 

“Mom!” Devi wished she could have hugged her mother but seeing her on screen was a relief. “What is going on?”

“You’re not hanging out with boys are you?” Paxton was inching into the frame but very quickly took a step away. “Mom! There’s zombies, let’s focus on the real problem!” Nalini narrowed her eyes in a way that made even Trent wilt and fade behind the three girls now in frame. 

“There’s no help coming."

“What?” all the kids shouted. 

“We’ve tried. I’ve got Fabiola’s mother here, we’ve been yelling but these cops, we were at the entrance to the school, they won’t do anything. They sent us home. The houses around the perimeter of the school have been evacuated and they won’t tell us what is happening. Are there really zombies? That can’t be real. This isn’t a movie.” 

“Yes, zombies. They’re either slow or fast. We haven’t figured it out. And they definitely like to eat people. I watched them eat Mrs. Hernandez.” 

Trent popped up behind them. “And you know she’s one of the most feared teachers. Only a zombie would have the guts to come for her!” “Mrs. Hernandez is dead?” Nalini asked, almost to herself, shocked. “All I know is they won’t let anyone out or into the school area. They turned off phones. They don’t want parents to communicate with kids.”

“This can’t be right, Mom.” Devi shook her head. “You’re telling me the cops don’t care about saving us, getting us out of harm’s way, keeping us safe…” she slowed and tilted her head. “Okay actually, when I say it aloud, it makes an uncomfortable amount of sense.” 

“If this is an outbreak, they don’t want it to spread,” Trent added. 

“Devi, I’m going to keep yelling at people until I figure this out. But you need to stay put and stay safe.” 

Devi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay.” 

Before they could say anything else, the video cut and Devi huffed. 

“Starting to feel like every person we talk to knows less about this situation than we do,” Eleanor said, sighing dramatically (but totally reasonably dramatic for the current situation, if you know what I mean. Zombies call for all the dramatics Eleanor was best known for!) 

Paxton scrubbed at his face before looking at Devi. “What are we going to do?”

“We need to get settled to stay here for a while,” Trent cut in. 

“How long?” Devi asked, her brow furrowed, feeling overwhelmed. 

“Probably a few days,” Fabiola answered. “You guys were smart to come here so we have bathrooms and some food, but it’s gonna be uncomfortable.”

Devi started to feel hot. Her skin was itchy and no matter how many times she blinked, she couldn’t seem to clear her field of vision of those little floating spots. 

“Eleanor, you can sleep on me. I’ll cushion you from the tile floor of the cafeteria.” Trent smiled at Eleanor. Eleanor turned up her nose but feigned a smile. 

Before Devi knew what she was doing, she was out of the kitchen, and into the main cafeteria, 10 kids she barely knew from her first period class just staring at her.. “Did you get through to your mom?”

“Is my mom dead?”

“Do you know what’s happening?”

“When are the cops coming?”

“Is everybody outside dead?”

“What are we going to do?”

Kids shouted, whined, frantically spoke over one another and Devi shook her head to try and concentrate. 

“Everybody shut up!” she yelled. “We’re gonna be fine. We’re all gonna be fine!” 

The kids instantly erupted again into cheers, more questions, and more noise. 

“Knock it off!” she shouted. “Zombies are just here. Your families should be fine. And the cops will figure this out soon.” 

The kids all seemed content with those answers and many of them even smiled in relief. Devi walked towards a water fountain on the far wall, far away from everyone, and took a sip of water, hoping to chill out. 

“You lied,” Paxton’s voice interrupted her water break and Devi’s last shred of sanity slipped. 

“So?’ she snapped, turning around quickly, catching Paxton off guard. 

“You’re kind of a liar.” He said it with a smile but Devi only saw red. 

“We’re losing kids to the hallways faster than the cops shot at us. It’s better that I lied!” Devi’s itchy skin turned warmer and she felt her nails dig into her palms as she clenched her fists. 

“We can tell them the truth and still keep them safe,” Paxton argued, his joking vibe replaced with irritation. 

“There’s only 10 kids out there when an hour ago there were 13. We’re losing them and you know they step foot out of this room and the flesh eating zombies take care of them. If they know help isn’t coming, that our only instructions were to stay put, we’ll lose five more of them to the reanimated so how about we just don’t.” 

“They’re not going to trust us if we lie to them. You know, how when you lie to me I get mad and don’t want to talk to you?” 

“Is that why you haven’t spoken to me in months? Do you think I lied to you again? If that’s why, you should have just said so!” Devi waved her arms to make the point. 

“That’s something else,” Paxton added, matching her increasing hostility. 

“Listen, you’re the muscle, I’m the brains, let me handle this.” 

Paxton stepped back, almost like she swung at him. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. It took him a solid 10 seconds to respond and that was only when Devi opened her mouth to say something else. “Fuck off,” he spit out, turning on his heels and storming off. 

It took Devi another 30 seconds to realize what she’d said that triggered his outburst. She scrunched up her face, seeing him across the room try to slam the swinging door that led to the kitchen. Paxton’s weak spot was people thinking he was stupid. Hadn’t he said something once about even his parents thinking he wasn’t cut out for school? Devi’s heart sank but she was still annoyed. 

When she read Harry Potter (before the world knew JK Rowling was a TERF) or The Hunger Games, Devi always hated the way Harry or Katniss would get so into their feelings. Emotions? At a time like this? The world was ending! But from her position, trying to keep her first period classmates from being turned into zombies, trying to not think about kissing her old crush or hurting his feelings and how he’d view her for it, that shit kept coming up. It was annoying how much she was now in her feelings. In this economy?

Devi shook off the shame spiral she considered sending herself into and instead decided that the way to deal with all these pesky feelings was to bury them deep and ignore them. 

Because that always works, right, Devi? 

–

Paxton stomped into the kitchen, his skin hot. He was perfectly capable of keeping himself and everyone else alive. Just because she was an honor student and he hadn’t seen a perfect report card since fifth grade didn’t mean that he shouldn’t have input. And you needed all kinds of voices to make things work. Like democracy or whatever. 

Trent and Eleanor were leaning against the counter talking to each other very closely and Fabiola was still tapping away, trying to get a line out. “Hand me the-” Fab started but Eleanor handed her the watch before she finished asking. 

“That kid, Billy, Bobby?” Trent started. 

“Bradley,” Eleanor supplied.

“That kid, Bradley has one too but he won’t give it up. Thinks we’re gonna do something sus with it,” Trent explained. “And Cara has one but it’s dead so we’re gonna get it from her when it’s done charging.”

Eleanor looked up at Paxton and looked at Trent. She elbowed him and Trent noticed Paxton. “Go check if the watch is done charging, take Paxton with you.” 

“I don’t need help checking-” Trent was cut off by a glare from Eleanor. He shifted gears and went along with what she’d told him to do. Trent put his arm around Paxton’s shoulder and shuffled him out of the kitchen, Paxton still fuming. “So.”

“So what?” Paxton asked, trying to not search the room for where Devi was at the exact moment. He didn’t want to know where she was. He was mad at her. 

“Do you happen to have a condom on you?” Trent waggled his eyebrows. 

“Trent, I’ve told you before, I’m not interested,” Paxton said, weary.

Trent clutched his chest. “It hurts every time you say it. But I wasn’t propositioning you.” 

Paxton stared at him, blank. He caught a glimpse of  the back of Devi’s head over by the doors, but focused on Trent again because he was mad at Devi. What did it matter if she was guarding the doors?

“I think by the end of the day, Eleanor and I are going to do it.” Trent leaned in, a sense of righteous hope on his face. “Originally, I thought, eh, it’s the apocalypse, what do I need a condom for anyway? We’re probably not making it out of this alive.” 

Paxton started shaking his head, he didn’t want to hear more but Trent was not stopping. 

