#this is the kind of love triangle that i like where all three are in love with the other two but think they're the only one like that

[fire0nfire]

king of my heart | pt. 2

pairings: lando norris x fem!reader | pato o'ward x fem!reader

warnings: love triangle? kinda.

author's note: go get some popcorn cause we have some drama here🍿... and it's a long part, so enjoy!!

part 1 | part 2

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

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, isahernaez, frosenqvist, and 79,121 others!

yourusername Miami GP over and out ✅🏁 No words could ever explain just how grateful I am for all of you and for the opportunity that I get to cover this amazing sport with such incredible people by my side. Thank you for everything Miami, I hope to see you again soon! 🌴💖

user1 the power she holds 🙌

user2 she's really living my dream 🥹

lissiemackintosh so happy to be able to share this with you!! love u❤️

yourusername we really need to do this more often😘 love u too! user3 y/n and lissie hosting track tv together is my new roman empire fr user4 SLAY QUEENS!! user5 the queens are thriving user6 i wanna be friends with them so bad 😫

user7 omg girl you're STUNNING

user8 BEST F1 WAG

user9 facts facts facts user10 she's not even a wag lol it's so obvious lando just keeps this nobody around for when he's bored and horny user11 user10 this "nobody" has done SO much in terms of women representation in motorsport, she's hardworking and a lovely woman. meanwhile, you're just a sad little person who's jealous of her because she's successful and close to your crush, who doesn't even know who you are. so get a life and stop embarrassing yourself. user12 user11 SAY IT LOUDER 👏 user13 user11 PREACH!!!

user14 i don't know if i wanna be her or be with her😩

user15 this is such a mood tbh

landonorris so proud of you, boo😍

yourusername 🥰🧡 user16 YNLANDO NATION WE WON user17 we love a supporting boyfriend 🤩 user18 i want what they have, your honor user19 is this considered a soft launch or what? user20 y'all are delulu😂 it's so obvious they're just friends user21 user20 girl being delulu is the solulu 🙌

user22 so when are we gonna talk about felix liking the post?

user23 i'm lost sorry, who's felix? user24 user23 he's pato's teammate in indycar and one of his besties user25 if felix liked then WHERE'S PATO user26 user25 doing more important things than being focused on this girl.

lilymhe such a pretty girl 💗

alex_albon should i be jealous? yourusername you should indeed. can u fight? user24 the friendship i didn't know i needed 🥹 user25 MY FAV WAGS INTERACTING YAY

user26 f1 is so lucky to have you!!!

user27 LOOOL why would they be lucky to have her?😂😂😂 she's nothing special user28 user27 and yet she's still rising 💅 user29 user27 then why are you even on her post? lol obsessed much?

user30 my role model ❤️‍🩹

📞 incoming call

[y/n; normal] [pato; cursive]

"...Hello? Did you butt-dialed me or something?"

"Uhm, hi. It's not a butt-dial. I-I actually just wanted to talk to you. Hear your voice, y'know. I've been kinda missing you."

"Oh really? And here I was thinking that your cold behavior toward me over the past three weeks meant that you didn't want anything to do with me. Silly me, I guess."

"I-I'm... [sighs]. That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. About the way I've been treating you. I'm sorry, y/n. I really am sorry. I know I've been a total jerk-"

"Yeah, you can put it that way."

"...I've been a total jerk and I regret it very much. You didn't deserve it at all. I just- I'm not trying to excuse my awful behavior but I just think I got- Uhm..."

"You got what?"

"Well... I saw Lando's instagram story when you went back to Monaco, as you've probably already figured it out. And I think- Well... I got jealous. And I know it probably sounds stupid now but at the time it felt like a punch in the face."

"Pato..."

"I know I didn't and still have absolutely no business to be jealous about you and Lando, cause you and I are not dating or anything and you don't owe me any kind of explanation about the type of relationship you have with him. But after the great time we spend together in Long Beach... I don't know, it just hurted seeing you with him. But that doesn't excuse anything and I just regret so much the way I've been treating you since then, it hasn't been fair to you at all."

"And it didn't cross your mind that we could have had this conversation way before now? I mean, you waited three weeks to finally talk to me like a decent human being, how-"

"I know and I'm so-"

"Let me finish."

"Sorry, go on."

"However, I do appreciate that you're finally acknowledging all of this and communicating with me like an actual adult. I know it's not always easy to do. And although I don't owe you any kind of explanation, I just want you to know that there's nothing going on between Lando and me."

"So you and him...?"

"We're friends and that's it. We care for each other but there's nothing going on."

"Oh... well, thanks for clarifying that for me."

"Yeah, yeah. You'll have to work harder for my forgiveness, anyway. I appreciate the call but it won't be that easy for you."

"Is that so?"

"You've heard me."

"In that case, what would you say if I invite you for a few days to come here to Punta Mita? Maybe that'll help me a little to earn your forgiveness."

"... I'm sorry, what!?"

"You've heard me."

"You're joking. You have to be joking."

"I'm not joking. You're still in Miami, right?"

"I am..."

"Great! My brother in law is in Miami too and he'll take the jet tomorrow morning. If you want to, you can join him and come here with him! We'd be thrilled to have you here too."

"Oh my God... Pato, I don't know what to say!"

"Say yes and you'd make this birthday boy the happiest man in the world. You'd even make my sister happy, I've been telling her a lot about you and now she's eager to meet you."

"I hope you've been telling her good things about me, then."

"Only the best. She's even on your side, y'know. Said I was being a giant cabrón and needed to make things right. She wasn't wrong tho."

"[giggles] Fine. I'll go, but I'm only doing this for your sister."

"I'll take that anyway! I'll let Brett know you'll join him and I'll send you the details, okay?"

"Okay!"

"Now go and pack your bags for tomorrow."

"Hey! Don't get bosy with me, mister!"

"[Laughs] Fine. Take care, I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you, birthday boy!"

patriciooward posted to his story!

[caption 1; 🦈] [caption 2; beautiful views]

yourusername posted to their story!

[caption 1; para-para-paradise 🌞] [caption 2; in his sharkboy era] [caption 3; 🐶❤️]

paddockgossips

liked by magui_corceiro and 84,091 others!

paddockgossips Among the alleged "breakup" between y/n and Lando, the McLaren driver was photographed last night having fun in a Monaco club in the company of Max Fewtrell and other friends. Some sources have said that Lando seemed very cozy with a blonde woman at the party, whom he later left with. However, we cannot verify this information in any way, so it remains a rumor.

user1 I HAVE A CHANCE AGAIN (i'm delulu)

user2 so this confirms ynlando is over?? 😭

user3 girl i'm devastated 😭😭😭 user4 i'm still in denial user5 well they were never together to begin with user6 user5 THIS!! people act like they were a couple when they NEVER confirmed anything 😂

user7 "blonde woman at the party" "it remains a rumor" and magui goes and like the post LOL

user8 she's so desperate for attention🙄 user9 who's magui??? user10 user9 she's kika's friend and she was dating football player João Félix not so long ago (in fact, i thought they were still together lol) user11 user10 and don't forget she's a cheater. user12 user9 she's trouble

user13 yn >>>>>>>> magui

user14 user13 no need to compare them

user15 sorry but single lando it's so hot 🥵

user16 SO TRUE user17 FACTS he looks so good omfg

user18 in his heartbreaker era 😎

user19 in his reputation era 😎 user20 in his idgaf era 😎

user21 i'm a child of divorce fr

user22 i know y'all love y/n for some reason but i'm SO glad lando finally got away from her.

user23 SAME. and if magui makes him happy then great for him user24 stfu i'm mourning here

user25 y/n this magui that but max was, is and will forever be lando's true wag💅

user26 the one and only indeed

elbaoward posted to her story!

[caption1; off to dinner] [caption2; my love🤍] [caption 3; lovebirds!]

patriciooward

liked by landonorris, yourusername, brettkimbro, and 86,382 others!

patriciooward BDAY WKND DUMP 📸 thank y'all for all the love❤️‍🔥

user1 THE HARD LAUNCH IT'S HARD LAUNCHING

user2 OMG IT'S HAPPENING EVERYBODY STAY CAAAAALM

user3 he really said i'll give you what you want: thrist traps and y/n... and he's so real for that

user4 he really knows his audience user5 king behavior if u ask me user6 everybody say thank you Pato 🙏

user7 YNPATO NATION HOW ARE WE FEELING??

user8 I'M STILL SPEECHLESS user9 they're so perfect i wanna cry😭 user10 LOVE TO SEE🔥

user11 as a ynlando shipper i have to admit they're cute but ngl this still hurts 😩

user12 MOOD user13 ynlando will always be in our hearts 🥺 user14 ynlando >>>>>>>>>> ynpato user15 user13 girl grow up.

user16 THAT SHOULD BE ME

elbaoward where are my credits for the last pic? cuties🤍

user17 u literally gave us the cutest pic ever user18 elba thank you so much for your service🫡 user19 elba is ynpato's #1 fan and you can't tell me otherwise user20 elba is just like us fr user21 LOVE YOU ELBAAAAA 🩷

user22 MOM AND DAD

user23 can't believe how fast she moved on and got together with this dude lol lando really dodged a bullet with her

user24 how fast she moved on?? girl y/n and lando were never even together so stfu user25 ???? why are you even on pato's ig post? go away user26 user23 y/n is such an attention seeker and yet everyone loves her, i'll never understand it 🥱

user27 not to be that person but i would KILL to be that piñata😏

user28 MOOD

frosenqvist oh to be tanned, young and in love

patriciooward 😜 user29 IN LOVE??? FELIX BESTIE TELL US MORE user30 i don't know about y'all but this is all the confirmation i need about ynpato being real, bye user31 i think i can hear the wedding bells user32 user31 yesss and felix as pato's best man

user33 bestie don't be shy and drop more y/n pics 🫶

user34 i second the motion !!!

user35 NOT LANDO LIKING THE POST LOOOOL

user36 he is so unserious i love him user37 ICONIC BEHAVIOR TBH user38 yeah but i just know he's crying inside user39 user38 for what? lol lando knows he's so much better than this cheaper version of him. user40 user39 i'm so done with people like you who insult pato just because you cannot defend lando with good arguments.

yourusername magical weekend 💖

patriciooward with you there? always user41 STOP THEY'RE SO CUTE OMG user42 this is such an upgrade tbh user43 SO HAPPY FOR THEM 🥹 user44 what a bitch.

yourusername posted to their story!

