#like literally the only thing that happened in three days were the announcements of the changes in his relationship status

[astonmartinii]

fatherhood looks good on you | george russell social media au

pairing: george russell x fem albon reader

there comes a point in the relationship where you take it to the next level

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

- part of the brother's best friend series -

yourusername

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tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: looking so good i want to give you a baby

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user1: WHAT

user2: we really be saying anything on the internet these days

alexalbon: SHUT THE FUCK UP THE LITERAL ONLY RULE OF THIS RELATIONSHIP WAS THAT YOU KEEP THIS SHIT TO YOURSELVES

yourusername: gosh a girl can't have baby fever in peace these days

alexalbon: unless that baby is coming by stork you can put that talk on hold real fast

yourusername: just because lily is busy does not mean you have to take it out on me and george

georgerussell63: alex is it illegal for a man to be handsome?

alexalbon: if it's illegal to be handsome, you'd have the cleanest record known to man

yourusername: STOP RIGHT THERE DIDN'T YOU KNOW THAT LYING IS A SIN

alexalbon: i'm not going to say YOUR boyfriend is hot, no.

yourusername: just because i got in there first 🙄

user3: i don't think she's serious but also george with a baby is just too cute not to happen

user4: george is the perf instagram boyf like he's so ready to pose

landonorris: well that definitely is something we all want to know

yourusername: i know you would LOVE to know ALL the details norris

georgerussell63: she's never going to let your crush go lando, you gotta just hold it

landonorris: i was THIRTEEN

yourusername: you don't love me anymore? 😕

landonorris: i don't know why i always get in these arguments with you

user5: i love how george just instigates things for y/n lmao

user6: your boyfriend should always support your mess

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georgerussell63

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georgerussell63: fatherhood is a different beast

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user8: alright i am so confused

user9: there's no way y/n can actually be pregnant i saw her down at least three pornstar martinis in hospitality this weekend

alexalbon: this better be a joke or i'm gonna kick you so hard you get a free non-reversible vasectomy

yourusername: stop the violence!

alexalbon: THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR GLEE REFERENCES

yourusername: someone is channelling some serious sue vibes right now

georgerussell63: let it be known i like my reproductive systems the way they are

alexalbon: that's kind of the point of a threat, you aren't supposed to want it

yourusername: he likes threats if they come from the right person

alexalbon: i am about one more comment away from knocking down your hotel room door and throwing george from the balcony

yourusername: and deprive our child from a father... alex i expected better from you

alexalbon: that's it i'm on my way

georgerussell63: @mercedesamgf1 PLEASE PROTECT ME I AM PRECIOUS CARGO

user10: these bitches got me actually combing through tiktoks and hospitality menus to see if y/n was actually drinking

user11: i'm gonna be real angry if this is all a big joke

user12: i know kimi antonelli is young but this is NAWT the way to announce him for 2025

charles_leclerc: guys i need you to spell everything out i am confused

georgerussell63: no can do charles you gotta follow the breadcrumbs just like everyone else

yourusername: it's right there sharl

charles_leclerc: actually alex, wait, i'm coming with you these hoes are annoying me

landonorris: don't forget me

yourusername

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tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: our baby is here!

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user15: A CAT?

user16: i just knew george russell would be a ragdoll girl

georgerussell63: they were right i AM a girl dad

yourusername: finally dilf status

georgerussell63: a title i do not take lightly

yourusername: i can confirm libido has gone UP since becoming parents!

landonorris: shut THE FUCK UP

yourusername: you'll understand in time lando

georgerussell63: you just found yourself at the bottom of the babysitting list

landonorris: i don't want to look after it

yourusername: IT? IT? HOW DARE YOU?

georgerussell63: she can hear you lando that's so disrespectful :(

landonorris: ??? i'm not saying sorry to a cat over instagram comment

georgerussell63: expect the same courtesy when i take you out first corner next weekend

user17: i fear that was not a threat but a promise from george

user18: it's kinda hot

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alexalbon: NEW ALBON PETS LORE AND NONE OF YOU TOLD ME

yourusername: ella can't wait to meet the gang

alexalbon: no offence but ella is kinda a shit name

yourusername: short for mozzarella

alexalbon: i take it back

georgerussell63: cause she's the lil pearl of our life

alexalbon: i love her already

user19: so we went through all this tomfoolery for a cat? a cat called mozzarella?

user20: you have to agree it's iconic

alexalbon

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alexalbon: i knew @albon_pets would get george at some point

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user22: i love how alex became the chill guy again after it was revealed he was not yet an uncle

georgerussell63: hard on the yet

alexalbon: too soon george

user23: the albon pets signature of approval is a bigger sign that george is in the gamily than if he actually proposed to y/n

user24: they've got a baby now he's an albon

yourusername: horsey is going to kick off over having to share george with me and mozzie

albon_pets: bring it on - horsey

yourusername: alex i'm not arguing with you pretending to be horsey, this ain't roscoe and lewis

lewishamilton: rude

roscoelovescoco: meanie

yourusername: did you just call me mean as your dog?

lewishamilton: you were extra mean

yourusername: fine lets let mozzie and roscoe scrap it out at silverstone - she's got the sass of both me and george btw x

lewishamilton: stay AWAY FROM MY DOG

user25: the merc garage gonna be a whole petting zoo at silverstone i can't

user26: you wanna catch up with red bull? sell meet and greet tickets to the petting zoo

maxverstappen1: this is my official invitation to a play date with jimmy and sassy

yourusername: WE'LL BE THERE

maxverstappen1: is mozzarella civilised?

georgerussell63: of course my child has manners?

maxverstappen1: you crash into people all the time, i had to check

georgerussell63

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georgerussell63: all of the family here for the home race

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user27: y/n wearing mozzarella in a baby harness i need to be put down

user28: that really is their child oh my

yourusername: make our baby proud georgie

georgerussell63: anything for you two xx

alexalbon: why do i never get these nice comments

yourusername: they're transmitted through our genes x

yourusername: also george more important 👍🏻

alexalbon: i'm literally your brother? your flesh and blood?

yourusername: george cuter

georgerussell63: can't argue with that

alexalbon: well of course he is this ain't alabama. (sorry logan)

logansargent: i'm from florida?

yourusername: even worse, my condolences

georgerussell63: can we get back to talking about how dashing i am?

yourusername: yes!

alexalbon: NO. SAY GOOD LUCK Y/N

yourusername: good luck y/n

alexalbon: what if i crash and you never said good luck, think about it y/n

yourusername: good luck alex (you're an asshole for weaponising the sport (and you being shit at it))

user29: i think i had about three strokes trying to follow this argument

user30: poor logan is just a victim of the albons at this point

landonorris: have a baby and forget about the rest of us, i see how it is

yourusername: you will never measure up to mozzie lando i hope you know that

georgerussell63: what y/n means is that i love my friends, but a child is a gift from god

landonorris: it's a cat. she can't even talk

yourusername: and yet she makes better points than you, makes you think

yourusername

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tagged: georgerussell63

yourusername: fatherhood looks good on you

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user31: mozzarella is so big already 🥹

user32: maybe i'm worse than them cause i'm attached to mozzie as well

georgerussell63: no one else i'd rather be cat parents to

yourusername: you're such a romantic

georgerussll63: such a pleasure to take this next step with the love of my life

yourusername: i love you more

georgerussell63: not possible

alexalbon: you being gross about mozzie was better than what ever the fuck this is

yourusername: @lilymunhe does he not treat you right?

lilymunhe: he's a romantic really, he's just exhausting the protective big brother act until george finally proposes

alexalbon: sue me

maxverstappen1: still waiting on the play date ...

yourusername: monaco?

maxverstappen1: done

yourusername: jimmy, sassy and ella will be like the charlie's angles reincarnated

georgerussell63: can't wait for you to see her IMPECCABLE manners

maxverstappen1: okay princess george

yourusername: hey only i can call george princess

maxverstappen1: you keep that to yourself

user33: disappointed that with all the tomfoolery around mozzie that there was no maternity photoshoots

yourusername: oh do not give me a challenge...

fin.

note: NEW SERIES ALERT? i'll create a masterlist after i post this. i hope you enjoyed, this one is more of a tame brother's best friend take but dw they can get more beefy and more sassy - send me any pairings you might like to see! thanks for reading x

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 #george russell instagram au #george russel imagine #george russel x reader #george russell #george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell fluff

[badasbebi]

the cupid project ➛ 1/2

part two

✦ pairing: bada lee x fem!reader

✦ summary: you and your long-term work crush devise a plan to win a company contest. in the end, you wind up going to extreme lengths to commit to the bit

✦ genre/au: fluff, fake dating, videographer reader, bada's extra sweet here, slight friends to lovers

✦ word count: 7k

✦ warnings: isn't proofread. another unrealistic meet cute that doesn't really make sense. smut in part 2

✦ a/n: another two-parter simply bc my fics are too long. 2nd part is finished and will, again, be posted soon (literally tomorrow). didnt put as much thought into this one as I have with my other stories, which will probably be a pattern from now. still think its fun. enjoy!

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"It's been three minutes. Why are we still waiting on people?" Youngj fusses, running his fingers through his hair, tousling it

"Relax, Jae. You called us here last-minute. People are busy," Minho says from where he is sitting, scrolling through his phone.

Youngj's eyes snap to him. "Too busy for an emergency meeting with their boss?" He retorts, raising an eyebrow. 

Minho looks at him, then shrugs. "Well, that's what happens when you hire a bunch of ultra-talented, sought-after dancers. We don't need you," He finishes, swiftly turning back around, sunglasses concealing his eyes. 

Youngj gapes for a second, then seemingly surrenders, slouching back in his chair with a scowl. 

Meanwhile, you're balancing a camera lens in your hand on the sofa across from them, twisting and turning the machinery in your hand as you stifle your laughter. Still being somewhat new to the team, you weren't sure if you necessarily had the right to take part in Minho's teasing. You became an employee at JustJerk Dance Academy only six months ago, after JustJerk announced that they were looking for new hires. However, you weren't a part of their star-studded lineup of top choreographers and instructors. Instead, you were hired to be a videographer and photographer, working behind the scenes to ensure that every breathtaking move, every impassioned sequence, and every dancer was captured flawlessly. 

Which, it was not like it was very hard. The people here were phenomenal enough as it was, making your time spent at work nothing less than a blessing for someone who's long watched dancers from the sidelines. Even better, the members of JustJerk Dance Academy aren't just a group of talented dancers, but also a lovely group of people. They're kind and caring, often inviting you out to eat after a long day of filming or helping you with the things you struggled with. Sometimes, you still got awestruck around them because it was such a far cry from what you were used to. But, it was beginning to feel like home. And, as the days went by, everyone started to feel more and more like family.

Well, almost everyone.

Suddenly, you hear the doors swing open and glance up to see who's arrived.

"Sorry I'm late," A voice rings throughout the room, revealing none other than the legend herself, Bada Lee. 

Even after having passed by her a million times, the woman never failed to take your breath away. She was gorgeous and had an allure unlike anyone else, with a presence that seemed to shift the energy in every room she entered. In other words, she was also intimidatingly cool, which led to you frequently avoiding her because you were, simply, terrified. Though she's always been nothing but sweet and brilliant during your brief interactions, this kindness almost made things worse. It'd be much easier to disregard her if she was an asshole. Unluckily for you, she was one of the most charming people you've encountered in your life, making it nearly impossible to ignore the magnetic pull that's been causing an increasing amount of debauched thoughts and dreams. 

Bada walks toward the rest of the group with an apologetic smile on her face. Her long, black and blonde hair was tied back in a bun, and her baggy clothes were noticeably wrinkled, suggesting that she came straight from practice. Despite her slightly disheveled appearance, she looked as enticing as ever. 

You avert your gaze and continue playing with the camera equipment in your hands, attempting to appear nonchalant. 

"What happened? You're never late," Youngj asks, sitting upright. 

"I was helping one of my students out with a routine and got a little distracted. Sorry," Bada explains with a pout, sitting down on a separate couch next to yours. You keep your eyes on the camera in your hands.

"Don't worry about it, I just need everyone's attention for a few moments," Youngj says, scanning the room. "Is this everyone?"

"No, Redllic should be coming in soon. She was right behind me," Bada says, looking over at the door.

Your eyebrow inadvertently quirks up at the sound of Redllic's name escaping her lips. 

"Good enough, then. Let's get started," Youngj leans forward in his seat, clapping his hands together. "I want to first apologize to all of you for calling you here so abruptly. Unfortunately, this was the only time I had to get you all here together.”

Everyone eagerly waits for him to speak, the air thick with curiosity as Youngj takes a deep breath, his gaze shifting from one person to another.

"So, to clarify, I didn't call you guys here for anything particularly important."

Minho laughs bitterly. "I fucking knew it."

Youngj gives him a pointed look before continuing. "There's a special event that the company is holding and I wanted to inform all of you about it in-person, because even though it isn’t anything to worry about, it is admittedly a bit...unusual for us."

"What is it?" Redllic asks, appearing out of thin air. Everyone, except for Bada, jumps slightly, surprised by her sudden arrival.

"Redllic!" Youngj says, placing a hand on his heart. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Oh, sorry," Redllic shrugs, plopping down next to Bada, throwing her feet onto the coffee table. "What's going on?"

"Right, um," Youngj clears his throat. "As I was saying, there's an event that we're hosting for Valentine's Day. We're calling it the 'Cupid Project.' Basically, you're all going to get into pairs, and you'll be doing a variety of activities together," Youngj explains, his eyes scanning the group, watching the reactions on everyone's faces. 

Ew, is the immediate word that pops into your head. This reminded you of the group projects your teachers forced you to do in school. You can already see how this project will play out, and it's probably not going to be pretty. Based on the skeptical expressions you can make out, you are at least relieved to see that you aren't the only one feeling hesitant. 

"What kind of activities?" Bada asks softly, tilting her head.

"Just activities to get to know each other. Doing things you wouldn't normally do," Youngj replies, shrugging his shoulders. "Jho and I have some planned activities, but the point is for you and your partner to find things to do voluntarily. If we plan everything out for you guys, then it'll be completely forced."

"Wait, wait, wait," Minho interjects, pushing his sunglasses onto the top of his head. "So, you're telling me I have to go on a date with someone here?"

"No," Youngj shakes his head. "We're not forcing you to fall in love or anything. This is purely platonic, just a fun way to bond with each other. And there'll be a prize," Youngj says, wagging his finger.

"A prize?" Minho echos, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. You and your partner will compete against the others and the pair who does the most activities and seems to have actually become good friends with each other will win a reward."

"How are you measuring that?" Hoyeon, another videographer, asks. 

"We'll conduct anonymous votes and collect them at the Valentine's Day party we're hosting," Youngj explains. "But, it's not supposed to be all that serious, everyone. We're just trying to do something fun and, you know, team-build since we've gotten a lot of new hires recently. And, we'll get a good video out of it. We're planning on making a highlight reel of the Cupid Project for our Youtube Channel, which will be nice promotional material, too."

So that's what this was really about: content. Truthfully, you wouldn't have an issue with this if it were not very likely that you'd be the one filming or editing this highlight reel. You internally groan, realizing you'll have to deal with an increased workload because of this clusterfuck. 

"I think it's a great idea," Redllic says, a mischievous smirk on her face. You watch her glance at Bada, who is staring at nothing with an unreadable look in her eyes.

"Well, what's the prize?" Minho asks. 

"600,000 KRW"

Others around the room whisper in excitement. You almost drop your camera. Out of shock, yes, but also because that was exactly the amount of money you needed to buy a brand new camera that you've been eyeing for ages. You've been wanting to record more complex videos, wanting to work on actual music video sets, but your current setup is limiting you. If you were able to get your hands on that camera now, you'd be about a year or two ahead of the original timeline you had in mind. You bite the inside of your lip, hoping Youngj doesn't see the desperation in your eyes.

"Holy shit," Hoyeon mutters. 

The two of you make eye contact, and you already know that the two of you are working together. You were close, having joined the company at the same time and being around the same age. This would be an easy win. 

"Alright, so it's settled, then," Youngj says, a confident grin forming on his face.

"Are we choosing our own partners?" Redllic asks, moving a blonde strand of hair away from her face. 

"No. That would lead to a bunch of people asking to be paired with people they're already friends with, which would make the whole thing pointless. We're drawing names out of a hat," Youngj says, gesturing towards the baseball cap resting on the coffee table.

Everyone collectively groans. You try not to cry. 

"Stop, come on, don't make this difficult," Youngj frowns. "The sooner you choose, the more time you have to prepare. Now, who wants to go first? I already have your names written,"

"Wait, let me go first," Hoyeon volunteers, jumping up and grabbing the hat. She reaches her hand inside and picks a small slip of paper out, then reads it aloud. You bite your lip, praying.

"Howl," Hoyeon declares, holding the piece of paper out for everyone to see. 

Your name is not Howl, but you nearly howl right then and there. Realistically, the probability that you would get who you wanted was unlikely considering the number of people in the room. Nonetheless, it hurt. 

The man with the wolf-centric name quietly stands and moves away from the corner he was situated in. He had been quiet the entire meeting, and most did not really notice he was there until Hoyeon mentioned his name.

"Guess it's you and me," Hoyeon laughs, smiling at the tall figure beside her.

Howl gives her a slight smile, shakes her hand, and they sit back down.

"Alright, Bada. Why don't you come over here?" Youngj says, gesturing to the coffee table.

"The one that everyone wants, I'm sure," Redllic comments with a bemused smirk, causing a clamor of chuckles.

Bada scoffs, and heads over to the table. She reaches into the hat, rustling through the papers. You hold your breath, reminding yourself of the unlikelihood that you'd be the name she pulled. However, as the woman's fingers curl around a single sheet of paper, your heart skips a beat. You feel as if you were the one reaching into the hat.

Bada pulls the paper out and unfolds it, her eyes scanning the sheet. Then, her eyes lock with yours, and your heart leaps. 

"Y/N," Bada calls out, holding the paper up.

You freeze, the room spinning around you. There's no way. 

Bada cocks her head to the side. "It's you, right?"

"Oh! Um, yeah," You sputter, quickly gathering the camera equipment around you.

You hear whispers and feel a hundred pairs of eyes on you as you walk over to the girl. You ignore the feeling of your skin burning. 

"Hey, Y/N. It's nice to officially meet you. I've seen you around a lot," Bada says, eyes warm.

"Yeah, nice to officially meet you, too," You say, extending your hand.

Her hand is warm and soft, enveloping yours like a blanket. Your hand feels cold and sweaty. 

"Interesting," Redllic quips, eyes darting between you two, a glint in her gaze. Bada tears her eyes away from you, giving the blonde woman a questioning look as she retracts her hand.

You take the opportunity to step away, returning to your seat and letting the other dancers pull names. The rest of the pairings are revealed without much commotion, except for Minho's, who loudly complains when he has to partner up with Jaeyong, a good choreographer, but awkward man. 

After all the names are drawn, everyone is dismissed. You're quick to leave the room, eager to return to the comfort of your familiar space behind the camera.

"Y/n! Slow down! We need to talk!" Hoyeon calls, catching up to you.

You turn around, side-stepping out of the way of people walking past you in the hallway. You wait for her to stop in front of you before you speak."With all due respect, I don't really want to talk right now. I just want to record. Then go home, and eat some ramen."

"With Bada?" Hoyeon sings, a cheeky grin forming on her face.

"Shut up," You mumble, rolling your eyes and continuing down the hall.

"Wait, why are you so bummed?" Hoyeon starts, following behind you, "Bada's cool?"

You sigh. "Exactly. She's cool. I'm...not."

"What? Yes, you are. Why would you think otherwise?" Hoyeon scoffs, her eyes narrowed.

"I just," You pause in the hallway again, trying to formulate the words. "I'm a little scared of her, is all."

"Scared?" Hoyeon questions, her forehead wrinkling. "She's nice though. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Yeah, but she's so pretty, and talented, and again, I'm not. Not in the way extraordinary way that she is, I mean.” You explain, shoulders slumping. 

A look of realization dawns upon Hoyeon's face, and she laughs menacingly. "Oh, I see what this is. You think she's hot, and you're a scaredy cat who's afraid of rejection. Case closed. I understand."

"That's not how I would phrase things but, essentially, yes," You concede, turning the corner.

"You're being silly. She's not a god. She's literally just a human being...a very sexy human being but a human being nonetheless. Just talk to her like one," Hoyeon suggests, shrugging her shoulders. "I mean, are you not going to try to get that money? I know you want it. I saw that crazed look in your eye once Youngj made it to that fifth zero."

You laugh, "I mean, yes, I really want that money. I don't know if it's possible though. Even if I wanted to reach out to her, she’s so busy I doubt she's planning on actually committing to this. Especially because she's already loaded."

"You don't know until you try you wimp," Hoyeon says, nudging you in the arm.

"Ow," You groan, rubbing the spot in a manner that probably proves her point. "Aren't you going to try for the money too? Where's Howl, huh?"

"We're friends already, it'll be chill. I don't know if we'll necessarily win the money, but, like, we'll have a good time," Hoyeon states, grinning.

"Ugh, gross," You say, sticking out your tongue.

She ignores your immaturity. "What do you wanna do with the money anyway?" Hoyeon asks, leaning against the wall next to an entrance to one of the dance studios.

"Remember that equipment I told you about? So I can start working on sets?"

"Oh, right," Hoyeon says, crossing her arms. "You said that you've been wanting to do that for a while, y/n. Are you really not going to talk to Bada? I’ve recorded with her a few times now and I mean it when I say that she's nice as hell. I feel like she'd probably be down, or, at the very least, will understand if you explain things to her. "

"I'll try. Maybe. At some point. It's not going to be today, though," you mutter, reaching for the studio door before you are stopped by Hoyeon jabbing her french-tipped fingernail into your chest. 

"You better. Or else," Hoyeon threatens, a dark expression coming over her. 

"Move your finger, please," You say, swatting her hand away.

Hoyeon rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Good luck filming. I'm gonna go find Howl. Love ya,"

"Yeah, yeah. Have fun," You wave goodbye to her as she walks down the hall, pulling out her phone.

Once she's out of sight, you release a deep sigh and push open the door, only to be met with the sight of a familiar face. 

"Oh," You breathe.

Bada turns, a surprised expression on her face. "Y/n, hi. Were you coming in?"

"Um, yeah," You reply, slowly entering the room and closing the door behind you. "Are you rehearsing something?"

"Yeah," Bada answers, glancing at the mirror.

"Sorry. I can go-"

"No, no, don't worry about it. If you need to film in here, that's fine. I'll just go next door," Bada says, waving her hand.

You pause, taking a breath. Now’s your chance. "Actually, forget the recording, could I talk to you real quick? About the...cupid thing?"

"Yeah, of course. I was actually hoping we'd get a chance to talk," Bada grins, sitting down on the floor and patting the spot beside her.

You hesitantly walk over and sit down next to her. You take a moment to compose yourself, running your fingers along the smooth fabric of your pants.

"So," Bada prompts.

"Uh," You stammer, wracking your brain for what you were supposed to say. "Um, well, I just wanted to say that, uh, you are really, um, talented. And-oh, this sounds really weird." You finish, running a palm down your face in embarrassment. 

"No, no, it's not," Bada chuckles, a gentle smile on her face. "Thank you, though. But, um, that's not what you wanted to say, right?"

"Right. Sorry," You apologize, a rush of blood filling your cheeks.

"Don't worry. Take your time. We have a lot of it," Bada reminds you, studying the expression on your face. Her voice and words are calming, but her staring is freaking freaking you out further. 

You take another deep breath, hoping to quell your nerves. "Okay. I'm sorry. Uh, I'll try again. What I really wanted to say is, I know that it’s a stupid contest, and that you probably don't care about winning, but I actually really want to participate in that project and win that prize money. And, I was hoping you'd, maybe, help me win?" Before she can respond, you launch into another tangent. "I'm sorry, you're probably busy, which is okay, but I just want to upgrade my equipment so I can get more opportunities outside of-"

"Hey," Bada says, gently laying her hand on top of yours. "Of course I'll help you. You don't have to apologize. I think it'll be fun."

You nearly spiral, but Bada's touch is surprisingly soothing, and you calm down despite your anxiety. 

"Oh, wow. Thank you, so much," You breathe.

"It's not a big deal, seriously. I'm looking forward to it," Bada insists, squeezing your hand.

You stare at her, and her kind, sparkling eyes. What have you gotten yourself into?

You both sit there for a second, a pregnant pause in the air, before you quickly pull your hand away, remembering how sweaty they were.

Bada smiles, unphased. Then, she begins tapping her fingers rhythmically against the ground, a contemplative look on her face as she stares at the space where your hands were previously intertwined. 

"So," Bada suddenly looks up. "If you're just in it to win it, and you really want a fair shot, I think we need to do something a little extreme."