“But then I remembered Dawn of the Dead where the pregnant lady got turned and her boyfriend hid her and she gave birth to a zombie baby and I am not interested in that outcome at all.” 

Paxton sighed and blinked, hoping Trent was wrapping this up. Eleanor was hot, bangable even, if you were into someone who would probably need several costume changes during the course of sex. He wasn’t sure how she’d fit them into the 6-8 minutes Trent would last during sex but he expected Eleanor to make sure to slow Trent down. 

“So, anyway, condom?” It’s possible that Paxton missed the last bit of his explanation about all this while thinking about the costume changes, but he tried to make his face into one of understanding. 

“I don’t have one,” Paxton answered. 

“I’ll ask one of the other guys. Worst case scenario, I’ll just slip into the nurse’s office and bring back a stash.” 

McEnroe: Impressed Trent has a plan at all. 

“What about you and Devi?” Trent asked, his tone implying something was going on. 

“What about her?”

 “You guys had that moment, with the foreheads? Girls love that shit. You’re gonna be making out by the end of the day, right? She talks too much but that’s why you makeout, to keep her from saying that weird stuff she has a tendency to blab.”

“Why would I want to make out with someone who thinks my brain is the size of a pea?” Paxton asked, sharp, remembering the way she said “you’re the muscle, I’m the brains.”

Trent tsked. “Aw, you hate it when people think your head is full of fluff, huh, bro?” Trent ruffled Paxton’s hair and Paxton swerved to get his head away. He brushed the sides of his head to smooth down his hair. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” 

“She did,” he argued, a knot forming in his stomach. 

“What’d she say?” 

Paxton looked at his feet, then around the cafeteria, purposely avoiding the doors he’d seen Devi guarding earlier. He gnawed at the inside of his cheek. 

“Nothing,” he said, shortly.

“Okay cool, so actually she didn’t say anything and you just assumed she thinks that of you,” Trent said, shrugging. “Your perception of how people view you is exhausting, man. We got zombies to worry about so please stop worrying about imagined slights from a girl you like but hate that you like and then get mad when she dates other people.”

“No, she actually said-” 

“Man, I asked what she said and you said nothing,” Trent cut him off. “Feelings 101, Paxton, you gotta actually tell the truth.” 

The truth. Sure. He needed to tell the truth. But Devi didn’t have to. Not to all the other kids. She could just lie. She was so good at it. 

McEnroe: To be fair to Devi, she’s actually incredibly bad at it, Paxton. 

“Forget it,” Paxton said, wanting to storm off but unsure of a good direction to do that. He spun on his heels and took a step, and tripped on an honest to god, banana peel.

#never have i ever #devi x paxton #daxton #daxton fic #nhie fic #paxton x devi #eleanor x trent #treleanor #it's brutal out here fic #fic

[gaycinema]

god gives his strongest soldiers (theon girlies) the hardest battles (going thru the theon tag on any webbed site ever)

#some of the takes ive seen some of the fics ive had to click out of…….for years and years……. #it’s brutal out here for a theongirl 😔 #theon greyjoy #got #m

[bucksboobs]

Why is there so much A/B/O in this tag I say on the webbed site that popularized A/B/O

#I’ve run out of OPLA!Zolu fics to read it’s brutal out here

[raekensarcher]

in desperate need of thiam fics, i have been down in the trenches and i fear i’ve found the only good ones n read them all

#thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar #thiam fics #thiam fanfic #it’s brutal out here #like i keep reading the same ones i need More

[rinhaler]

If you’re a blank blog you’re getting blocked

If you don’t have an age indicator you’re getting blocked

If you say ‘part two?’ You’re getting BLOCKT

#🧚🏽‍♀️ — luxe chit chat #I’ve blocked so many people this morning it’s maddening like where is ur tumblr etiquette #if u don’t reblog tumblr authors I don’t want u following me tbh #like I work hard on my fics and so does everyone else so like?? reblog? it isn’t hard #and if commenting part two with nothing else is just plain rude #can u not give some reasons why u want a part two? #or be a bit more polite about asking? #legit me and every other writer would be more motivated to write another part if u said what u liked about the first #I know this isn’t a new concept and people talk about it a lot but it’s so TRUE! #like.. c’mon you can’t figure out most of us have praise kinks?? #TELL US WHAT U LIKE GIVE US FEEDBACK GO CRAZY WE LOVE THAT #sigh. things will never change here it’s BRUTAL out here #I used to feel bad abt blocking people on me old blog #I still do a lil bit but I’m just over it #do better!! support tumblr authors!! hype them up!! #it rly makes people’s days when u do like it’s such a simple thing and it changes our whole mood #any good morning I’m awake again fr #I had the most revolting nightmare but we ball asfhdksjfks

[musical-chick-13]

Genuinely I absolutely, thoroughly hate the way people have gotten in regard to "You can write fic about dark subjects, but don't ever go into detail about those subjects" (if they even concede that people are "allowed" to write about anything unpleasant at all).

Because I just read an excellent one that was...very fucked-up! Actually!!! But it was also a nuanced and gripping examination of abuse--switching between the POV of the abuser (who lies to themselves about the reality of their actions, making their POV sections all the more uncomfortable for it), their victim (who lies to themselves in a different way, by refusing both to acknowledge their own victimhood or to consider the ways they later come to continue that cycle) and, eventually, an outside party (who is the only one aware of the true reality, and tries (and fails) to help, through the comparatively powerless ways that are available to them).

And this thing was not reserved in any way regarding its depiction of all of this. It didn't cut away cleanly after a vague uncomfortable comment for the reader to fill in every single blank for themselves. There were even times where the victim themselves was under the impression that they were genuinely enjoying what happened, because they convinced themselves that they had control over a situation they never had control over!!! And I know that...certain people. Would absolutely accuse this fic of "romanticizing abuse" because of these things. Which I think is an INCREDIBLY unfair assessment of it, especially since most of the time the discussion of "romanticizing [x]" is less a discussion and more, "I don't care what the author intended, this story simply shouldn't exist because this is incontrovertible proof they are a horrible person in reality, also they should die."

#do NOT ask me what the fic was if this post finds the type of people I'm complaining about they would 100% go and harass this person #I'm also thinking about that One Scene in shiki (b/c I'm thinking about shiki a lot in general during many days) in the hospital with the #experimentation. and THAT one is horrifying and grisly too but I wouldn't take it out? the most brutal act we see is by a human. #the most realistic horror is perpetrated by the guy who thinks he's In The Right that MEANS something. it's INTEGRAL to the story's themes! #and like. yeah sometimes these things CAN come across as fetishistic (or at the very least...WILDLY ineffective) or gratuitous #but that's not automatically the case? #like I really do think there's a middle ground here between 'ALL depictions of EVERYTHING are EQUALLY effective and we do not EVER need to #consider how various topics are typically presented in art (especially when it's meant for a mainstream public audience)' and #'SOME things should NEVER be talked about or if you HAVE to they can ONLY be done THIS specific way or else you should KILL YOURSELF' #like I think we can gauge a story's effectiveness and cultural context and optics on a given issue with. you know. actual nuance. #tw: abuse #tw: suicide baiting #tw: death threats #tw: abuse mention #I'm trying to cover all the tags that people might have blacklisted

[bylerisc4non]

please 😭 i just wanna scroll through byler fics in peace without seeing tags i dont wanna see 😭 can someone recommend some good WHOLESOME fics for me please?