[caption 1; back to reality✈️] [caption 2; I'm a high performance athlete. Athletes sweat. Sweat, baby] [caption 3; cutest model🧡]

paddockgossips

liked by magui_corceiro and 53,237 other people!

paddockgossips NEW WAG ALERT? 🚨 Magui Corceiro, the Portuguese model and actress, attended the Monaco GP after being seen a few days ago having lunch with Lando. It has been rumored that they could be in a relationship, especially since Lando and y/n apparently went different ways, and Corceiro's presence in the paddock has not gone unnoticed by anyone. Still, neither Lando nor Magui have confirmed or denied these rumors.

user1 A TRIGGER WARNING WOULD BE NICE NEXT TIME

user2 um let's hope there isn't a next time user3 user2 let's pray girl, let's pray 🙏

user4 "neither lando nor magui have confirmed or denied these rumors" well that's bs cause she just liked the post

user5 istg she's trying so hard to get attention user6 lando was asked about magui and he said she was just a friend... and then she goes and does this lol what a clout chaser user7 and people used to say that y/n was after lando's fame and yet she NEVER did anything like this user8 she's such a pick me girl

user9 everything i know of this girl has been against my will istg

user10 SAME

user11 oh good luck lando

user12 oh be prepared for the y/n fans and little girls that'll come attack magui when she hasn't even done anything wrong

user13 literally they're just mad at magui cause she's dating their fav driver loool user14 they're only jealous cause magui is a gorgeous woman user15 user14 she's gorgeous but she's still a snake

user16 i'd ask why lando would be with someone like her, but then i remember he's an adult and if he wants someone like her by his side then that's up to him. let's not treat him like a baby please

user17 say👏 it👏 louder👏

user18 weeeeell if this is the kind of people lando likes to have around then i guess y/n really dodged a bullet with him

user19 FACTS user20 i mean at the end of the day he's just another privileged white boy, so🤷‍♀️ user21 i really don't get all the hate that she's getting, is she really that problematic? user22 user21 girl google it yourself but yeah, she is

user23 I MISS MY GIRL Y/N WHERE IS SHEEEEEEEE??

user24 what is she even doing there?

user25 must be cause lando wanted her to be there user26 why y'all never asked the same thing about y/n? y'all are such hypocrites istg user27 user26 cause y/n was actually doing her job????? user28 user26 oh you're stupid 😂😂

user29 magui in the paddock, pato not being able to finish Indy 500... it really is a shitty day huh

user30 DON'T EVEN REMIND ME WHAT HAPPENED WITH PATO OMFG user31 I'M STILL SO MAD ABOUT PATO user32 the only good part is that y/n and his family were there for him ❤️‍🩹

see y'all in part 3!

taglist: @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @evie-119 @evans-dejong @minkyungseokie @noneofyourfbusinessworld @bernelflo @eiaaasamantha @ijustgomessitupx @honethatty12 @daemyratwst @f1fan65

(if you'd like to be tagged in the next part, just let me know in the comments!🧡)

[natelia-aldelliz]

"What if I fade?"

Soap lifts his head from his journal, looking up at Roach who is eerily floating near the ceiling. The slow movements almost make him look like he's in water. Kind of ironic given the way he died.

"What do you mean?" he asks, confused.

"What if I move on, what if I disappear," Roach elaborates, refusing to meet his eye. "Not everyone is a ghost, right? We'd be overly crowded. The fact that we're not also means that not every ghost stays."

Soap forces his dry throat to swallow. He honestly didn't want to think about that. He still needs Roach, he probably always will, but he hasn't even told him that he - he takes a deep breath in to calm himself.

"I don't know how it works," he admits quietly, bouncing his leg absent-mindedly. "You're probably right, like most of the time. Even if I really want you to be wrong about that."

Roach finally looks towards him.

"Maybe I should move on," Roach whispers. "It's not healthy, Johnny. You have no idea the things I want, what I wish for, that I'll never get."

Soap doesn't stand up, just keeps staring into Roach's eyes.

"I think I might have an idea, actually," he whispers back. Roach flounders for a moment. Soap really wishes he didn't get that wrong. He's pretty sure Roach meant that he can't have Ghost, and he himself can't have Roach. So... It's pretty similar.

"I've been feeling less like myself recently," Roach insists, deciding to ignore that comment for now. "I find myself wishing one of you would die so I wouldn't be alone. I never thought like that before, I fear that I may have stayed too long, that I'm starting to lose myself."

And he looks scared. It's written on his features so clearly and it breaks Soap's heart.

"You're not alone," he swears. "I'm here with you, and I'll make sure you stay you, however I can."

Roach looks at him, examining his face, looking for... something. Whatever it is, he seems to have found it because he exhales through his nose like a very soft laugh and averts his eyes, almost... blushing? It's a bit hard to tell from the distance and his left cheek being covered in burns while his right is covered in freckles, but he's pretty sure his ears are red.

"You can't look at me like that, Johnny," he says almost coyly. "I can't do anything about it, it's not fair."

Soap's face is burning and his eyes are wide. Was he too obvious? Did Roach understand or is he joking?

They probably look stupid, both of them redder than a fire truck, avoiding the other's eyes, regretting their words. Or at least he supposes that it's what's happening, because he's sure not looking up.

"If it makes you feel better," Roach finally says, sounding like he's smiling, "you were right for once : I am right most of the time. Judging by your reaction, you did indeed have no idea what I want."

[victoria-grimesss]

locked on target

masterlist

->Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

->Words: 4.7k

->Warning: MDNI! unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, mask stays partially on, dirty talk.

->Summary: Working alongside the 141 for a year now, you’ve grown closer to the infamous ghost. Confiding in Soap about your crush, confession is the only way to rid yourself of the gnawing infatuation. 

->A/N: Despite all my writing being about König, ghost is my all time favorite baby girl, writing for him always intimidated me but I’ll give it my best shot, hope he’s not too OOC.

It’s been a full year on the 141 and you couldn't be happier, well not happy at the moment since you’re ankle deep in sludge. This mission is going as well as any other despite the evac being miles away through humid weather and wet ground. 

“Good thing I packed extra socks.” You muttered, readjusting your gun and pack and unsticking your boot from a deep pocket of mud.

“Oh come on lass it could be worse right? We could be treading through anaconda infested waters huh? Lighten up.” Soap is next to you. He's having an easier time removing his boots from the muck. 

Price is in the front with Gaz next to him talking about the evac and rations, you admire their relationship. Price has slowly morphed into some kind of a father figure to you as you assume he did for Gaz too or at least a mentor. Gaz and Soap are like brothers to you, you bicker like such. You pick on Soap when he gets too drunk to form correct sentences and starts singing songs from his childhood, and you get Gaz too when he laughs so hard you have to remind him to breathe. Like a dynamic triangle the three of you.

Then there’s Ghost.

He stands at the back of the group behind you and Soap, no evident trouble for him when it comes to the mud. He’s sturdy and observant, keeping a close eye on the treeline and behind the group. He's a great soldier and you admire his skills… and him. Ever since you met him you’ve had your eyes trained. 

I mean who wouldn’t.

From his expressive eyes which sometimes you feel look through you, to his broad shoulders where he holds the world on top of them, his strong arms that deal with enemies swifty, to…his… lower extremities that you certainly have only thought of once or twice. Maybe more. 

You should be ashamed of your feelings, and you lock them down deep the only time they have slipped past your lips is when too much alcohol loosens them. 

—

You confessed one night to soap, the rest were asleep and your insomnia was kicking your ass so you went to the parking lot where soap was nursing a bottle on the hood of his car, and you sat down and shared it.

“Something on your mind bonnie?” He hands the bottle to you, concern brewing in him.

“I don’t know, it’s just, Ghost.”

He laughs.

“Yea, I know about him, but what about him?” 

You take a couple large gulps of the amber liquid, it burns its way down and soothes your aching wanting heart, burying the hopeless romantic in you. Tears brew in your eyes and you always forget you either become a laughing drunk or a sappy drunk, seems the latter had won tonight.

“Aye- lass, what's wrong.” His hand is placed on your shoulder offering a comforting touch.

You sob and laugh at the same time, looking up at Soap.

“I think I’m in love with him.” You say quietly through a stream of tears that make their way into your mouth, making a weird cocktail of salty liquor.

“Oh bonnie…” Soap rubs your back, his voice is soft.

“I just, everything about him Johnny! I can’t get him out of my head, and he probably doesn't even look at me that way, he could get any girl he wanted!” You sob.

“Woah there calm down, gonna throw yourself into a spell talking like this. Look. LT cares about ya, truly. He thinks you’re a valued member of the team and I’ve caught him starin’ a few times so don’t be daft now ya hear. You’re a pretty girl and LT would be lucky to have ya.”

You sniff, wiping the tears and snot with a sleeve.

“Really? You think so?”

“Cross my heart and hope ta die. You’ll be alright.”

—

“It’s in my shoes.” You deadpan.

You hear Gaz laugh and Price looks back, checking on the team.

“Don’t worry Y/N, just imagine it’s a mud bath! Your skin will be smooth and shiny before you know it!” Soap laughs at Gaz’s antics, it’s nice when you can all joke around and relax. The hard part is over and now it’s simple evac.

“Right… how soothing.” Your eyes roll and you look back to check on Ghost, your eyes meet and a flash of electric lightning shoots to your heart, it feels good. 

He gives a quick nod and you return to your trudging. You wait till after the mission to pass any other signals, he’s too focused to register any flirting right now. Or that's the advice Soap gave you after that night.

“Right. Keep close by, chopper is land down in 5, need to evac quickly to avoid any unwanted looks.” Price alerts to the rest of the team once you’ve covered ground and are nearing sweet release. Your back and knees ache just at the thought of sitting. You nurse the last of your water and keep walking, you tip your bottle back along with your head to get the remaining drops and you trip over a protruding root.

Other foot trying to catch yourself a hand catches on your upper arm, righting you up.

“Alright there?” Ghost’s dark eyes are steady on you, maybe a bit amused, or maybe his eye paint is creasing.

“Yea, sorry just tryna finish off the bottle, didn't see that there.”

“Careful next time yea?” He releases your arm and waits for you to start walking again to pick up behind you.

“Yea, for sure LT.”

You feel his hand on your arm even after he released you and you want to untie the knot that Ghost has tied there and you know you’re royally fucked.

You’re all on the chopper and your legs just about give out, you always love the euphoric feeling of sitting down after a mission like this, the lactic acid in your muscles making them burn like no other. You sit across from Ghost and he visibly relaxes once the chopped takes off, the breeze from the open doors cooling everyone immensely.

“Good work everyone, I know evac was shit but you all hustled and we got the intel we needed. I think we all deserve a good ol drink when we get back right?” 