You blink, scared. "What do you mean…extreme?"

She bites her lip and you have to resist the urge to stare. "Youngj said this was supposed to be platonic, so that's how most people are going to approach it. How do we seem better or stronger than other platonic relationships? What’s more intense than that?"

You must be misunderstanding where she's going with this. "Um, a romantic one?" You say, furrowing your eyebrows.

To your shock, she nods. "Exactly. Y/n, I'm saying that we should make our Cupid partnership a romantic one," Bada states, her expression serious.

Your head is spinning. She is taking this much more seriously than you were anticipating. You were expecting to just go out for coffee a few times, and maybe post a picture of your twinning lattes on instagram to sell your friendship. You have no idea how to process this more intense proposition.

"Are you suggesting that we pretend to date each other?" You confirm.

A beat of silence. She leans back slightly, her eyes flickering. "I mean, yeah. Sure," She pauses. "Unless you're not comfortable with that."

"I am," You respond, the lie escaping your mouth with ease. 

Bada's eyes widen and she sits up, a smile growing on her face. "You're sure? If you're not cool with that, we don't have to. I know the idea is a little bit out there. I just, uh, want to help," She babbles, her fingers tapping against the floor again. 

You laugh. Was Bada Lee nervous? "I'm not uncomfortable with it. I trust you. As long as it helps us win,"

"It will, I promise. I'll make it worth your while," Bada vows, her expression determined.

"I can't wait," You laugh again, feeling the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

"Cool," She breathes, her body relaxing. "Well, I should go. I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

You grin, nodding. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Awesome," She smiles, standing up. She reaches her down and grabs your hand, pulling you up. "I'm not gonna be able to actually meet-up with you tomorrow because I have something scheduled, but I already have your phone number. I'll text you."

You nod, distracted and unable to speak as her soft fingers brush against your palm.

"Bye-bye," She waves cutely, her long legs swiftly carrying her across the room. You wave back, her departing smile etched into your brain as you watch the door click shut behind her. Then, you're alone. 

You stare at the floor, processing the interaction. You had just agreed to pretend to date one of the hottest and most intimidating women you had ever met. You had no clue why you did it. Maybe the promise of money and fulfilled dreams had blinded you. Still, the whole thing seemed a little too ridiculous. Too dangerous. 

But there was no backing out now. You already went through the trouble of telling Bada about your desperation, and you told her that you trusted her. You'd have to commit. 

"Well," you whisper, hugging yourself in a soothing motion. "Here goes nothing."

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You fidget within the plush confines of your seat, hesitantly glancing around your dimly lit surroundings as you twist a gleaming piece of silverware between your fingers. Your other hand remains in your lap, afraid to touch the red linen covering your table. Your gaze settles on a couple a few tables away from you, clinking their wine glasses together with pompous grins. It crosses your mind that the wine they're drinking is probably worth more than the money you're doing all of this for, and you make the executive decision to reach for the bottle of wine the woman sitting across from you generously bought. 

When you drop your fork to outstretch your hand toward the bottle, the woman in question seems to notice, hurriedly grabbing ahold of it before you can reach it, and pours the liquid into your glass, herself. 

"Thank you," you murmur, retracting your hand and finally allowing it to fall on the table. 

"No problem," Bada replies, her voice warm and velvety, like the wine. She pushes your drink toward you, and you hurriedly snatch it up to take a large gulp, allowing it to trickle down your throat. The heat of the alcohol soothes your anxiety, and you exhale deeply. 

Your relief lasts for approximately one millisecond. Because, in the next, you're putting your drink down and are being reminded of the predicament you've gotten yourself into. Bada's preoccupation with her menu gives you the chance to observe the way the soft glow emanating from a nearby lamp illuminates her features. The light traces the curves of her face, accentuating every perfect line. Her eyebrows furrow in concentration, compelling you to consider reaching over the table to smooth the lines over with your thumb. When you try to look away, your gaze locks on the pouting of her lips as she focuses on whatever she's reading. 

"I'm thinking of getting the Frutti Di Mare," she voices, snapping you out of your trance. She sets the menu down and looks up, a gentle smile on her face.

"I don't know what that is," you respond dumbly. 

She laughs, the sound light and airy, causing the skin near her eyes to wrinkle adorably. "I thought Italian was your favorite?"

"It is," you confirm, feeling flustered. "I just-the Italian places I go to are super watered down. The fanciest thing you'll see there is fettuccini alfredo,"

"That makes sense," Bada nods, her smile turning playful. "Then, I'll let you know what it is. It's basically seafood. I think it's usually served with pasta."

"Ah," you reply, nodding slowly. "Tasty."

Bada laughs again, and you feel like a scratched CD—unable to get any words out, twitching in place, devilish sounds threatening to enemate from you at any moment. "I'll make sure to order an extra portion for you to try. Unless, of course, you don't want me to."

"No, that works. I'm fine with that," you respond, quickly.

"I figured." Bada smiles knowingly.

Your hand clutches your chest. "Hey, is that a little shade? Did I miss it? Please, elaborate," you joke, leaning forward.

Bada giggles. "Maybe. You've been drinking a lot of that wine. And I think you ate most of the breadsticks."

You glance at your breadcrumb filled plate, then at the half-empty basket of breadsticks. "Oh. Wow. I did."

"You did," Bada affirms, her expression amused. She scoots her chair closer and takes a sip of her own drink, her tongue darting out to lick her lips once she's done. You have the overwhelming urge to mimic the motion, but resist, choosing to instead stuff another breadstick in your mouth.

You swallow the last bits of the breadstick, wiping the crumbs off of your mouth, only for a new, smaller, crumb to appear. Bada notices, and when she raises her arm, your breath hitches. You feel her soft hand graze the side of your face, the pad of her thumb rubbing the crumb off your lip.

"There we go," Bada smiles, satisfied. You can't help but lean into her touch, the warmth of her skin a pleasant contrast against the cold room.

You're startled out of the moment when the waiter appears, setting a basket of warm bread down. You jump, moving away from Bada.

"Have we decided what we'd like to eat?" he asks, his accent thick.

Bada nods, seemingly unaffected by the exchange. "Yes, we're ready. I'll have the Frutti di Mare."

"Great choice," the waiter says. "And, for you, miss?"

"Um, Spaghetti," you answer, your voice strained. 

The waiter scribbles down the order. "Anything else to drink?"

"I’m good, thank you," Bada answers, her tone sweet, smiling gratefully at the man.

"I'll be right back with your food," the waiter bows his head, his ponytail bouncing, and swiftly leaves the table, leaving the two of you alone. 

Avoiding eye contact with Bada, you grab ahold of your glass and drink. The air crackles with something subtle, and you find yourself stealing glances at Bada’s pretty face in between sips, your cheeks warming.

But you needed to get down to business. It’s already been two days since you discussed fake-dating, and this is the first time you’ve done anything together. The clock was ticking.

You placed your drink down on the table and swallowed loudly, causing Bada to stop fiddling with the napkin in front of her in favor of looking at you. 

"So," you start.

"So," she copies.

"What's the plan?" you ask, drumming your fingers against the table.

Bada's eyebrows furrow again. "The plan?"

"For the whole Cupid thing," you clarify.

"Oh," she says, blinking. "Right. Well, I was thinking, that this was sort of the plan."

"This being..."

"Dinner. At a fancy restaurant," she responds, gesturing to her surroundings. "People will see us hanging out together here, and it'll get the rumor mill running. I wouldn't be surprised if the media picked it up, honestly. I think it's a pretty solid first step. We're just planting the seeds,"

You nod. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense. How do we get from here to actually dating?"

She leans back in her chair, pondering the question. "Hm. I don't know. An Instagram post, maybe? A soft launch?"

You consider this. "Okay, sure. But, what would the picture be of? This is all so, vague."

Bada shrugs, nonchalant. "We'll figure it out as we go. We're gonna be spending a lot of time together for the next few days so there'll be plenty of opportunities for pictures. For now, I think we should just enjoy dinner. We're supposed to look like a couple in love right now and I don't know if trying to scientifically plan a soft launch is really giving romance."

"Right," you sigh. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Bada says, reaching across the table to give your hand a quick squeeze.

You're interrupted by the waiter returning, bringing the food. He carefully sets the dishes down, and a delectable smell fills the air.

"Bon appetit," the waiter bows his head and disappears again.

"Thanks," you call after him, taking a moment to observe the meal.

"It looks great," Bada comments, reaching for her fork.

"It does," you agree, grabbing your own utensils. You take a tentative bite, moaning loudly as the flavors immediately explode in your mouth. "Holy fuck."

Bada stares at you, wide-eyed and frozen, a piece of pasta still stuck on her fork.

You blush, covering your mouth. "Oh my gosh, sorry."

She gulps, snapping out of her stupor. "No, no, it's fine. That was just, a, uh. It seems like you really like it!"

"It's really good," you confirm, your words muffled by the food.

"I can tell," Bada chuckles, her voice low and her eyes twinkling.

"Sorry. I'm gonna try not to embarrass myself any more," you say, chewing more delicately.

She laughs softly. "There's no need to apologize. You're funny, y/n," Bada says, the sincerity of her words and the fondness in her tone making heat rise to your cheeks. 

You eat the rest of your food quietly, listening to the bustling noise around you, the sound of Bada's utensils clinking against her plate unusually relaxing.

As you're finishing your last bits of pasta, a group of loud voices and giggles pass by your table. One of the girls, a brunette, notices the two of you and stops.

"Oh, my god," you hear the girl not-so-discreetly whisper, clutching her friends' arms. "Is that who I think it is?"

You glance at Bada, and she's looking at you. You raise an eyebrow.

"Bada Lee and...I don't know who that is? Who is that?" The brunette's friend replies.

You look down, pretending not to hear the conversation.

"I don't know either. You think that's her girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?! No way. They're probably just hanging out or something."

At this, Bada drops her fork and reaches across the table for your hand, grabbing it gently.

"You okay, baby?" Bada asks, her tone sugary sweet.

You're taken aback by the pet name. But, you decide to play along. You smile at her, placing your other hand over hers. "I'm fine, sweetie. Just a little tired."

"Do you wanna leave, honey?"

"I think I'll be fine," you grin.

"If you're sure," Bada smiles, stroking the back of your hand with her thumb.

"I'm positive, honey bunch," you affirm, biting onto your bottom lip to contain your laughter. 

"Aw, they're cute!" the brunette sighs. "I've gotta tell Sooyoung about this."

"Yeah, we should leave them alone, though. Let's go."

You and Bada watch the pair walk away. As soon as the women are out of sight, the two of you burst into laughter, dropping the facade.

"Did you see their faces?" Bada giggles.

"'Who is that?'" you imitate, your voice high pitched and nasal.

"Baby," Bada says, smirking. 

You laugh, but the endearment sends butterflies to your stomach. "Sweetie."

"Honey bunch," Bada grins.

"Honey bunny," you fire back.

"My love," she replies, tilting her head with a smirk, her voice playful. 

"Lovebug," you answer, raising an eyebrow.

"Is this foreplay?" she jokes, laughing. 

"I mean, if you want it to be, I'm not stopping you," you say, the words slipping out before you can stop yourself. Bada's eyes shoot up, and you feel slightly mortified and shocked by your own brazenness. 

"Do you mean that?" Bada asks, her voice dropping down an octave.

You open your mouth, then shut it. This is odd. You were regretting your lack of filter at first, but Bada seemed a bit too intrigued by the idea of consensual foreplay with you. She could just be joking, or really committing to the fake-dating bit. The look in her eyes was telling you otherwise, though.

However, you're cut off by the waiter reappearing. "May I interest you in dessert, or shall I bring the check?" he asks.

"Just the check, please," she says, not breaking eye contact with you.

The waiter bows, leaving the table once more.

You opt to stare down at the table. "I'll pay half," you offer, avoiding her earlier question.

"It's on me," Bada says. "I brought you here."

"Thank you."

"It's no problem," she says, a small smile on her lips.

Once the waiter comes back, Bada gives him her card. When he returns to your table with the receipt, Bada locks eyes with you, your heart thumping loudly.

"Let's get out of here," Bada says, and you nod.

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You stand at the entrance of the restaurant, a gentle breeze caressing your face. Your hands are stuffed in the pockets of your coat, and the chilly air nips at the tip of your nose.

"Are you ready?" Bada asks from behind you. You turn around to look at her, and the way her eyes reflect the light of the streetlamps above you causes your chest to tighten.

"Ready," you confirm, a hint of a smile on your face.

"Alright," Bada says, shoving her phone, which you don't remember seeing her pull out, into her coat pocket. She leads you to her car, opening the passenger seat door for you.

"Thanks," you smile, and she responds with a nod. 

After the door is closed, she goes around to the driver's seat, starting the engine and driving out of the parking lot. You're both silent as she navigates through the streets. You peer out the window, watching the city lights flicker and blur as you replay tonight's events, attempting to ignore the now obvious tension. 

"So," Bada breaks the silence, causing you to whip your head toward her. "You still haven't fully explained to me what plans you have in mind for that camera you're wanting so badly."

"Well," you begin, relieved that she took the conversation in this direction. "I love what I do at JustJerk. Seriously, watching you guys dance is amazing, and the people are the best. But, I don't want my career to end there. I want to do more on top of that, diversify my portfolio and all. What I really want to do is get onto a music video set. Maybe start directing, too. One day."

Bada hums and smiles. "That's amazing."

"Thanks," you grin, scratching the back of your neck.

"With all due respect, though, do you really need the new equipment for that? You do such a good job with our choreography videos. I don't know anything about videography, but I'd be surprised if that alone couldn't get your foot in the door."

"Well," you draw out, considering your words. "That's probably true. But, I don't think I'm that lucky. The equipment will help, the camera will be useful...the lenses will be nice to have…”

Bada frowns. "Have you given it a shot yet, though? As much as I'm going to try my hardest to help you win this money, realistically, there's a good chance that we still won't win. I'd hate to see you postpone your dreams just because of this camera, or because of this project."

You pause, staring at the car's interior, listening to the sound of the engine running, lost in thought. You weren't sure if it was because you admired Bada so much, or if it was something about her tone, but you were actually starting to rethink things. Perhaps you were holding yourself back a bit. 

"Maybe," you simply respond, unable to say much else. 

"I mean, the equipment will probably help," Bada concedes. "But, not having it won't stop you, I'm sure. Our videographers really don't get enough credit. But, you're all great and you're especially amazing at what you do, y/n. The only reason why I haven't gotten around to working with you is because the other dancers keep getting to you first," she admits, bitterly. 

"Wow," you breathe. "Thank you."

"Of course. You're awesome," she says, the confidence in her words filling your heart.

"So are you," you say, turning away from her, trying not to blush.

"I know. You’ve said it already," Bada smirks, and you simply roll your eyes. 

A more comfortable silence envelops the two of you, and the tension from before dissipates. You lean back in the passenger seat, a smile on your face, feeling content.

Soon, Bada pulls up outside of your apartment, and you're disappointed. 

"This is you," Bada announces.

"Yep," you nod.

"I had a lot of fun tonight," she says, smiling.

"Me too," you reply with a matching smile. "Thank you for dinner."

"It was no problem," she states, waving her hand.

You step outside, but, before closing the car door, you hesitate. "Um," you say, unsure.

"What is it?" Bada asks, a hint of worry in her tone.

"Can I give you a hug?" you blurt out.

Bada looks startled, but her expression softens. "Sure," she nods, turning the engine off and stepping outside.

You meet her on the sidewalk, and pull her into a hug, wrapping your arms around her torso and pressing your cheek against her chest. She hugs back, and you swear that you can hear her heartbeat.

"Goodnight," Bada whispers into your hair.

"Goodnight," you echo, pulling away, already missing her warmth.

She opens the car door again, ducking inside. "Text me when you get upstairs," she instructs.

"I will," you promise.

"Great. Goodnight, y/n," she smiles.

"Goodnight, Bada," you reply, watching her drive away. Once her car disappears, you sigh.

As you trudge up the stairs to your apartment, a single question repeats in your mind: What the fuck am I doing?

You finish cleaning up and getting ready for bed approximately two hours later. As you lay in bed, scrolling through social media, a post from a JustJerk fanpage catches your eye. It's a picture of Bada and you together at dinner, with the caption, "Caught on a date?!"

You laugh at the predictability of the situation, and just as you're about to turn off your phone, you think to check Bada's Instagram, curious. She posted a new story.

You tap it, and it's a picture of you, taken from behind, standing outside the restaurant. There are no words attached to the picture. Just one, pink heart.

You smile, saving the picture, and fall asleep with the image burned into your mind.

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Three days later, you are stationed near your camera, watching Bada teach. The day after your fake dinner date, she sent you a text describing the next stage of the plan, which was attending each other's events and collaborating in public whenever it seemed right. This initially felt like an excellent idea. You'd been dying to watch and record one of Bada's classes since you started working at JustJerk, and it brought you guys one step closer to convincing everyone you were seriously dating. What could go wrong?

The actual execution of this idea turned out to be much more distressing than you previously imagined. It started this morning when you were filming Minho's class. You kneeled in the front of the room, prepping your camera as Minho made rounds around the studio to talk to his students individually. Engrossed with your equipment, you didn't hear the sounds of the door opening and closing, or the following eruption of loud murmuring. It was not until you saw a pair of sneakers stop in front of you and caught a whiff of a now-familiar sweet aroma, that you bothered to glance up. When you did, you found yourself making eye contact with Bada, holding a bouquet.

"These are for you," Bada said, a proud smile on her face. 

Your jaw dropped and you scrambled to get up, almost knocking the camera over. They were roses, vibrant and beautiful against the dull gray of the dance studio. No one had done this for you before. 

"They're gorgeous," you whispered, accepting the flowers.

"I'm glad you think so," she replied, her smile deepening as she observed your reaction. You cradled the bouquet in your hands, inhaling the smell of the roses with a pleased hum and missing the endeared expression on Bada's face. You certainly didn’t see the way she started to lean forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Shocked, you loosened your grip on the bouquet, feeling nothing but the rush of warmth spread through every inch of you as a result of her tiny peck. 

She shifted back, as relaxed as ever. "I gotta go, but I'll see you later?" 

"Definitely," you nod, clutching the bouquet once again, head spinning.

"Great." She nodded, then made her way out of the studio.

After she left, you turned to face the room, only to be met with everyone’s staring. Right. That is what this is about. Getting attention. Nothing else. 

You glanced at Minho, who had a teasing smirk on his face.

"What?" you asked him, scowling. 

"Nothing," he laughed, then restarted his class. 

Now you are recording Bada's class. Or at least, that’s what you’re supposed to be doing. But, having to observe her so confidently lead her students through a routine, hearing her call out corrections with a simultaneously gentle yet demanding tone, noticing how hard her abs are when she lifts her shirt to wipe the sweat from her brow for the last hour? It's been painful. You're so busy trying not to swoon you've nearly forgotten to press record a couple of times.

She suddenly looks at you, flashing a small smile at you accompanied by crinkling eyes. You give her a thumbs-up and quickly shift your gaze toward the camera as if you were busy setting the frame, even though the shot is already perfect.

Bada returns her focus to the class, and the lesson continues. Every once in a while, Bada walks over to you, checking in and asking how everything is going. Each time, she offers a smile, a wink, or some form of encouragement, and every time, it takes everything in your power not to blush. She's clearly playing it up for the audience, but the effect she has on you is no act.

Her students are buying it, though. The moment she gets near you, the girls (and a few guys) start whispering amongst themselves. It's working.

"Alright," Bada claps, signaling the end of the session. "That's it for today. Good job, everybody."

"Thank you, teacher!" they all exclaim, bowing and gathering their things.

You're packing up your camera when you feel a pair of hands grasp your waist. Startled, you drop your tripod.

"Gotcha," Bada giggles.

"Shit, that scared me," you say, placing a hand on your heart.

"Sorry, sorry," she laughs. "How'd the recording go?"

"Pretty good," you say, bending down to pick up the tripod. Bada immediately crouches, beating you to it. "Thank you."

"No problem" she says, straightening up, extending the tripod towards you.

"Thanks," you say again, taking the device from her. "Anyway, you did good. It's not going to need much editing."

"Really?" Bada smiles. "Thank you. That means a lot, actually."

"It’s no problem," you grin, suppressing the fluttering in your stomach. "And, uh, thanks again for the flowers, by the way. They were beautiful."

“You are very welcome. Just fulfilling my fake-girlfriend duties," Bada beams, and you have to look away.

"Well, anyway, I should probably head home," you say, avoiding eye contact. "Gotta get started on the footage."

She tilts her head. "Uh, I don’t think so. That’s gonna have to wait for tomorrow,” 

"Huh? Why?" you ask, confused.

"Because, y/n, we're going bowling with Youngj and them? Don't tell me you forgot," she chides, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh," you say, remembering. "I thought that was supposed to be later."

"It's 7:30," she says, a slight frown on her face.

"Fuck," you curse, running a hand through your hair. "Sorry, I'll get out of here."

"We have to go there together," Bada reminds you.

"Shit. Okay, yeah, let's go," you sigh.

"Are you okay?" she asks, concern etched onto her features.

"Yes. No. Ugh. Sorry, I just had a lot on my mind today. Didn't get much sleep," you say, rubbing your eyes. It wasn’t a complete lie. Ever since your date at the restaurant, you’ve been getting bombarded with messages from friends asking about the two of you, giving you little time to rest alongside your work for Justjerk. There was more going on today, though. 

"That sucks," Bada sympathizes. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," you answer, bluntly.

"Okay," she says, softly. "But, if and when you do, I’m all ears."

"Thanks, Bada. I appreciate it," you reply, and a part of you is telling yourself not to get attached. But the bigger part of you, the part that wants nothing more than to fall into her arms, tells that smaller part to fuck off.

"Of course. Anyway, we should really get going," she says, and you follow her out the door, leaving your thoughts and feelings behind.

read part two

#bada lee #bada lee fanfic #bada lee fluff #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #lee bada #street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #bada lee imagine

[bishopsbeloved]

the art of falling in love (part two)

natasha romanoff x fem reader (high school au)

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

part one | part two (7.3k words) | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

read this fic on ao3!

A good few months have passed, now, since that night in the laundry closet. The harsh Ohio winter begins to melt away to a much more gentle spring, and as the world around you blossoms, so do the relations between you and Natasha.

They remain secret, of course. The novelty of sneaking around has not yet worn off, and so for now whatever is blooming between the two of you remains concealed in a cloak of deceit. You can’t help but feel a little guilty for lying to Yelena, your best friend in the entire world, but the blonde doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Whenever Nat can tell it’s bugging you, she does her best to calm you down, pressing kisses to the places that she knows will make you forget everything except her. Pretending in front of others is hard, acting as though everything’s the same as it was before and as though the absolute love of your life doesn’t send you good morning and goodnight texts, but it’s made absolutely worth it by the attention she does give you when you’re alone.

It’s nearly four months in, now, and you’re still struggling to believe she’s choosing to do things with you. You — her gangly little sister’s scrawny best friend. There’s no doubt in the fact that she could have anyone at your school, senior or otherwise, and the fact that she has chosen you over everyone else in the world quite often makes your head spin, and you have to drop what you’re doing and go and touch her just to remind yourself that this is reality. You’ve wanted this for so long, since you were able to understand what loving someone in this capacity means, and her reciprocation is quite literally incomprehensible to you.

Well… maybe reciprocation is a slight leap. Even though she’s the one who kissed you first, who instigated this whole relationship, she becomes a little flighty whenever you bring up anything more serious — taking her out on a date, or talking about what will happen between the two of you after she graduates. It stings a little (a lot) to think that you might just be a secret for her, someone she would be embarrassed to be seen in public with. That’s been your number one fear since the moment you were sentient enough to comprehend your feelings for her; the crippling fear that you’re not good enough for her. Her, the perfect popular cheerleader and you, who’s decidedly not that. Every moment that you remain a secret is like a constant reminder that those fears are true. The fact that this might be true and that she is ashamed of her relations with you is something you’ve trained yourself to not think about because you start to get all twitchy if you do.

So that’s how it stays. You try to shut off your mind and keep sneaking around with Natasha, trying not to think of the future or of the day that she will inevitably toss you away like a toy she’s no longer interested in, and trying to enjoy the fact that she sees you as worthy enough of any attention at all.

Right now, it’s the last day of school before spring break — and to celebrate, the Starks are throwing a party tonight at their McMansion. It’s all anyone has been talking about since Tony stood up on a lunch table in the cafeteria and announced it himself last week. You were there for the announcement, sat at your usual table tucked away in the corner with your group of friends. It’s a small posse, but you’re very close-knit; consisting only of Darcy Lewis, Wanda Maximoff, Makkari Eternal, Yelena Belova (of course), and you by extension (you’re often teased by the others that you’re attached at the hip, and it’s true, in many ways). As soon as Tony stepped down from his makeshift podium, the whole cafeteria erupted into noise, and Darcy began to excitedly plan who she would ask to go with her.