#byler fic #ao3 reader #it's brutal out here #send help #byler fluff and angst #fanfic rec

[seventh-district]

of course i finally write something for the first time in nearly two months and it’s the most fucked-up, self-indulgent thing i’ve ever written

#Seven.txt #writing stuff #Jimち ASMR #🧷 Matt 🔨 #<- making my own tag for Matt bc i am insane #and this fandom is so small that i don’t think there even /is/ a pre-established tag for him anyways??? #and it’s not like i’m super eager for this fic to even actually be viewed by anyone who knows who the character is #cause this fic is so self-indulgent and embarrassing i lowkey don’t want it associated with the fandom #lest i be called out for being problematic or smthn. dude i don’t even know anymore #it’s not like Jim himself hasn’t been called out for being *ahem* problematic either tho soooooo #it’s not like strange and potentially problematic is anything new around here anyways #and it’s my mental illness so I get to choose the comfort character to project my destructive desires upon #i don’t really even think it’s that bad but i fear i’ve actually just grown immune to my specific flavor of Fucked-Up™️ #and any sane person would look at it and be like… Are You Okay??? #and the answer is No! #but like. in a chill way #anyways iiiiit is 4am and i just stayed up all night writing 7k words of something so brutally honest and revealing of my desires #that if i were a wiser man i wouldn’t post it where anyone who finds my online presence can just… read it #but! i am not a wiser man i am a very stupid man who enjoys oversharing on the internet #and it’s fine bc i don’t think hardly anyone’s gonna see it anyways. given the fact that there’s like almost /no/ fandom for this character #it’s so weird writing for a character that’s never been written for before #by anyone aside from his original creator obviously #but i think Jim just fuckin’ improvs a lot of his shit anyways lmao. #I’m Getting Off Topic!!! Time To Shut Up and Hit Post!!! #edit- i just looked and actually looks like there’s one (1) fic written for Matt on AO3 so i am sadly not the first person to write for him #alas #anyways i’ve still gotta do a final edit and get it all drafted up and ready to post on here and AO3 #so who knows when it’ll actually be out. but it feels good to be writing again! #now if i could just find a way of doing it that doesn’t require me staying up all night long…

[written-mishaps]

SORRY FORTHE LACK OF WARNING BUT CHAPTER 2 OF ROBINS GUIDE HAS BEEN POSTED AT LONG LAST

#GO GO GO GI #ITS HERE #HOLY CRAPPPPPPP THE EDITING PRCESS WAS BRUTAL #I’m talking 2 hours straight of staring at my screen lmaooo #hope it was worth it #check it out and tell me what you think when you’re done! #anon is on for anyone who’s a lil shy lmao #talkin #stranger things #fic #stranger things fic

[tyrannuspitch]

11,500 words into this project. still four chapters to go. gnawing on the bars of my cage. the next four will be FUN but i want to be FINISHED......

#also fighting with perfectionism here #there are parts of it i could expand further and/or cut down. for the sake of consistency #but part of me is also like... i just want the thing to exist...... #ESPECIALLY re: cutting things down that one is a BRUTAL war #bc part of me is like 'if it's so much longer it MUST be boring and irrelevant and jarring get it OUT!!!' #but another part of me is like. i want to maximise the amount of Story Being Told don't i??? and i worked rlly hard on that thing #surely i have to work at least as hard again to condense it without losing some rlly valuable stuff..... #and then there's the other battle #'this is just a little fanfiction i'm writing for fun it doesn't have to be perfect' #vs 'this is a genuinely cool and unique idea and if you don't give it 100% you're WASTING POTENTIAL' #with a side of 'length + novelty mean this could be ur most-read fic (if they beat nicheness) so you have to make a good impression' #sigh.

[typinggently]

I’m so fascinated by fics where one of the boys kills John. Like what a way to ignore the premise and heart of the core seasons.

#I remember a fic that explored their brutality and codependency in a really interesting way #and then S killed J and I went ah okay. this is useless to me now. #it was tragic #like I mean you COULD make a story out of it I guess but then you’d have to take into account that D capital L LOVES J #like he wouldn’t just go ‘Aw baby mistakes happen here I’ll help’ #and I suppose you COULD make it an interesting D-centric story. who does HE kill after that? himself or S? #where can he possibly go from there if his whole personality just turned into one of those Escher staircases #‘take care of S’ is the first rule but the person who made that rule was harmed by him so. what weighs heavier? the rule or the ruler? #….not my kind of story because I’m a kitschy soft person at heart but I suppose it COULD work #but that’s never what they do. they just go like ‘&D was relieved and they lived happily ever after’ #MAN WHAT #anyhow.

[sunnami]

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders x reader. (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 

You blink. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say. 

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 

“I know.” Harry grins. 

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 

“Oi!” 

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!” 

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 

Harry’s eye twitches. 

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 

“In your dreams!” You shrill. 

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 

Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 

“One date, then.” 

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 

“And I want to—” 

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He falls in love.) 

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.” 

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader

[forzalando]

Orange Theory

Charles Leclerc x best friend!reader (female reader)

summary: charles and his best friend do countless nice things for each other, but they're just behaving like any good friend would. right? wc: 2.5k author's note: ok guys so this is not the Charles fic i promised (she is still a WIP and i will finish her eventually. probably will have to be a multi-part fic with how long it's getting), but i hope you enjoy this one in the meantime! special thanks to @scuderiahoney for encouragement and inspiration. special thanks to @sof1shticated for reading and assuring me this doesn't suck. if you haven't read their fics, both Lee and Mel have some gems that i adore. HIGHLY recommend checking out their masterlists! warnings: none!

You loved summer break – Charles was home for at least a few weeks, days spent on a yacht, every afternoon and evening spent with friends either at dinner or out at some club until someone got too drunk to carry on.

Today was, in your humble opinion, the perfect day. All of your friends, courtesy of Charles, were sprawled out on the sun deck of a rented boat or splashing around in the water below. You could feel the heat radiating off of Lando as he laid next to you and whispered about how McLaren was making insane upgrades – according to him, they might just have a race-winning car in the second half of the season.

“Are you boring my best friend to tears, Norris?” The brutal sun disappeared behind Charles’ body as he stood above you – as if on instinct, he shifted slightly so that you could look up at him and not be blinded by its rays.

“She’s hanging on my every word, right, Y/N? In fact, she asked me how I’m feeling about Zandvoort and the rest of the season.”

“And?” Charles asked, a small smile on his face.

“Like I would tell you what’s going on with the car! I know Y/N can keep a secret, she would never betray me to a prancing horse. She bleeds papaya.”

You laughed along with Lando – the one point of contention that had always existed in your friendship with Charles. Of course, you became a Ferrari fan because of him, but you’d always been a McLaren and Mercedes loyalist. It was something that Lando, Oscar, and George relished in.

“Alright, alright, no need to rub it in, Norris,” you giggled. “What can I do for you, Charlie?”

“I just came to give you this.”

Within seconds, a perfectly peeled orange dropped in your lap. Lando’s eyes grew wide for a moment but a swift glare from Charles had his face back to normal in no time. You missed the interaction, jumping up from your seat in excitement.

“Aw, Charlie! You are the best friend a girl could ask for,” you chirped as you started separating the wedges of fruit.

“Ah, don’t mention it,” he sighed, waving his citrus-scented hand in the air. “There’s more in the cooler if you want! Freshly peeled!”

“Thank you, mon cher ami.” You quickly kissed his cheek, noticing as you pulled away just how red it was, along with his neck and the tips of his ears. “Charles! How many times do I have to tell you to put on sunscreen? Your face and neck are fried!”

“I don’t think it’s from the sun,” Lando mumbled, his eyes trained on the fruit in your hands. With Charles insisting he was fine, you could barely hear what he had said.

“What did you say, Lan?” You asked, turning your attention away from Charles for a moment.

Once again, Lando was met with a menacing glare and he laughed awkwardly before moving his gaze to the horizon.

“Nothing, nothing, Y/N. Just thinking out loud.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you turned back to Charles and handed him the orange he had just given to you. With your now free hands, you rifled through your beach bag until you found the SPF 50 face cream you had packed that morning with Charles in mind.

“Here, I packed this for you. Please put some on so I don’t have to worry about you getting sun poisoning,” you pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes.