Price brings a smile to everyone's face, as tired as the lot of us are. You glance over at Ghost and his eyes look away from you, looking over his gear.

Your heart pains for some kind of acknowledgment that he feels the same, it’s like trying to hold the same fistful of sand no matter how hard you try it seeps through your fingers, you want him so badly you’d tape your fist shut if that meant keeping the sand in.

—

Back to base, ‘same day different shit’ you heard Ghost say one time. You often hold on to everything he says, hoarding each little piece he feeds you and storing it away somewhere special. Like you’re hoarding food for the winter, as if the winter is him falling in love with a woman that isn't you, when that happens you’ll open your little box of his sayings and advice and eat them slowly, savor them until all that’s left to drink is the tears you drown yourself in as consolation. 

A pity party is what you throw yourself that night, showering and getting a once over by the medic then making your way back to your room, Price wants to get everyone together tomorrow night for a drink, wouldn't hurt you think. You sit on the edge of your bed, the silence is deafening after a mission, tinnitus ringing your ears. The bed is cold, you want someone to warm it, you want Ghost to warm it.

The nightmares come to you quickly that night, visions of your team, your friends being ripped apart by bullets as you try to fire back into mist. You hold Ghost’s hand as he fades and you wake up coated in cold sweat and adrenaline.

3:18 a.m.

You toss and turn for a minute before huffing and leaving the bed, you need air. Adorned in sweatpants and a shirt you got on recruitment day you leave your room the sound of your door is loud and you wince as it closes. You go to the parking lot once more, maybe there will be more stars out tonight. 

The air is crisp and cool, you round the corner of the building where a bench sits, a lone figure is sitting and smoking there, you can tell it’s him by his silhouette. He’s broad and his legs spread wide as he sits alone.

“This seat taken?” You ask, scared if you talk too loud he’ll leave.

“All yours” No inflection is evident in his tone.

Silence sits between you two and you take a harsh breath to break it. It makes you uncomfortable. 

“Trouble sleeping?” His voice is deep and low.

“The usual, nightmares again. You?” 

“Not tired, too soon after the mission to sleep.”

“I understand.” 

You watch him carefully as he brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales, you inhale with him. You imagine him inhaling your perfume as his lips touch your neck. You stare, unabashedly, like you’re not scared if he catches you.

He adjusts where he sits, hips rolling to get more comfortable.

“Bloody bench feels like it’s made of spikes.” He mutters, quietly.

You breathe out a laugh as he exhales the smoke.

His eyes look to the side at you and then forward again.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you want something from me.”

“What if I do?” 

Your heart is racing now, faster than it had on any given mission.

He stands, throwing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his boot, he slips his mask down again and his eyes are locked on you.

“I’d say you’d better fuckin’ find it elsewhere, we both know I can’t give you what you want.”

“What do I want Simon?” 

His lips grow sealed when you say his name.

“Things I’m incapable of providing, best leave it at that. Night sergeant.”

His tone meant business, you know better than to chase after him. You sit on the bench, staring at the cigarette on the ground. It’s beaten and crushed like you feel right now.

You wonder if you can still taste his lips on it.

The walk of shame back to your room is humiliating, you pass some others that can’t sleep, nightmares aren't anything special around here and you wish you could pluck the worries from their heads.

Sleep is easy after that, maybe your body wants to make you forget the encounter with him but even so you dream of him. He’s an inescapable phantom.

—

“Aye there she is!!” Soap hollers from across the pub, it’s a quaint place, quiet enough to not be annoying but lively enough to not feel desolate.

A large corner booth is what they occupy and you wave as you make your way over, A few empty glasses scatter the table already you arrived ‘fashionably late’.

“Hey bonnie I gotta take a leak you can have my seat yea?” He nudges Ghost so he can be let out of the booth, Ghost stands towering over you. Soap shuffles over to the bathroom and Ghost  lets you slide into the booth before he follows, trapped between the wall and him. You’d rather be under him…

You greet them all and Gaz slides you a tall glass of something mind numbing, Ghost has his mask down but he’s nearly finished with his glass same with the rest of them.

“You got some catching up to do, miss fashionably late.” Gaz shoots a smile and you clink your glasses together.

Soap meanders back and pulls a chair to sit at the end of the table, you all squabble over what a better drink is and down rounds after rounds. The conversation somehow gravitates to relationships at some point and Soap is going on and on about this woman he met at the pub down the street.

“Oh she’s a real sweetheart, thinking about asking her out later this week when I get the balls to do it.”

You smile at the way Soap talks about her, you’d love to be admired like that, treasured.

“I think you should go for it Johnny! You're a nice guy, I can go in there and talk you up if you want, say you fought off ten men to save my life.”

He laughs, nearly tipping off his chair, 

“You’re a real wingman Y/N, if you can secure a date by all means.”

You smile and the air is joyous, little is heard from Ghost but you know he likes seeing the team happy, he sips his drink and observes, smiles hidden by his mask.

“Have you had any luck on the dating scene Y/N?” 

Gaz questions, eyebrows rising.

“Yea bonnie, never hear a peep out of you when we talk about lovey dovey shit.”

You shrug, taking strong sips of your drink.

“I went on a date a while back, he got me flowers, a real nice guy. Found out he was sleeping with my friend behind my back around the fourth date. Don’t really want to try anymore, end of story.”

You can feel Ghost’s eyes burning into you as you finish the sentence. His gaze is addicting and you feel sweaty locked in his stare.

“Well he’s a proper twat for messing it up with you then yea?” 

Price offers a tip of his head, sympathy in his eyes.

“Ah it’s alright, I’ll just wait for my prince charming to come sweep me off my feet.” You bat your lashes dramatically and fake a swoon, soothing the old memory with jokes. It turns the tide of the table ambiance to a lighter one.

“I need to piss.” Ghost says quickly, you scoot out of the seat and Ghost hurries off to where Johnny has gone to earlier.

“What’s up his arse?” Gaz says confused.

Price downs the last of his drink and slams it back onto the table.

“What do you all say to a game of pool?”

“I’ll watch, cheer ya’ll on.” You still nurse your drink and you start to buzz, worries slipping away like papers, but one it left, weighted down with a large paperweight.

“I’ll be right there, gonna finish this drink off.” Soap says, sloshing the leftover liquid that's in his glass.

“Very well, see you momentarily.”

Soap watched the two walk off, leaving the two of you left alone.

He turns back quickly, you get secondhand whiplash.

“Ghost has had his eyes on you the whole night please tell me you told him and he confesses his secret love for you!” Soaps eyes are huge and he’s pleading for the right answer.

“Not exactly.” He delfates.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

“I told him that I kinda wanted him and he said he wouldn't be able to give me what I want.”

“That's bollocks and you know it! He’s always watching you, never seen him doing that for any other lass. Now is the time, he’s all alone. Go on and chat him up, I’ll tell the boys you’ve gone home sick alright.” 

Soap winks and leaves before you can utter another word. You even your breathing and gulp down the rest of the liquid courage before strolling over to the bathroom hallway. It does not take guys that long to pee weird he's not around.

You walk outside, feeling deja vu from last night the breeze hits the same way.

“You should go inside, it’s cold out.” Ghost is standing leaned up against the brick wall next to the door.

“I was looking for you actually.”

He stands up straighter, shoulders held further.

“Lads looking? Not really in the mood to lose another game. Last time was enough.”

You laugh, the alcohol making it easier to relax around him. You're tipsy enough to have fake confidence for the time being but sober enough to make deductions wisely.

“No Simon, I’m looking. For you.”

“And I told you to stop, you don’t know what you’re thinking. You’re a nice girl yea? Find a nice young guy that can take you on dates and buy you flowers-

“I don’t want anyone else Simon. I want you because I’m in love with you!”

It seems like the whole world went silent after you said that. You’re steaming and don’t move your eyes away from him.

“Y/N.”

“I’m tired of pretending. I just had to tell you I couldn't hold it in any longer it was making me sick. I don’t care about fancy stuff, you should know that by now. I just want to be next to you.”

He approaches you, your neck craning to maintain contact.

“Y/N, I’m proper fucked up you know that? You’re too kind, too perfect to be ruined by a man like me.”

You sniff, the cold getting to you.

“I think you’re wonderful Simon really. You look out for everyone and make sure everyone is alright before looking after yourself. Let me please show you you’re worth loving in return.”

Your heart spills to him, spewing it’s contents violently.

“I’m not joking, I'm not ‘prince charming’ like you referenced earlier.”

“Even better.” You smile.

“Fuck it.”

Before you know it, he lifted the small portion of his mask to kiss you and you erupt, wrapping your arms securely around his neck as though you’ll fall if you don’t. His hands hover over your waist and you grab them and push them down onto your body and he pulls you close. He kisses you like it’s the last time, he makes up for all the times he should have, all the time he desperately wanted to.

He’s watched from afar for so long, your laugh creates sparks in his heart, seeing you make it back from another mission safely spurs him on. He would lay down his life for you and you don’t even know it.

He pulled back, mouth in the crook of your neck.

“Your place is nearby right?” You ask, rubbing his neck and down his back.

“Yea, yea it is.”

He leads you back, back to his den where he’ll draw you in with those eyes and that voice, calloused hands exposed from his gloves that will trace over your skin. The walk is in silence but you both are buzzing, the team won’t miss you, probably happy this chasing game is over with so peace can be established once more. He takes your hand as he leads you up the steps to his apartment, you grope his arm and he shoots you a sultry side-eye.

“Have I ever told you I love your arms?”

“You did just now love.”

Love, love, love. You want him to keep saying it.

He leads you in you’re caged in by his arms on the inside of the door. He looks you over head to toe.

“You look fuckin lovely tonight you know that? All I’ve been thinking about is tearing this top off of you and stripping you down.”

You shiver and bring your hands to run carefully from his abdomen up to his chest.

“You think of ripping my clothes off frequently?”

“Very.”

Stunned by his words and your head swimming he places his hands on your waist and lowers his head to your ear.

“Now if you’d allow me, I’d like to fuck you now.”

Hypnotized you speak.

“Yes please.”

His home is lowly lit and sparsely decorated, you assume he’s not here often or for long.

The bedroom is simple, a bed, two side tables, two lamps, and a dresser. An adjacent bathroom you can’t see.

“You have a nice place.”

“Well now I know you’re lying.”

You stand at the edge of the bed and he stands before you and his hands are on you again pushing you onto the bed you are surrounded by the smell of him, the deep umber and woodsy scent. 