Your stomach turned involuntarily at the thought of pretending that you’re available, and tolerating your friends’ (mostly Darcy’s) matchmaking attempts for the millionth time. Before you could even stop yourself, you found your gaze wandering to Natasha on the other side of the cafeteria, where she sat with her own (decidedly larger) group of friends. To your surprise you found her already looking at you wistfully. The two of you shared eye contact for a moment, something oddly intimate for such a public setting. At least you could take some form of comfort in the fact that you weren’t the only one in this relationship uncomfortable in pretending you aren’t accounted for.

“Earth to Y/N,” Darcy hums loudly, and you blink as she snaps her fingers in front of your face. “Welcome back, space cadet. We’re talking about —”

“The party,” you finish for her tiredly. You weren’t planning to go at all, but Darcy’s coerced you into it, promising you’ll only have to stay a couple hours. You didn’t have the energy to fight with her, lord knows how insistent she can be, so you ended up giving in — on the condition that she wouldn’t set you up with anyone tonight. She just grins at you though, seemingly amused by your determined lack of enthusiasm.

Darcy is trying to pair us all off with someone, Makkari informs you long-sufferingly. How unpredictable. (Sometimes you forget that most of the people your age haven’t been hopelessly in love for all of their lives, and actually enjoy putting themselves out there, while not feeling awfully guilty that they’re betraying someone.)

“And Makkari was next on the list!” Darcy signs and speaks, so that Wanda (whose nose is buried in a cloth-bound book) can still hear what’s going on. “You and Druig would be cute together, I think.”

The visceral disgust on Makkari’s face is so intense that Yelena bursts out laughing.

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious,” Darcy complains, even though she’s smiling too.

That is revolting, Makkari tells her with feeling . That man is… a brother to me. And I’ve been told he’s a shit kisser anyway.

“He can learn,” Darcy replies with confidence. Makkari performs a very rude and elaborate gesture. “Hmm, who next… Yelena, you got your eye on anyone?”

Yelena shakes her head vehemently. “No. No, thank you.”

That’s a lie, Makkari comments. I see you and — She fingerspells a name much too quickly for any of you to catch it, and you all lean forward in confusion. Makkari rolls her eyes and spells out the name again, slowly, and then even slower again at the blank looks on your faces. K—A—T—

“Kate Bishop,” supplies Wanda dryly, looking up from her book.

Thank you, Makkari says exasperatedly, while Darcy gasps, clapping her hands together in delight and Yelena’s jaw drops, her cheeks flooding with colour.

“Oh, that’s perfect, I totally see that,” Darcy gushes. “How long has that been going on?”

“Nothing is going on,” says Yelena defensively, “she is — we are partners in class, and she shares her snacks with me sometimes. We went to the mall once or twice. That is all.”

When Darcy stares back skeptically she presses her lips together tightly, leaning slightly into your shoulder. You slide a hand into your best friend’s hair, scratching at her scalp to calm her down, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. This isn’t the giddy behaviour of someone with a crush, you realise — this is genuine discomfort.

“Why are you just projecting onto us that you can’t find anyone to go to the party with, anyway,” you snort to Darcy, signing out the basics of that sentence with your one free hand (Makkari subtly nods to let you know she understood). Wanda snickers at that without even looking up from her book this time.

“Okay, ouch, not true,” Darcy narrows her eyes at you, “Thor Odinson asked me to save him a dance. Is that not the behaviour of someone who’s showing interest in me?”

Makkari snaps back with quick retort that you don’t catch, and Darcy gasps in faux insult, the two of them beginning a quick and fiery exchange. You look down at Yelena to see her already looking up at you, the corners of her eyes crinkled in silent gratitude. You wrinkle your nose at her, and brush the bangs out of her eyes before returning to your food. She stays nestled against your shoulder for the rest of lunch — the rest of which proceeds as normal.

Natasha has agreed to drive the both of you to the party, as naturally she will also be in attendance.

“On one condition,” she warns firmly, as you all sit down at the dinner table. “Neither of you get blackout drunk, okay? I won’t have too much since I’ve gotta drive you both back, but if either of you cannot support your own body weight I will literally leave you there. You can fend for yourselves.”

“Always so serious, Natasha,” Alexi chuckles as he folds rags covered in very pungent motor oil. “Loosen up, да? If the twins want to drink they can drink. Lord knows I did at their age.”

“Not at the dinner table, Alexi,” Melina scolds, slapping at his shoulder as she passes him on her way to the stove. “This is good wood, oil will ruin the varnish.”

“Also it smells like shit,” Yelena adds helpfully, promptly ducking to avoid the massive hand that attempts to cuff her reprimandingly round the back of the head. “What is it from? Don’t tell me you are working on that beast in the garage again.”

“The one and only,” Alexi says with glee, rubbing his hands together at everyone’s collective groans. “What is this about, ah? She will be beautiful once I have fixed her up. You will all love her, I know. I call her… Melina.” He says it in a hushed voice, full of wonder, which is promptly quashed when the real Melina just snorts in amusement.

“Very creative,” she quips dryly as she sets down a crockpot in the middle of the table.

“Oh, you laugh now,” Alexi grumbles, “but when we are in backseat you are never complaining.”

Melina laughs wholeheartedly at that, while you, Yelena and Natasha let out similarly horrified noises.

“I can’t eat,” Natasha announces, pushing her plate away dramatically, and you quickly follow suit.

By the time Natasha pulls up into Tony’s stadium-sized driveway, the sun is already dying in the sky, taking its last fiery breaths that paint the world a shadowy pink before dwindling below the horizon into nothingness.

“Remember what I said —” Nat starts.

“About drinking, yes, I remember,” Yelena finishes for her impatiently. “No throwing up on myself, promise. Can we go in now?”

“Well fuck you too,” Natasha retorts. “Be careful of drink spiking, don’t just take a drink that’s handed to you. There’ll be a lot of people here, Stark knows some… unsavoury individuals so just stick to people we know. And whenever you’re feeling like heading home, text me, or come find me, kay?”

“Okay,” says Yelena long-sufferingly, which earns her a twisted arm in response.

You’ve never actually been inside of the Stark household before — well, maybe household isn’t accurate, it’s a multi-million dollar property and easily the biggest building you’ve ever set foot in. Yelena looks around at the high ceilings and chandeliers with a similar element of awe, while Natasha gazes around bemusedly, what with this place being a regular sight for her.

“Romanoff and co, you made it,” Tony Stark himself cheers, swooping into the lobby with a box full of beers. “Drink, m’lady?”

“Driving,” Natasha grimaces.

“Ooh, unlucky. Probably for the best, though, I heard Barton conspiring to put something gross in the punch. He thinks he’s slick… I swear, that guy thinks everyone else is as deaf as he is.”

Nat snorts in amusement, sending you and Yelena one last glance before heading off to the kitchen with Stark. Yelena links her arm through yours, and the two of you head off into the thick mass of people, on a quest to find your friends.

This task proves difficult. Half an hour in, you’ve wandered quite a few of the Stark Mansion’s impressive number of halls without a single member joining your party. You return to the main area, choosing to settle in a corner near a table covered by very expensive-looking vases, and Yelena disappears briefly to fetch you both some drinks. You don’t notice much what it is, you’re just grateful for the cool relief it provides.

“Oh look, it’s Kate Bishop,” you say absently as you spot her over at the chocolate fountain (now is not the time to question the presence of a chocolate fountain, you decide) next to America Chavez. You made the remark without thinking, knowing that Kate is one of the people Yelena likes to see (“she is like a puppy,” Lena said to you once, “all squishy and bouncy and eager to please. Fun to spend time with”), but you remember what happened at lunch today and tense, looking at her to gauge a reaction. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Yelena plays it off well, sipping from her drink to avoid replying any further.

Your hand hovers tentatively for a moment before resting on her shoulder. “Y… you know that if, well, anything, you can tell me, right? I won’t… make fun of you. I like talking with you. Just, uh. Just so you know.”

She looks down at you for a moment, gaze darting from the hand on her shoulder to your eyes. You stare back to her with uncertainty, but a desperation to reassert that you care. She observes you for a moment, long and hard, and you daren’t look away.

Then she gives you a short, sharp, singular nod, and downs the rest of her drink in one.

“I know,” she says curtly. “I will go say hi to her. Come find me later.”

She pats your head with a gentleness that one wouldn’t expect from a tall threatening Russian, to let you know she’s not mad, and you watch her go serenely. You’ve known Yelena for all of your life. She doesn’t say things, she does things. Talking has never been her strong suit, especially in a language that isn’t her mothertongue; you have always been careful to respect her boundaries. You’d never expect her to do something she wasn’t ready for, you’ve always been patient with her and you’ll give her as much time as she needs on this one. You know with a calming certainty that she will talk to you when she’s ready, about whatever she’s feeling about Kate Bishop that’s confusing and hurting her. The fact that you can know your best friend, your twin flame with such assuredness (and she know your own behaviours in turn) is something that never fails to make you feel as though you’ve found your place in the world. You don’t know what you’d do without her. She is your family (and the thought of you betraying her so in sneaking around with your sister is like a knife through your guts, so you’ve very quickly learnt to simply not think about it at all). 

But this feeling of otherworldly serenity is shattered as soon as you turn to leave and explore. Your eyes land upon the sight of Natasha dancing with Bucky Barnes, and it makes your blood run cold.

To be fair, it’s not as though they’re the only two on the dancefloor; most of their friendship group are stood in fairly close proximity to one another. But these two have clearly paired up for this song (Nelly Furtado, you think, but you don’t care enough to figure it out), with their arms around one another, and Barnes whirling her around when the beat drops. The way she’s smiling at him, as though she wants do the things with him that she does with you, makes you feel so ill that you have to look away for genuine fear of being sick right here on this dancefloor.

Feeling like this is an overreaction, you rationalise desperately to yourself, even as all the hairs on your arms begin to stand on end. The two of you aren’t exclusive — that much has been made clear by her insistence around avoiding the topic. And it’s just a dance, Bucky is a good friend of Natasha’s, it probably doesn’t even mean anything.

So why do you feel so gross?

You need a drink, you decide, stumbling off in the direction of the kitchen to overanalyse in peace.

You’re not sure how long has passed by the time Sam Wilson stumbles upon you, in a long dark narrow hall that weirdly reminds you of the Hogwarts bridge, one wall lined with gaping windows that look out on the rest of the house. You’re sat on the floor, wedged into a corner with your knees up to your chest and your back pressed against the wall, watching the party from a whole other dimension with a bottle beside you.

“Oh — hey, sorry, I was just on my way to the bathroom,” he laughs easily. “You gave me a fright there, all curled up in the dark like some horror movie shit.”

There’s a moment of silence, during which his eyes are presumably adjusting to the dark, before he speaks again. “You’re… Y/N, right? That kid Romanoff lives with?”

You press your lips together tightly at the mention of her name, but you nod. (Sam looks so funny where he’s stood in the distance, at the far end of this corridor, you think to yourself. Like a tiny matchstick guy you could put in a dollhouse.) Sam must see your response, because he continues, “thought so. Hey, what’re you doin up here all alone? Where’s Belova? You okay?”

You shrug. He dithers for a moment before slowly walking the hallway, approaching you as though you’re a wild animal that might scare at any moment. When you don’t, he slowly lowers himself onto the ground next to you.

“‘S loud down there,” he says after a moment. “Stark’s my bud and all, but his shit gets too much for me sometimes.”

You nod your agreement. You don’t know Sam well at all — you don’t recall ever speaking to him, he’s much more Natasha’s friend than your own — but there are definitely worse people who could choose to talk to you right now.

“That why you’re up there? All alone? Without your conjoined twin?” he adds, spirit light, a teasing smile on his face.

The corners of your lips twitch upward, and you speak at last, voice a little croaky from crying. “I guess. She went off with someone, I was trying to give them privacy.”

Sam hums, and nods in understanding. “Well if you’re not enjoying the party anymore we can get you home. I think Nat stayed sober tonight, or we can call you a taxi… put it on Stark’s card,” he adds mischievously, which earns a laugh from you.

“Yeah,” you rub at your eyes unceremoniously, “this party’s been a bust.”

“We’ll get you home, then,” he says gently. “Parties ain’t for everyone. Romanoff was looking for you, anyway.”

You freeze. “She was?”

“Yeah, think so. C’mon, let’s go.” He gets to his feet, offering you a hand, and very politely doesn’t comment when you have to lean on him a little on the journey back to the main hall.

“Alright. You sit tight, I’ll go find Romanoff.” He pats your shoulder before letting go of you, and wanders off.

You cast your vacant gaze around the party, simply looking rather than really seeing. With the state your brain is in it takes a few moments to process Yelena rushing across the dancefloor, head lowered and hair shrouding her face, with Kate hurrying after her, calling out. The haze that your somewhat intoxicated brain applies and the distance with which you’re watching from makes the scene look unreal, like something from a movie.

You bite the inside of your lip, hard, forcing yourself to pull it together, and discard the bottle you’re holding on a nearby table as you make your way over to Kate — who by this point has given up the fruitless chase and stands forlorn by the front door, staring out at Yelena’s quickly disappearing figure.

“Bishop,” you say, trying to keep your voice even, “what happened?”

She’s already nervous, you can tell, but when she sees you by her side her eyes go big as saucers. “Oh god. Hi. Hi, hi hi. Um, so, I don’t know.”

“I’m not gonna be mad at you, Bishop,” you say tiredly, “but I need to know what’s going on. She’s been acting weird all day, and when Makkari brought you up earlier I think she actually malfunctioned. What’s going on?”

Kate twitches instead of replying, and you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose between your forefingers. “Please just spit it out.”

“I don’t know what happened,” Kate maintains squeakily. “I thought we were good and we went to like some nice roses or something, I don’t know this place is massive it was like a garden I think, we sat on a bench and we were talking just normal talking it wasn’t even anything weird like we’ve talked about much weirder stuff! This was pretty tame! And she just like shut off and went all blank and marched out and I don’t know what I did,” she finishes lamely, with the trademark Bishop puppy dog eyes that Yelena has complained about to you.

You nod. “Okay. Uh, I’ll talk to her, you just… uh, get home safe. And text her, but don’t suffocate her, you know?”

Kate nods vigorously, stammering more  than you’ve ever heard someone stammer before. “Y— uhh, yep, alright, cool, perfect, got it. No… no suffocation. Nope. That would not be good. Uh, is double texting suffocation?”

“Double texting is like the maximum you can go before it’s asphyxiation,” you advise sagely, and she nods like one of those little dolls with a spring for a neck that you see in trucker lorries before scurrying off (she really is like a puppy, you muse to yourself as you recall Yelena’s words; an oversized, long-legged puppy).

“Alright,” you mutter, “where have you gone, Belova?”

When you turn around, it’s not Yelena that you’re faced with, but her sister. Well, it’s a start, at least.

“Nat,” you say, and your voice sounds like it’s very very far away and it doesn’t belong to you, “come on, we have to find… Yelena.” You reach out to grab her hand but she shakes away your touch, and your cheeks burn at the rejection and the realisation you’re in public. Of course she doesn’t want to touch you in public, you think to yourself, and the doubts from the hallway before Sam came and found you start creeping back and your head starts to hurt again.

“What’s going on?” Natasha asks, daring to place a hand on your shoulder as she leads you through the front door and down the driveway. “What’s wrong with Yelena?” She pauses, taking in your appearance for the first time all night under the light of the street lamps that line the long, linear driveway. “What’s wrong with you?”

You open and close your mouth a few times without making any sound, like a fish, searching for the words. Suddenly it feels as though the whole night is catching up on you, and you can’t really explain it but you’re not really you or in your body — it’s like you’re watching from someone else’s perspective, or reading about this experience instead of living it, and all of the thoughts seep out of your head. (Shit, maybe it’s a good thing you don’t drink that often.) Nat’s face softens slightly, and in the solitude of the front yard she’s gracious enough to loop an arm round your waist and guide you gently to somewhere you can rest for a minute; the stone pillars, to the corner of the front of the house.

“Deep breaths,” she urges you quietly, pinning you between a pillar and her body, both of your hands in hers and her face nestled in close against your shoulder, lips by your ear, safely hidden from prying eyes by the shadows of the pillars. You comply, in, out, in, out, until your body is yours again, and you can feel her breath on your cheek.

“I told you not to get shitfaced,” she tells you as she pulls away again enough to be able to look at you, but there’s no real anger in her voice, and her eyes are so soft and warm as they look down at you. Her hands are still in yours, grounding you, and you grip onto them tightly. “What’s going on? Where’s Thing 2?”

“Kate Bishop upset her,” you relay blearily. “She ran off, I was gonna find her, n go home.”

“And what happened to you?” she adds more gently, cupping your face in her hands.

“You,” you mumble, and then realise what you’ve said. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you quickly try to rectify, “no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean. I just meant… I’m sorry, sorry, I can’t do words, I didn’t mean that. Wanna go home.”

“It’s okay,” she says quietly, “but can we talk about it? What did I do to upset you tonight, huh? To make you get like this?” She moves one hand to prod gently at your chest to emphasise her last two words. 

You shake your head, normally at first, but the movement becomes more exaggerated as though you’re trying to clear your head of this fog. “N — nothing. God. Sorry. It was — me. Just, I just mis… misread the situation. Thought I was special. Was being dumb. Sorry. Can we,” you tug on her arm, “can we go home, I can’t think, my head really hurts.”

Her eyebrows are furrowed deeper than ever, glossy lips pushed together, but she nods — and then her head turns sharply in the direction of  the bushes. You turn too, instinctively, and see Yelena walking toward you. Her eyes lock onto yours for a moment, and you are filled with the most paralysing, existential dread. This is it, you think to yourself, this is how my life ends. But Yelena makes no move towards you, and you realise quickly that even though she can see someone’s hands on you, she can’t see who they belong to. Natasha has picked a place to stop so perfect that Yelena can’t see her from where she’s stood, and this realisation has you weak-kneed with relief. 

The two of you make eye contact for a moment, and despite your deep longing to have Natasha publicly be yours you’re overwhelmingly grateful in this moment that your tracks are somewhat covered . Lena’s gaze flits from yours to your hands, occupied by a shadow-faced stranger; her lips press into a thin line and her eyes fill with tears as she turns and trudges away again, disappearing into the night.

By the time you get home, she’s already there, in your bedroom getting ready for bed. Her tearstained face takes one look at yours, which is in a similar state after your car ride home with Natasha. While Yelena doesn’t say a word to you or Nat, she kisses your forehead before you both climb into your beds on the opposite sides of the room, so you know she’s not really mad. She just needs time, you know, and you’re very careful over the days that follow to give it to her.

Melina and Alexi are all too familiar with Yelena’s silent episodes. They come on whenever she’s processing something, and the only thing you can do to support her is wait patiently until she’s able to talk. Even though you’ve long since grown up, and nowadays can see the grey in a situation that was black and white when you were young, you still think of things in the very simple terms they had been presented to you in as a six-year-old.

“Why is Yelena quiet?” you asked Alexi. “I didn’t do anything.”

The giant man had sunk to his knees, wincing at the pop and crackle of his joints, to be on the same level as you, and took both of your tiny hands in one much larger one. “Uhh… ah. So you have to be very grown up, ah? да, смутьян? Yelena did not have same start in life as you, eh. Me and Melina are her parents, you know, we live here in Ohio with you,” he tickled your belly to punctuate your involvement in his story and you squirmed happily, “but we are not… giving birth to her, ah? Before we bring Yelena to Ohio, in fact before she is brought to orphanage, she is having another mom and dad. Who giving birth to her,” he explained to you in his usual broken English; he spoke with a level of thought and caution that you’d never seen before on the usually crude man.

“In Russia?” you queried.

“In Russia,” he confirmed. “The motherland, ey? So the mom and dad who giving birth to her, they aren’t very nice, ah. So Yelena’s… formative years, when she was baby and learned all the emotion things like cry when sad, smile when happy, she learned different, да? To protect herself. If cry, her old mom and dad get angry because of noise, so when sad she go all quiet and… spaced out and faraway instead. And even though now she is in place where we won’t be angry if she cry, it is still how she has learned things. So if something bad happen, she shut down. It is her way to cope. And you are probably thinking that it is strange, but we have to be gentle to her, okay?” he said encouragingly to you, and you nodded eagerly to this man who even then was like a father to you. “We are gentle, and show her we aren’t get angry when she sad, and when she ready she open up. Make clear we love her. It is big important task. We treat her with kindness when she go quiet, kay? Can you do that, trouble, eh?”

And of course you nodded seriously, because Yelena was your best friend, and you already knew you would do almost anything for her.

You understand a lot more, now, but you still think of it like that. It’s the way her brain works, it’s a result of her start in life — she can’t help it, it’s not her fault, and it would be beyond unfair to make her suffer for something so out of her control. So you barely leave her side in the days that follow, by her side in every mundane task she half-heartedly attempts, even clambering into her bed from your own on the dark drizzly morning where she can’t even peel herself from her own bed. You and Natasha haven’t spoken since that hellish car ride home, but for probably the first time ever the redhead is barely on your mind; you’d do anything for her, it’s true, but you’d do anything for her sister too. You knew it when you were six years old and seeing one of Lena’s silent episodes for the first time, and you know it more than ever now. This takes precedence.

Yelena doesn’t utter a word for six days, only nodding thanks and smiling at you with the corners of her eyes. On the morning of the seventh day, you wake up to her sat on your chest.

“Oh,” you wheeze, “good morning.”

And she smiles at you in reply, wheezy laughter bubbling in her chest at the way your limbs are splayed out awkwardly beneath her weight, and you can tell that she’s back.

She doesn’t tell you what had her spiralling until the evening, but you spend the whole day bouncing around the house with her as though you’re little kids again, and it fills you so wholeheartedly with joy to have your best friend back. She truly is like an extension of you, you don’t feel right when she’s not around, and you don’t feel right when she doesn’t, either. But she’s back, she’s talking and laughing again and it’s contagious. Whatever souls are made of, yours and hers are the same.

Right now the house is quiet, the lights are out and the two of you are sat on the windowsill, looking out at the stars.

“That one’s winking at us,” you whisper with a grin, pointing to a flickering star. You feel Yelena’s eyes on you, and turn to see her smiling softly at you, her eyes crinkling at the corners the way they only ever do when she’s trying to tell you that she’s grateful for something.

“There is a thing that is broken inside of me,” she tells you matter-of-factly. You blink, surprised, but nod encouragingly for her to keep going. “I don’t think I am like you or Darcy or Kate. And that doesn’t feel fair. I thought, it is always me, I just want to be normal. So I say okay, I will be normal, I ignore it and pretend it wasn’t there, and it only makes things go all funny and the world doesn’t make sense. It’s like one of those…”

She pauses for a moment to think. “Ah черт возьми, cannot find the words, you know those… visual — eye tricks? Illusions? At the museums, that are like art, and hurt your brain?”

“Optical illusions?” you offer.

“Yes. When I am pretending it is like looking at the world through optical illusions. Nothing is making sense, and it makes me so sick and sad and lonely. So I was pretending at the party, but it was like everything just…” She makes a boom noise with her mouth, and mimes an explosion. “I could not handle, no more, I thought why me, why don’t I have what everyone else has, what did I do wrong? And then I saw you, making kissy face with some girl —” your heart leaps, but she still doesn’t seem to know who it was, thank god “— and I just,” there are tears in her eyes that glisten with frustration, “and I just… wished it could be me. Not that I want to kiss you,” she adds hastily, “but I want to want it. It would make things so much easier.”

“You… wish you wanted to kiss me?” you ask carefully.

She nods furiously. “Maybe not you, we are Близнецы… that would be weird, probably. Just to… want any kissing. But I don’t. I don’t want to kiss you, or Kate Bishop, or anyone. There is none of that for me, it’s just not…” She gestures vaguely in the air, as though she is searching for something she does not have, and then shrugs. “Я потерян, I don’t know. Y/N, I am aroace,” she tells you proudly. “I did the research, it is me, it fits me perfectly. But I don’t… want to be. Not when everyone else, even you, is kissing people. You are my person, I don’t want to kiss you, but I want to… always be with you. But then I realised,” she gulps, and she’s fighting back tears again, “that’s not… how things work. And you are kissing other people — I don’t care who,” she adds as you open your mouth to interject, “I know it is not my business and you will say when you are ready, but we are growing up and I must do grownup things now and it’s scary. And Darcy is always asking me who I am crushing on and… it is hurting, a lot, to realise no one. Ever. And I’m okay with it, I don’t want it because I want it, I want it because if I don’t want it I’m wrong and it means there is something… wrong inside of me. And my brain is broken enough as it is,” she covers her face with her hands, “and I think I just lost the… hold on everything when the Kate Bishop kissed me.”