Charles stared without answering for far too long – anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask him and he’d do it. Even without you gazing at him with your wide, siren eyes, he would give you the world if you so desired it.

He shook his head slightly, pulling himself out of the daze caused by your pleading eyes. “Oui, ma fleur, I will put on the sun cream. Je promets.”

You smiled in triumph, taking the orange back from Charles and bidding him a “see you later” before laying back down in your lounger. Popping an orange slice into your mouth, you let out a contented sigh. Somehow, whether Charles was magic or he had some serious connections in the produce world, the fruit he picked out and gave to you always tasted better than anything you bought yourself.

“He peels your oranges for you?”

You hummed and turned to Lando – “what, Lan?”

“Does Charles always peel your oranges for you?”

“Well, no, obviously not always. Why?”

Before Lando could answer, Lily plopped down next to you and stole an orange slice from your hand.

“I swear,” she huffed, “Alex and George are competitive to begin with, but when they get together, it’s unbearable. They’ve been having a “who can hold their breath the longest” contest for the past thirty minutes! Rematch after rematch after rematch, I called in my favor with Oscar to get out of judging their little competition.”

“As if either of them could beat me, they probably didn’t ask me to join because they’re scared,” Lando bragged. “I’ll leave you ladies to chat, go show them how it’s done.”

As Lando walked towards the edge of the boat, you and Lily turned towards one another.

“Men,” you scoffed in unison, following it up with belly laughs and lingering giggles.

As the laughter died down, Lily ate the orange slice she had stolen from you and practically moaned in delight. “Where did you get this orange? It might be the best I’ve ever had!”

“It’s from Charles! I was just thinking about this, I don’t know how he does it but he always has the best fruit. Every time he brings me any I am both ecstatic and pissed off – my fruit is never as good as his and we shop at the same grocery store!”

“Well, does he have any more oranges? I could eat 20 of these.”

“He said he left me more in his cooler, let me grab them.”

A few moments later, you walked back to Lily with a bag of peeled oranges in your right hand and two bottles of water in your left.

“Are you a professional orange peeler? You were only gone for two minutes.”

“Oh no,” you giggled, “Charles peeled them for me. He knows I don’t like peeling them so when he can, he always does it for me.”

“Y/N,” Lily looked at you suspiciously, “do you know what the orange peel theory is?”

You wracked your brain but came up empty. “No, what is it?”

Lily went into a brief explanation – something about how it became a viral tik tok challenge, people asking their partners if they would peel an orange for them and how it was an indicator of true love, soulmates, a healthy relationship, and everything in between. “Well, that’s just silly,” you mumbled through chews, orange juice dribbling down your chin. “I think it just means someone is a good person – Charlie and I aren’t anything more than friends and he peels my oranges, among other things, because he has a good heart.”

“Among other things?” Lily pressed you, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“He slices my apples because I have never been able to master the apple corer contraption! And he takes all my grapes off the stems when he’s at my place because I never do – it’s too tedious.”

“What else?”

“Oh, when we go out to breakfast, he always brings me a tea when he picks me up. He’s an early riser and I take forever to get ready. He knows I never have time to make it myself when we have plans before 10am.”

Lily was smirking at you, no, smiling at you. It was a little unnerving, the way she was entirely amused at the information you were giving her. However, the moment was briefly interrupted by the arrival of Alex.

“What are we talking about, ladies?” He spoke cheerfully, a broad smile on his face which meant that he was most likely declared the best breath holder of the 2019 rookies.

“Y/N was just telling me about all the sweet things Charles does for her,” Lily gushed.

“Oh god, when is he not doing things for her? Did you see him buttering her bread for her at dinner last week?”

Lily burst out laughing while you playfully punched Alex’s arm. “I’m indecisive! He butters it for me while I read the menu since it takes me so long to figure out what I want to order. It saves time!”

“He does that on a regular basis?” Alex asked incredulously, looking at Lily with wide eyes. “My god, that man is head over heels.”

“Alex,” you protested, “Charles is not in love with me. We’ve been friends for six years, I think I would know by now.”

“You’re both impossible,” Alex groaned. “Come on, Lily, I just came over to get you so we could play water polo with George and Carmen.”

Lily sighed in defeat, though she had a smile on her face at the thought of spending time with Alex even if it meant another competition. “I’ll see you, later, yeah?” She called over her shoulder, waving goodbye as you teased her by dramatically eating another slice of orange and settling back in your chair. At the front of the boat, Charles was laughing with Pierre and almost as if he felt you looking, he turned around and met your gaze.

Even though you had just wholly denied anything more than friendship between you and him, you couldn’t help but think about your interactions with Lily and Alex.

Sure, Charles sometimes did things that were out of the ordinary for ‘just friends’, but he had the sweetest soul of anyone you’d ever met. He always sacrificed his umbrella or jacket for you, made sure you had fresh tulips in your apartment when he was home in between races, had your favorite meal delivered to you when you were having a rough day while he was away and you missed him.

You did things for him too – cleaned his apartment when you knew he was on his way back to Monaco, left him plenty of sticky notes with words of encouragement if he was coming back from a bad race, stocked his fridge full of his favorite things. Recently, you’d been gifting him annotated books because he mentioned he wanted to read more and always enjoyed listening to you talk about your favorite novels. Since you spent most of the year apart, you decided he could at least read your thoughts.

When you could come to races, unfortunately a rare occurrence due to your graduate classes and work schedule, he made sure Ferrari hospitality had your favorite flavor of sparkling water on hand. Anytime you saw a cute dog video, you would send it to him because they always made him smile.

You’d do anything to make him smile, just as he would for you, which is what a good friend would do. A best friend, it’s what a best friend would do.

But best friends didn’t linger in doorways and stare at each other’s lips when bidding each other goodnight. They didn’t cuddle close and fall asleep in each other’s arms on a couch while watching whatever movie you had chosen because he always let you choose.

They didn’t look at one another the way Charles was looking at you now – his sunglasses pushed up on top of his head and a dopey smile on his face. He waved to you and dramatically blew you a kiss, something he always did when he caught your eye across a room, no matter who was around.

You practically launched yourself to your feet, the last remaining orange slices in your lap falling to the lounger and staining the seat with juice. It was only seconds until you were standing in front of Charles but the walk over felt like an eternity with the way the world around you disappeared and your heart pounded in your chest.

“Est-ce que tu maimes, Charles?”

The question came out in one breath, your chest heaving in anticipation for his response.

“Of course, I love you, ma fleur,” he laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“No,” you panted. “Do you love me, Charlie? Est-ce que tu maimes?”

“Of course, I love you,” he answered again, his eyes shining and a small smile on his face that told you everything you needed to know. “Every time I think of you, I love you. Every time I breathe, I love you.”

“Every time you peel my oranges?” You whispered, holding up your orange juice-stained fingertips. He took your right hand in his and held it up to his face to kiss your palm, his eyelashes fluttering against you gently.

“Especially when I peel your oranges. Did you know that I hate doing it too? Like, really hate it. I don’t even peel them for myself.”

You gasped in shock, watching as he threw his head back and laughed jovially.

“I’d do anything for you, ma fleur. Mon soleil. Mon cœur.”

“Would you kiss me?”

“Maybe if Pierre would leave and stop gawking at us.”

This time you threw your head back to laugh, Charles soon joining you as Pierre protested the accusation.

“No, no,” he shouted, “you didn’t even give me a chance to leave. Just started declaring your love before I knew what was happening. Which, by the way, was so obvious it was starting to get annoying. We’ve all tried dropping hints to both of you so I don’t know who got through to you, Y/N, but – ”

“Pierre!” You shouted, eyes wide and arm gesturing him away from the two of you.

“Ah, désolé, I’m leaving,” he grumbled, almost tripping over his own feet to get away as quickly as possible.