“You know how many times I’ve pictured you in my bed?”

He’s inching your pants down your hips agonizingly slow as he speaks.

“How many times I fucked myself picturing you instead?”

“Ghost.”

“Nah none of that here, you’re gonna say my real name from now on and you’re gonna scream it alright?”

“Fuck Simon.”

“Yea. Just. Like. That.” Your pants are off and his hands move from your ankles up to your knees and caress to your inner thighs. His fingers skate your pantyline and your eyes are locked on his hand and he doesn't stop. His hands move over your hips and grip your waist before moving right below your breasts, he checks you with his eyes and you plead silently.

He cups you fully with both hands and you roll your head savoring his feelings.

“So fucking good love fuck.”

He strips you of your shirt and bra and you’re left exposed on his bed. He stands back to stare down upon you and you feel like a spread of food sitting on a stark white table ready to be consumed and ogled. He strips himself of his leather jacket leaving his quite form fitting black tee on.

You adjust under his gaze, his mask hides any expression but his eyes say so much. Raking over your body heavily and his chest rising and falling fast as though he had run a marathon.

“Simon.”

“Yea?”

“Do something.”

“Like what?” His voice is lighter now.

“Anything Simon!”

He laughs and places a knee in between your legs, spreading them wide to accommodate his other leg and hips.

“There we go, fuck all spread out underneath me.”

His hand is placed on your breast and rolls your nipples in his fingers, it moves down never leaving your skin until he reaches your core it’s hot and wet and he collects it on his fingers and when he finally touches you it’s like you’ve reached Valhalla. 

He slips a finger inside and it faces no resistance, you form around him and he slips in another starting a smooth rhythm.

“So tight, you think you’ll be able to take me huh love?” 

He’s pumping in you and you can hear how wet he’s made you, his eyes darting from his fingers to your face, thrown into pleasure.

He brings you to your peak so quickly you’re stunned and you grip his arm as you clench around him, his name being pulled from you like a mantra.

 You regain your mind and look at him as he slips from you and his fingers make their way under his mask, his eyes on your as he licks them clean tasting you on him.

“Sweetest fucking thing I ever tasted.”

He’s unbuckling his belt next, unzips his pants and pulls himself free. He's thick as all hell and a thick vein runs down the underside. It looks heavy and you pocket an idea for next time.

You're staring for a long time and his two fingers that just did unspeakable things to you tip your chin to look at him.

“Think you can handle it?”

“I can take it, just hurry up.”

“You’re always so impatient you know that.”

He places the tip at your entrance collecting your wetness to help with the initial push.

The stretch is delicious and you grip his arm and shoulder gasping at the feeling of being full of him.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so fucking tight, squeezing me so fucking good.”

His one arm is braced at the side of your head, forearm spattered with tattoos burning your peripheral vision. The other holds himself, leading himself into you.

He’s seated fully inside and you feel split down the middle in the best way. Burning fire deep within you and you moan for him to move, creating the friction you need.

He starts moving and you both moan, he tips his head forward to watch where he enters you repeatedly.

“So good, fuck so big Simon.”

“You take it so well, love.”

His hand that once gripped himself holds your hip and moves himself like the ocean, fluid and rhythmic.

“Always dreamt about fucking you, you spread out of my bed while I fuck my cock deep into you.”

You throw your head back and he leans back, the warm air that was between you two leaving for the cold air of the room bringing your nipples to hard peaks which his eyes gravitate to.

“Alright c’mon love.”

He takes your ankles and your legs are on his shoulders. He thrusts that much deeper and hits the right spot to make you see spots.

“You like that, fuck I can see how deep I’m going in you.” 

His hand finds your and puts it on your lower stomach and pushes down so you can feel the way he thrusts within you and how deep he reaches, you clench around him.

“Yea you like that.” He's cocky like this, dominant and all controlling. You’re putty in his hand.

“Simon I’m close don't stop please, fuck please.”

He lifts his mask up over his lips and kisses your ankle, biting your calf when he growls and that's all you need to be pushed over the edge.

“Fuck, yea cum on my cock good fucking girl.”

He fucks you through it and leans down to be face to face again. Your legs draped over his shoulders and he hits the right spot with each thrust now, he’s battering you into the mattress and his growling with each thrust muttering about how good you feel and how nicely you wrap about him.

You claw at his chest through his shirt sobbing and babbling and moaning.

“Can’t even form a proper sentence, so drunk on my cock yea? You gonna be a good girl and cum again for me?”

The graphic noises from where the two of you are joining echos through the room and you hope his neighbors aren't home.

“Yes, yes Simon please please please.”

The bed is an orchestra of noises and he shoots a hand up to the headboard, his knuckles gone white from gripping it so hard. Your abdomen is tight, so tight and your so fucking close you just want to cum at the same time as him.

“Fuck fuck fuck, so tight and wet where do you want me to cum, fucking tell me.”

“Inside me, inside me it’s safe.”

Not a beat after that leaves your mouth he’s seating himself so deep within you, you feel him throbbing deep within you and your vision goes blurry, ears gone fuzzy as you both are thrown into the abyss at the same time. 

You hear a crack from above you but you pay no mind as your neck deep in pure white hot bliss.

“Fuckin hell love, really. Fuck.” He's panting, you’re panting.

You stroke his chest lovingly as he kisses your ankle as he slowly lowers your legs from his shoulders. He lowers his mask once more.

You glace up to where his hand still grips the headboard and a deep crack is ingrained in the wood.

You laugh.

“Jesus Simon, you fucked me so hard you broke your bed.” 

He removes his hand observing the wood and shrugging.

“Well worth it I’d say, I’ll invest in a sturdier one.”

“Are you saying you’ll invite me to your place more often?”

“Your place works too.”

You both banter as you both clean up, you shower and he washes the sheets and hangs around the kitchen, letting you some time to refresh.

You come out of the bathroom smelling like him, drowned in one of his shirts and he's leaned up against his kitchen island gazing blindly at the random rugby channel he turned on.

He slides you a beer and you take it gratefully, bumping your glasses together.

“I mean it Y/N, I’m not the kind of man you might be thinking.”

“No Simon, you’re exactly the man I’m looking for, you’re stuck with me now.”

There's a beat of silence before Simon speaks up again.

“I should probably thank Johnny for tonight right?”

“Yea, he pretty much told me to quit my bitching and confront you.”

He sips his beer, 

“Well, for once I can say thank fuck for Soap and his matchmaking skills.”

You laugh and stare at him in adoration, this is the start of something wonderful.

---

Tag list: @theredviolets

[loaksky]

— 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮

the deets — lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

the who — lo'ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 10.2k (rip yall)

the tags — (one-sided) rivals-to-lovers, angsty angsty, hurt / comfort, reader gives lo'ak a big ol smooch (perhaps more than one), lo’ak is the biggest dumbass and because of this he’s mean asf, reader has a big ol heart and just really wants lo’ak to like her, aged!up characters for maturity’s sake. 

the warnings — language, lo'ak is in luv but doesn't realize it, he's in denial that the feelings could be reciprocated, this is super dramatic so put your seat belts on!

the notes — was feeling extra sad and wanted to write something self-indulgent. this lovely anon requested something, and i used their ask as inspiration to finish this beast. fine line, bags, and love in dark are the three main songs i listened to finish this, so if you wanna be in your feels, have a listen LMAO. despite all the support, i’m still so mf nervous posting this ejsjsjdjs

masterlist

SOMETHING UGLY KINDLES IN THE PIT of Lo'ak's stomach at the mere mention of your name. It's sour on his tongue, bitter in his brain. He doesn't know when he's started to feel like this, started to feel absolutely dreadful anytime he'd hear the timbre of your voice. 

It's warm, thick like nectar and it makes him sick. 

Ever since you all were little, the elders crooned over what a great girl you were growing into; strong, intelligent, beautiful. It made him boil how much they'd sing your praises, the high esteem everyone held you in as one of the clan's most talented. 

Something dull would pick at him being compared to his older brother, but nothing burned more than being compared to you. 

Maybe it's because it's always implied whenever your names share the same sentences, that lingering implication that he could be more like you. The clan fans the flames of your mere existence while Lo'ak is snuffed out like a dying fire. 

He hates it. He hates you. 

He thinks. 

It'd be easier to, if you were awful behind the scenes. Arrogant, stuck up, but you're none of those things. You're kind, gentle, mighty when you need to be. It doesn't help that you shine like the brightest star, engulfing everyone in your light, in your warmth. 

But Lo'ak resists. He sees right through you, sees right through every saccharine smile you send him. He can see it in your eyes, how you really see him. Despite standing a full head taller than you, he sees the way you look down your nose at him. 

It grates his nerves, how disgustingly sweet you are towards him despite all attempts to rebuff you. 

Certainly doesn’t soothe his ego when you always seem to be around the bend every time he gets bitched at by the clan, eyes soft and filled with pity. To add insult to injury, you frequently tail him like a shadow after these moments when all he wants is to be alone. 

Like now, you linger. 

It's after dinner and Kiri and Spider stand before him. They come together like the three points of a triangle and you stand an awkward distance away from them. 

Kiri notices you first, her face splitting into a big smile as she waves you over. 

Lo'ak breathes a deep sigh before locking eyes with Spider who tries his best to suppress an amused grin. 

“Hi,” you chirp and Lo'ak can't help but roll his eyes. 

Spider and Kiri greet you eagerly. Lo'ak simply nods his head in acknowledgement before tightening his fist around his dagger. 

“We going or what?” he finally says. 

You perk up. 

“Where are you guys heading off to?” you ask curiously, hands clasped behind your back.

Spider opens his mouth to answer, but Lo'ak cuts him off quickly. 

“No where important,” he says, unsure if you'll blab about their whereabouts to the elders, or worse, his parents. 

You roll your lips and shift on your feet. 

“Can I come?” you ask hesitantly, eyes hopeful. 

Kiri's smile grows as she links her arm with yours. 

“No,” he says sharply. “Absolutely not.” 

Your face falls and something pulls inside his chest when you fail meet his gaze, your frown barely perceptible. 

You make a move to pull from Kiri's grasp, but her arm tightens through yours. She levels Lo'ak with a weighty glare and you fidget uncomfortably under his narrowed eyes. 

“Don't worry about it,” you say, like someone's hit a reset button. You smile that pretty smile and Lo'ak wants to scream. "It's okay, I think Rutan needs help with clean up." 

You slip from Kiri's grasp and the three watch you walk off. 

“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” Spider scoffs a disbelieving laugh. 

“She's just gonna tag along so she can snitch,” Lo'ak grumbles. 