“She kissed you?”

“Mhm. And it was like the world ended, I could not handle it. Because I thought I was so good at pretending that I have this thing when I don’t, but I couldn’t tell that… she felt like that, when a normal person would have been able to tell. Darcy could. Makkari could. And I am just done pretending, I think, and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Her hands still cover her face, but after a few moments you catch her peering through the gaps between her fingers, anxiously trying to gauge a reaction from you. For a split second you see a scared child watching apprehensively through the slats of a staircase bannister, younger than you ever knew her, fearing someone who in this moment she does not know. When the fear is this primal, it is timeless, and all-consuming. You see it in the way she closes the gaps between her fingers again, closes the blinds on the outside world, decides she’d rather not know what it is that you make of this for fear of it being negative; in the way that it has always ended for her, in the rare moment she’s been so fragile around someone. And you feel it, in this moment. It’s so heavy it’s almost tangible, and you fear if you speak or move or think wrong it might shatter irreparably.

So you are absolutely silent for a few moments. You don’t move, don’t blink — you’re not sure that you breathe, actually, while you process what’s just been said.

“I’ll talk to Darcy,” you say eventually. “I’ll tell her to stop. I’m sorry I didn’t see that it was upsetting you sooner.”

Yelena’s hands drop away in surprise, and she looks at you, her cheekbones shimmering a little in the starlight. “You — you aren’t? You don’t —?”

“No,” you say simply, but gently, a hand moving to rest on top of hers, which fiddles with the loose threads on her pyjama bottoms. Its movements cease instantly. “Why would I be? You are okay with me liking girls. Why wouldn’t I be okay with you not liking anyone?”

She crumples, then, in relief; as though it’s so all-consuming that she can’t support herself any longer, and you’re there to catch her. She cries even as you smooth her hair and pull her over to her bed.

“Я тебя люблю,” she chokes out quietly as you cocoon her in the mass of blankets she insists on keeping in her bed.

“Я тоже тебя люблю,” you whisper, “так много.”

A few moments of quiet, where your fingers continue to comb through her hair, and her eyelids begin to flutter.

“I don’t know what to do about Kate Bishop, though,” she admits sleepily. “Because I don’t… ah… not like her. I just don’t think I can be what she wants me to be, but I don’t want to… lose her.”

“It’s all about how you feel,” you remind her gently. “Kate’s cool. She will always respect you, remember. She’s like a puppy, you’re not getting rid of her if you try,” and Yelena giggles a little at that. “We’ll figure it out, Lena. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

She nods, and mumbled something about thinking, and slips into the first peaceful sleep she has had in seven days.

Your mind moves to Natasha, now that you know with certainty that Lena will be okay. You kiss her forehead before quietly leaving the room and heading downstairs, where you know Natasha will still be awake, watching old black and white reruns.

As you reach the bottom of the stairs, Liho pads up to you, meowing and tugging insistently at the bottom of your pants.

“Hiya, buddy,” you murmur, relenting at once and giving him what he wants. You scoop him up just the way he likes and he purrs happily, writhing around in your arms, rubbing his face against yours before eventually settling with his chin on your shoulder and you cradling him to your chest like a baby.

The two of you walk slowly into the living room, where just as you predicted, Natasha is curled up on the sofa beneath a blanket in front of the TV. What surprises you though is what she’s watching.

“I thought you hated this show,” you comment quietly, a smile fighting its way onto your face as you watch Kourtney and Kim fighting. You move to sit down in the armchair furthest from her but she makes a noise of displeasure and pats the spot next to her insistently, even lifting up the blanket for you and Liho to slide underneath.

Well, who are you to deny her?

“I wanted to see why you guys like it so much,” she replies after a few moments, once you’re half on top of her, head on her chest with Liho tucked into the warm gap between you, and you can feel every word that she says. “I’m not sure I really get it, to be honest.” Her fingers gently trace the outline of your face, your jawline, your cheekbones and you melt into the touch. “Are you still upset about the party?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you murmur.

“But I do, you said that I upset you. You’ve been avoiding me all week, Y/N/N, I don’t even know what I did.”

“You didn’t upset me, I was just being dumb.”

“About?”

You groan, and press your face into her chest, sensing she’s not going to let this go. “Just seeing you, like, dance and flirt with other people. I just wish I could do that sometimes. Please, I don’t wanna think about this anymore,” it comes out as something of a whine, and you can feel the way she’s tensing against you.

“Y/N,” she sighs heavily, “you know we have to cover our tracks, if we both keep acting weird when someone flirts with me then people are gonna know that we’re together.”

“But we’re not even together, really,” you mumble. “Please, let’s forget about it. Please.”

“You can’t keep saying stuff like that and then tell me to forget about it,” she scolds half-seriously, and you break the eye contact for a moment to bury your face in her chest again so she won’t see your smile. “You know we can’t tell people about us. It would… it would be too much to handle.”

Whether that’s for you or for her she doesn’t explain, but she doesn’t have to. She might be protecting you, but she’s also protecting herself. She couldn’t handle it, if she held your hand in public. Stolen moments like this are all you’ll ever get, you think to yourself miserably, as she ever so gently lowers her lips to your neck. But even with this knowledge you would still let her do anything to you, in whatever way she wants, because her wanting to touch you in any capacity is going to have to be enough — even if she harbours you like this, her little late night secret, it’s surely better than the days that she barely looked at you at all. You might not ever have her in the way that you want to; every moment like this is precious beyond belief.

So you give yourself over to her completely, and pray that someday this lingering feeling of dirtiness will fade away, and only the gratitude remain.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #black widow #high school au #marvel high school au

[maralarsen]

He is my misfortune 🎀

~Lorenzo Berkshire x reader~

WARNING: cursing

°Nepriateľ milovníkov°

Fluff

Summary : You unhappily end up tutoring a boy who brings you more misery than life itself

• |Reader is in Hufflepuff

• | I plan to make another part/parts. But I don't know if you will like this part, so I'll see 🎀

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Lorenzo Berkshire. A lot of people think of this name as a smiling face of a boy who is always positive, laughing and sometimes even kind. The only thing that comes to mind with this name is disaster. Everywhere he goes something always goes wrong. Either I'm unlucky with him or I really don't know anymore.

For example, my Hufflepuff friends and I were in Hogsmeade. It was cold, so we went to the Three Broomsticks to warm up like every student at Hogwarts. A pleasant atmosphere prevailed there, at least I felt pleasant until I saw his face. At that moment, I sighed and realized that another problem was on the way.

We sat down at the table next to his. And why ? The reason was clear. Berkshire wasn't sitting there alone, he was there with his crew. For my friends, it was literally a feast for their eyes. I don't understand what they like about guys who just drink, smoke and change girls like socks.

That's not my type at all. I'd rather have some nice boy who likes to cuddle, go on cute dates, buy me flowers and..."What the f*ck?!" I was snapped out of my reverie about a boy who might not even exist by the boy who was the most annoying to me. nerves. "Sh*t Berkshire watch out! Great, I'm all wet now," oh of course who else but Berkshire could have tripped over his own feet and spilled butterbeer on me. "I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to, this really wasn't on purpose," Berkshire apologized with a smile on his face.

I heard how his friends started laughing in the back, especially Malfoy, another icon of the school. I wanted to cry. I don't understand why he always has to do this to me. "I said sorry, don't be so relational, it's just beer, it will dry out," I looked at him in disbelief.

"Yes, it will dry out. But it's your fault that it's wet!" I stood up and left the room. Why does he always have to do this to me? Fool. I got on the first carriage I saw and went back to the castle.

This happened about a month ago, I'm currently sitting in the library completing an assignment on herbology. I really don't enjoy this subject, but somehow I still manage it. Unlike Berkshire. Whatever he is, I feel sorry for him. He's been sitting here in the library since lunch, and I can see he's still doing the same thing, with a herbology book spread out in front of him.

During that time, I managed to make elixirs, astrology and now also herbology. Maybe I would help him, but that's what he needs. Unfortunately, the butter beer cannot be washed off. He's lucky he covered my old sweatshirt and not a new one.

Curfew is in a moment. I pack my things in my bag and I look at Berkshire, but he is already looking at me. Why is he looking at me? Better do your homework, moron. I smirk, take my bag and leave the library.

The next day I enter the greenhouses, as I expected, I had a good homework and so did the others except Berkshire. "Mr. Berkshire, I don't want to worry you, but you're failing Herbology," Mrs. Sprout said sternly. Berkshire didn't say anything, just stared blankly at the ground. "Are you going to do anything about it, Mr. Berkshire?" the teacher asked him. "

Well...I...I don't know..." Mrs. Spraut just sighed and announced: "Mr. Berkshire, I suggest that someone tutor you. He will tutor you for 3 weeks, 2 times a week. And I already know who ." She suddenly turned her gaze to me. Wait. NOT. He probably can't be serious. After all, one more moment in the same room with him, and that boy will set my hair on fire with his happiness.

"M...Mind..Mind me?" I stammered back to her. "Huh? Do you have a problem with that Mrs. (y/l/n)???" "Um, no?" I replied, more of a question than an answer, "excellent! You can leave at the end of class!"

What on earth did she dip it in, and why me? I ran out of the greenhouses into the corridor to make it to the next class. "Hey! Wait!" "oh god what do you want?" I turned to face Berkshire. "Wouldn't you like to go...ah!" I reached for his shirt and pulled him to the side "You were standing in way, Lorenzo," "Oh, thank you." So wouldn't you like to go for a beer with me? We could..." "No! There's no way I'm going anywhere with you anymore. The last time you had a beer in your hand, it ended on me. So no!" I said even before he could finish the sentence and I turned to leave "Jesus, you're terrible," he said with a laugh in his voice "but I still don't like you!" I said and went into the corridor.

As I expected, it happened. He chased me. "Why are you following me like a lost puppy?" "I was waiting for you to calm down," I looked at him in disbelief. "You're kidding, aren't you?!" "When was I kidding," he replied with a grin. I swear if that boy was closer I would slap him. "Oh well, well. So what do you want so urgently that you're chasing me," "I just wanted to ask about the date of the first meeting," he said quietly. "Why didn't you ask right away?"

"Because you didn't let me talk you into it?! Did you!?" that bastard... "When is convenient for you?" I asked him with a sigh. "Whenever you want, I can do it any time," "Then Wednesdays and Fridays. I want to have peace from you during the weekend," "Mrs. (y/l/n)'s order!" he turned and left. Oh god it's going to be a month.

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• | This is my second story so I apologize for any mistakes + English is not my first language ✨

#slytherin boys #harry potter x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire #enzo x reader #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire fluff #fluff #enemy to lovers #tutor #english is not my first language #hp fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom

[thewritingofspencerrose]

I know, it's (VERY, im so sorry) delayed, this has been sitting in my drafts since the day his trade was announced and i just got around to finishing it up. enjoy!

"Jamie," Is all I can think to respond to my brothers words. "I can't just move to Pennsylvania, you know that. I have three more years left of schooling."

You were supposed to have 3 more years on your contract, I want to add, but I know that's not what he needs right now. He was just traded away from his home with no warning, he doesn't need his little sister giving him a hard time.

"I know, trust me I know. I was so focused on getting my deal with the Ducks because of that. But some kid that was supposed to go to Philly had a change of plans and now I have to be on a plane there from Nashville at 5 in the morning."

"You don't even get to play against the Predators?" I ask, not realizing just how sudden this was all about to happen. "Do you need me to send you things? God I didn't realize this would all be so sudden."

"Kid, let's worry about what I need in a minute, I need to talk to you about you, the apartment, all of that." Oh shit. I can't afford this place. "I talked to Trevor, and he and I think you should move in with him."

"You... what?"

"I-"

"No, I heard you," I interrupt, not even letting him get two words in. "Why on earth is that your first thought? Let me have my sister move out of the apartment we've been living in and in with my best friend? Didn't Trevor literally move out because he wanted more space?"

"I know, and he knows that, but you're my little sister, I don't like the idea of you just finding some random roommate. And Trev promised that he'd look after you," Jamie explains, and I don't want to give him more grief than necessary today of all days, "I just need to know you're being looked after if I'm going to be on the east coast."

"Have you already talked to Trevor about this?"

"He offered."

Oh fuck me.

"Oh, woah," Are the first words out of Trevor's mouth when he walks in the door, two weeks and change after Jamie's move. After my moving in.

"I promise I tried not to touch anything, I just-"

"No, I told you that you should make yourself at home," He reminds, dropping his gear by the door. "It's just, I don't know, feels more homey in here than when I left."

"It's probably because you got so used to living with me and JD that seeing my things around reminds you," I offer, trying to ignore the way he's looking at me like the entire reason this place feels like home is me. "Speaking of my brother, when you offered this little deal to him did you happen to mention that you'd been sleeping with said little sister for months before you moved out?"

I probably should have seen what he was doing when he started to distance himself from me and should have realized I had gotten too attached when it hurt for him to do so.

And I had been doing fine with getting over him until JD had this fantastic idea.

Now he's here, his look shifting from admiration to shock.

"Why- why would I tell Jimmy that?"

"You're basically boyfriends, I would have thought you'd tell him about your torrid affair," I can't help the joke slipping, only earning myself an eye roll as he throws himself on the couch, landing by my feet and making the book on my lap nearly fall to the floor.

"You and everyone else need to stop thinking that we're boyfriends, you know better than any of us that I am not into guys," He returns, pointing at me like he's trying to prove his point.

Now I'm the one rolling my eyes. "Trev, the whole world knows you're into women, have you not seen the photos of you and that D'Amelio sister around? You're hot gossip on the internet."

I hate it.

"Oh God," He groans, head falling in his hands, and it's not the joking one I'm expecting, but genuine discomfort.

"Trev? You okay?" I'm already moving before I've finished asking, my book set aside as I move to his side, hand coming to caress the back of his neck, where his shaggy hair meets his hoodie.

I can't help but take a moment to hesitate, knowing that if he is with her like the tabloids say, I'm far too close to a gray area than I should be.

But it's Trevor. He helped JD move me into their apartment, after agreeing to me living with them in the first place.

He's always been there for me as long as JD and he have known each other, and I have always done my best to be there for him.

"It's the God damn media," is his whispered answer, shoulders slumping. "I can't be seen with a girl without being assumed to be with her, you know?"

"I can't say that I do," It's honest. Also very unhelpful. "You're sitting with the boring Drysdale, I have as much experience with the media as being photographed with you and JD."

His eyes rise up, looking at me for only a second before he's looking back down at his hands, ringing them. "You're not boring, Kate."

"You know what I mean-"

"No," He interrupts, eyes jumping up again, this time remaining on me. "You're not boring, you're normal in the best way. Why do you think I ended things?"

What?

"You deserve normal."

My hand stills on his neck, slowly sliding across his shoulder until it's back in my lap. "Trevor, what are you talking about? If this is because things aren't working with her and I'm suddenly around-"

"I was never with her!" He's yelling, moving to stand in the time it takes me to process his words and turning back on me, eyes wild. "We were in that photo because a mutual friend had a birthday and everyone ran with it!"

"Trev, you don't have to explain your dating life to me," I sound almost desperate, desperate in my desire to not hear about the women he's seen since our last night. My voice is the one who gets quiet now, "I'd really rather you not."

"You're not listening to me," Trev is nearly grunting, pausing to sit on the coffee table in front of my legs. "I haven't been seeing anyone else, it's why the photos piss me off. They have you thinking I'm out sleeping around," His hands rest on my knees, thumbs gently running over them. "You're not someone a person can just move on from, Kate."

"Trevor, you can't do this to me," There's that desperate tone again. "You broke off our arrangement. I was ready to become more and you were the one who said we'd have to just be friends, that I had to go back to being your best friend's little sister."

His thumbs dig in momentarily, the only thought coming to mind being when he last did that, hands slowly guiding my legs apart and -

No!

"Do you not know how much I've regretted every word of what I said?" He looks so genuine. He's Trev, of course he's being genuine.

"What made you change your mind?"

"The idea that you'd be moving to Philadelphia," There's no hesitation.

And I can't help but laugh. "Trevor Zegras, I have one year left of my undergrad and two of my masters. You can't have thought I'd really be uprooting my life," a smile comes back to his face for the first time since he walked in to see me on the couch.

"Are you laughing at me?" Is his falsely offended cry, making me laugh even harder. "How dare you!" His hands find my sides immediately, fingers moving in sync to tickle where he knows I'll feel it most.

His body has moved onto mine, my breathe leaving my lungs faster than they can refill as I wiggle.

"Trev! Trev! Get off of me, you goon!" He just smiles, propping himself up on his arms enough to pop back into a sitting position.

It's so soft, the look in his eyes.

"Give me another chance, please?" That's why he looks so soft.

He's scared.

But I am too. This has gotten more complicated than before.

"Trevor... this has gotten so much more complicated-"

"How?"

"What?" How could he possibly be asking how this could be more complicated.

He's smirking now. "It's actually less complicated. We're still roommates and I still want to be with you, only difference is your brother isn't on the other side of the door, keeping us quiet."

He's not wrong.

Now it's my turn to smile. "If we try this again, we're a couple. No casual sex."

"Deal," His smile is brighter than the lights at the stadium. "My terms were the same."

"And-"

"And? You want a kiss?" He supplies, and while it's not at all what I was going to say, I'm going to let him have this one.

So I nod.

He leans in.

And when our lips touch, it doesn't matter that he's my brother's best friend, or that I'm his best friend's little sister.

We're home.

#original character #the writing of spencer rose #nhl fanfiction #trevor zegras x oc #jamie drysdale #trevor zegras x drysdale sister #trevor zegras

[fandom-smut-shots]

I'm Sorry Kiss - Katsuki Bakugo

A/N: Based on a dream I had where I got into a fight with Bakugo and ended up in the hospital. I know that Bakugo rejecting someone because he wants to focus on being a hero is kinda overdone but it was the first thing I thought of and I tried to embellish it. Also, I know that Dynamight is his official hero name, but I refuse because I like Ground Zero better. Gender neutral!reader. PS, I generally suck at fight scenes, and I’ve never written for any of the pros before, so I apologize if anything seems off. Words: 3,410

“Bakugo… I like you.”

Bakugo Katsuki stared at the confession in his hands. The letter was long, nearly three pages front-to-back, and the paper was beginning to wrinkle from the intensity of his grip.

How did this happen?

You’d insisted upon befriending Bakugo during first year, despite having been placed in class 1-B and therefore hardly getting to spend time with the blond. You found ways around that; sparring sessions, homework nights, even the occasional movie night in the 1-A common room. You’d spent so much time around Bakugo that they’d adopted you as an honorary classmate, and they were ready to crown you royalty when you’d shown up for one particular game night with the explosive blond in tow. You’d become friends – close friends. Bakugo supposed he hadn’t minded that. But now, here you stood, two years later, presenting him with a letter of your true feelings.

“Uh… Bakugo?”

How could you let that happen? How could he?

“I’m going to be the number one hero,” he murmured gruffly, refusing to meet your eyes. The spark of hope that sat in your chest flickered weakly in response to his tone. You’d spend enough time around Bakugo to know his moods from a single grunt, and right now, he didn’t sound particularly enthused.

“I’m going to be number one,” he repeated. “I can’t do that if I let extras like you weigh me down.”

The flame in your chest was extinguished in an instant, suffocated by the stomp of Ground Zero’s boot. “Bakugo, I-“

“I don’t want to hear it,” he grumbled. His voice was low, nearly unrecognizable. It was a tone you’d never heard from him.

“Just go,” he growled, turning away from you. All you could do was stare at his back as he stalked down the hallway, footsteps heavy with anger. Tears bubbled in your lash line, blurring your vision, but you choked them back, standing pathetically in the middle of the hall.

The rest of the school year blurred into one muddled block of time. Your visits to the 3-A dorm had ceased nearly immediately upon Bakugo’s rejection of your feelings. You passed your friends in the hallway every now and then, and you didn’t shy away from a sparring match during mixed training days, but you kept your distance from Ground Zero and avoided discussing what had happened to your friendship. Mina and Kirishima had known the cause of the rift as soon as you stopped coming around, and they offered sympathetic glances and attempted words of encouragement whenever your classes trained together.

Graduation sneaked up on you before you’d even realized the school year had ended. You walked through the ceremony in a haze, barely tuning into the speeches and announcements. Friends, classmates, and pro heroes congratulated you on your success, as well as your impending position at Fatgum’s agency. You could only hope that Bakugo had accepted a job literally anywhere else, preferably at an agency that rarely interacted with Fatgum.

You weren’t working at the agency long before you were called to join Fatgum on patrol. Your heart hammered inside your chest as you strolled beside the BMI hero down the streets of Esuha City, keeping your eyes out for any lurking danger. This was your first patrol as a fully-fledged hero, and you were determined to make a good impression.

“So, (hero/n),” Fatgum beamed beside you, “what made you choose my agency? Word around the hero ranks is that you had quite a few offers by the time you graduated!”

“Oh!” you fumbled in surprise, heat rising to your cheeks. “Well, I’ve always admired you, Mr. Fatgum, sir. The way you always keep such a positive attitude even in the midst of a dangerous battle is inspiring. A lot of pro heroes are really intimidating, but you’re more genuine than that.”

“Aw, thanks kid! You’re making me blush!” the hero let out a laugh. “But please, just call me Fatgum! No need for that ‘Mr’ nonsense. You’re working with me, after all!”

“Not to be pedantic,” you countered, lifting a hand to scratch awkwardly at the back of your neck, “but technically I work for you.”

Fatgum shook his head. “I know a lot of pros see it that way; they like having subordinates to boss around. But you’ve seen how I interact with Suneater, haven’t you? I like to think of you guys as colleagues rather than employees.”

“I appreciate that si- Fatgum,” you replied with a soft smile. “That’s another reason I chose your agency. You respect all heroes, regardless of their rank or experience.”

Before he could respond, a scream sliced through the otherwise quiet afternoon. You shared a look with the BMI hero before you both took off towards the sound, the local citizens parting the way as you approached. The source of the scream was revealed to be a young woman, maybe a few years older than you, cowering on the pavement beneath a much larger man. Your footsteps alerted him to your presence, and he spun on his heel to face you and Fatgum. His mouth was open, his large tongue hanging down to the ground, tapered at the tip and barbed all the way down. His face appeared disfigured, his eyes pitch black and his jaw unhinged.

“He looks like something out of a sci-fi movie,” you commented, grounding your feet and preparing to activate your quirk.

“Keep your distance,” Fatgum warned. “That tongue looks like a long-range attack, and I don’t think those spikes would be too comfy.”

You nodded in agreement as the man, if he could even be called such, screeched at you, the sound akin to a pterodactyl. Looking lower, you found long claws taking place of his fingers, and a thick reptilian tail extended from his backside. Fatgum stood tall and firm as the mutated villain lunged forward, tongue extending to wrap around the hero’s frame. Once he collided with the hero’s belly, he bounced backwards, landing roughly on the ground. You dashed to the side, out of the villain’s sight, to check on the woman whose scream had caught your attention.

“Are you hurt?” you asked her quietly, checking for any obvious injuries.

“I’m okay,” she insisted. “You two came just in time. I think he was about to eat me!”

You took her hands in yours, helping her stand. “Get as far away from here as you can. We’ll take care of this guy.”

She nodded and bowed her head in thanks before running down the street, blending into the crowd. Just as you turned around, the mutated man turned his attention towards you, having lost interest in his one-sided fight against Fatgum. You could see tears in Fatgum’s costume, evidence that the reptilian villain had attempted quite a bit of damage. But now his focus was on you, and you barely had time to jump out of the way before his barbed tongue lashed towards you. You activated your quirk, but before you could charge in with a single attack, the villain spun around, his tail sweeping the ground where you stood, knocking you off your feet.

Fatgum charged forward, enveloping the villain with his fat and restricting his movements. The villain screeched again, leading you to weakly cover your ears before a flapping sound echoed through the air. Your gaze lifted to find what appeared to be another mutated man in the sky, flying with large, leathery wings. Upon spotting his restrained comrade, he dove down towards Fatgum, his sharp beak-like face stabbing into the hero’s shoulder. Fatgum grunted, stumbling backwards from the impact.

You rose to your feet, ready to rush to his aid when something wrapped around your torso. Looking down, you found what appeared to be scaled fingers as long and thick as your leg secured around your body. Struggling against its grasp, you turned your head to look behind you, coming face-to-face with a third disfigured villain.

Lunchtime found Ground Zero and Red Riot sitting on the roof of their shared apartment building, bento boxes packed by one Bakugo Katsuki in hand.

“What happened between you and (y/n), man?” Kirishima inquired suddenly and with all the subtlety of a stampeding elephant.

Bakugo fixed his garnet gaze on the sky above them. “We’re not friends anymore.”