You giggled again and Charles gripped your chin softly, pulling your eyes away from Pierre and back to face him.

He leaned in gently, as if he was afraid you would back away and regret taking the leap to go from friends to something so much more.

He tasted like salt water, smelled like sweet fruit and sunscreen – you smiled into the kiss knowing that he had listened to you and put it on, even though you knew he hated the way it felt on his skin.

His fingers gripped your waist and yours trailed up his chest – both of you slightly sticky from the citrus juices and sweat from the sun.

You pulled away and nudged his nose with yours, breathing him in and wishing that this moment would never end. Charles lowered you both to the sun deck, adjusting until you were sitting between his legs and his arms were wrapped firmly around you, the two of you facing the sunset and open sea.

After a few moments, you broke the shared silence. “You know, I would have happily peeled an orange for you if you had ever asked me,” you asserted.

Charles’ hold on you softened at your admission, the thinly veiled meaning not at all lost on him as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #forzalando #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

[softspiderling]

god, it's brutal out here | r.c.

summary:

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

OR; 5 times your friends share their unsolicited opinions about your and Rafe’s break up.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of c*caine

word count: 5,4k

author’s note: the long awaited sequel of so obsessed with your ex! this can be read as a standalone fic, but there are little easter eggs hidden all over, which will be more fun if you read the first part! it's a little bit longer than I had planned, but there was no way around it. I hope you enjoy it so so much!!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I Wheezie

“Hey Wheeze.”

You had accepted the facetime without looking at your phone, keeping it rested on a shelf while you were halfway into your closet, trying to find a dress.

“Does Rafe have a new girlfriend??”

Pausing, you shut your eyes, letting out a silent exhale before you picked up the phone, giving Wheezie a wry smile through the camera.

“Nice to see you too.”

The girl only looked at you, unimpressed and her arms crossed. You sighed, running a hand through your hair, knowing you didn’t have a way out of this conversation. Grabbing your phone, you sat down on your bed.

“Yes, Rafe has a new girlfriend.”

“I knew it!” Wheezie shrieked, throwing her arms up, and you only shook your head in exasperation. The tendency for drama clearly was in the Cameron genes. Wheezie frowned, getting closer to your phone as she looked at you.

“Why am I more upset about this than you are?”

You bit back another sigh. “Because Rafe and I are broken up, Wheeze. He’s allowed to date other people, matter of fact, I’m really glad that he has moved on.”

“Bullshit!”

“Wheezie!”

Wheezie rolled her eyes, but she sat back down, crossing her arms over her chest again. “I don’t like her.”

“You don’t even know her,” you sighed, rubbing your temple, feeling a migraine coming on.

“This is crazy!” Wheezie exclaimed. “You and Rafe never should’ve broken up in the first place! Rafe is probably only dating her to make you jealous so you’ll take him back.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that, Wheezie clearly watched way too many rom-coms. She frowned at you.

“Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny, this is, like, super un-funny.”

“Because, Wheeze,” you started, plucking a feather out of your pillow. “This isn’t some 90’s rom-com where I see Rafe with Rebecca and suddenly a sad song is playing. This is real life. We are broken up.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

“Remember when we used to fight all the time? And I was just always sad?”

Wheezie was quiet, her lips still pursed. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. Couples fight all the time, doesn’t mean you just have to break up.”

“Yes, couples fight all the time and they don’t have to break up, but it was the right decision for me and Rafe,” you said, your tone final. Wheezie looked at you, her frown slowly smoothing down.

“If you say so,” she muttered, not quite convinced. She stared down at her chipped finger nails, before she looked up again. “Can we still talk?”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Of course we can still talk, why wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know… I mean, you’re gonna find a new boyfriend and maybe he has a younger sister as well and then I’ll just be your ex’s younger sister.”

“Wheeze,” you said, fondly, knowing where she was coming from. You had been in her life for most of her teenage years, it must be weird not having you around anymore. “We’ll still talk, no matter if I get a new boyfriend or not, even if he has a cool younger sister, or even three.”

Wheezie smiled, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re so dumb.”

“Yet you still want me around,” you teased. “How about you, Sar and I go get some ice cream and then to the movies this weekend?”

“Sounds good,” Wheezie replied with a big smile. She paused when someone called her name from somewhere in the house, before she turned back to her phone. “I gotta go, Rose needs me. I’ll text you later.”

“Alright, Wheeze. Talk to you later, be good.”

Wheezie waved into the camera, before the facetime ended. Your smile dropped and you tossed your phone on your bed with a sigh, letting yourself fall back on your bed. Even six months after the break up it was still hard to talk about Rafe, and now that he had a new girlfriend, you thought it’d be easier to get over him, but all it did was hurt more. It didn’t help that Rafe was still texting you every now and then. Nothing scandalous, just small texts, but you never replied. You both agreed on no contact after the break up, because you thought it’d give you a better opportunity to heal. You should’ve known he’d break it. Picking up your phone, you unlocked it, swiping to your messages.

Rafe [11/30/23: 1:43 am]: couldn’t sleep. remember when we took out the boat at two am bc we both drank a red bull at ten?

Rafe [11/30/23: 11:22 am]: sorry, i was drinking. didn’t mean to text you. hope you’re doing good

Rafe [12/25/23: 2:44 pm]: merry christmas. it’s weird without you.

Rafe [01/01/24: 01:02 am]: happy new year’s.

Rafe [01/05/23: 9:56 pm]: are you really not gonna text me back?

Rafe [01/27/24: 3:07 am]: i miss you

Rafe [02/12/24: 12:05 pm]: saw you at the party last night. you looked so fucking pretty. took everything in me not to talk to you.

Rafe [03/01/24: 7:12 pm]: idk if you care or not, but i still wanted to let you know. i’m seeing someone

You never replied to any of the texts, knowing it was for the better. You could block him, but you never brought it over your heart to do so, telling yourself you wanted him to reach you in case of emergency, but deep down, you didn’t want to block him.

Just incase.

II Barry

“Want some C?” Barry asked as greeting, presenting Rafe a small baggie with white powder in it as soon as he walked onto the lot.

“Nah,” Rafe declined, already feeling jittery enough without it, “Won’t say no to a beer though.”

Barry let out a grunt, tossing the baggie on the table, disappearing inside the trailer. Rafe took a seat in one of the chairs, running his hand over his buzzed head, bouncing his leg nervously. He had needed to get out of the house for a while. Ever since Rebecca pulled the picture out of the drawer, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Again.

Which is fucked up, really. He thought he got over you, he didn’t want to be the guy who thought about his ex while having a whole ass girlfriend. The door to the trailer opened with a slam, Barry exiting with two beer cans, handing Rafe one of them. The can was ice cold in his hands, and the cold liquid helped with his racing heart. He let out a sigh, rubbing a thumb over his eye brow. Rafe took another gulp of the beer, almost drinking the entire can in one go, while Barry watched him, assessing.

“You good?”

Rafe nodded, setting the can on the table.

“Yeah, jus’ stressed.”

“Work, or…?”

Barry trailed off without finishing his sentence and Rafe didn’t answer, wiping a finger over his jaw, which was clenched to the max.

Barry eyed him skeptically, leaning back in his chair. “How’s Mrs. Country Club?”

Rafe let out a loud sigh, tipping his head back, like he always did when he was annoyed with Barry.

“Barry, I don’t know if all the drugs you’re taking are starting to get to your memory, but we broke up.”

“Don’t be fucking rude,” he said, kicking Rafe’s chair. Not hard enough for it to tip over, but hard enough for Rafe to grip onto the arm rests, glaring at his friend. “How’d you know I wasn’t talking ‘bout your new girl?”

“Because you always call her Becky,” Rafe pointed out, giving him a look.

Barry shrugged, taking a sip from his beer. “You still know who ‘m talking about, so what’s the problem?”