“Oh c'mon,” Kiri argues. “________ just wants friends.”

Lo'ak sneers. 

“I don't want to be friends with her,” he says firmly, knuckles white around the handle of his knife.

“Weirdo,” Spider mumbles. “She’s cute. Think she likes you.”

Lo'ak's spine stiffens.

“It's an act” Lo'ak grumbles. “She just wants to look good in front of the elders to keep up whatever nice girl show she's putting on.” 

Kiri rolls her eyes hard. 

There are moments when Lo'ak thinks he's being harsh, but he can't help himself. It's like he loses all semblance of a filter when it comes to you. 

“Hi, Lo'ak,” you greet him sweetly, lowering yourself onto the fallen log he's perched on, fashioning arrows to practice with later on in the evening with Neteyam. 

He shifts away from you, putting the distance of two bodies between the two of you as he pauses his task at hand. 

“Hi,” he says flatly. 

“Can I help?” you ask tentatively, fingers twitching towards one of the untouched sticks in a pile next to his feet. 

His kicks them closer to himself, out of your reach before leveling you with a sharp glare. 

“No thanks,” he says quickly and you recoil slowly, letting out a shaky laugh before fixing that stupid smile on your pretty face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, straightening in your seat. 

A silence so uncomfortably palpable settles over the two of you as you shift so that your knees are turned towards him. 

His throat bobs when his gaze travels from your little toes all the way up to your inquisitive gaze, golden and searching. It makes something unruly settle in his gut and he turns his attention back to carving his arrows. 

“Do you need something?” he breaks the silence finally. “I'm kinda busy.”

You bite your lip before scooting a little closer to Lo'ak's hunched figure. 

“My birthday's coming up,” you start. 

“I'm aware,” Lo'ak almost scoffs. 

It's all the clan has been able to talk about for the past few days. How they'd be able to prepare for the golden girl's next birth cycle and what they'd be able to do to make you smile the brightest. 

“Your birthday is a week before,” you state and his head whips towards you. 

“How do you know that?” he asks sharply, accusation heavy in his gruff tone. 

You flinch and he falters for a moment before your smile simply widens. 

“We grew up together, Lo'ak,” you say and the way his name sounds from your mouth sounds absolutely heavenly. “You're my friend.”

Friend. 

He scowls at the term.

“We're not friends,” he bites back. 

If the statement bothers you, you don't show it, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before putting on a brave face. 

“I want to celebrate with you,” you say shyly. 

“Hard pass,” he says too quickly, gathering his sticks and fashioned arrows under his grasp. 

He leaves you in the clearing on your own.

You must be fucking with him. You have to be. It'd be the only explanation for why Jake pulls him aside a few nights later and tells him that you've requested to work with him and Neteyam during archery practice. 

“No,” he says stiffly, shaking his head. 

His dad levels him with a hard glare and Lo'ak sighs deeply. 

“She's a nuisance, Dad,” he argues. “Me and Neteyam are making good progress with our training and we'll have to start at square one if she joins.”

“Lo'ak, this isn't an ask,” Jake says sternly. 

“But, Dad!”

“Lo'ak.”

Lo'ak huffs, snatching his bow and quiver angrily before storming off. 

“You're doing great,” Neteyam says to you once the three of you have convened in the training circle. 

The three arrows you've shot have all landed within centimeters of the mark and to say that Neteyam is impressed is an understatement. Lo'ak, on the other hand, fumes not-so-silently as he tears his arrows from his target. 

Yet again, you have another person wrapped around your finger and it makes his blood simmer as he assumes his position at the marker and loads his arrow. It splinters through the air and hits the target right on the bullseye. The arrow punctures through the hide and lodges its way into the wood from the sheer force of Lo’ak’s shot. 

You start at him moon-eyed, lush lips breaking into a full smile. 

“Perfect shot,” you observe. “That was awesome.” 

Lo’ak scans your features hesitantly before his gaze flits to his older brother, waiting for any acknowledgment that he’d done a great job, but Neteyam is taking notes on the arrows still stuck in the fabric of your own target. 

His heart sinks. 

“Fuck this,” Lo’ak grumbles, bundling all of his belongings.

He stalks through the clearing, past his brother, to leave you two. 

He doesn’t know what fuels the fire more, the fact that Neteyam didn’t even bat an eye at the feat they’d been practicing for for the past three weeks because he was too immersed in you, or the fact that you bore witness to his first clean shot and gave him that sickeningly sweet smile that made his stomach turn. 

“Where are you going?” Neteyam sighs. 

“Somewhere you two aren’t,” he grumbles under his breath, ducking through the brush of the lofty forest. 

You lick your lips, locking eyes with Neteyam as you give him a bashful grin and slowly break away to follow Lo’ak’s path. 

He isn’t far ahead as you push through the vines and low-hanging leaves, the path lined with large plants and the spindly roots of the looming trees. The grass is plush between your toes as you scamper to follow Lo’ak from a distance, watching as his lithe body climbs through the dense flora. 

“Why are you following me?” he calls after a few dozen paces, stopping in the middle of the path to whirl on his heel. 

His golden eyes are syrupy, warm despite the edge, and you can’t help but flash him your pearly whites in a genuine smile that takes up your dimpled cheeks. 

“Why’d you run off?” you ask him. “You were doing so well!” 

His chest rises and falls with a scoff. 

“You can give it a rest, you know?” Lo’ak says flatly, fist so tight around his bow he feels like he’ll crush the wood. 

Your expression morphs, eyebrows furrowing in a way that makes Lo’ak throat bob, something pinching behind his ribcage. 

“What?” you ask, frown marring your pretty face. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you can stop acting like you wanna be friends with me,” Lo’ak says matter-of-factly. 

“You are my friend,” you protest quietly. 

Lo’ak rolls his eyes. 

“Dude, whatever,” he mutters, turning his back on you. 

“Is it so wrong?” you murmur and he stops in his tracks, refusing to meet your gaze. “To be friends?” 

Friends. 

That stupid fucking word again.

Lo’ak bites his tongue and stalks off, leaving you on the path. 

Neteyam rips him a new one when he sees him at dinner later that night. Lo’ak hangs his head as Neteyam digs in.

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Neteyam asks, hand squeezing his shoulder as they stand a handful of meters away from the main circle. 

As his eyes wander, he notices you sitting with his sister, head thrown back in laughter that glitters and wafts with the rising smoke of the fire. He swallows turning his attention back to his older brother. 

“Just don’t like her,” he admits. “I want her to leave me alone.” 

“You don’t like her or you like her too much?” Neteyam asks, brow bone raised. 

Lo’ak’s face scrunches.

“Ew, no,” he blurts. “Why would I—”

“________ just wants to fit in,” he sighs. “She has trouble making friends.” 

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Lo’ak mocks. “I don’t know why Kiri and Spider are always up her ass, she’s—”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warns. 

“Dude, everyone is always ________ this, _________ that! I don’t understand what’s so great about her—”

A throat clears and the brothers both turn their attention to the newcomer. Lo’ak could groan in frustration seeing that you’ve abandoned your seat and now stand nearby with two wooden plates. 

“They’re going to start cleaning up soon,” you say hesitantly. “Wanted to bring you some.” 

Neteyam takes it graciously from you, nodding his head in thanks while Lo’ak stares down at the plate you’d arranged for him, abundant in vegetables and thick cuts of meat. 

“No thanks,” he says flatly.

You try to coax him. 

“C’mon Lo’ak, you say gently. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.” 

“No thanks,” he repeats stonily, holding his hand up. 

You offer up the plate again. 

“Lo’ak–“ 

“I said no thank you,” he grunts, annoyed. 

He’d only meant to push it back towards you, but one second it’s in your hands, the next you’re wearing dinner, the plate clattering onto the ground. 

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam scolds. 

“Shit, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” you breathe an airy laugh and Lo’ak freezes when he hears your breath hitch. “It was an accident.” 

“Oh, ________…” Neteyam sighs, but you’re picking up the plate and scurrying off, ignoring the nearby snickering. 

“Whatever you got going on, you need to cool it,” Jake scolds him in the family tent after dinner that night. “________ is a good girl, she’s trying to find her place. Can’t really do that if you’re gonna be a jerk to her all the time.” 

Lo’ak resists the urge to roll his eyes because, yet again, someone is sticking up for you, admonishing him about how he could be nicer, how he could take you under his wing, how he–

“What about me?” Lo’ak argues. “I tell her to leave me alone all the time, but she doesn’t listen. Why do I have to be nice to someone who doesn’t respect–”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jake thunders. “You haven’t even tried being her friend.” 

“Why should I?” Lo’ak counters. 

“Because maybe you two are more alike than you’d care to learn,” Jake says knowingly. “Now go apologize.” 

“Dad!” 

“Go, Lo’ak.” 

Lo’ak sucks in a deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out through his nose. 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbles, ducking from the tent into the humid night air. 

He starts into the jungle, fingers brushing over the leaves and petals of the plants and flowers. He takes the moment to regulate his pounding heart in his chest before trying to wrack his brain for any words that he could scrounge into a believable apology. 

When he crosses the glowing waters of a skinny brook, something rustles nearby and his hand is on the hilt of his dagger in the blink of an eye. 

He turns to face the noise, knife drawn, but then you emerge and his body relaxes a fraction. 

“Fuck, ________, you scared me,” he sighs in relief. 

You fidget and swallow down the lump in your throat. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. 

A brief silence dawns the two of you and Lo’ak notes that you’ve cleaned up from the evening meal’s debacle, now wearing a longer loincloth threaded with round pearlescent beads that refract the luminescence of the surrounding forest. 

Your grasp tightens around a leather bound journal and for a moment, he wonders what you could be writing about. 

When you follow his gaze, you shyly tuck the journal behind your back and give him an uneasy smile. 

“I wanted to–”

“I came to–”

Your words clash and you breathe a little laugh through your nose as you gaze at him with brilliant eyes. You start closing the distance and Lo’ak’s hands grow clammy. 

“You first,” you offer. 

Whatever threads of an apology he’d crafted in the moments prior have evaporated now that you stand before him, absolutely glowing. 

“Lo’ak?” Your head tilts and his cheeks warm. 

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “For what happened at dinner.” 

You shake your head quickly. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him, reaching out to touch him. 

He recoils, clearing his throat as he retreats to put an ample amount of distance between the two of you. 

You eye the berth and something shutters across your face as you rock back on your heels and flash him another uneasy smile. 

You haven’t even tried being her friend, his dad’s words echo like a call in the night. Maybe you two are more alike that you care to learn. 