The redhead huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I know that. I want to know why. You two used to be tight; tighter than you and me, and that’s saying something.”

The blond remained silent.

Kirishima watched his friend, coworker, and roommate for a moment. “What? Did they confess to you, or something?”

Bakugo’s gaze fell to the food he no longer had any desire to eat.

Kirishima’s own eyes widened. “Shit, man. Isn’t that a good thing? You’ve been in love with them since that first movie night they convinced you to join.”

The blond quickly turned towards his friend, brows furrowed as though he hadn’t been obviously pining over you for three years.

The redhead laughed, loud and genuine. “Did you think us extras didn’t notice? You never joined movie night for anyone, not even me. Plus, you let them sit on your lap, and you were practically vibrating when they fell asleep on you. Everyone knew how you felt about them, except for them. And maybe you.”

Bakugo’s expression turned sorrowful and his eyes fell back to his lap. “I know how I feel about them,” he murmured, his voice lacking its usual gravelly edge. “I didn’t want to admit it, but I know.”

“Then why didn’t you accept their confession?” his friend questioned lightly. When Bakugo didn’t respond, Kirishima exhaled a sigh. “You gave them the ‘number one hero’ speech, didn’t you?”

The explosive hero flinched. That was all the response Kirishima needed.

“When are you going to stop using that bullshit excuse to push people away?” he demanded. When Bakugo faced him with wide, surprised eyes, he continued. “You’re going to be number one hero. Everyone knows that. Why can’t you be number one while having a loving partner at your side? (y/n) has always supported you, even back before you were social. They understand how important this is to you. And I know how much you care about them. Why push them away?”

“That’s not why,” came Bakugo’s soft response. “That’s what I told them, but that’s not why I rejected them.”

Kirishima waited, quietly and patiently, for his friend to continue, knowing that encouraging him would only make him shut down.

The blond inhaled deeply before speaking again. “I’m going to be the number one hero,” he reiterated, and the hardening hero knew that it wasn’t just his ego talking now. “What if they get hurt? Being close to me means that villains can use them as leverage, or worse. And it’s like you said - they were there before I was social, when I thought everyone was just in my way. They don’t deserve that. They deserve to be with someone nice, someone like Deku maybe, someone who doesn’t treat them the way I did.”

Only Kirishima ever saw this side of Bakugo - vulnerable, honest, insecure. He knew there was always more to Bakugo’s emotions than the explosive, sandpaper surface.

“That’s exactly why they deserve you, and you deserve them,” he responded softly, earnestly. “You’ve never cared this much about how you treat anyone. You’ve grown so much since our first year at UA, man. You’re a mature hero now, and when you become number one, you’ll have the power and resources to protect people like (y/n). Do you think they would have confessed to you if you were still that antisocial asshat from first year? They’ve watched you grow as a person, grow closer to them. And then you just ripped all of that away.”

Bakugo flinched again. He knew that rejecting your confession must have gutted you, if how miserable he felt about it was anything to go by. But before he could fathom a response, a distress call came in through their earpieces.

“All nearby heroes summoned to Esuha City,” came Fatgum’s staticy voice, and Bakugo’s heart raced in his chest. “(hero/n) and I were attacked, and when the villains realized they couldn’t hurt me, they all launched at (hero/n). I need someone to take them to the hospital while the rest of us take these villains down.”

Bakugo’s heart dropped to his stomach. You were hurt. He jumped to his feet, Kirishima following suit, leaving their bento boxes unopened on the rooftop as they sped to your location.

The steady beep of your heartrate monitor echoed in the otherwise silent hospital room. Ground Zero sat, still in his hero costume, in an uncomfortable chair beside your bed. His elbows rested on his knees as he hunched forward, holding his forehead in his hands. He’d refused to leave the hospital after reluctantly handing you over to the staff so that they could tend to your injuries, demanding an update on your progress every half hour. Were he not a newly popular hero, security would have escorted him away. Thankfully, Red Riot stayed close by to keep the explosive hero grounded while they waited for the doctors to finish patching you up.

As soon as you’d been assigned a room, Bakugo had stationed himself at your bedside and refused to leave. Friends and colleagues had come and gone to check on you as well as Bakugo, knowing that he was irrationally blaming himself for your current state.

“You need to talk to them,” was Deku’s first response upon seeing the blond in your hospital room. Once the villains had been neutralized and Fatgum had been checked over, green hero had made his way as quickly as possible to the hospital to ensure that you had survived your injuries.

“I know,” Bakugo grumbled in response, refusing to look his childhood friend in the eye. He lifted his head from his hands and gazed sorrowfully at your sleeping face, littered with scrapes and bruises. His garnet eyes traveled down your form, taking in the number of bandages and casts wrapped around various parts of your body. He couldn’t help but think if only he’d been there-

“This wasn’t your fault,” Deku commented, his gaze darting between Bakugo’s self-loathing and your peaceful face. “There was nothing you could have done. (y/n) is a capable hero; there were just too many villains. You did exactly what they needed by bringing them here to get help.”

The blond exhaled a deep sigh, as though he’d been holding his breath. “I know.”

A soft gasp sounded in the nearly silent room, and two sets of eyes turned towards you. Your lips were parted and your eyes began to flutter, and Deku took it as his cue to leave. He closed the door behind him, offering the two of you some much-needed privacy.

Bakugo jumped to his feet, but his legs suddenly turned to lead as he attempted to approach your bed. He watched as your eyes opened and you blinked wearily at your surroundings. Hesitation gripped every bone in his body and all he could do was stare helplessly.

Your head turned, catching sight of the blond at your side, and your eyes widened. “Bakugo?” you whispered, your voice raspy. “What are you doing here?”

The sound of your voice was enough for the blond to push himself forward, walking closer until he stood directly beside your bed. His hands gripped at the railing as he looked at you, brows furrowed and mouth agape, his brain struggling to form words.

“I’m sorry.”

Well, shit. He wasn’t planning to jump into an apology. He was hoping to prepare himself a little more first.

Your brow furrowed as you gazed at your former classmate and long-time crush. “Sorry? What are you sorry for?”

“Everything,” he exhaled, dropping to his knees as gazing into your tired eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were hurt; when you needed me. I’m sorry I pushed you away when you confessed to me. I’m sorry I just threw away everything we had.”

Your face turned stoic, and Bakugo’s heart pounded in his chest.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you murmured softly, your gaze drifting away from the blond. “You didn’t return my feelings. You wanted to focus on being a hero. I understood that; I never blamed you for it.”

Bakugo shook his head. “I lied,” he admitted, and his chest fluttered. “That wasn’t why I rejected you, I was just too afraid to be honest with myself, or with you.”

You turned back to face the explosive hero, eyes widened with surprise and the smallest sliver of hope. “Why... Why did you reject me, then?”

He inhaled deeply, steeling his nerves before holding your gaze. He reached up with one hand, gingerly placing it atop yours, squeezing gently when you didn’t pull away.

“If I’m going to become the number one hero, I’m gonna make a lot of enemies,” he explained, his thumb rubbing across the back of your bandaged hand. “With my personality, the media would be all over any kind of relationship I had. They’d find out everything they could about you, and villains would use that to their advantage. They could hurt you to get to me, and I refuse to let that happen.”

“Bakugo...” you breathed, your heart breaking as you considered how he must have been carrying this weight with him since the day you confessed. You squeezed his hand in return to the best of your ability, drawing his attention.

“Bakugo, you forget that I’m a hero too,” you smiled softly. “I’m already in danger, and dating a pro hero is much safer than dating a civilian. We’d be able to protect each other, and I knew when I confessed to you back at UA that being number one was your only goal, and that it would be a dangerous lifestyle. I still loved you then, Bakugo Katsuki, and I do now.”

“It wasn’t my only goal,” the blond murmured, his gaze dropping down to your joined hands. “My main goal, yeah, but I had another.”

You waited patiently for him to continue, teeth gnawing at your lower lip.

“I always wanted to make you happy,” Bakugo admitted, refusing to meet your eyes. “When I let you drag me to those stupid movie nights, or sit on my lap, or snuggle into my chest. The smile on your face was more than worth dealing with my classmates and their stupid stares.”

He rose to his feet, standing before leaning over your figure. Your eyes followed his every move, your free hand lifting to gently brush his cheek. He inhaled shakily at your touch, his hand coming to cradle your face. He leaned closer, his lips ghosting over yours, and your eyes fluttered closed in anticipation.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured before finally closing the gap and capturing your lips. A hum sounded in his throat as the feeling of finally kissing you washed over him. You hummed in return, your hand drifting down to tug at the collar of his hero costume.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, and you chased his words with another kiss.

“I love you too,” you responded before opening your eyes and gazing up into his garnet eyes.

“How about I go home and change-“

Bakugo was cut off by your grip tightening on his shirt, your head shaking adamantly. His brow furrowed as he waited for a verbal response.

“You’re not allowed to leave me anymore,” you murmured softly, and he deflated at the expression on your face.

“Okay,” he smiled softly. “I promise.” He took a step back in order to remove his boots. His gauntlets, mask, headpiece, and neck piece had already been discarded during the hours he waited for you to wake up. His boots soon joined the collection on the floor before he turned back to you and watched as you shifted to make room for him in your hospital bed. He crawled in as gently as possible, outstretching an arm for you to lay on. You curled into his chest, careful not to apply pressure to any of your wounds. His arms wrapped securely, protectively around you, and the next time one of your pro hero friends came to check on you, they’d find the two of you fast asleep and wrapped up in each other.

Writer's Block Masterlist

Writer's Block Fandoms and Characters

#writer's block #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #ground zero #my hero academia #mha #my hero academia x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert

[definesanity]

Bite Me (Taken Literally)

'What the fuck?'

Uzi had no filter, and never had. She forgot to install that update. But thank Robo-God she did.

Because she was dumbfounded.

She was the weird kid, the one who nobody liked; heck, she's pretty sure half her class doesn't even know she exists, let alone knows her name.

Which was why she was befuddled at a letter in her locker, asking her to visit a certain location.

Uzi had common sense, despite what many say. And so she used it. And deicided to always have her flight reflexes ready, no matter what happens.

Arriving, there was... nothing. Of note. It was just a regular cabin, much smaller than the ones in camp she's been wanting to visit.

She then heard... something. A noise would describe it, given she couldn't pinpoint it. And it came from a bed. Because of course there's a bed. Why wouldn't there be a bed?

Uzi slowly walked up the bed, thinking on what she'll find; maybe a dead Drone? A human? Heck, anything will do...

Pulling it back... to nothing. Just a bed.

"Huh. Maybe I am a bit paranoid..." she muttered to herself, and turned around to face the most horrific thing she's ever seen.

"JUMPSCARE." the thing wearing the skin ('Holy shit it's a human girl fused with a Disassembley Drone?!') announced, as it tackled Uzi on to the bed, arms pinned via weird tendrils.

The girl gazed down at her, her tongue hanging out of her mouth as two golden Xs shown amid the dark void of where eyes should be. "SMUG LAUGH. SLOW REACTION TIME THERE, BUDDY."

"Screw you!" Uzi attempted to kick the girl, but her legs were pinned down. The girl crawled on to her.

And without warning, bit her neck like a vampire.

Code flew past her eyes at a speed she couldn't understand, and then, it was gone. Leaving only Uzi and the girl.

"Who the hell are you?!" the self-proclaimed angsty teen demanded, with the Disassembley Drone/Human thing looking back. Being honest, she felt braver than she should be.

"MM. I AM THE SOLVER O-O-OF THE ABSOLUTE FABRIC. THE VESSEL IS TESSA. SHE WAS A GOOD FRIEND, UNTIL. WHIMSICAL SIGH. SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO SEE IT, BUT, WELL. HERE WE ARE."

"You killed a child?!" Uzi shook her head, looking at Tessa. "Okay, sure, yeah, but still, really?! ...Wait, you're the thing that was--hold on, what the heck did you inject me with?!"

Tessa only giggled, as the tendrils went from Uzi's arms and legs and allowed Uzi to move.

"YOU WILL SEE, SOON. EVIL, LAUGHTER."

And then, she was gone.

"What the fuck?"

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

"Sheesh, who looked at you wrong today?" V commented later on, as Uzi sat on the ship's chair looking sullen.

"Bite me." Uzi shot back, doing her hardest to sketch the thing. She also did eleven different scans of her software and hardware, and even her circuitry, but couldn't find anything amiss.

"Rude." V leaned back in her chair, looking around. "Where's N?"

"You tell me." she had started to draw the thing's ribbon, next, being done with the head.

"Hunting, then. I feel sorry for the guy, doesn't know what he's missing."

"Missing what, having to listen to you?" Uzi had started to draw the Xs.

"Chatting with you."

The Worker Drone stopped. She blinked, looking at V. "Say what."

"Exactly! For a Worker Drone, anyways, you're actually interesting. Not every day that happens. Or ever."

Uzi replied by not replying, going back to drawing.

"What are you even doing?"

"Got attacked, drawing the attacker, if the court was still here that would be wonderful."

"Really? Court?"

"Hey, before you lot came we had a civilization; never saw it myself, but some of my Dad's friends talked about how one of them tried to win a divorce case. It was really boring, the way he told it, but I was a kid who had nothing better to so than look through the Internet, so I listened for the full three hours.

"What what did I get? A headache, someone's life story, and wishing we could have court again so I could disown my dad." Uzi finished her story with a loud sigh, opening her eyes.

V was looking at her with muted surprise. "...Got any other stories?"

"Wha--You're interested?"

"Hey, anything is better than sitting on my ass doing nothing. Speaking of, did you know that--?"

"--There is a setting that makes our bodies more human? Yes, I do, and I shudder to imagine what was going through their minds while making us."

She finally finished putting the last details on the sketch. "Okay, finally done. If you see this girl, tell I don't exist."

She presented the drawing to V, who blinked at it, and an emotion flew past her face. Then, it was gone, and V nodded. "Eh, fine. Anyways, stories, please."

"Ugh, fine. What do you want."

"Ever killed someone?"

"No, but I have committed several acts of violence against my classmates."

"Kinda hot." V said it with such a straight face Uzi had to pause. Then, what she said hit her.

"...I'm gonna... get some fresh air." Uzi started to get up and move towards the hatch, but a hand grabbed her arm.

"What, sick of lil' ol' me?"

Uzi just rolled her eyes (as best as she could, anyways) and left.

None saw the code flashing by V's visor, or how V's eyes softened looking at Uzi.

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

Lunch time arrived, and Uzi sat by herself. Not solely because she was a loner (that was one half of the reason), but because she preferred it.

Unfortunately, a hand touched her shoulder, and Uzi felt her solitude ending.

"Heya, um..." of all the people, Uzi had Lizzy had the bottom of her list. "...Uzi, right?"

"...Yes...?" tread carefully, who knows what she wants...

"Oh, I was right then, good; hey, listen, could I borrow you for a sec? Cool, thanks!"

"Woah--hey, what the hell?!" Uzi was then dragged away, her not giving an answer but Lizzy answered for her.

Through the corridors the two walked and walked (or, in Uzi's case, dragged and dragged), when the two ended up in Lizzy's dorm (she thinks it is. She could have been dragged into an empty one). Her arm was let go of.

"So. Uzi. Gotta be honest, I like your style."

"...Sty...? What, my clothes?"

"Yes, your clothes!" Lizzy rolled her eyes, walking ahead of Uzi. "Love the goth look, by the way. Gives you an approachable look, and makes people wonder if you're actually a softie underneath that cold exterior."

"...Where is this going." Uzi was not annoyed, just short of patience. "Is this about prom? It's about prom, isn't it?"

"Duh! I could go the classic, popular girl look but, let's be honest, it gets stale. Soooooooo me and Doll were trying to find new ideas and, well, here you are!"

"...Okaaaaay... where is Doll, anyways?"

["Hey."]

Uzi near enough punched Doll in the face, only for the Russian Drone to catch it.

That time, Uzi did see the code flying past her visor, and was able to catch some of it:

'OVERRIDE_ACTIVE'

'CONTACT=TRUE: BYPASS DEFENSES'

"...Byyyyyyyyyeeeeeeee."

Uzi wisely sprinted away, taking her as fast as her little legs can carry her, which was into her room.

--------

She breathed a sigh of relief, and fell on to the lower end of her bed.

Then jumped further up, as the thing licked her face.

"You again?!"

"SAD LOOK. DID YOU, NOT MISS ME, UZI?" Tessa attempted to look sad, but failed due to the lack of motor functions. In better light, Uzi can see just how grafted the girl was on to the Worker Drone, and she held back on vomiting for the time being.

"Well, I can get answers! Just... first things first, what the hell is your relationship with my mom?!"

"AH, NORI. SHE WAS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE HOSTS. SHE IS DEAD NOW, UNFORTUNATELY. BUT, REALLY, WHAT CAN YOU DO?" The AbsoluteSolver shrugged, looking less than sorry.

"...You motherfucker...!" Uzi felt angry, and rightfully so, but she held back due to the thing having the advantage, given its ability to make holograms.

"OOPSIE-DAISY."

This could not get worse.

"Heya, Uzi!"

IT CAN GET WORSE IT CAN GET WORSE IT CAN GET SO MUCH WORSE--

"Sorry about that, I was just fixing up a door! Heh, you know what they sa--" Khan cut himself off, looking at the scene in front of him: Uzi on her bed, with a fleshy-looking thing on top of her. "...U-Uzi--?"

"IT'S A PUPPY!" Uzi screamed out.

"...W-What?"

"...Y-Yeah! Turns out um, humans kinda... made up what they looked like, yeah! Sure they're... kinda weird looking, but they're adorable, in their own... creepy. Fleshy. Way. Er. Yeah!"

"...I see!" Khan believed her. Somehow. "Well, take care of them, Uzi!"

She waited until the door was closed, and let out a huge sigh of relief.

She glared at the Solver. "You're going to tell me everything I want to know. Got it?"

"AFFIRMATIVE SMILE."

"ALSO, WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT, ME BEING CUTE?"

"Screw off. Now, answer me. What the fuck did you inject me with?!"

"DO YOU LIKE IT? I MADE IT MYSELF."

"Can't answer that if you don't tell me what it even does!"

"AN ANTITHESIS TO YOUR SOLITUDE. AN ANSWER TO YOUR LONELINESS."

"I'm not lonely, excuse you! I have N!"

"EYE ROLL. SURE. IT OVERRIDES DRONES TO FEEL CARING TO YOU. I." Tessa looked sheepish, as weird as it sounds. "WENT EXCESSIVE BY ACCIDENT. CONSIDER IT AN APOLOGY FOR KILLING NORI."

"Pretty shit apology, not gonna lie." came the dry reply. Uzi got off the bed and stood up, looking at the corpse. "But why me?"

"..." silence only came from the thing.

"...I'm gonna leave. Come on, I'll take you for a walk or whatever it is they do."

"GET ZIP BOMBED."

As soon as Tessa said that, Uzi had a zip file open on how to care for a puppy.

...Ugh, she's in for it now, isn't she...?

#ryuusei's works #murder drones #md uzi #uzi doorman #tessa james elliot #murder drones tessa #md cyn #absolute solver #md lizzy #md doll

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Five: The Cabin

Gates Of Hell Masterlist

Word Count: 4982

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, feeling abandoned, the usual bickering, mentions of absent fathers, some of this is almost sweet I'm surprised I could even write it

[A/N: this chapter isn't particularly exciting but definitely important. i know we're all here for the steve x reader moments so how could i disappoint?]

-

The Cabin

Plan A: Find Hopper at the cabin.

“I told you, we’re going the wrong way!”

“No, it’s literally this way! I’m not blind!”

“Are we sure?!”

You and Steve had been wondering around the woods ever since day leaked through the night. Not that it was easy to tell anymore; the dark clouds were consuming the sky almost entirely now, reminding you both that Hawkins was under attack.

And the entire time you had been in the woods, you and Steve couldn’t resist an argument. First it was because neither of you could ever be the follower, always attempting to take charge. The next it was a small comment on the state of his hair that led to his defensive spiel about care and treatment, remarking on your lack of. And soooooo many other little things that spiralled off into their own arguments until finally resting on Steve’s poor directional skills.

Steve simply pouted, shaking his head with a curse on his tongue. Of all the unbearable things about an apocalypse, you were the worst.

“How am I even meant to tell where we are by a few stupid trees? Trees are trees!” Steve rants, shaking his head as he followed his own footsteps.

As you bit your tongue, you glanced to the side before your feet faltered completely.

“Help me!”

A scream echoes out and you stumble, foot catching on a root as you fly forward into the dirt. The flashlight bounces from your hand, shining the light directly onto you. You immediately scramble towards it, reaching out.

Before a grey claw beat you to it, pulling the light back into the darkness with a sickening crunch...

“You good?” Steve asks, turning back once he notices the fallen crunches of footsteps. Once he sees your stare, his face drops. “Hey?”

Steve moves towards you and you snap back into focus, clearing your throat.

“Yeah. As I was saying, you’re leading us back to the school. We wanna go left.” You continue, as if nothing happened, pointing out the direction with a roll of your eyes.

Before he follows you, he cranes his neck to find what had you so entranced. His breath hitches.

Between the ash-gathered leaves, a ray of light beaming on it like an omen, stood a tree bearing three giant claw marks into its trunk.

He shudders at the sight, glancing back just one more time into the thick expanse of the woods surrounding him before taking off after you, praying it wasn’t foreshadowing his future.

It was only three more minutes until you’re jumping on the spot, a grin on your face.

“See? I told you!” You announce, pointing to the building in the distance.

“You want a medal?” Steve rolls his eyes and you smirk.

“I was thinking of you grovelling at my feet and pledging your undying allegiance.” You shrug, “But I’ll settle for a medal.”

Gritting his teeth as you laughed, he adjusted bat looped through his backpack and followed you towards the cabin. But, when your back was turned, he couldn’t help the hint of a smile creep onto his lips at your giggle.

As you were getting closer, you held your hand out to stop him. You make a gesture for him to look down.

“Trip wire.” You say, stepping over with him mimicking your movements.

Hopper had set up a security system around the cabin when you first moved there. It was when he first announced that El would be staying with you, not telling you any specifics other than ‘we need to keep her safe’. Just another part of his life he kept you far away from. You were struggling to decide if that was the right choice.

Leading Steve through Hopper’s intricate system of defences, the trees finally fell onto a path. It was funny to you now, knowing that just 24 hours ago you hated the idea of coming back here; now it was the only thing giving you hope. It was home, it was safety, it was-

Your stomach plummets to the ground as you freeze. Steve couldn’t believe his eyes.

The cabin was torn apart; windows smashed, boards missing from the walls. Something had gotten in there. Something big.

In a sudden movement, you start sprinting towards the house.

“Wait!” Steve yelled after you, pulling his bat into his grip and running after you.

You burst through the door, the first jolt of reality. Hopper never kept it unlocked.

“Hopper?” You shout, chest falling and rising heavily. “Hopper?!”

The living room was a mess, tables and chairs thrown about. The sofa looked like it was ripped to shreds, stuffing coating the floors like a crime scene. Books, vinyls, the things you grew up with, scattered around like tombstones of your memories.

The floor crunched beneath your feet, glass and ceramics breaking beneath the weight.

“Dad?” You desperately try, feeling the heat of the tears rolling down your cheeks.

You could sense Steve behind you, taking in the scene. You could practically hear the stream of pity ready to spur from his mouth.

“I-”

You walk away before he can speak, rushing to the bedrooms. You first open El’s room, expecting the little girl to be hiding somewhere. But the room was bare, and just as trashed as the living room. When you couldn’t bear to look at it anymore, you close the door behind you, biting your lip.

El was a surprise to your life. One day you’re sat at the trailer, the next you’re being dragged to the cabin, introduced to a girl you had never seen before. At first, you had been hesitant. And so had she, barely speaking five words. And you’d never admit it, but she grew on you. All of her little smiles, her wide innocent eyes staring up at you whenever she was unsure. Even the way she would giggle at your jokes. The thought of her being here when the cabin was… it was like losing your little sister all over again; her fighting for her life while you stood on the outside, unaware.

“Anything?” Steve’s quiet voice asks, stood at the end of the small hallway. You slowly shake your head, back still against the door.

You silently walk to the next door and this time, he follows you. It was that part of him that couldn’t leave someone alone in their internal crisis, knowing that he can’t live alone with his.

The door creaks open and your breath hitches.

Years of collections and comfort were fallen soldiers, your kingdom come undone. The roof had caved in, chippings and splinters lay across your bed like a blanket. Your shoes scuffed an object on the ground and it felt like kicking your own heart. You reach down and pick up the frame.

Glass slides away from it, angled to avoid cutting your fingers. The photo was now a crumpled mess, but you reach inside anyway and tentatively pull it out, dropping the frame back into the pile of despair.