“Problem is, it’s disrespectful. You know that’s not her name.”

“You’re still hung up on your ex while dating Becky, so who’s really disrespecting her?”

Rafe’s head shot up and the glare he sent Barry was deadly.

“Fuck this shit, and fuck you,” he snapped, pushing himself up from the chair, but Barry grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Boy, sit down.”

Rafe scowled at him, before sitting back down, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. He did not come all the way out to the cut to get called out like this.

“If you came here to be coddled, you went to the wrong person.”

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Rafe muttered with an eyeroll. “Just wanted to let off some steam.”

“So?” Barry snorted, waving his hands around. “Steam away.”

Rafe scoffed, scooting down in his chair, shaking his head. “Do you think I want to think of her? I fucking hate feeling like this. Bex is nice, and she’s hot. And yet-”

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

“Nah, you don’t fucking get it, “ Rafe sneered, leaning his head in his hands. And he didn’t, not really. Which really wasn’t his fault. Rafe just didn’t want to talk about the break up with his friends. Physically couldn’t. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t told anyone why you broke up. Just made it feel all to real, he guessed.

“Nah, you’re right, I don’t,” Barry said, shaking his head. “All I know is, one day you’re all fucking sunshine and the next you’re more emo than that Friday girl.”

“What?” Rafe asked, lifting his head to stare at Barry in confusion.

Barry waved him off. “You know, that freaky girl from Netflix with the black lipstick.”

“Do you mean Wednesday?”

“Yeah, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, all the same to me,” Barry huffed. “Point is, life’s too fucking short to do things that don’t make you happy.”

“Bex makes me happy.”

Barry gave him a long, hard look, squinting his eyes at him. “Yeah, right. Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

Rafe stared back at him before shaking his head, finishing the last of his beer before crushing the empty can in his hand, declining to answer, because he knew he couldn’t convince Barry.

He wasn’t even convinced himself.

III Topper

top [05/03/24: 4:06 pm]: gonna be at alex’s later tonight with rafe and rebecca just fyi if you wanted to come

mrs. rafe [05/03/24: 4:57 pm]: k, thanks for letting me know

—— NEW MESSAGE ——

top [05/04/24: 1:37 am]: can you pick me up?

It was Saturday night, a little past your bedtime for a night in. You were getting ready for bed, exiting the bathroom when your phone buzzed in your hand. Lifting it, you read the new text, not quite believing he’d make you do this. What the fuck was he thinking asking you to pick him up? Shaking your head in disbelief, you typed out an answer.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: topper no

Before you could put the phone away, your phone already buzzed with an answer, and you nearly didn’t want to read whatever lame ass excuse he came up with, your hand stilling when your eyes flit over his text.

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: please, i don’t want to get a ride with rafe and rebecca

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: she asked me so many questions about you and i can’t be around rafe rn or i’ll tell him

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:45 am]: … fine

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:47 am]: you’re so annoying

Cursing Topper and yourself for not going to bed sooner, you put on a sweatshirt and grabbed your keys and purse, typing out another text before you headed out of the house, getting into your car.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:49 am]: be there in ten

top [05/04/24: 1:50 am]: omg i owe you <3

Barely ten minutes later, you pulled up in front of Alex’ house, looking out for Topper, before you spotted him underneath a tree. You rolled to a stop next to him, giving him the most unimpressed look.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Topper groaned, getting into the car, shutting the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes, pulling off the curb without another word, driving towards Topper’s house.

“I’m really sorry for asking you to come get me, but Rafe was looking for me and I had too much to drink already to lie in his face,” Topper said, leaning his back against the headrest, shutting his eyes.

You desperately wanted to know what Rebecca had asked but you didn’t want to come off as the nosy ex, even if this was Topper. So as nonchalantly as you could, you asked: “What did you talk about?”

“Jesus,” Topper said, running a hand through his hair. “She asked me how you guys broke up and wanted details, too. Was super insistent, I was kinda scared actually.”

Okay, so just normal sussing out the ex, you could deal with that.

“What did you say?”

“That it was a mutual break up and I didn’t know why you broke up, just that you suddenly disappeared from each other’s lives.”

You sighed. That was the vaguest answer you’d ever heard.

“Why didn’t you just tell her why we broke up?”

Topper glanced at you, his brows knitted together.

“How can I tell her something I don’t know?”

“What?”

You slammed on the breaks, nearly sending Topper flying through the windshield because the idiot hadn’t buckled up, while you stared at him.

“What do you mean you don’t know why we broke up?”

“I don’t!” Topper exclaimed. “Rafe refuses to talk about it and you never told me either.”

“Because I assumed Rafe has told you! It’s been like six months!”

Blinking at Topper, it took you a few seconds to process, jumping when someone honked their horn at you, when you remembered you had stopped in the middle of the street.

“Shit,” you muttered, shifting gears to keep on driving, eyes flitting to Topper repeatedly.

“So…” he started. “Why did you guys break up?”

You gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white, letting out a deep breath. When you had left to come pick Topper up, you hadn’t expected having to tell him why you and his best friend had broken up.

“I was getting so worried about him. He was so stressed about the company every day, took home so much work and Ward was breathing down his neck to keep the numbers up. I told him that I thought he should take a step back, maybe take a break or something, tried to convince him of going on a trip or something, but the more I said, the more he seemed to be pushing himself into work. It got so bad that we were fighting basically every day, and it just wasn’t working anymore. It felt like we were going in circles.”

You cleared your throat when you felt yourself getting choked up, vision turning a little blurry from the tears in your eyes.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Topper exclaimed, patting himself down, looking for some tissues.

“Don’t worry about it,” you snorted, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You were so wrapped up in trying to retell the break up, you hadn’t even noticed that you already reached Topper’s house. “I shouldn’t even still be getting so worked up over this after all this time,” you sniffed, turning your car off.

Topper looked at you, with that typical look on his face and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can’t believe Rafe hasn’t told you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? I think he might be in denial about it.”

You scoffed at him, shaking your head. Why was everyone so hung up over your break up?

“It’s been six months.”

Topper didn’t reply, his hand on the car door and you expected him to bid you good bye, but that was too easy.

“… Do you think you guys will get back together?”

“He has a girlfriend, Top.”

“Still. I don’t think that Rafe and Rebecca are gonna last very long.” Topper looked at you, pressing his lips together, before shaking his head. “Sorry. Thanks for coming and for getting me home. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, giving him a small wave, and waited until he got out of the car, shutting the door behind him, before you turned your car on, pulling off.

“What the fuck,” you muttered to yourself, wiping the rest of the tears off as you drove home.

IV Kelce

“Kelce!”

Kelce looked up from the pool table, a smile growing on his face when he saw Rafe come down the basement, his friend wrapping an arm around him for a brief hug.

“Happy birthday, man,” Rafe said, handing Kelce a bottle of the expensive whiskey he always drank when he was at Rafe’s but too stingy to buy it for himself.

“Ah shit, you didn’t have to,” Kelce uttered, though his eyes were sparkling as he looked at the bottle in his hands. He handed the pool stick to one of the guys next to him, leading Rafe to the bar. He grabbed two glasses from the shelves, pouring Rafe and himself a good amount, offering one of the glasses to him.

“Cheers to you.”

The two clinked their glasses, before sipping on the whiskey. Kelce really enjoyed it, too, with the way he closed his eyes, and Rafe only snorted in his glass. Kelce peaked his eye open, shoving his friend fondly with a grin.

“Rebecca here?”

“Yeah, upstairs.”

Kelce hummed in thoughts, nodding absentmindedly. He stared into his glass, swishing the amber liquid around before he spoke up again.

“You know she’s here, too, right?”