Were you? You and Lo’ak were as different as they come, you molded by the love and adoration of the clan, him built up by the lessons and lectures he received from his parents and Neteyam. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, blowing by the previous conversation. 

He shrugs. 

“Dunno,” he admits. “I was looking for you.” 

The way you freeze is almost covert, your lips rolling as you try to hide the smile threatening to split your face. 

“Oh,” you hum. “Wanna go for a walk?” 

No, he wants to say. He absolutely does not want to spend anymore time with you than he has to. Likes to believe that he wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were to never see you again, but you’re looking at him expectantly and his dad’s words are like a mantra in his head, so he agrees begrudgingly. 

It’s awkward at first, silent except for the natural soundtrack of the vicarious jungle. But like you do so well, you break the silence and Lo’ak has to resist rolling his eyes for the third time that night. 

“What are your favorite colors?” you ask suddenly. 

“I dunno, green?” he offers. 

“Are you sure?” you laugh quietly. 

Lo’ak thinks a moment before nodding his head. 

“Yeah, green,” he finalizes. “And blue.” 

He barely notices that you’d fallen behind, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees that you’re scratching something into your little journal. 

“And your favorite fruit?” you press, nose still between the pages. 

Lo’ak breathes out a laugh and your head shoots up. 

“What? You gonna send this list to the lab?” Lo’ak asks.

You give him a shy smile, shifting on your feet. 

“No,” you say softly, then whisper to yourself, “just compiling a list to win your heart.” 

Lo’ak barely hears you, ears twitching as his eyes narrow in confusion. 

“What?” he asks. 

You snap your notebook shut, shaking your head quickly as you pad through the grass to catch up to him. 

“Nothing.” 

Something ripples in the fabric after that night, you and Neteyam both notice when Lo’ak enters the training clearing the next afternoon and greets you with a nod instead of flat out ignoring your presence like he had the last training session. 

And you think that the moment is fleeting, a one off, but as the days progress, you realize that maybe Lo’ak is finally softening around you. 

He stays for entire lessons, the most minute of smiles twitching at his lips whenever you compliment his shots. He waits near the edge for you as you pack up your things, and while the walk back to the village is a quiet one, you bask in his company, triumphant when he doesn’t run off. 

And while your evening walks are few and far between, you savor the moments he affords you, wedging yourself between him the crumbling walls of his facade. 

Tonight is one of those moments, sitting on adjacent branches overlooking the lively forest, when Lo’ak lets you peek farther into his life than he’d originally intended. 

“He never understands,” he sighs, popping a few berries from his satchel past his lips. 

Tonight’s topic is his father and you listen intently, eyes fixed on the way he reclines on the branch and looks up at the stars. 

“I try hard, you know? To make everyone proud, but all they see is my failure,” he says, obviously annoyed. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough.” 

“You do great things, Lo’ak,” you say quietly, the first words you’ve said all night. 

And like your voice is a reminder, Lo’ak’s spine goes rigid, throat bobbing as he realizes that he may have said too much to you. He’s getting too comfortable and you’re all the willing to absorb every insecurity and every worry he has. 

But something about quiet moments like these makes him loose-lipped, eyes fluttering to where you’ve got your notebook balanced in the seam of your thighs, scrawling something on the pages as you eat your own berries. 

The words are leaving him before he can stop them. 

“Easy for you to say,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.” 

The laugh that escapes you startles him and a few of the berries he was about to devour slips from his fingers and plunk down the leaves.

“I’m not perfect,” you assure him. 

“Only someone who’s perfect would say that,” Lo’ak grumbles, peering over the edge of the branches to spot his fallen fruit. “The whole village loves you, everyone’s always so ready to bat for you.” 

You look down at the pages of your journal with a sad smile. 

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit quietly. “Everyone’s watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up.” 

Lo’ak shifts uncomfortably.

You continue. 

“And most of the villagers our age don’t like me,” you say, thumbing one of the pages. “They say I kiss ass, that I’m always trying to keep a leg up.” 

Lo’ak winces, knowing that he’s the source of at least one of those sentiments. 

“The elders think you’re honorable,” Lo’ak argues gently. “You’re talented, you have something to offer the people.” 

“Honor means nothing if you’re bound by it,” you say finally, closing the cover to your journal. “If anything, I want to be more like you.” 

“Like me?” Lo’ak asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

You nod, smiling at him. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think you’re brave, fearless. And even if you care what people think, you do what you want.”

Lo’ak is quiet, taken aback by your confession.

Before he can respond, you’re gathering your things, bidding him a warm farewell as you begin climbing down the tree to disappear into the night. 

After that night, you think that maybe you’re just imagining things, that you’re reading too much into the fact that Lo’ak has begun to finally act like you exist, but then Kiri says something and the hope sends your heart soaring. 

“Seems like he finally got his head out of his ass,” she says a few mornings later as you two stand near a shallow stream, eyes peeled for any fish you two could bring back to the village. 

“Think so?” you ask nervously, arrow trapping the flailing fish to the pebbles of the stream’s bed. 

Kiri shrugs. 

“He actually pays you mind now,” Kiri observes. “That’s a step up for sure. I think you just need to spend more time with him.” 

You smile, splashing through shallow waters to capture the fish and add it to the growing pile in the basket between you and the middle Sully. 

“Yeah?” you wonder

So you test the theory, basket filled with various peeled fruits and a little container of nectar you squeezed from the petals of a flower. 

It doesn’t take long to hunt him down. When you enter the training circle, he’s packing up his things, quiver strapped to his back and bow in his fist. 

Before you make yourself known, he’s turning on his heel to face you, eyes wild as he swallows down the lump in his throat. 

He’d be the last to admit that the last night you two spent together was branded in his brain, that his mouth had dried up so much so he felt his tongue could crack.

There were so many implications in your words and it horrified him, scared him so much that he knew he couldn’t let you that close again. 

But now you stand before him, pretty as can be, hopeful even, and he’s at a war with himself, absolutely caught between resenting you for being everything he’s not and giving into the draw. 

“Hi,” you greet, basket heavy in your hands. 

You look more radiant than usual, skirt brushing the forest floor, the woven vine of your top banded to expose your midriff. 

“Hey,” he replies hesitantly. 

“Where you going?” you ask curiously.

His throat bobs as he gestures behind him. 

“Hunting,” is all he says.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you ask eagerly.

He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Because things are shifting and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the change. If he’ll be able to admit to himself that you’re wearing him thin, that you make him feel things he’s never felt before and that it makes him feel like he has no control. 

Because when it boils down to it, you make him lose control, make him lose his filter, and make him feel every emotion twice as hard. 

“No,” he says.

And in that moment, you feel like you’re back at square one, watching as his eyes turn stony and his jaw sets firmly. 

“You shouldn’t go hunting on your own,” you say softly. “Will someone be with you?” 

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I’m fine.” 

“I can go with you!” you offer. “I thought maybe we could sit by the stream and talk, but we can go hunting instead. We can–” 

“No,” he says again, pinning you with eyes so lethal, it makes you wonder if you really had imagined the moments you shared with him, if you had imagined Kiri telling you that she saw it too. 

You try again anyways. 

“It’ll be good practice and–”

“I said no, ________,” he barks. “You’re dead weight and I want to be alone.” 

Your lips seal and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Lo’ak could nearly scream in frustration when he notices the way your shoulders sag and it makes something in his heart cinch. 

“Okay,” you agree, nodding quickly. “Be safe and–”

The words die on your tongue when you notice the look of annoyance on Lo’ak’s face. 

Lo’ak is in deep shit, you come to find out hours later. 

You sit outside of the training circle, knowing that Lo’ak will return down the path after his hunting trip. What you don’t expect, however, is Jake and Neytiri emerging with the entire line of Sully kids and Spider.

Jake grips the back of Lo’ak’s neck tightly as they march past wandering eyes, straight to the family tent. You don’t miss his wounds though, varying in depth, some bleeding, some sore. 

You’re hot on their heels, standing right outside of the entrance as Jake tears into the middle Sully. 

“Time and time again, I have to get on your ass for doing the complete opposite of what I ask you to do!” Jake’s voice is thunderous inside the tent. “Do you not realize that you not only risked your life but your sisters’ too?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jake continues, obviously pacing from the way his volume fluctuates. 

“And what were you thinking bringing Tuk? She’s nine, Lo’ak!” he shouts, the anger and the hurt evident in his tone. 

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak mumbles. 

“Yeah, I bet you are!” Jake scolds. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is for you stay in line. Just stay out of trouble and work hard on your training. I paired you with ________ and Neteyam in hopes that maybe you’ll tighten up and be more like them, but you’re always disappointing me.” 

You frown. 

Whatever Lo’ak had done probably didn’t warrant such deep admonishment and something tugs especially hard at your heartstrings knowing that all he wants to do is make his dad proud. 

“You’re surrounded by good influences, but you always have to go against the grain, Lo’ak,” Jake says, the edge in his tone softening. “I’m getting tired of the bullshit, son. You need to clean up your act. Hear me?” 

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak says quietly, voice almost a whisper behind the hide of the tent. 

“Now go get yourself cleaned up,” Jake huffs. 

Your spine is straightening when you hear foot steps closing in, holding your breath as the flap to the tent billows open and Lo’ak is emerging.

His eyes flit to yours and his expression sours further. 

“Lo’ak,” you murmur, reaching out to him. 

He’s shrugging you away, wincing when a wound on his shoulder stretches especially taut. 

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly. “I’ll–”

“Leave me alone,” he says, eerily level. 

“But you’re–”

“I said leave me alone, ________,” he warns, pushing past you in what should be the pursuit of his grandmother’s quarters.

Instead he’s making a beeline for the jungle. 

You’d seen the look in his eye before he stonewalled you, seen the hurt and heaviness that most people didn’t seem to notice because he was always so adventurous and carefree. 

You follow after him. 

“Lo’ak, you know he’s only worried for you,” you try to reason gently, fingers reaching for his own as you duck under massive leaves and fluttering insects. 

He whirls to face you, swatting your hand away. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he bites. “You don’t know anything.” 

You swallow, holding your hand to your chest as you watch him lay down every brick to wall himself off. 

He hates it. He hates how you look at him, how you seem to pity the life he has to live. It makes him sick, thinking that you two have it the same. He’d rather be hated for being great than hated for being a let down. It’s insulting, how you think you know how it feels. 

“Let’s go back. I’ll wrap your wounds and–”

“Of course, clan’s golden girl is gonna patch me up and make it all better, huh?” he seethes facetiously. “Just fuck off!” 