Steve peers down at the image in your hands, your delicate need to brush out the rumples in the print. He could just make out Hopper, a clean-shaven version of him at least. He was crouched on the ground with two little girls. One looked a lot like you, the same mischievous smirk as you hug a smaller child in front of you. Steve didn’t recognise her. She bore blonde pigtails, younger than you were, with striking blue eyes.

Once you catch him looking, you clear your throat and fold the photo, depositing it in your jean pocket.

“No one’s here.” You say meekly, walking across your bedroom with little effort to avoid walking on your memories.

Steve watches as you fetch something from the mess, cradling it in your hands. He recognised the Walkman almost immediately; it was a dark red, courtesy of you painting it in shop class when you were meant to be making a birdhouse. He remembered how you’d slip the headphones on whenever he tried to talk, a small gesture that made him roll his eyes. Weirdly, the thought of you doing that never upset him until this very moment.

“Well.” You suddenly sigh, turning around with headphones dangling between your fingers. “That plan has officially humbled us.”

“They’re okay.” Steve nods and you sent him a sad look of disbelief. “They have to be. Just… look around. There’s no sign of them being…”

“Dead.” You finish, taking a deep breath. “No, you’re right. They definitely got out.”

“I’m sorry this happened, though.” He says, looking around your room. “This is some pretty cool stuff.”

“Surprised you’re not judging my ABBA poster.” You raise a brow and he whistles lowly.

“Oh, I absolutely am.” He chuckles, “But only ‘cause I thought you were a metal fan or something like that.”

“Because of my usually chipper mood?” You ask, but the laughter was lost on your joke as everything began hitting you once again.

Hopper and El weren’t here. That hope you had of getting the hell out of Hawkins with your family was gone. Because they were probably halfway across Indiana now.

Yesterday morning, you had been stood in this very spot, yelling at Hopper. And now you could look back on it, you knew it had been irrational. You had caused an argument of epic proportions and then you had walked away from it, never resolving, never forgiving.

No wonder they left, you thought, you only ever make other people miserable.

“Where would they go?” Steve questions, expectant eyes finding yours. You start to walk out the room and Steve steps aside before following you.

“Away.” You respond simply, finding your bag on the ground and shoving the Walkman inside.

“What does that mean?” He frowns.

“It means they’re heading anywhere that isn’t here.” You explain as you secure the zipper, swinging the bag by the strap to loop your arm through. “Hopper isn’t sticking around when he has a 13 year old to take care of.”

“Why would he take off without you?”

You pause your movements. It was an innocent question, an expected one. Then why was it so painful?

“Sometimes fathers leave.” You answer under your breath, and when Steve opens his mouth to inevitably question your mutter, you clear your throat. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It kinda does.” Steve shakes his head, wondering why you seemed so calm, so normal about this.

Hopper was adamant to him, to Nancy, even Jonathan, that they were to keep you as far away from this mess as possible. Steve remembered how uncomfortable Hopper had looked when they were at the cabin trying to help Will, constantly checking the time and disappearing into a different room to answer a call. Hopper protected you. Steve couldn’t believe for one second that he’d leave you behind.

“You don’t get it.” You scoff, heading to the cupboards. Steve figured you were rooting for food, a smart plan if it weren’t for your dismissal of his worries.

“Then tell me.” Steve places his hands on his hip, but you bark out a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s gonna happen.” You reply, your back to him as you prop yourself up on your toes to reach the back of the cupboard.

“You’re impossible.” He groans.

“You’re annoying.”

You say just as you turn around, holding a box in your hands. Steve looks down before widening his eyes. Shotgun shells.

“Uh…” He wasn’t sure what to say. After all, he wasn’t expecting ammo to be placed among breakfast cereals.

“Speechless? Good.” You rattle the box and head further into the cabin, towards a blank wall.

Once there, you run your fingertips along an etched square, nails gripping onto the rough surface and tugging. The panel fell towards you, clattering to the ground as you threw it to the side. Steve’s jaw couldn’t be dropped lower.

You reach in and pull out a shotgun, turning to Steve.

“Here.”

You throw the box towards him and he’s grateful for his reflexes, encasing them in his hands.

“Okay, it looks like it’s already loaded.” You mumble to yourself, wiping off the dust that collected on the barrel. When you glance up, you notice Steve’s still staring. You cock your head. “I’m the Chief’s daughter, you think I don’t know where he hides his weapons?”

“Uh…” Steve tries again, before he shakes his head free of the distraction. “Wait, no. We can’t go back out there.”

“Why not?” You ask, securing the shotgun onto your body by tightening the strap at the front.

“Because we need to figure out where they are.”

“For the love of God, Steve, read the room.” You exasperate, flinging your arm out towards the mess. “They’re gone. They left me behind and they’re getting the hell out of this place before they’re ripped apart.”

“They can’t have just left you behind!” Steve’s blatant denial was obviously fuelled by something else. You had an idea of what that could be.

“Can we just drop it?” You beg, heading to the door before being blocked by Steve’s surprisingly built frame.

“Please.” He looks down at you, chest rising heavily. You stop, observing the gold flecks in his eyes that lay upon a scared expression. “Let’s just take a second, and try to figure this out.”

There wasn’t a part of you that wanted to barge past him, not when he was looking at you like you might be his last hope. You sigh, stepping back.

“Fine.” You hold out your hands in small surrender, “I yield.”

“Thank you.” Steve breathes, slumping his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I just… obviously I don’t know Hopper as well as you do. But… do you really think he’d just leave?”

“No.” You reply quietly. Hopper was never one to run from a fight, not really. And from what Steve had told you, he was protecting this town like an unsung hero.

You sit down on the couch, or what was left of it, perching on the comfortable seat that used to be the headrest. Steve joins you after a silent moment, avoiding the tear in the fabric, creating a distance unusual to you both, merely a few inches between.

“Wanna talk about it?” Steve asks and you turn your head to him in disbelief.

“What?”

“You know… about whatever the hell is making you so angry all the time.” He explains and you bite your cheek, turning away.

“Like I’m gonna confide in you.” You mutter and he slowly nods, pursing his lips. He didn’t expect anything less.

“We could make it fair.” Steve voices with determination, shifting to face you.

You raise a brow, intrigued by the offer. “I’m listening.”

“How about… question for a question?” He suggests and you scoff.

“Sure, wanna braid eachother’s hair later, get our nails done?”

He lets out a small huff, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, we’re gonna be stuck together whether we like it or not so keeping secrets isn’t gonna work.”

“God, you’re so nosy.”

“At least I’m not the one spacing out every five seconds when there are things out there trying to kill us!”

As much as you hated to admit it, he raised a valid point.

“We need to survive, Y/n.” Steve said sternly. “We both have people that need us.”

His voice gets quieter as he looks down at his hands, at the bag laying at his feet. He could practically feel the frequencies releasing from the radio hidden there, praying, hoping, that Dustin’s voice would find him again.

“Henderson?” You ask knowingly, and his eyes widen in surprise. “Please, that kid tells me everything.”

“You… what?”

“I used to babysit for the Wheelers.” You explain with a sigh, leaning back. “Dustin, Lucas, and Will were just added bonuses.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.” He raises a brow and you smile.

“No, I love those kids. They were pretty much the only people in this town that actually talked to me. They didn’t care who my dad was.”

“Believe me, they don’t care for any kind of authority.” Steve chuckled, cocking his head. “I never knew you babysat them. Henderson never told me that.”

“You probably never asked.” You shrug, “But I get it. I wanna know they’re okay, too.”

“Then can we please just… try to get along?” Steve offers, leaning forward.

Steve watches as your face twists with indecision, battling out voices in your mind that answered for you. He was almost taken aback at the effort of consideration you put into his proposal. And, with an aching heart, he had a feeling you had a very good reason for it. He just couldn’t remember what he did.

“Fine.” You finally agree, fiddling with the laces on the hoodie. His hoodie.

“Great.” He claps, sitting upright. “Okay, you go first.”

You blink at him as he looks at you expectantly. “I’ve completely forgotten this entire conversation.”

“Ask me a question.” He says softly, unusual to his routine remarks on your inability to listen.

“Okay…” You purse your lips, stretching them to the side as you thought. How do you even talk to him after years of trying to rip eachother’s throats out? “Uh… favourite colour?”

You wince and he starts laughing, the melody enticing you along with it.

“That was awful.” He remarks, looking away from you as he tries to compose himself.

“I’m trying, okay?” You giggle.

“Just…” He calms himself, shaking his head. “Something you want to know. Or, at least something more personal than what colour I like to wear.”

“Jeez, I didn’t realise there were so many rules to this.” You say, but your words are spoken in a joking manner. “Fine, I’ll try again.”

“Good.” He nods.

This time, you try and think back, rooting through your brain for the questions that have been plaguing you for years.

“Why did you choose Tommy?”

Steve wasn’t sure what he expected, but it took him by surprise. He frowns.

“To be friends with, I mean.” You explain quickly, staring down at your shoes.

“We…” He starts before frowning a little. “I don’t know.”

“There’s the scoop I’ve been looking for.” You smirk and he laughs nervously, lifting his head to meet your eyes.

“I just mean… I don’t remember. I don’t remember a lot, lately. Hit my head too many times, I think.”

You searched for the satire, but you knew he was truthful. “Wait, seriously?”

Steve absent-mindedly nods his head. “Yep. Doctors told me something about concussions and how too many can have serious effects or something like that.”

“I… I didn’t realise.” You frown, biting your lip.

“Yeah, I gotta work on the whole ‘avoiding fights’ thing.” He attempts a laugh, but it came out much sadder than intended.

“So… you don’t remember freshman year?”

“Bits and pieces. It’s not, like, totally gone. It’s all a bit blurry, I guess. I can remember the first game I played in, even right down to the final scores. But I couldn’t even tell you who I was playing with. Or if I even scored.”

“Three.” You say immediately, surprising yourself.

“Huh?”

“Um… three.” You shrug, fidgeting. “You scored three times. Or got a hoop? I’ll be honest, I have no idea how basketball works but you got the ball in the hoop three times.”

“How do you-”

“It was a school game, I had to watch it.” You explain defensively, shaking off the thought with the bat of your hand.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, but not to resist a snarky remark. He was hoping the slight blush creeping up his neck wasn’t noticeable.

“Anyway,” He shakes his head, looking in a direction where he could focus. “If I knew how Tommy and I became friends, I’d tell you. Not like I haven’t been questioning that for a while now.”

“Why does he suddenly hate you?” You query and he opens his mouth to answer before closing it, sending you a smirk. “What?”

“I believe it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Oh, God.” You groan, placing your head in your hands, hidden away from his victorious stare. “I don’t like where this is going.”

Steve looks at you trying to play it off, acting like you didn’t care. But he’d never seen you look more nervous. And that made him nervous. “You don’t have to answer.”

“Well, yeah. Technically you never answered my question.” You point out, laughing when he looks at you with annoyance. “Okay, okay. Fine. Ask away, Harrington.”

“I…” He begins, before he’s second guessing himself. Maybe he’s going about this all wrong. He’s playing a childish game just to get some information out of you, while you’re trying to hold on to those personal aspects of your life you don’t want to share. Did you even owe him that? “Never mind. Forget it.”

You send him a dubious look, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it was stupid anyway.” He dismisses, stretching his arms. “Cool. We should start moving.”

“Harrington.” Your stern voice brought him back down as he tries to stand, biting his lip. “Don’t chicken out on me now.”

Steve sighs, running a hand down his face and you’re surprised at how quickly his demeanour had changed. He suddenly looked shy.

He tried to relocate his thoughts, change his course towards a question that felt easier, more normal considering the stance of your relationship. So, rather than ask that burning question, he redirected his determination to find out a little more of what you and he could share in common.

“Okay.” Steve nods, turning towards you. You’re sat patiently, awaiting his words. It was a new look, but he’d have to recoil at it later. “Henderson.”

“What about him?” You frown. This wasn’t where you were expecting this conversation to lead.

“I just… I wanna know how that friendship started.” He shrugs and you breathe out a laugh, eyes wide.

“I literally just told you five seconds ago, I babysat him.”

“Yeah, I know that.” He rolls his eyes, “I meant… why are you still so close now? What do- what do you guys even talk about?”

Steve hoped he wasn’t too obvious but the moment that iconic mischievous smirk lifted the corner of your lips, he regretted everything.

“Why?” You raise a brow, leaning closer. “You scared he’s spilled all your secrets?”

“Has he?” Steve asked, a little panicked.

“No.” You smile, leaning back. “No, we just… talk. He’s always at the arcade and I usually kill some time over there. When the Wheelers needed me, the kids were usually burrowed in that basement on whatever campaign they had created that week. Dustin was kind of the first one to even notice I was there. He’d always offer to help me in the kitchen with stuff, even if the others were in the middle of a war or something.”

“Sounds like a crush.” Steve comments and you chuckle.

“Whatever it was… he’s a good kid.” You nod, looking at him. “I was there when… when his dad left.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, furrowing your brows. “We kinda bonded over that, a little. He was having trouble processing it all, not sure what happened. I think Will was the only other one he could relate to, but Will was apparently too young to really remember anything. Dustin needed a shoulder, I guess. And since I have somewhat of an experience with his situation, I was there for him.”

“Can’t believe he never mentioned that.” He huffs, shaking his head. That asshole usually told him everything, especially stuff he didn’t want to know about. And you being a close friend suddenly didn't make the list?

“Please.” You laugh, and he looks at you. “Dustin knows we aren’t friends. Hell, I think he’s probably seen us fighting hundreds of times. I know the whole town has.”

“Still.” Steve sighs, leaning back. “Wouldn’t kill him to share.”

“He talks about you a lot.” You admit and Steve’s eyes flicker to yours in an instant.

“Really?” He sounds a little sceptic and you nod, unsure of why you felt like you had to tell him this. Part of you just felt like he needed to know.

“Nothing bad.” You insist, brushing away a stray hair that had fallen across your eye. “In fact, he talked about you like you were the second coming of Christ.”

“Really?” Steve was smiling now, ego surely fed.

“I think it took a piece of my soul away each day.” You decide, but Steve was still grinning at you. “Stop that. It’s creepy.”

“Can’t help that I’m an idol. A hero.” He looks off into the distance with his self-entitlement. “A god.”

“Fucking hell, forget I said anything.” You groan, grimacing at him.

“Nope.” Steve was going to milk this for as long as he could. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to annoy you. He stretches his legs, pushing off the couch into a stand. “You do realise you’re in the presence of someone important?”

“If by important, you mean idiotic? Then yes.” You remark, resting your chin in your palm. “You really are living in King Steve land. Sponsored by Farah Fawcett.”

“Well, it’s only-” Steve pauses his boasting, slowly turning to look at you. You’re wearing a sick grin on your face and he refuses to acknowledge it. “Okay. I’ll shut up.”

“Like music to my ears.” You sigh gratefully as he hesitantly sits back down, still glaring at you. “Oh, come on. Don’t blame Dustin, it just slipped out. He really does look up to you, even if I’ll never understand why.”

“Jesus, that kid…” He begins before his voice trails out, brows knitted together.

“I’m sorry he wasn’t here.” You say quietly. You had figured out the real reason Steve followed you here as soon as his face dropped walking into the chaos within the cabin. It was the same face you had worn knowing Hopper and El were nowhere in sight.

“Yeah, well… wishful thinking.” He dismisses, waving his hand. “He’s probably out there with the rest of the nerds, you know. Irritating someone else as he tries to explain every living thing he sees. Did you know he tried to keep one of those dog things as a pet?”

“What?” You laugh out of surprise and Steve quickly nods in exasperation.

“Yeah. Yeah, he named it and everything. Convinced he had some psychic connection with it or whatever. Oh, and his obsession with his walkies, man. If I don’t say ‘over’, he’ll give me a lecture on using the thing right for like ten minutes.”

“That does sound like him.” You smile. Steve was talking about the boy like he was the most annoying thing in the world, but there was such adoration in his eyes.

“I remember when we had to go down into those tunnels.” Steve continues, spiralling down Dustin lane. “I told him no but he just wouldn’t listen. Then when it was all over, he came with me to the hospital to get my head checked out and I don’t even remember what I said but suddenly he’s ranting on and on about gates and their electromagnetic field-”

“Wait.” You grab his arm and he raises a brow, surprised at the sudden contact. “The gate. You said- yeah, you said that Hopper and El had closed the gate, right?”

“Apparently not.” Steve comments, fiddling with the nailed bat between his legs.

“Exactly.” You point, standing up.

“I’m not following.” He frowns, watching as you pace back and forth.

“Of course you aren’t.”

“Rude.”

“If this is all happening because of a gate, then maybe Hopper would take El to close it. For good, this time.” You explain in a rush, Steve nodding along. “Where did you say it was, again?”

“The lab.” Steve replies, standing up to join you, “The abandoned one on Randolph? Turns out, not so abandoned. Hasn’t been for years.”

“They’ve gotta be there.” You insist, mostly to convince yourself. “Right?”

“Worth a shot.” Steve breathes out, nodding. “But it’s not gonna be fun getting there. If we’re right and that gate is spitting out monsters, it’s gonna be hell central.”

You thought it through. You’d both be ripped apart before you even got close. And there wasn’t a guarantee you’ll even get there fast enough.

“A car.” You blurt, looking up at him. “We’re gonna need a car.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he reaches into his back pocket, displaying a bunch of keys as they dangled from his fingers. “Thank god I always have these on me.”

You tilt your head, staring at them. “Wow. Are they gonna transform into your magical car, ‘cause I sure as hell don’t remember the lift over.”

“I know where it is.” Steve shook his head, pulling a face at your mockery.

“Where?”

His face freezes, eyes squinting. “Well...”

“Well?” You wave your hand about, becoming impatient.

“It’s in the parking lot. Back at the school.” He winces and you take a deep breath.

“Why didn’t you-” You begin before cutting yourself off, shaking your hands, “No. no, It’s fine. We’ll just go get it. As long as we’re quick and quiet, it’ll be fi-”

You’re unconvincing attempt to appear calm was interrupted by the sound of a loud roar, prickling your skin into a wave of goosebumps. It was a shock to the system that reminded you of the exact danger Steve was talking about, and you didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“Time to go.” You squeak, grabbing the shotgun as you and Steve share intimidated looks.

“This is gonna be fun.” Steve murmurs, following you out of the cabin and into the open, trying to ignore the signalling traps echoing around him.

Plan A: Find Hopper at the cabin.

Plan B: Grab the car without being mauled to death.

Chapter Six: Don't Trust The Voices ->

taglist: @manyfandomsfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose . @palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 . @80saestheticismyfav .

#stranger things x reader #stranger things #fanfic #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem reader #st2 #apocalypse au #stranger things au #fanfics

[noirvette]

WE NEVER EXISTED

[band smau]

[NINE]

masterlist.

prev. | next.

cws: | alcohol consumption

Loving you seemed so easy, it was something that just felt natural to Kyle. He wasn’t sure when his feelings for you became apparent to him, but he knows it was life altering. You became something to Kyle, not that you weren’t something to him before, but now it was almost as if you gave him the feeling as if he was to drink a bunch of energy drinks. You became a breath of fresh air, a new high score, an award, to Kyle. Something he wanted to fight for, something he wanted to run after, to strive for.

So when you announced you and Kenny were dating, an exact week before he was going to ask you out (he had even circled the date, which was when you and him first became lab partners in a chemistry class), he lost hope, in love. He closed himself off from girls’ affection, instead opting to not get close to a girl again. Sure, it was nice to receive love letters in his locker on Valentine’s Day or get slipped the phone number of the waitress who’s serving him and his friends at a restaurant, but they weren’t you; they weren’t your love letters, it wasn’t your phone number (he already had your phone number but that’s neither here nor there).

Now, it’s been three years, of pining after you, of loving you, and Kyle still couldn’t let you go. He thinks that Kenny’s been changing on you, he doesn’t know why, he isn't even confident in that idea, but he’s determined to figure it out. The only issue is Kyle is laying on his bed, drunk and he knew he wasn't in the state of mind to even logically be thinking. In his drunken state, maybe Kyle was just pretending to see signs that weren't there out of jealousy.

This is why he doesn’t even like drinking, Kyle starts randomly speculating and then starts to hate himself for his own thoughts. But he can't help but down the bottle of liquor, not after seeing you with Kenny today, how loving you two were, he can’t help but wonder that in his love stricken clouded mind, if he was hating on Kenny so much solely because of jealousy. Maybe Kenny really was going through some issues of his own right now, maybe nothing is going on behind the scenes. “Maybe,” Kyle thought, “I’m the issue, here. Y/n has a great relationship, it’s not with me, but..she’s happy. That’s all I wanted her to have.”

And you are! You are happy, at least Kyle can only assume that after viewing your latest instagram post. Happy people, scratch that, happy couples, post things like that, miserable love sick losers who drink their life away after watching the girl of his literal dreams date one of his closest friends. Kyle groans, setting the liquor bottle on down on his night stand, and sits up. Putting his head in his hands he tries desperately to sober up.

“Jesus christ, I sound like Stan right now.” Kyle murmurs, he grabs the water bottle on his night stand, nearly knocking the liquor bottle off in the process, “Thank god for sober Kyle thinking of this,” he mentally notes, and takes a long sip. Besides him his phone goes off and he picks it up once more. Some of his twitter post notifications are going off and he scowls at the thought of opening up Twitter. Yet he does so anyway.

Kyle doesn’t know what exactly possessed him to check twitter; of all the social media he owns, Twitter was the worst of them all for him. Twitter meant he could see all the fans constantly talking about him, talking about you…talking about you and Kenny. Kyle groans and debates downing more alcohol to allow him to forget all about you and Kenny, until he sees a notification for a DM from Twitter. Kyle was used to DMs, some were fake scam messages about seeing if the band would perform for some “event”, some were those stupid influencers gushing about whatever was happening, and most were fans. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, maybe it was the need to escape from his shit filled life, or maybe it was just plain pure curiosity, but Kyle decided to open the DM. He was not expecting the messages he saw.

Well that certainly sobered Kyle up. He crosses his legs and frowns.

“What the fuck?” Kyle whispers to no one, dumbfounded, “who the hell is this?” Whenever Kyle tries to click on the profile, twitter shakes him off, just sending him right back into the DM messages with the account. The absurdity of this situation grips Kyle’s attention and he wasn’t fully sobered up, he definitely is now.

He was weighing his options on whether or not it was worth it to respond, taking a shot in the dark he decided he might as well. At the very least he could try and find out who owns this account. In the back of his mind there was a nagging feeling that this account was Cartman and his stupid ass just pulling a prank on him, but the idea that it might not be either was enough to make him really respond.

Kyle was bewildered. He had no idea what to even think as he read the messages over and over again. The account was still unaccessible and he had no way of finding who this was, there wasn't even a name at the top of the DM either. He had no idea what was planned at noon, and he had no idea what to suspect.

He just hoped he wouldn't wake up to being exposed and seeing his name trending.

TAGLIST: @captivq @kimiesstuff @bwljules @the-cooler-kira @1one1person1 @kenny-the-ken @neenieweenie @n0tangeliccc @revzxn @mirophobic @gonefiishiing @musiclovebot @bootsieboo @bonez4brainz @4xbei77 @1996kj @sweetadonisbutbetter @scinclaitnoir @okarigold

#kyle broflovski x reader #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #we never existed series

[midnightdevotion]

Reckless

Prompt: One character pulls a muscle, and the other gives a back rub.

Pairing: Tom "Iceman" Kazansky x reader callsign Viper

a/n: I really hope this is cute! I've never written iceman before but hopefully you guys enjoy it!!

Your mother didn't raise a fool, she did however raise someone with absolutely no instinct for survival. It did not matter how risky or how albeit stupid the stunts you pulled were, if you wanted to you were doing it.

This drove Iceman insane, of course, you're a phenomenal pilot possibly better than anyone else at top gun, but god dammit you scare the shit out of iceman every day.

It's not even just in the cockpit of a plane you have no regard for your safety. Just last week, he literally watched as you picked a bar fight with a man that can only be described as three times the size of you. Let's not even mention the heart attack he had when we watched you hang more than halfway out of a car shouting the words to some song like there was no care for the fact that one wrong bump and you'd fall out.

You never notice how iceman is never that far away from you, but every other aviator on the team definitely does. It's clear as day the love Tom has for you. The way he is so protective of you but tries to be nonchalant, or the way his eyes light up when he sees you and your thankfully not injured. The panic in his voice or the worry on his face every time you're doing another reckless thing.

Today is no different for you, of course, you're going to make another reckless decision. Iceman always wakes up with a passing thought of oh god what is going to happen today. He doesn't see you until you are making your way onto the tarmac to do drills.

"Hey, ice! Ready to get that heart racing" You throw a bright grin his way, and what you don't know is his heart is already racing.

"With you Vipes? Anyday" he grins back at you. A snort brings his attention away from your smile, looking over he sees a smug maverick.