Rafe tensed, knowing exactly that Kelce was talking about you, but he had expected it. Firstly, because you and Kelce had always been friends, and secondly because he had heard Sarah making plans with you to go together. Didn’t mean this felt any less of a punch to the gut. He really hoped he wouldn’t run into you, because he wasn’t quite sure what he’d do; all he knew was, that Bex wasn’t gonna like it. Rafe cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound nonchalant.

“I figured, yeah.”

“That okay?” Kelce asked, and Rafe was starting to get annoyed, rolling his eyes. Why was Kelce questioning him about you on his damn birthday? He tried to dampen his anger though, not wanting to ruin the night.

“Yes. It’s your birthday, man.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Rafe knew he did a shit job of hiding his emotions, and Kelce eyed him suspiciously.

“I don’t get you guys,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You got a new girl, but you still haven’t gotten over your ex, clearly, but every time I mention her, you act like it’s the worst thing in the world, but neither of you have said a bad word about the other.

Rafe scoffed, though his heart started to race at the thought of you talking about him. He wondered what you had said, if you cared enough to ask about him, or if you had long moved on.

“Are you ever gonna tell me why you guys broke up?”

“Maybe next time.”

Kelce gave him a wry smile, knowing this was Rafe avoiding the topic again. He lifted his head when more people starting coming down the basement, curling his hand around Rafe’s shoulder to give him a squeeze.

“I really hope you figure it out bro, because this right now is not it.”

He then excused himself to welcome the new arrivals and Rafe gripped his glass, before downing it in one go.

“Alright, who wants to get destroyed in a round of pool?” he asked, clapping his hands together as he approached the pool table. Anything to stop himself from going upstairs to look for you.

V Sarah

“Oh my god, I thought you were gonna keep talking to her forever!”

You gave Sarah a look. She hadn’t even waited a minute after you left Rebecca on the couch before she started talking about her.

“I don’t have a problem with her.”

Sarah groaned, linking her arm with yours as to not lose you in the crowd that has formed in Kelce’s house. You were glancing around, hyper aware that you could run into Rafe any second, but you didn’t want Sarah to notice.

“I don’t understand how you can be so chill. Did you not see the picture she had in her purse?”

You sighed, brushing your hair back over your shoulder. Was this ever going to stop? “Sar, please.”

“Hello?? That was super freaky.”

“Maybe she was just cleaning up and wanted to throw it in the trash and forgot it in her purse.”

Sarah laughed dryly, shaking her head. “Bullshit! Admit that you find it weird.”

“Okay, maybe it is a little weird,” you admitted. “But don’t you do things that are a little weird sometimes? Maybe she’s just a little insecure. Which I wouldn’t blame her for, you’re so mean. Shouldn’t you try and be her friend or something?”

“Why? She’s not gonna be around much longer anyways, and I already have a friend.”

You rolled your eyes, fishing your keys out of your purse to unlock your car. Again with the sentiment that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t gonna last much longer. You decided against deeming that statement with an answer and got into your car, with Sarah getting into the passenger seat.

“Do you want to grab some burgers?” She asked, buckling up, like you hadn’t just told you that your ex and his new girlfriend weren’t gonna last.

You gave her a look as you tossed your purse to the back.

“What do you mean do I want to grab burgers? I thought you wanted to leave because you’re meeting John B early in the morning.”

Sarah blinked at you, before she reached out to give you a shove on the forehead. “I was lying so we could get away, stupid.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, starting your car as Sarah protested.

“What? I was getting weirded out by you being all besties with Rafe’s new girlfriend. I don’t even understand how you can be so nice to her knowing she’s all up on your man.”

“Pray tell, who’s my man again?”

“Don’t even,” Sarah huffed. “You guys dated forever, I know you still love each other. And let me tell you one thing,” she said, raising her eyebrows at you. “If you got a new boyfriend? Rafe would not be this nice to him like you were to Rebecca.” With that, Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, settling back against her seat.

You only sighed, starting your car in silence.

“Do you want to get burgers now or not?” you asked, extending a peace offer while looking over at Sarah. She glowered at you, before nodding with an eyeroll.

“Yes.”

BONUS + I Rafe

“I did, at the party last night… She said she’s happy that you have me, that she was worried about how you work too much.”

Rafe pushed the pasta on his plate around with his fork, too engrossed in his thoughts to even think about eating. He didn’t even notice how Dennis had stopped talking. Rafe looked up from his plate, only to see Dennis look at him intently, an amused grin on his face.

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

“I was saying a lot, but you seemed like you were on a completely different planet,” Dennis noted, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Rafe winced, putting his fork down.

“Sorry, I have a lot on my mind.”

“I can tell,” Dennis mused. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Something like that.”

Rafe sighed, leaning back in his chair. Ever since you broke up, Rafe has been assuming that you didn’t care about him anymore, that you had long moved on from him and your relationship. He thought that you resented him, blamed him for the break up, which was honestly the main reason why he went back to the dating scene so quickly; to get over you. But hearing that you still cared about him? Enough to be nice to his new girlfriend and even ask about him? He wondered if there was still a chance for him and you to be together again.

If it weren’t for the fact that he already had a girlfriend.

“Can I give you some unsolicited advice, son?”

“Do I have a choice?” Rafe asked with a wry grin and Dennis only let out a belly laugh, shaking his head.

“Rafe, most relationships these days end because of your own ego, from both parties. No matter how big the fight or problem seems, will it really be that important in hindsight?” Dennis asked him. “How long have you an your girl been together? Almost 5 years, no?”

Rafe nodded, not daring to correct Dennis. He had never outright told him that you had broken up in the first place.

“See, that’s half a decade. I can assure you, in another half, you’re not even gonna remember this fight.”

Yeah, I don’t know about that, Rafe thought.

“Do you love her?”

Turning his ring on his finger, Rafe let out a soft exhale, before nodding. “Yeah, I do.”

“See. Problem solved.”

Rafe lifted his head to grin at Dennis.

“Thanks. Is it okay if we cut today short?”

“Sure,” Dennis said, waving Rafe off when he reached for his wallet. “Lunch is on me. Go get your girl.”

“I will,” Rafe promised, pushing his chair back to stand up. “I just gotta take care of something else first.”

BONUS + II You

You were staring at your phone, text thread with Rafe open. It was Saturday night; you and Sarah had went out to a small beach party. Sarah had gone to fill her drink back up and you had used that time of solace to overthink. About Rafe.

For the past few week, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. And you blamed your friends for it, really. First Wheezie, then Topper and then Sarah? Somehow all of them said that the break up was the worst idea, and even though you had always second guessed the choice to break up, this was the first time you actually actively regretted it.

The way Sarah seemed so sure that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t going to last long. Maybe you were wrong and they weren’t as happy as you thought. But then again, it wasn’t any of your business, was it? Who were you to put your nose into their relationship?

God, you shouldn’t be doing this.

“How long does Sarah need to fill her drink back up?” You muttered to yourself, finishing your vodka soda and burying the cup in the sand next to you, when you heard foot steps approaching.

“Finally! I was about to send a search group out for you!” you exclaimed, standing up and dusting the sand off your lap. “Seriously, how long does it take for-”

You froze when you turned around just to see Rafe standing in front of you, instead of Sarah. Swallowing thickly, you blinked at him, caught off guard.

“Rafe, hey,” you said, opting for casual. “Sorry. I thought you were Sarah.”

The corners of Rafe’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, I could tell.”

You looked at him, sighing a bit wistfully (mostly) internally, before you shifted on your feet nervously. “It was nice to see you,” you said, and it was true. “But um… I think I’ll go look for Sarah.” You gave him a small smile, before walking towards, and then past him.

“You’re still worried about me.”

You let out a startled laugh, pausing mid-step to turn back to him. “What?”

“You told Rebecca that you were glad that I had her and that you worried I work too much.”

“Of course I’m still worried about you,” you huffed, brushing your hair back. “You can’t be surprised about that.”