You flinch, blinking at the boy you holds so much rage in front of you. 

“I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to be mean,” you whisper, taking in a shuddering breath to will yourself not to cry. 

“Mean? Mean?” Lo’ak bristles. “I’ve tried telling you to lay off nicely, tried telling you to just leave me alone, but you don’t listen. You just pry and overstep and you make every little thing about you! Oh, it’s so much pressure, villagers our age hate me, of course they would! You already have everything and just have to go rub salt in the wound!” 

You shrink, eyes welling as your lip trembles. 

“Lo’ak, stop,” you whimper. 

“We’re not friends, ________.We never were and we never will because I don’t like you,” he spits. “Now please, for the love of god, will you just leave me alone!” 

The forest is silent save for Lo’ak’s ragged breathing, fists clenched as he glares down at you. 

“I-” Your breath hitches and you choke out an apology. “I’m sorry.” 

Lo’ak’s heart softens a fraction as you take a step back, turning quickly on your heel. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you rasp, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into a run, putting as much space as you can between you and the middle child who stands in the middle of the forest, unable to wrangle every harsh word he’d said to force back down his throat. 

You dropped your journal. 

Lo’ak is sure you’re looking for it, know that you’ve always got your nose stuck in it. You had dropped it running off and now he has its leather bound in his hands. 

It’s been a couple of nights since the faithful evening he’d blown his top and he’d only seen whispers of you. It was so unlike you to disappear, to not be entertaining the masses as they fell to your feet. 

He’d cooled off significantly, and when he replayed the conversation in his head, he winced, body folding in on itself as he realizes how harsh he’d been. 

“Are you actually thinking thoughts?” Spider claps him on the shoulder, startling him so badly he drops the journal. 

It lands spine down, the pages fluttering open. 

He chances a peek before Spider is rounding his lithe figure to pick up the notebook. All he makes out is a rough sketch. 

“You write?” Spider asks, intrigued. 

“No, it’s ________’s,” Lo’ak answers. 

“Oh, your little girlfriend’s?” 

Lo’ak gives the human a cross look, snatching the book from his grasp as he stands up.

“Trouble in paradise?” Spider pries, scurrying to keep up with Lo’ak’s long strides. 

A beat of silence before Lo’ak finally answers. 

“Made her cry,” he mumbles, embarrassed. 

Spider winces behind him. 

“You serious?” 

Lo’ak sighs. 

“Yes, dude, fuck,” he breathes, hand coming to the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me. Dad was ripping me a new one and Neteyam already chewed me out before they got there and she was being annoying, so I just…” 

“Bro,” Spider scoffs in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. “You’re a real dickhead sometimes.” 

Lo’ak’s eyes wander as he shifts uncomfortably, feeling incredibly small as his friend glares up at him. 

“I mean, I told her I wanted to be left alone!” Lo’ak tries to defend weakly. “I- I didn’t mean to.” 

“She likes you a lot, dude,” Spider reiterates. “She just wants you to like her back.” 

Despite the glaring signs, Lo’ak has trouble believing that your feelings for him far surpass charity work. They couldn’t, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, you’re you and he’s…him. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but Spider beats him to it.

“Did you at least apologize?” 

Lo’ak squirms.

“Dude!” 

“Look, I know, I know,” he tries to assuage the situation. 

“________ is literally the sweetest girl in the entire clan you just–“ 

“I get it, bro, I get it!” Lo’ak huffs. 

“Get your head out of your ass,” Spider says. “She might not stick around long enough for you to realize.” 

“Realize what?” Lo’ak snaps. 

“Are you really gonna play stupid right now?” 

He blinks at the human. 

“You like ________,” Spider says matter-of-factly. “You always have, ever since we were kids.” 

“Oh, piss off,” Lo’ak grumbles.

“Dude, you’re literally my best friend, but I sometimes I wanna shove my foot so far up your–”

“I do not like ________,” Lo’ak says sharply. 

“Everyone sees it but you, dipshit,” Spider scoffs. “You like her, but you’re scared. She’s perfect and she intimidates you. Think she’s gonna see you for what you really are and turn her back on you like everyone else does when you fuck up, but she’s not like that, Lo’ak. She’s been there whether you like it or not. But she might not always.” 

Lo’ak swallows down the knot in his throat, fingers tightening around the notebook. 

“Everything clicking?” Spider asks knowingly. 

Lo’ak throws him a final narrowed glare before stalking off. 

It’s Lo’ak’s birthday and just like every orbit, he spends it alone in the forest.

At first, he’d been burdened with the weight of hurting your feelings, but now his conversation with Spider weighs heavy on him as he climbs dirt walkways and flowered paths. 

It doesn’t help that your notebook weighs heavy in his satchel, a silent reminder that he still has a piece of you while you cling to his peace of mind. 

I think you’re brave, fearless. They’re the words you uttered to him that fateful night you turned the reality of you two on its axis. 

As he splices all the moments you two shared like a reel, he realizes that it’s endless. That you’re always there, you’d always been there, like a layer of impenetrable atmosphere surrounding him. 

He really should apologize, he knows this much, but you’ve disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Training sessions have returned to a sibling affair and he’s too prideful to ask about you. 

It’s almost eclipse when he begins making his way back for the evening meal, knowing that a scolding will await if he arrives even a minute late. 

After what had happened with you, he was lying low, trying to diminish his blip from the radar.

As he closes in on the village’s main circle, he notes that it’s quiet. A little too quiet. It puts him on edge, makes him draw his bow and feel around for an arrow in his quiver. 

A few more paces and he’s broken into the clearing, a few stragglers milling about. Another half a dozen steps and it’s like the forest melts into a celebration, whorls of blue pouring into the circle as villagers begin trilling. 

Lo’ak is hoisted into the air as the dying fire in the center of the camp begins to slowly roar. 

“Happy birthday, baby bro!” Neteyam caws loudly as they begin jostling him into the air, chanting and dancing as the dense crowd of clanspeople celebrate him.

It’s like time slows as he peers from side to side eagerly, seeing the way Spider, Kiri and Tuk dance happily among his people. Jake and Neytiri stand near the fire, smiles wide when they see the look of awe on their middle son’s face. 

When he’s finally set on his feet, he wobbles, childlike as he turns, taking in the glowing streamers that crisscross between the tents. Flowers of green and blue thread through the vines, gleaming like lamplight as the forest buzzes around them. 

“Wha– What is all this?” Lo’ak croaks in disbelief, eyes flitting wildly as he notices Norm and Max standing next to a table they’d hauled from the pod to the circle, piled high with meats and vegetables wrapped in leaves. 

A platter of yovo fruits, his favorite, are at the center, surrounded by a painted sign with his name and the handprints of dozens of villagers on it. 

“You survived another orbit!” Neteyam laughs heartily, head-locking the younger boy before roughly digging his knuckles into the top of his head. 

A laugh bubbles from Lo’ak’s lips, swatting his brother away as villagers and clan members he’d grown up with approach him one by one to greet him. 

As the night progresses, he doesn’t even realize he’s searching until your mother approaches and his spine goes rigid, cheeks warming under her piercing gaze. 

“From my ________,” she says, setting a pouch into his palms. “She toiled over these for many eclipses. Please take care.” 

Lo’ak’s nod is delayed as his satchel shifts on his shoulders, a dull reminder that your journal still remains with him, begging to be read. 

“Where– Where is she?” he asks suddenly, feeling your absence all the more now that your gift sits in the palm of his hand. 

“My daughter does not feel well,” your mother says simply. “She wished to be excused from the festivities.” 

His chest feels hollow, stomach tight as his cheeks burn. You’d mentioned this to him, all those days ago in the training circle, about wanting to celebrate with him. 

His eyes flit to the flowers looped through the vines, the mountain of yovo fruits, the gift in his hands. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Doesn’t want to fuel the tiniest ember of hope in chest, but he can’t help it. 

He can’t help but read into it, into the implications of this celebration you’d planned all for him, into every word you uttered to him in the quiet of the forest’s chirping. 

It’s all it takes for him to lock himself in his own head. The feast melts into the background, dull, as his eyes cut the crowd for you. 

You have to be here, gotta be hanging around the outskirts silently. The idea taunts him, makes his gut twist hard as images of you dancing in the circle, singing to him, celebrating him, loving him—

Lo’ak freezes, blinking incredulously at the thought that’d just crossed his brain. It makes him queasy, makes the regret and the guilt gnaw at every nerve ending as your crying face flashes like an unwanted slideshow in his brain. 

It’s all he can think about as the festivities die, as villagers begin turning in the for the night and he helps his family clean up the aftermath of another orbit finally finished. 

Spider helps Tuk and Neteyam near the fire, and as Lo’ak moves through the motions like he’s caught in a tide, Kiri watches, knowing all too well what consumes her brother’s mind. 

It isn’t until Lo’ak is shrouded by the stillness of the early morning, his family tucked in their tent, bodies and limbs splayed as they sleep together, that he sits in a swinging hammock, your journal and the pouch in his lap. 

It feels wrong, the way he thumbs the cover, working up the courage to turn it open. But Ewya, fate, would have never left it in his wake if it wasn’t meant to be read.

As his finger ghosts the etchings of the front cover, worn and loved by you, something tickles his leg as he admires the leather. He blinks in disbelief when he sees a singular woodsprite resting against his thigh. 

Before he loses his nerve, he’s opening the pages with bated breath. 

Recipes, nature notes, short thoughts fill the sheets and Lo’ak feels like he’s reading into your brain, seeing all the little things no one bothers to know. 

he is like the sun,

shines so bright,

but burns the closer you get. 

Lo’ak’s pointer finger glosses over the ink, over your curly handwriting. 

he is so incredible, but he doesn’t even know it. i want to shout it to every creature in the forest, every tree and every flower. oh, how i wish to be as fearless as him. 

His chest heaves as the words blur. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

In this moment, he feels everything but. He feels like a coward. 

He continues to flip, throat lodged as he sees drawings, both rough sketches and full renderings. He hadn’t even known that you liked to draw, yet here he was, observing his home through your artistic eye. 

Flowers, leaves, trees, creatures, insects, fruits mar the stained papers, etched like it’d been caught in real time. 

likes green and blue. 

likes yovo fruits. 

The entry from the day you’d first walked with him through the forest. 

When he turns the page, his breath hitches. 

In full color, you’d captured his bullseye from your first training session. His back taut from the release, expression shaded stoic. He looked mighty, like the strongest warrior, and it was all through your eyes. 

Lo’ak doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the bullseye in the illustration bleeds from a fallen tear. Another one drips from his chin, then another. 