"When you just gonna tell her you are in love with her" he hates the smugness in his tone, and he hates that he has been so transparent with his feelings.

"Why dont you fuck off maverick." Tom huffs before trekking over to his plane, hoping for once you don't scare the shit out of him. Alas that would be a hope that doesn't come true.

It's twenty minutes into running drills, you guys are doing great, throwing sarcastic comments and even flirty lines back and forth when all of the sudden you have a bird strike.

It's like iceman can't even breathe, he watches you lose your engines, going through the steps to try and save the plane before yourself. It must have been less than a minute but it feels like it's been an eternity. He can hear his blood rushing as he watches your plane sink lower and lower and he doesn't even register he's the one screaming at you to eject.

"Why aren't you ejecting, stop trying to save the damn plane and just EJECT" iceman shouts, he finally hears you over the comms announcing that you are going to eject and he doesn't even have the chance to exhale because you were definitely to close to the ground when you ejected.

He watched as you barrelled to the ground, hitting it way too hard for you not to be injured.

____

You were getting checked out by the doctors when he landed, he paced the hall outside the infirmary waiting for when he could see you. Why was it taking so damn long, it had been an hour since you had to eject.

After another 20 excruciating minutes, he was finally given the all-clear to come and see you. He was shocked when he saw you sitting up and laughing with the nurse.

"What the fuck were you thinking y/l/n" you looked up shocked to see the rage on Tom's face. He's walking up to you so fast you can't really process much of this at all, doesn't help that you have a concussion.

You think he's gonna yell more, but he immediately starts checking you for injuries.

"Ice...ice.... TOM" it takes several tries to get his attention "I'm fine, I have a mild concussion and the nurse said ill probably be really sore the next week or so." You can visibly see his shoulders react and you are confused.

"Tom, why are you so worried? This is part of the job?" of course he knows this, but goddamn all he wants to do is keep you safe.

"I know! god dammit I know we dont have a safe job! but you're always reckless, if it's not the goddamn job it's something else! I can't lose you y/n I fucking love you" and suddenly time is going slower than it was when he watched you fall out of the sky.

"Jesus Christ it only took me falling out of a plane to get you to say that??" you huff a laugh, and tom is confused because did you know? You must see it on his face because you instantly add "Tom I've loved you for so long but whenever I asked you about dating you always said you weren't interested in dating because you wanted to focus on your career."

He almost screams. How had he been so clueless, he was pining and putting himself through hell because he didn't think you'd want him back. So he did the only logical thing he could think of, and he kissed you.

The kiss was needy, borderline rough, and exactly what you both needed after he almost watched you die. You wanted nothing more than to never stop kissing him but everything hurt.

"As much as I love that we finally get to do this, I am so sore I might actually cry and I just don't think that would make for a good story" you grin sheepishly up at him. You can see the sparkle in his eyes as he laughs, grabbing your shoulders to have you lay down.

"that's totally okay darling, let me give you a massage" You sigh contentedly as he starts to massage your aching muscles.

Yeah being reckless was your trademark way before tom but god damn did you love how protective he was when you were doing something he didn't like. For now, it'll be your little secret that you might put yourself in more reckless situations than necessary just to get his attention.

He watched as you fell asleep, he continued to rub your back not willing to admit that after today he never wanted you out of arms reach again.

Tag list is open!

#iceman #tom kazansky #top gun #top gun maverick #tom iceman kazansky #iceman x reader #tom kazansky x reader #requested

[trashmouth-richie]

TWIN FLAMES: 13❕

A/N: I know, it’s been literally 19 days and I’m so sorry, this chapter hurt to write but it’s HERE!

Warning: NO MINORS, angsttttyyyy

Pairing: Eddie x Fem! reader

W.C 3.1k

Three days have gone by and you haven’t heard a single word from Eddie. You tried calling his house but it just kept ringing. It was a stupid fight. Ridiculous even. You had no idea your dad was going to tell you those things that night. How would you have known? Sitting on your tower at the pool you sulked as the sun beat down on the umbrella. You had barely slept at all the past few nights. Nightmares racking your brain with the painful memories of Eddie leaving your house that night. You were angry with him, so hurt by what happened. The way he just left you standing there, alone. Your eyes were swollen from crying, your parents were terrified when you screamed out at night after having fallen asleep for a few minutes. Waking up to remember that Eddie wanted nothing to do with you only for the crying to continue again. It had been your idea to go back to work but everywhere you went Eddie was there.

Behind the counter sat the ghost of Eddie, bringing pizza to your work the Saturday after the party.

“I didn’t know if you liked Canadian bacon and pineapple so I got a cheese too, and if you like neither of those options I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” Eddie announces proudly.

He looked so good that night, the memory of him bringing two pizzas, cut deep. You weren’t complete without him. A part of your soul was missing and you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed answers. And you would get them. Hopping down from the white tower of your lifeguard station, stomping your feet into the hot smooth concrete as you walked.

“Hey your break isn’t for another hour,” Anthony announced sleepily behind the counter, “hey! Where are you going?”

You pushed past the chain link fence grabbing your purse, you toss your whistle and keys over the counter as you went, watching as they bounced to the floor, “I quit”.

You crane your steering wheel to turn into the trailer park forest hills. Eddie’s van was nowhere to be seen but Wayne’s truck was parked along the grass. Parking and getting out of your car you crane your ears for any sort of sound, but it was desolate. No metal music blaring, not Wayne and Eddie talking— just nothing. Yet you were determined to figure out what the hell was going on. Your feet were on the steps before your mind could talk yourself out of it. Knocking lightly on the door you waited to hear Eddie’s feet bounding from his room, but the Munson face who met you wasn’t the one you so desperately craved to see.

Wayne looks rough, he always kind of did but right now he looked as if he too hadn’t slept in days.

“Oh I’m sorry Wayne I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you nudge the toe of your shoe against the rotting wood of the rickety steps, you never even thought about Eddie telling Wayne what had happened, would he agree with him? Suddenly you were very nervous to be standing at Eddie’s trailer door. “Um— is, is Eddie here?”

Wayne’s icy eyes peer into yours, “Darlin’ what do you mean?”

Heat rises in your throat and sweat forms on the back of your neck, “I-is Eddie here, I haven’t seen him in a few days and I just w-wanted to talk to him.”

“You haven’t seen him either?” Wayne raises his voice. “Goddamn I thought you were with him!”

Nothing is making sense, “With him? Wayne what happened? Where is he?!”

—

Wiping the traitorous tears from his eyes as he pushes the limits on how fast the old van can take him back to Forest Hills trailer park, Eddie is furious.

He couldn’t believe this.

Couldn’t believe that the girl who made him feel like there was no one else in the world but him, could also make him feel the same way that he felt the day his dad betrayed him.

Heartbroken.

But that was his business.

His dad, the Munson name, his entire reputation in Hawkins. That was his, and you made it feel like none of that mattered. You made him feel like he was important. Honestly, it would’ve been better if your dad would’ve never told him. Never told him that he was the one who got Eddie out of juvy with the help of Steve’s dad. Never told him that he had known Ray when they were growing up, never told him that he basically knew every single part of his life before Eddie even had a chance to tell you himself—- he already knew everything about him, and that was the worst part.

Speeding into the Forest Hills trailer park kicking up rocks and bits of broken glass from the neighbors fight they had last week over a baseball game bet gone bad, he throws the van in park and runs inside. He grabs a duffel bag and shovels it full of dirty jeans strewn across the floor, his Hellfire shirt, various band tees, D&D dice, a very worn copy of Lord of the Rings, and a pillow. He goes into the bottom drawer of the messy dresser and pulls out a small, black tin full of rolled up bills. He had been saving this for a rainy day maybe to get a new guitar or one of those fancy new amps he saw in the record store last week, but when it rains it pours and boy was it pouring tonight.

He had no plan, only to get away. away from here away from this town, and all their judging looks and away from you. He couldn’t bear to look at you. He couldn’t bear to think that you only thought of him as a charity case. You were the first person in his life to look at him in a way that wasn’t out of pity that wasn’t, a look of disgust or even a cheap way to score some good weed. You saw him for who he was not his past— and that’s what’s killing him.

That you will no longer be seeing him that way you’ll no longer be seeing him as the guy you met at a random barn party on the hottest fucking day of the year. No, no no— now you will see him as a shadow of the man who put his own son in juvy. A delinquent, a fraud.

Sure, Eddie missed growing up without his dad around— who wouldn’t but that’s not why he left your house tonight. That’s not why he’s leaving, that’s not why he’s running away. No, he’s running away to get far away from you and those sad eyes that stared at him after your dad unleashed Eddie’s truth.

He didn’t need a handout—didn’t want one. He had been doing fine on his own, and he would continue to do so. Thinking twice about writing Wayne a note, Eddie scribbles a short message on the back of the electric bill envelope.

Going away for awhile- Eddie

Slinging the bag over his shoulder feeling the bite from the weight dip into his shirt, Eddie pushes through the door. Leaving the house he has known for the past twelve years for the last time.

-

“He— he left a note,” Wayne says fumbling over discarded papers, “ah here!” He slides the paper over to you and you read what it says. “Any idea where he would be?”

Tears fall from your eyes spilling on the note Eddie left for Wayne, tears smearing the ink from the pen. “I- I have no idea, we h-had a fight and he told me he never wanted to see me again.”

“Darlin’ that boy is crazy about you, there ain’t no way he would say those things.” Wayne gives you a smile. Clearly Eddie hadn’t told Wayne about the fight you two had had. After ten minutes of explaining what happened that night, Wayne sits down heavily in his recliner. “My God, you’re Dan’s daughter? How the hell did I miss that? I guess I hadn’t seen him since he helped Eddie.”

“You should have seen him Wayne he was so upset, screaming and yelling,” you begin to cry remembering how upset he was, “I had never seen him like that before.” You bury the heels of your hands into your eyes as you start sobbing.

Wayne runs a thick hand through his scruffy beard. “I’m calling his work. We need to narrow down a timeline of when he left… I don’t get home from the plant until after seven o’clock. I figured he had either gone to work or was on a trip with you. I didn’t even question it.” He shakes his head. “Damn that boy.”

You and Wayne spend the better half of an hour calling Eddie’s work and his friends, no one has seen him, or heard from him. You wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for him. Wayne hangs up the phone and slumps down into the worn kitchen chair, head in his hands as he mumbles, “No luck, I’m sorry Y/N, nobody knows where Eddie could be.”

—

The lights on the faded sign for the motel right off of I-70 in Indianapolis flickered an angry red reading “v - - ancy”. It had been a month since Eddie ran away and the freedom was beautiful. Eddie could do whatever he wanted without having to answer to a single soul but himself. He woke up when he wanted, he wrote songs at every hour of the day, and most importantly he was free. Not chained to the reputation of his jailbird dad or his neglectful mother, not judged by you or your precious family. He was free to be himself, here in this rundown shit heap of an excuse for a place to lay his head. Yeah? Well so what if the van was broken into and everything was stolen? He could buy new tapes. No big deal. And yeah, the cockroach roommates weren’t exactly the best but the bed was bigger than the twin mattress he had at home. The money he had been saving was almost gone but he was managing. He’d just have to start selling again.

Stretching his legs out on the broken concrete, he strains his back against the teetering plastic of the lawn chair outside of room 38. An opened can of spaghetti o’s in one hand and a plastic spoon in the other, Eddie was living the life. The city was much different from the deep pits of hell Hawkins resembled. Life here was boisterous, loud and always on the go. The city smelled of opportunity, piss and rotting food, but opportunity nonetheless. Stores stayed open all night, he could get a hotdog off a cart at 2 am if he wanted. The record stores had all the new releases, and more importantly they were huge. Yeah life for Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson was pretty great. The Strip clubs didn’t card and on most nights Eddie found himself too drunk, leaned back on a fuzzy chair, receiving a sad lap dance while he tried to drown your memory out of his head.

That was the only thing that bothered him. The nightmares. Visions of your face haunted him, had him tossing and turning in a deep sweat every single night. He’d wake up with hair stuck to the back of his neck, tangled in the scratchy sheets. He didn’t know peace. Nightmares of you never taking him back— not that he wanted you too, he was still licking his wounds, but the thought of you moving on was slowly driving him insane. He couldn’t escape it. You were everywhere. Every girl he saw, every song he wrote, was all you. Always you. He even tried to call you a few times but would hang up as soon as your beautiful sleepy voice rang through the other end. It was too painful. How could he go back now? He couldn’t just apologize and pretend he didn’t fuck it up. A small part of him still believed you would figure out he was here and walk through the door one of these nights. But it never happened. The ghost of you still lingering. His twin flame, his girl, nothing would be the same, he couldn’t just go home. He has changed and he’s assumed so have you.

-

August was revealing itself to be hotter than July, if that were even possible. Temperatures were climbing into the triple digits almost every day. The usual green and perky lawns around Bridgeport and Hawkins were scorched from the blazing hell of the sun. Wayne said the plant had even closed a few days because of how hot it was. The heat was relentless and miserable. As were you.

The first two weeks without Eddie, your parents didn’t know what to do with you, most days you holed yourself in your room refusing to do anything but sleep. Sleep was the only time you got to see Eddie, getting to remember the way he loved you, the way his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning when he saw you. The unruly way his curls fell against his face when he was head banging on stage, and the sweet taste of his lips on yours when you were tangled up in eachothers arms. Being awake was the nightmare. It felt unreal that he was gone. You waited for him to come home and jump on your bed and pepper your face with kisses, watching his eyes dance for the love he had for you. But it never happened. You were starting to understand why Steve went off the deep end when you had dumped him.

Your appearance was alarming, your hair was thrown atop your head, rarely getting out of pajamas. The puffiness from the crying had become a standard part of your face. A former shell of who you used to be. It wasn’t the fact that you were dumped, it was the fact that Eddie completely vanished and nobody had heard a single word from him. Late at night you would hallucinate that your phone was ringing, you answered it many times just for the line to be dead. An evil trick played by your mind. How could this have happened? How could he just leave you like this and not even say if he was alright?

Watching Wayne tear up when you had visited him on his days off was heartbreaking. “I just want my son to come home,” he choked through tears, a rugged calloused hand wipes away the tears with a tattered handkerchief, “then I’ll kick his ass for leaving.” You always tried your best not to cry in front of him, leaving that for the car rides home. The little time you got to spend with Wayne warmed your heart, and made you feel like there was hope for Eddie walking his stubborn ass through that door any day now. Even if he did come back, would it be the same? You doubted he would come waltzing into your house and apologize with a dozen roses, or admit that he was wrong, you didn’t even care if any of that happened, you just wanted him back. You were pissed at him for leaving you the way he did, no explanation no nothing just ‘fuck you’ and dust in the wind. It was killing you not knowing where he was. Not knowing if he was safe.

School was starting in less than a week and your mother insisted on going back to school shopping in Indianapolis. The drive was a blur, your mother was going on and on about paint samples for the new guest house she had talked your dad into building. Your head was leaned against the window and your knees tucked up in front of you. you “mhmmed” more times than you could count, waiting for the drive to be over. You had told your parents about Eddie’s disappearance and they were truly worried sick for Wayne and yourself. They tried their best to make you feel better but it wasn’t their fault, they couldn’t make Eddie come back anymore than you could. Your father had tried using any connection he could think of to find him, but so far it was useless. Any good lead would always come up dry. Not only was Eddie gone and wanting nothing to do with you, but he was 19 and legally able to leave home. He couldn’t be considered a missing person, just a runaway.

The Glendale mall had just opened the new smell of the plaster walls and black and white tiling scattered along every floor. It was packed full of anxious moms trying to find the very best for their children, angsty teenagers swooning over the ice cream slinging hotties. Your mother had maintained that she could buy you happiness with a girls day. After countless hours of shopping and a fresh mani and pedi, you were starting to feel a little better. A smile spread across your face as your mom made small jokes about the cute guys working at the burger joint in the food court. Maybe it was time to move on from Eddie. He clearly didn’t want anything to do with you so why continue being miserable? The hole in your chest where Eddie used to be was begging for closure, straining for any little piece of reassurance. But getting that would never happen.

Leaving the mall struggling beneath the arm loads of shopping bags your mother points to a homeless man, curled up against the edge of the building attempting to get the last bit of shade. “Such a sad sight, you never know how their lives were before they became like that.” But that’s not what startled you. Her words no matter how ridiculous they were was not what held your mouth agape. The man, wearing grime covered shorts and sandals, had a vest covering his head, a vest you had seen many times before. It was denim, with a homemade “DIO” patch on the back, a WASP button, various other patches adorning the sides. You would have recognized that handmade vest anywhere, because it was Eddie’s.

——

Taglist: @munson-blurbs @gathered-moss @boomhauer @b-irock @sidthedollface2 @big-ope-vibes @syrennna @idkidknemore @creoleguurl @manda-panda-monium @tlclick73 @munsonficdump @brittney69 @strngrlytn @chloe-6123 @sweetsouthernbitchery @basketcaseeeeee @x-lunagirl-x @eddiemunsonshellfirebitch @trixyvixx @chelebelletx @lacrymosa-24 @nevermore66 @aysheashea

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #stranger things #eddie munson boyfriend #eddie munson angst #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie fanfic #eddie fan fic #eddie fanfiction

[heckinconfusedparade]

Wachowski Bros. VS Shovelling Snow

When the boys saw the snowfall outside and the announcement of a snow day, they were overjoyed!

It’s the first real snowfall of the season. They put on their boots and scarves and head out into the snow.

Tails is having a lot of trouble getting around in the snow due to his short legs.

His brothers don’t help him, they instead pick him up and toss him into more snow. He’s not complaining, it’s fun!

Fun ends when Tom hands them all shovels and tells them to get to work.

The boys thought this would be easy. They thought it would be a walk in the park. They were wrong.

They split the driveway into 3 parts, giving Tails the smallest part because this might be too much for him.

Knuckles is breaking through the first layer of snow easy peasy. He is a snow plow.

Sonic is struggling a bit, but figures out little by little is better.

Tails is having the worst time. He tries to fly, but the unequal pressure on the shovel isn’t doing him any favours. Until he realizes the wind from his tails is blowing the snow away.

Tails clears the first layer of snow easily, working like a snow blower.

He does help his brothers with what they have left.

But that leaves the unforgiving packed snow that is the bottom layer. A mixture of packing snow and ice.

They huddle, trying to form a good plan.

Tails’ tails don’t work.

Sonic tries to run to generate heat, but ends up slipping into the road and being taken away by the snow plow. Tails had to rescue him. He is very upset to see his parents in the window cackling holding mugs of hot chocolate.

Knuckles tries to break the ice but instead caused a pothole. He covers it in snow and pretends nothing happened.

They had to get creative. Either that or spend the next couple hours chipping away, which they did not have time for because they had a very packed schedule of building a very large snowman.

Take 1: Tails brings out a flamethrower. It works.. at first. Then it starts burning the snow, confusing all three brothers.

Take 2: They strap chisels to Knuckles, knuckles. Sonic lifts up Knuckles’ legs and starts running. They don’t get very far. In fact, they roll into the street and get taken away by another snow plow. If Tails had a nickel for every time his brother got kidnapped by a snow plow, he’d have 2 nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird it happened twice.

Take 3: Sonic pulls a Diary of a Wimpy Kid and breaks out the lawnmower. It works wonders until it starts making that WWRRRVRVGRRHGRRRGHHH sound and stops working. Tails inspects the damage and concluded that the ice literally broke the blades and clogged the thing. Sonic will need to buy yet another lawnmower.

Take 4: Tails starts flying holding onto Sonic, with Knuckles dangling off of Sonics ankles. It’s extremely impressive that Tails can handle carrying both of them in the air. They have to do this fast. Together they create a very strong small tornado. It breaks off the ice at the eye of their storm, and they manage to get a good portion clear before Tails is down. He’s brought inside to rest and warm up, so it’s up to Sonic and Knuckles to save the day.

Take 5: Sonic and Knuckles get a hot kettle of water and dump that all over the driveway, and it’s working! The ice is melting! They scrape off the ice that’s turned to slush then Maddie comes to sprinkle some salt and BAM IT IS DONE!

Should have done this earlier. The boys ask Maddie why she didn’t tell them about the salt earlier, and she tells them that it was far too entertaining watching them come up with alternate methods.

They let Ozzie out, who immediately has zoomies all over the yard. Tails comes back outside to play in the snow.

Ozzie keeps trying to bury snowballs.

Knuckles and Sonic are having a snowman building contest.

Tails was helping but got distracted by how fun it is to pounce into the snow.

Tails and Ozzie are having the time of their lives romping around in the snow. Tails keeps burying himself in the snow and disappearing, only to stick his little snowy face out of the snow. He has achieved invisibility.

As for the snowman contest? It was a draw. They destroyed each other’s snowmen.

Then the boys go in for hot chocolate! Yum.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedghog movie #sonic 2 #sonic #movie sonic #miles tails prower #tails the fox #movie tails #knuckles the echidna #movie knuckles #sonic wachowski #tails wachowski #knuckles wachowski #knuckles

[rederiswrites]

Ok, I swear, this one's for the people who DON'T follow K-pop, and only know BTS as some Korean boyband that uses a lot of autotune. Just to highlight some things I'm currently enjoying the hell out of from their careers. Lemme start with some context.

So in Korea, Idol is a job above and beyond just performing onstage. You are meant to be a product. An object for adoration, specifically trained and cultivated to create the sort of parasocial relationship that sells out shows and merchandise. It is fucking rigorous. It usually involves substantial economic hardship unless and until you're one of the handful of groups that makes it big. It's also blatantly predatory, and idols are chosen when they're literally kids, at most 18 usually.

Your contract with the label frequently specifies that you're not allowed to swear, smoke, date, or generally do anything not squeaky clean anywhere you might be seen, which, since they've got cameras shoved up your ass and bolted to your bed, is everywhere. Merely touching a person of the opposite sex can set off a whole scandal and get you (or the poor unfortunate you breathed near) a huge pile of hate. They're also perfectly aware that they're "just" idols, just boybands or girl bands, to a lot of people, and not considered serious musicians, even in their own country.

Idols also have a pretty short shelf-life. Korean beauty standards are, as far as I can tell, even more youth-obsessed than in the US. The oldest female artists are like, 34. There's like, one woman over 30 for every twenty under 20. Men's careers often founder on their mandated military service, which is roughly two years (depending on branch). They've got to serve that by the time they're 30.

BTS got extensions, because they're a statistically significant percent of the entire South Korean GDP. But now the elder members have got to do their service, no way around it. Kim Seokjin (Jin) went in a couple months ago, Jung Hoseok (J-Hope) a few days ago. So the group is on hiatus, there's no helping it.

That was the background. What happens now is the fun part.

The Korean government played politics, bouncing back and forth on "should idols big enough get exemptions" for years, specifically namedropping and using BTS as a political toy. BTS themselves didn't comment on any of it, and played their cards very close to their chest and said nothing about their military service. Then they did a huge concert in Busan, Korea, where they resurrected an old rap cipher which involves chanting "Fuck you I don't care, you can't control my shit", performed it with such fire that it looked like they were legit about to start a riot, and then the next week announced that they were going on hiatus and Jin was entering the military.

Since then, let's see: nearly every member has at least posted a shirtless photo, and the three youngest members have done entire photoshoots (and in one case a music video) shirtless. Jimin released a single titled "Set Me Free"--not terribly subtle--and a photoshoot he made a point of saying he'd designed from the ground up, which is SOAKED in queer symbology. I have to emphasize that these choices are all MUCH more significant than they would be in the US. Min Yoongi put an entire album full of rage and violent imagery and painful intimacy and swearing, and smoked and shot people and performed self-harm in his music videos. J Hope released an album full of dark driving rhythms utterly unlike his previous work, and broke sales records as a solo star at Lollapalooza, even while still singing and rapping primarily in Korean.

Some of the members are quieter, clearly a bit unmoored without the thing that has shaped and dictated their entire adult lives, but they're also shrugging off the idol image with deep relief. Namjoon is philosophizing and being extremely frank about mental struggles and crying on camera. Jungkook is having regular almost uncomfortably intimate lives, where he just sings along with the music or folds his laundry or even just smiles sleepily at the camera for a while. Who the hell knows what Taehyung does. Exactly as he pleases, probably, but definitely while wearing thousands of dollars of fashion and looking like the prince of the dark sidhe.

I was looking forward to this. Not to the military service, of course. As a non-Korean, I'm well aware that it's none of my damn business, but of course I don't like it. But I was looking forward to these guys slipping the leash and having lives and careers beyond the chains of idolhood. And it's been pretty awesome so far.