Rafe looked at you, and you could tell that this was news to him.

“Rafe.”

Rafe let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “You didn’t reply to any of my texts. I thought you were mad at me or somethin’.”

“I didn’t reply to any of your texts because we said we’d do no contact for a while.

“Still,” Rafe muttered, kicking a rock. “I didn’t think it would be so easy for you-”

“And because you were happy with Rebecca, do you think it’s easy for me to see you with someone else?”

“I broke up with Rebecca last week.”

“What?!”

Mouth agape, you stared at him and Rafe only rubbed the back of his neck. “She… Wasn’t what I wanted.”

“Oh,” you only said, letting out a soft exhale. “I’m sorry about that.”

Rafe sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His gaze was trained on the floor for a bit, before he lifted his head to look at you.

“I want to try again… I want us to try again.”

“Rafe…”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes wide and you didn’t move as Rafe took a step towards you, reaching for your hand. Your fingers were cold in his but they quickly warmed to his touch, and the way he laced his fingers with yours, felt all to familiar.

“I love you. I never should have agreed to breaking up. It was arguably the second stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“And what’s the stupidest?” you asked, corners of your mouth lifting.

“Not listening to you when you were just trying to help,” he answered, looking down at you, so vulnerable like you hadn’t seen him in a long time. “I rearranged my schedule at the company so I could take on less work, take more time off and relax. Take the time to get us to where we were before it all went shitty.”

Your heart was in your throat as you listened to him talk, unsure what to say.

“Rafe, I don’t know… “

“Baby, please,” he begged, squeezing your hand. “Do you love me, still?”

You scoffed. “That’s not fair.”

“Why? Because you do?”

“Of course I still love you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. “Do you know how hard it was for me to ignore your texts? To see you with another girl, so happy?”

Rafe shook his head, lifting his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t. Not really.”

You let out another sigh, looking at the way your hands were intertwined, how your heart had stopped racing, before you nodded, looking up at him. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

A smile spread across Rafe’s face, so big it was so uncharacteristic for him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It was like that word switched a flip inside of him, as he grabbed you by your nape gently, to kiss you, slotting his lips against your, and as your lips touched, it felt like you were finally home again. You only pulled away to breathe, both of you staring at each other like you couldn’t quite realize this was happening.

Sarah [05/11/2024: 10:45 pm]: (sent to 4 contacts) [picture attached: blurry photograph of you and Rafe kissing at the beach]

Topper [05/11/2024: 10:46 pm]: thank god.

Kelce [05/11/2024: 10:51 pm]: FINALLY!

Wheezie [05/11/2024: 10:59 pm]: !!!!!!

Barry [05/11/2024: 11:02 pm]: read at 11:02 pm

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: sooo.... what are we thinking?

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction

[inmaki]

gojo making fun of your other fwb

( smut, a little smthn while i work on my nanami fic <3 ) .

"just put it in, for fucks sake."

gojo chuckles, running his mushroom-shaped tip up and down your folds. every time he reaches your hole, he pushes his cock in just enough to breach your entrance, before pulling out and continuing his ministrations. like a fucking idiot.

"aw, y’want my dick that bad? 'need me to fill you up?" what about matsukawa?"

your expression sours, sending him an annoyed look. this was by far the first time he’s brought up his displeasure for your other friend, especially in bed.

“are you trying to make me dry?" you bark, trying to close your legs - which he immediately stops with a large hand. "if you wanna fuck, stop talking about him and hurry."

gojo rolls his eyes, despising the way you're practically defending the fucker. sure, he's just a friend too - but you were clearly his; you've always been addicted his lips against yours, his hands on your body, his cock against your cervix. now this other shithead thinks he can come and take that away?

he doesn't know how to handle it besides-

"is this how he fucks you?" suddenly, he forces only an inch or two inside you, barely thrusting in and out with a mischievous smile. a hum leaves his lips as your insides squeeze him firmly, but he's stubborn enough to hold back the urge to fill you up properly. "probably can’t reach anything, i bet even my fingers are bigger."

the audacity and immaturity of the man in front of you has you baffled. here you are, ready to be fucked into the mattress by him - and all he can do is joke about some other guy's dick length? you desperately want to scold him, tell him to fuck off - but as expected - the feeling of his fat cock not reaching where you need has your mind going blank in desperation.

"please.. just fuck me, toru."

he smirks, and without giving you any time to adjust, he's mercilessly slamming in the rest of his length so the tip presses right up against your womb. his balls smack against you from below, and you shiver at the feeling of his white pubic hair grazing your pelvis. "so i'm right? hah, what a fuckin' loser. 'course he has a small dick."

you're too busy catching your breath to hear him, and gojo smoothly takes that opportunity to throw your legs over his shoulders and press them against your chest, ensuring his cock hits your g-spot at the perfect angle. just how you like it.

the white-haired bastard can't help but smile, licking his lips at your rolled back eyes and the harmonious ah, ah, ah's that escape your throat with each brutal slam of his hips. "becoming my brainless cocksleeve as usual, so damn cute. only i can rearrange these guts, right?" he demands, bending you even further while getting right in your face.

"say it. say who owns this sloppy," thrust, "fucking," thrust, "pussy," thrust.

“you, only you!” the words tumble out of you before you can stop them.

“who?” he grinds right against your cervix, nearly pressing the tip of his nose against yours.

“sa- satoru!”

he rewards you by lowering a thumb to play with your clit, cerulean eyes staring into your very soul. “damn right. scream it louder.”

suddenly, a quiet ding! comes from your bedside table. gojo glances down to your blissed-out face, cautiously peering over to see a message from none other than the man of of the hour.

matsu: wyd? can i come over?

gojo smiles. typing in a response with one hand while the other keeps your thigh firmly against your chest.

you: yea, be quick daddy ;)

you would definitely kill him after this.

( reblogs & comments r appreciated if u enjoy! had this idea at 2am sorry if it’s bad <\3)

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

#inmaki #jjk headcanons #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x female reader #jjk smut #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo satoru #jjk fics #satoru x reader #satoru smut #jjk x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff

[nottsangel]

ghostface!rafe cameron hcs !! ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

moodboard . masterlist . warnings: smut 18+, murder, violence

ghostface!rafe cameron protecting you from the bloodlust killer that has been terrorising the town for weeks, telling you that he will be by your side no matter what, when he’s the killer.

“don’t be scared baby, you know i’ll take care of you, alright? i won’t ever let anything happen to my sweet girl”

ghostface!rafe cameron comforting you when one of your male friends dies, brutally slaughtered by the killer that he almost couldn’t be identified anymore, when he is the one that stabbed him with his knife repeatedly after he saw him flirting with you.

“i know baby, i know. come sit on my lap and let it all out”

ghostface!rafe cameron telling you to stay inside with him because it’s dangerous out there, but only so he can have you all to himself while he secretly kills at night when you sleep.

“it’s safer to be here with me, alright? it’s too dangerous out there for a pretty girl like you”

ghostface!rafe cameron admiring how your beautiful lingerie looks on your pretty body, before cutting it open with his knife and tossing it aside, promising that he will buy you ten new sets after you start whining.

“what’s wrong baby? you know i can buy you anything you want”

ghostface!rafe cameron fucking you with his mask on after telling you he randomly found it at a costume store even though it’s the mask he wears every time he kills a new victim.

“you like this baby? hmm? fuck, i knew you were a dirty little slut”

ghostface!rafe cameron distracting you from your fears, making you cum over and over again until you forget what you were so scared of.

“ssssh, just lie down and let me distract you sweet girl”

full fic based on this!

#❥ ari’s works #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron headcanon #rafe cameron x you #obx #outer banks #outer banks smut #obx smut #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron drabble #ghostface #ghostface rafe cameron #ghostface!rafe cameron #rafe cameron hcs