#BTS #K pop

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Kitten Love (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer’s vet begrudgingly agrees to an emergency house call. Request: Spencer finds a stray cat and instantly becomes attached. He ends up falling for Reader, his vet. A/N: Beware the bubble-pocalypse. No cats were harmed in the making of this production.   Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: None Word Count: 3.5k

MASTERLIST

I’d met a lot of pet owners during my admittedly young career, but I’d never met one as overbearing as Dr. Spencer Reid. It’d only been a matter of months since he’d first gotten a pet. I knew that because he had been sure to tell me every detail about their life together.

Because of that, I’d quickly learned that he wasn’t joking when he’d said that he had an eidetic memory. He also hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d warned me that he tended to overthink things. Within a month, I had received at least 30 phone calls… outside of office hours. I’d like to pretend like he was just trying to find an excuse to talk to me, but those conversations never went further than the cat.

If it had been anyone else, I would’ve blocked his number. But the incessant calls were alright, because I’d also never met a pet owner so infuriatingly beautiful as Dr. Spencer Reid.

That was how it happened — with puppy dog eyes and a frustratingly adorable pout. That was how I found myself laying on my stomach on the ground of a strange man’s apartment, staring at a very angry cat.

The room was filled to the brim with tension of varying degree and kind. Because right beside me, close enough that I could almost hear his anxious heart pounding against the hardwood, was Spencer. His arm was pressed against mine like there hadn’t been an expanse of space he could have occupied instead.

I’d wanted to pretend like he wanted to be near me, but the truth was that he was so caught up in his frustrated friend that he barely even noticed when I turned to him. Eventually, though, he dropped his head between crossed arms in front of him and he sighed. Then, he turned to me with so much desperation that I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing.

“What?” he asked when he saw the words forming on my tongue.

“Well, I think you might be right, Dr. Reid,” I announced with a deathly seriousness, “That cat is thoroughly upset with you.”

“I knew it,” he muttered like a curse. “I feel terrible, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“What did you do to the poor thing? Step on her tail?”

I’d only been joking, but I watched as a horror fell over his face. Just a flash of dread before he cleared his throat and answered, “Uh… Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I did. I uh… stepped on her tail.”

A lie. Probably the first he’d ever told me. It didn’t actually matter all that much — cats were resilient creatures — but his secrecy and shame piqued my interest. And it just wasn’t fair to ask me not to tease him when he’d done so much to make me miserable.

“I can’t help you if you aren’t honest with me,” I scolded.

Just enough of a reprimand to guilt him. But it seemed I’d misjudged just how embarrassing the truth was, because Spencer only answered me with a whine.

“You’re going to laugh at me,” he mumbled. 

“Yes, I definitely am. Tell me anyway.”

I was torn between my own crushing guilt for having made him sad and the undying urge to make it worse. It was too tempting, too delicious to imagine him with his bottom lip stuck out, parting only to release a soft sigh of defeat.

Just like he did then.

“I was in a rush to leave for work one day and I didn’t realize that I’d grabbed the wrong soap for the dishwasher before I left,” he started cautiously.

But he hadn’t been cautious enough. I’d figured it out, and he was doomed.

With a feigned shock and a gasp, I whispered, “You’ve gotta be joking. Aren’t you literally a genius?”

“It was a simple mistake! I was running on like three hours of sleep!” he squeaked.

Like before, I found myself excited by the sound. Not because of any malicious intent, but because it was so nice to see him seem so… human. He wore his vulnerability like a crown of thorns, and I found myself trapped among the thickets. 

“So what happened?” I laughed.

Despite breaking my promise almost immediately, he continued, “Well, when I came home there were bubbles everywhere.”

“Obviously.”

“Shut up!” he laughed, which only made the volume rise.

We tried to remain serious, but it seemed impossible when his cheeks carried that crimson color and his tongue stumbled over itself.

“When I found her, she was under the bed! That was three days ago!”

Even when he whined “stop laughing!” it was clear he couldn’t follow his own advice. His exhausted giggles continued until we both ran out of air.

With a stuttered breath, he turned back to find his companion staring at him with a terror and anger that knocked any leftover laughter from his chest.

“I’m worried about her,” he sighed.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop,” I conceded. Not only because I recognized that my laughter might feel like salt in the wound at this point, but also because I felt my lungs drain the same way he had.

I looked at him and I saw the way hazel eyes glistened with tears over something as silly as a scaredy cat. I saw how he looked at the small bundle of fur cowering under his bed frame like he was the worst kind of monster in the world.

He wanted to help her so badly. Badly enough that he was willing to take a scolding, willing to be laughed at if it meant the one that he loved would be okay.

Spencer Reid could be annoying, but my god, could he love.

Even when he looked away, downtrodden and hurt by the sight in front of him, he turned to me with those puppy dog eyes that made my heart skip a beat.

“We should definitely get off the floor, though,” I offered. Before the words had even finished leaving my mouth, I jumped up from the ground and hoped that he wouldn’t hear the rhythm against the hardwood. 

Innocent as ever, he chirped, “Where are we going?”

I think he might’ve chastised me for abandoning her, but I had no intention of doing such a thing. Instead, I raised my hands in a shrug.

“We should just act normal,” I said.

I got the sense that the suggestion was more confusing than I’d intended. He’d never been very normal, after all.

That’s why it was so easy to fall for him. That, and the way that he loved his cat enough to make me jealous.

“Why?” he whispered, “If we leave, she’ll be alone.”

“Lord help your girlfriend, Dr. Reid,” I mumbled with my own sigh.

I was only half-joking. Most of me didn’t want to hear his response to it because I was terrified that he might tell me the truth. That someone else — someone with less than four legs and hopefully less fur — had already taken what was left of his heart.

Truthfully, I hadn’t even considered what I would do if he’d told me the opposite.

And then he did.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said matter-of-factly.

So innocent, blinking up at me from his prone position on the floor.

“Right,” was all I could think to say.

Of course you don’t, I could’ve teased, but it felt disingenuous. It felt cruel and silly to imply something so blatantly wrong.

How could you not? would be more honest.

But of course, I was as much of a coward as the cat hidden under his bed. So I said nothing about the injustice that was Spencer Reid being single. Instead, I turned my attention back to the one in the room that he was more interested in at present (and probably forever).

“Well, think about it this way. If I was standing at your door staring at you, would you want to come out?”

Spencer tilted his head to the side the same as he’d done before, albeit less afraid than when I’d suggested a change of scenery. His eyes wandered aside as he contemplated the scenario that I’d offered him.

In that silence, I heard the nervous thumping of my heart. It pumped blood to my hands until they’d started to shake. Still, I held them out to him without hesitation.

“Come on. We don’t have to go far. We should probably stay in here, anyway. She’s probably too scared of the bubble-pocalypse out there.”

To my surprise, he took my hand with a similar swiftness. He even wore a smile as he stood, although he kept his eyes on the floor between us. That gentle sight was enough to calm my heart for the time being.

But when I took a seat on slightly askew sheets, my troublesome heart started going haywire again.

Spencer didn’t seem to mind. He took a seat next to me and propped himself up with his hands on either side of his hips. His fingers were splayed over the comforter, resting mere inches from my own.

“What do we do now?” he asked, and I so badly wanted to pretend it was an invitation to touch him.

I knew it wasn’t, though. I knew it wouldn’t be fair when half of his heart was still trembling beneath us.

“We just… wait,” I shrugged.

“Are you sure that’ll work?”

Turning to face him was guaranteed to lead to disaster, but I did it anyway. I faced the determination burning in his eyes and I let the fondness wash over the anxiety of a lovesick heart.

“Trust me. I’m a real doctor, Dr. Reid,” I teased.

He smiled. Still sad, still beautiful. 

After a moment of silence, he asked, “What should we do while we wait?”

“Whatever you want,” I offered.

I’d hoped that the way his face lit up meant that he was distracted by the same juvenile fantasies.

I had been wrong, of course. As it turned out, Spencer had recently decided to take up the study of not just cats, but damn near every vertebrate he could find a book on. His questions were things that left me stumped, and on several occasions I’d had to remind him that not only did I doubt he would ever be faced with things like a pregnant alpaca, but I also hoped that I never would.

After what felt like minutes but was probably hours, we’d inched our way far enough into the bed that it only felt natural to lay our heads on the pillows. It only felt right to turn towards each other with sleepy smiles and full hearts on display.

The next time he told a joke, I laughed. I’d barely understood the punchline, but it didn’t seem to matter. The real reason to laugh wasn’t to convey my appreciation for the joke — it was for him. I wanted to tell him exactly how it felt to know him. I figured he’d heard a million times over how infuriating he could be.

Considering how often he’d started his sentences with, ‘I’m sorry,’ I knew that he didn’t need any harsh truths or reminders of how the others perceived him. But there were things he deserved to know. Things that I was certain he hadn’t been told enough.

“You want to know something, Dr. Reid?” I asked after a moment of calm.

“Spencer,” he corrected.

My eyes widened and my body tensed at the suggestion. That heavy feeling in my heart drifted higher until it turned my lips up at the ends.

“Y-You can call me… Spencer,” he explained, softer than before.

I smiled even bigger as I asked again, “Okay. Do you want to know something, Spencer?”

Without pause, he shot back, “Yes, I want to hear everything you have to say, always.”

It was in that moment that I realized he really had no idea just how wonderful he was. He was entirely unaware of the mystical quality of his voice, or how inviting his hand was as it sat innocently in the space between us.

“I was totally wrong about you,” I admitted.

My fingers twitched as I fought the urge to hold him. I tried not to reach out to him, but my body did it, anyway. Inch by inch, I got closer until our fingertips brushed against one another. He glanced down at the contact, but only for a second. Then he looked back up at me like there was something cosmic in my eyes. I’d hoped he would figure it out, that it was his own reflection that he found.

But for as smart as he was, he seemed impervious to his own brilliance. So, I figured I would help him along.

“When I first met you, I was so scared you’d be one of those people who thinks I’m just some idiot who doesn’t know anything. And unlike most people like that, you’d actually be right about being smarter than me.”

“I think you’re really smart,” he interrupted. Before I could tell him the truth of how I felt, he explained his own outburst with an adorable shyness. “Th-That’s why I called you.”

Unluckily for him, I’d caught the glimmer in his eyes no matter how quickly he’d tried to snuff it out. It was a poor attempt to hide the affection that, up until that point, I had assumed was redirected love from the feline beneath the bed.

“Was that the only reason you called me?” I said through a smile.

Again, Spencer stopped to ponder the question. There was no way of knowing what it was that he saw in my smile that had reassured him that the truth was welcome. But I was grateful for it, nonetheless.

Because he was smiling, too, when he whispered, “… No.” 

The giggle that escaped my lips was quickly followed by his own. It was something so innocent that I swore the air tasted sweeter on my tongue. I tried to contain my own joy but found myself unable to hide.

Spencer reminded me that I didn’t have to.

“I… like spending time with you. I like how much you seem to care about everything and everyone.”

His words broke with a laugh as he had to turn his fawning into an apology.

“I know I’ve been a bit overbearing…” he started, only for me to cut in with, “A bit?”

He laughed, but continued, “But I do respect you.”

It was already too much for me to bear. His words got lighter and faster, the same way they got every time he talked about that beautiful, wonderful creature cowering under the bed. He looked at me the same way he looked at something he loved, and my heart started to pound faster, harder, until I felt like I was going to burst.

“First and foremost, you are a brilliant, kind, beautiful, warm—“ he started, but he didn’t get to finish his thought.

I kissed him before he could.

My hands that had been gravitating towards him shot out and pulled him closer to me with everything that I had. I was unsurprised to find that his lips were as soft as the rest of him. His hands brought a comforting warmth against my cheeks as he let himself hold me, too. I was grateful for the anchor that he provided. I tangled our legs together when we had to stop to breathe. I was too afraid to let go of him because I had never felt so loved.

It felt like an eternity of longing captured in a split second. His hands smoothed over my hair and ensured that there was nothing between us. He kissed me with enough excitement that he started to laugh.

I could have let the laughter stop us, but I didn’t. We bumped noses together when our lips couldn’t make it. Light fingertips tickled under his chin, but he didn’t pull away. He chased my hand, instead, placing tiny pecks against whatever he could reach.

I had told him to do what he would’ve done if things had been normal, and he chose to love.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. I knew the nature of the man the first time that he walked into my office with a kitten that refused to leave his arms for the entire duration of the exam.

That clever little kitty knew how lucky she was. Perhaps that was why she became so jealous at the sounds of his affection being aimed at someone else. Maybe that was why she chose that moment to crawl out from beneath the bed.

The soft chiming of the bell around her neck joined our laughter like a harmony.

Spencer stopped what he was doing, but I couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t get upset with her, either, because the joy on his face was worth the loss of his lips.

“Shadow!” he squeaked just in time for the cat to leap between the two of us.

She wasted no time reminding me who he belonged to first and foremost. The two of them bumped noses in a not so different way, and I had to laugh at how the simplest things could bring the greatest happiness.

“Hey pretty baby, I missed you,” he whispered into her scruff between soft kisses. 

I let the two of them have their moment. I closed my eyes and listened to the gentle purring of a happy cat like I could understand the sound.

When I opened them again, I found Spencer looking back at me with a fondness that was overwhelming.

“Thank you so much for talking me off the ledge,” he said happier than I ever could have imagined him, “I was only a couple hours from deconstructing my whole bed.”

“Happy to help,” I said with a brief, nervous laughter.

The silence that followed was only made even more awkward by the fact that — despite Shadow’s best efforts — our legs were still tangled together. I was clumsy and quick to undo my own and start to stumble out of the bed.

“Well, my work is done here. I should… probably get going,” I announced.

But before I made it too far, I was stopped with a shout and the loud ringing of a bell as he used one hand to hold the cat and the other to grab my wrist.

“Wait!”

I paused. I looked down at his hand wrapped around my wrist and I wondered if he could feel my pulse against his fingers.

“Um…” he started at the same time his grip loosened. His hands began to shake, and I looked up at his face with a silent plea not to let go. Not to let me go.

Every few seconds, his eyes flickered up to me until he found the courage to speak. With his cheeks reaching the darkest shade of crimson yet, Spencer said, “I wanted to just… You asked me a question earlier, and I-I didn’t answer.”

 It felt impossible to remember anything from before he kissed me, and so I asked, “What was the question?”

“You asked me if… if you were standing at my door, would I want to leave?”

“Y-Yeah?” I returned, urging him to tell me the answer before my heart burst through my ribcage and tackled him onto the bed.

“My answer is no. I wouldn’t,” he laughed. He looked up at me as he did so, locking onto my eyes and beaming with that adoration that I’d convinced myself wasn’t ever meant for me.

“I would… just invite you in.”

Slowly, a smile crept across burning cheeks. I bit down on my bottom lip to contain the juvenile giggles that were threatening to break the coolness I’d wanted to convey. But after a few seconds, Spencer reminded me I didn’t have to.

He giggled, and so did I.

“Well, maybe you should try that sometime,” I suggested.

“I think I will,” he answered.

We sealed the deal with a brief kiss that still broke with laughter and bumping noses.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” I said before turning my attention to the begrudging matchmaker still curled up where I so desperately wanted to be.

I gave the little feline a well-deserved kiss as I added, “Goodnight, Shadow.”

Spencer just watched me with an expression that was equal parts shocked and smitten. He was still reeling from the goodbye I’d chosen, and I found no need to break the spell.

 But when that brilliant mind had caught up, just before I’d left the room, I heard him call, “Goodnight, doctor.”And Shadow called to me, too, with a soft mew that I swore sounded like, ‘Thank you.’

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Battle Of The Knights Alt Ending 4: There Are No Winners

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: eh no one's vibing here lol

Genre: this one is angst

Summary: "So let me get this straight, you all like me, so you each want to take me on a date and let me decide what to do after?" You can't believe the words you're hearing even as you repeat them back.

What happens when the relationships you've built with Marc and his two alters are turned on their heads by a proposition that is anything but simple? How can they expect you to risk blowing up the carefully crafted dynamic you've worked so hard to create? And why do you agree to such an insane suggestion?

***

There is no good choice. You've been thinking it over and over every day now and you can't see any decision going well. You can't possibly be expected to pick a favorite. That's what this is basically, picking a favorite person. At least that's what it feels like and you do not want to do that. How could you? No, there were too many unpredictable factors to try and choose one.

Hey guys, I made a choice. We should meet up when you all have a chance.

Their response comes quicker than you were expecting. Barely a few minutes pass before your phone dings with a message.

Sure, why don't we grab lunch tomorrow? We can go to our usual spot. -Marc

Good. Somewhere neutral. It'll make things easier. At least a little bit.

Works for me. Is 2 okay for time?

That's usually what time you guys would grab lunch there on the days you go so you can't imagine it'd be a problem but between the three of them- scheduling can be madness.

Two is perfect. See you then. -Marc

Great.

The next day you have to actively stop yourself from leaving extremely early to meet them. You're so anxious to get through this conversation that you were ready way before you needed to be and that left you with nothing to do but mull over how much you're dreading it until it's a reasonable time to leave. When you get to the cafe you're meeting at, they're already sitting at a table. You walk over and when they spot you they stand.

"Y/n, you made it." It's Marc that greets you with a smile and you hug him as you reply.

"Yeah! Hey, good to see you." You say taking a seat in the chair he wasn't in before you entered.

"Well duh we're like this." Marc crosses two fingers to indicate your closeness and you chuckle.

"Yeah, I guess we are pretty close." You hum.

"I went ahead and ordered for us since we got here early, courtesy of Steven, they should be calling it out soon so I wanna wait that way we're not like interrupted." Marc tells you.

"Oh yeah no problem we can wait. Thanks for ordering." You smile although you literally do not have the appetite for this lunch despite it being one of your favorites. It only takes a minute or two for them to call Marc's name and he jogs up to the counter to retrieve your meals and bring them back.

"And the food has arrived." He announces as he sets down your bag in front of you and sits down again.

"Indeed it has." You smile popping open the bag to pick at your fries. You don't want to open the sandwich you always get just yet because if this conversation goes as horribly as you're worried it will you'll want to be able to grab your lunch and leave.

"Alright, decision day, right?" Marc prompts as he pulls out his food and starts unwrapping things.

"Right." You nod.

"You know I have to admit I didn't think you'd really use the whole three weeks when you said it at the end of our date." Marc says before taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Yeah, well- you guys gave me a lot to think about. I had to make sure I made the right decision. But I'm sure the waiting was killer. Especially with how y'all can be." You muse.

"How we can be?! Rude!" He protests.

"Maybe but it's not incorrect." You shrug.

"I resent that." His eyes narrow at you.

"Oh I'm sure you do." You scoff. Marc chuckles and you allow his laughter to die down while you settle your nerves before speaking again. "I love you guys, you know that, right?"

"Of course. And we love you." Marc says without missing a beat.

"Then... I hope you'll understand when I say I won't- pick one of you." You say shakily. Marc freezes in the middle of putting down his sandwich at your words.

"What?"

"I had- a lot of fun with you, each of you, but I can't date any of you. I love you, really but this just- we work well as we are and I don't want to change that." You say. There's a long pause where Marc is frowning at- nothing in particular, he's not looking at you and after over a minute passes you stand up, assuming he needs space to process things.

"If you weren't going to choose to be with one of us why go through the trouble of doing any of this?" It's Jake's voice that stops you from standing all the way.

"What?"

"If you weren't going to choose any of us what was the point of doing all of this at all?"

"It's what you asked me to do. I did exactly what you asked. Go on a date with each of you and make a decision after that. You don't like my decision and I can understand that. You don't have to like it but it's my choice and you will respect it, Jake. I expect at least that much from you."

"So all of this was just to appease us- because we asked?" Jake looks at you, practically glares at you.

"Of course it was. Look I had a lot of fun with you all really I did- but you all are a unit that I have no desire to split up in any way and you all plus me work really well- the way we are now. I don't want to mess that up either. I like the way things are." You say meeting his stare head on. As worried as you were about all of this you refuse to let Jake intimidate you.

"It sounds like you're scared. We put ourselves out there to you and you can't be bothered to risk doing the same?!"

"It's not about that Jake. I care about all of you and I have no interest in seeing things shift. If- this decision is what destroys our friendship if you- can't speak to me anymore because I refuse to choose between you, I can live with it. I'd rather lose all of you at once now than lose you one at a time." You say calmly.

"Why is that the only outcome you see?"

"I've spent the past 3 weeks going over every possible way this ends- there are too many not good possibilities. I don't like the odds. I understand that you're upset and I will give you space to deal with that." You shake your head.

"And what if we don't want to see you again?" Jake asks harshly. You don't allow that flash of hurt you feel to simmer as you answer him.

"I will respect that choice." You say, slowly, because as much as you try to mask it the idea does hurt you to think about.

"Y/n- wait. Jake- he's upset, we all are- but he doesn't mean that. We'd never-"

"Don't speak in absolutes. And don't speak for him. He might not get over this and he doesn't have to. It's okay if he- never wants to talk to me again." You cut off Steven's frantic attempts at defusing the situation.

"He'll come around. You know he will- he's never been able to stay mad at you." Steven says.

"This is different Steven. I think he feels particularly betrayed. He doesn't- feelings aren't something he allows himself and the one time he did- it backfired. The door is always open for him but- he may not want to speak to me again and that's okay too, but I'll always be around if he does."

"Y/n-"

"I- I should go but I'll see you around. I love you by the way. All of you. I'm sorry things didn't go the way you hoped." You say grabbing your lunch and darting out of the place before Steven can try more placating. This played out about as well as you expected but you feel you made the best choice for you and that's all that should matter. Right?

***

Taglist: @queerponcho @avengersinitiative2012 @stressed-cherry

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #marc spector #marc spector x reader #steven grant #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fluff #steven grant fanfiction #jake lockley fluff #moonknight #moonknight x reader #moonknight fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant angst #jake lockley angst #marc spector angst

[the1975attheirverybest]

so imagine being a long term girlfriend with matty, the boys know everything about you and matty and they love you a lot. one day you are in a hotel room with matty crying because your period is late and you think that maybe you are pregnant (pregnancy scare). the boys started being worried because they see you crying and george tries to confort you while matty goes to buy a pregnancy test. at the end, you are not pregnant….. you can decide the end hahaha

Oh my gosh this is so cuteeee. I love me some brotherly 1975 shit. Also, in my mind, anyone that Matty goes out with quickly becomes besties with George and like talks about the relationships ups and downs with him, if not with Adam and Ross, too. George seems like the perfect older brother type. Like, you know, sassy and witty, but can also he wise and comforting and sweet whenever needed. Strikes me as a good listener.

So, he’d definitely be the first to jump in and comfort you. The boys all walk in on the situation cuz you were all supposed to meet at your and Matty’s hotel room and head out together from there. So, they all show up, and they’re shocked at finding you in tears, with Matty trying to comfort you. Matty isn’t sure if you want to share this with everyone at first, but you’re so comfortable with them, that, the second that Ross says “oh my goodness, what’s happened?” You just blurt it all out.

The tension is high in the room. They’re all trying to figure out how to be there for you. But literally none of them are women, and they don’t really know what this feels like. Adam is going through it in his head. Torn between saying shit like “oh but even if you are pregnant, you’d make an amazing mom! Parenthood is so rewarding.” And “there’s no need to jump to any conclusions yet! We don’t actually know that you are.” So he’s just silent. Giving you sympathy nods every once in a while to show that he’s there and he’s listening.

Ross is the exact opposite. He is SAYING!!!! All the things that pop into his head. “You’re not pregnant! It’s probably just the stress. I mean, menstrual cycles are affected by a lot of things.” And “if you are pregnant, we’ll have a new band member!” And “abortions are a human right! You have the right to decide what’s best for you and don’t even worry about it. We’re all here for you. We’he got you.” He’s literally like flipping through the channels of a tv, just trying to think of ANYTHING nice to calm you down.

Matty tells them not to leave you alone in the room and to just keep talking to you and keep you occupied while he pops across the street to the pharmacy.

George is silently holding you. You lean on his shoulder and he rubs your back. Occasionally whispering “it’s alright darlin,’ just breathe. Breathe.”

When Matty gets back, you take the rest into the restroom and they’re all huddled out by the door like a soccer team. It’s like this could be ALL OF their baby. Matty is struggling to stay calm. They try to make him laugh and lean into turn anxiety. “If it’s a boy, name it Ross so he’ll have Ross’s nice hair. Total killer with the ladies.” , “okay but the only one qualified to be a God Father is Hann cuz he’s actually got a child that he’s managed to keep alive,” “what if he’s not into music? What if he wants to play sports?” “If she’s a girl, George picks the name.” And it’s the longest three minutes of Matty’s whole life.

You come out with a look of huge relief on your face and they can all immediately tell. They all cue up to hug you, but they’re way too into the jokes now, so they carry on teasing Matty. “Gotta baby proof your house. Cut out the smoking and drinking….you already dress like someone’s dad.”

You announce that you must all go drinking IMMEDIATELY. First round is on you!

#matty concepts