The next page is the night you two had poured your hearts out to each other. Again, in full color, he’s watching the stars. You don’t leave out the glow of the freckles that smatter his face and body, don’t miss the smile that plays at his lips as he quietly points out that his dad had come from a star. 

He flips again and different iterations and designs for what seems like jewelry litters the pages, shaded with different colors of blue and green, marked with varying notes, x’s marking through ideas you didn’t like. 

Lo’ak remembers the pouch, sitting untouched in his lap, and his shaky fingers undo the ties. He shakes the contents on the flat of the notebook and the most intricate beadwork fits into the crease. 

His eyes widen as he picks up the necklace in a trembling hand, the eclipsing sun catching the etching in the flat stones. 

Four five-fingered hands and four four-fingered ones, each separated by jewels scavenged and cleaned from the bed of the glowing river. 

A small scroll flutters from the pouch and Lo’ak chokes back as sob as he unrolls the hide. 

Happy Birthday, Lo’ak. I am always grateful to know someone like you. May your next orbit be filled with endless blessings from Ewya and may you see yourself how I see you. 

You see him, he realizes. You’re his supporter, a silent force that consumes every insecurity and swallows every doubt. You believe in him more than he believes in himself. 

He stands from the hammock and runs. 

You’re sitting in the same tree the two of you had rested in the night you’d confided in Lo’ak, watching as the sun eclipses and begins to light up the sparkling forest.

Something rustles and you sit up, hand on the hilt of your dagger as you search the area for movement.

As your eyes lock on the source, you almost wish it had been a beast coming to devour you whole. But as Lo’ak climbs the branches of the tree quickly, you feel the dread begin to solidify in your veins. 

You take your satchel, hanging from a nearby branch and sling it over your shoulder, pulling your shawl over your head to prepare for your escape. 

“________, wait,” he chokes breathlessly. “Please.” 

You feel like crying all over again, feel so unbelievably stupid thinking that Lo’ak would ever see you the way that you see him. 

You pause a beat as he settles on the branch across from yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

Something glints in the sun and your eyes widen when you see that Lo’ak has fastened the necklace you made him around his neck, right above the the leather chain that holds his beloved claw charm. 

“You’re wearing it,” you whisper, lips twitching into a frown as you try your best to keep your tears at bay. 

“I’m sorry, ________,” Lo’ak apologizes hoarsely. “Fuck, you don’t understand how sorry I am.” 

The tears well on their own. 

We’re not friends. We never were and we never will. 

The words haunt you like a broken record and you shake your head, moving from your perch to move down the branches. 

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak pleads. “Please don’t go, I–”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you, Lo’ak.” 

He freezes, watching as you balance on a branch below. 

“I tried so hard to be your friend,” you whimper, angrily wiping away your tears. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and you’re fearless, and you are everything I want to be, but you’re heartless.” 

Lo’ak lets out a shuddering breath, a chill running down his spine as you look up at him like he’d smashed every star in the sky. 

“I wanted to be with you, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “I hoped that maybe if I stuck it out, you’d see how much I cared, how badly I wanted to be with you, even if it was from a distance.” 

“I do, _________, I do!” he argues. 

He hadn’t always, but he sees it now. He sees you. 

You shake your head again.

“You don’t,” you sigh, voice trembling. “It’s my fault anyways. You were right. You told me to leave you alone and I was being too much.” 

“Stop–”

“Let this be the last time,” you assure him. “Let’s just– Let’s pretend we never met.”

“No, _________. Wait!” 

You’re climbing down the tree and disappearing into the brush and, like a fleck of ash, you’re disintegrating into nothingness. 

Most people think he’s being moody, that he’s just been scolded by his father or older brother, but Neytiri knows better. 

She sees the way her son has changed over the course of the past few weeks. She knows there is a great burden that he carries, but much like her beloved and her eldest, he suffers in silence. 

“Maitan,” she says quietly, brushing a braid from his face as he folds the leaves around a chunk of steaming meat. 

Lo’ak pauses almost imperceptibly, but continues his task. 

It isn’t like him to stay home and work with Neytiri. If anything, he’d be the first one out of the tent, Tuk, Spider, and Kiri tailing after him as they galavant through the endless forest. 

“Something weighs heavy in your heart,” she tries again, hand coming over his. 

Lo’ak stops and leans back, unable to meet his mother’s searching gaze. 

“I hurt someone,” he says quietly. 

Neytiri stiffens.

“What?” 

“I hurt someone I care about,” Lo’ak admits. You’d called him fearless, strong. He needed to live by your word. “I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“Oh, Lo’ak,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently. 

Her face has softened as she takes in his stony expression. 

“My son, some things cannot be fixed,” she says honestly. “But all things require great effort. Sometimes those efforts will fall through, but that is the natural order of life.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Whoever this special person is, if you have hurt her, she deserves the full effort of your heart, no?” 

You do, he knows you do. You deserve every last effort. But a niggling streak of insecurity tells him that you don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve someone who takes your affections for granted. You deserve someone who will love you with every breath, who will love you fearlessly. 

“I really messed things up, Mom,” Lo’ak says quietly. “I don’t…” 

Neytiri’s hand comes to Lo’ak chest. 

“The night I first met your father, Ewya gave me sign,” she says. “He has a pure, strong heart. You do too.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Be brave, Maitan,” she says. “Sometimes that is enough.” 

Lo’ak’s fingers hurt from picking berries.

His cuticles bleed, pricked by the thorns of the fruit’s bush. Kiri hums beside him, weaving a little bag out of ropes of thin vines. 

“You’re not gonna help me?” he whines. 

“Why should I help you with your mess?” 

You look beautiful under the glow of the evening meal’s crackling fire. It’s the first time you’ve emerged since before Lo’ak’s birthday feast and you’re being flocked by elders and villagers, wishing you well and asking about your supposed ailment. 

He sits across the fire, fists tight as he searches for a lull in the crowd. 

Spider snickers next to him, devouring the contents of his plate like he’s starved, watching Lo’ak’s useless pining like a show. 

Be brave. 

He’s standing to his feet before he can back out, crossing the circle to approach you. The villagers watch like they know something he doesn’t and the nerves are eating away at him as he steps into your space. 

You look up from your conversation with a girl your age, the smile slipping from your lips. 

“Can we talk?” Lo’ak asks, eyes wandering to watch the way everyone watches him. 

You remain jaded.

“Now’s not a good time,” you say quietly and a few onlookers snicker in the background. “________,” Lo’ak tries again. 

You stare up at him, the shadow of the fire dancing over your features as you seemingly look right through him. It’s humiliating, the way you remain seated and watch him fidget, but he figures he deserves the cold shoulder after months, years of casting you to the side. 

“Let’s go?” you ask the girl, nodding your head over your shoulder. 

The girl chances a glance between you and Lo’ak, noticing the telltale sign of your work etched into the stones of the choker he hadn’t taken off since his birthday. 

She gives him a sympathetic smile as she follows after you. 

He’s going to have to try a lot harder than he has, he realizes as your birthday looms right around the corner. The next eclipse, in fact. 

He’s losing hope, losing courage, but he can’t give up on you two just yet. 

He makes sure the berries he picked the days prior are packed tightly in his bag, the lid to the nectar fastened, and his present wrapped nicely. 

It’s his last hope, his last shot to make things right. 

Spider, Tuk, and Neytiri surround him, Neteyam and Jake off on a hunt. 

They’d all been privy to the fact, aiding him in his endeavors as he organized his final grapple with your heart. 

“Kiri said she’ll bring her right before eclipse,” Spider says, peeking from the flap of the tent. “That’s in, like, minutes.” 

Lo’ak is nervous. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you for good, but he knows he has to give it his best effort. It’s the least you deserve. 

Be brave. Sometimes that is enough. 

Lo’ak glances at his mom and she gives him a warm smile, ruffling his braids. 

“You are the son of Toruk Makto,” she assures him, pinching his cheek. “There is nothing you cannot do.” 

The words are carved into his brain as he rushes through the forest, the the stream that the curls and bends through the forest. It glows beautifully at night and that is his final push. 

“Wait, give me like three seconds, I left something.” Kiri’s voice is muffled behind the trees. 

“Huh?” Lo’ak sees the way your head tilts through an opening in the foliage. 

“I’ll only be a second!” 

“Wait, Kiri!” 

Kiri is running straight for him, comes barreling through the bushes, and continues down the path. 

“Good luck, egghead!”

Lo’ak takes in a final breath to quell the tremor in his hands before ducking through the bushes to reveal himself. 

You’re sitting on the embankment, on a woven mat that Kiri had laid out for you two, decorative vines edging the seams. 

“Oh, you were–”

You peer over your shoulder and your expression falls. 

“Lo’ak…” 

“Happy birthday, ________,” he breathes. 

You don’t look amused, slinging your bag over you shoulder as you rise to your feet. 

“Kiri and I are hanging out,” you tell him. 

He scratches the back of his head. 

“I…I had Kiri bring you here because I knew that you wouldn’t come with me if I asked,” he admits. “And of course, I don’t blame you, but I– I just really need to talk to you.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look him in his eyes as he draws nearer. 

“Just give me some time, please,” he pleads. 

You finally meet his gaze, searching his eyes as he looks down at you earnestly. 

You give him the tiniest nod, reluctantly shedding your satchel to reassume your seat on the mat. 

The waters rush gently, like a song as Lo’ak lowers himself next to you.

His palms are clammy as he fidgets in his seat, the scent of herbs and flowers wafting from your dewy skin. He can’t bring himself to look at you, afraid that every sentiment he’d crafted in the hours of the night will escape him, so he watches the bubbling of the stream. 

“Well?” you whisper, like you don’t want to shatter the fragile sheath of peace that layers you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I’ve said it already, but I really am, ________.” 

“I know,” you murmur and his gaze flits to yours. “Even if you don’t act like it, you have a good heart, Lo’ak. You feel everything, even the things you don’t want to.” 

He swallows.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says carefully. “I was mad and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.” 

You sit silently, knees hugged to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knee, watching Lo’ak with seeing eyes. It makes him trip over his words. 

“My whole life, I’ve always been compared to Neteyam,” he says. “The entire village would whisper about me and how I was nothing like the mighty warrior.” 

When he glances at you, he notices your fingers twitch, like you want to reach out to him. 

He squashes his fears and turns to face you, five-fingered hand coming up to thread with your four. You watch the union, uncertainty obvious in the way you tense, but Lo’ak squeezes. 

“And then when we started growing up, you were just another person I had to live up to,” Lo’ak whispers. “You’re perfect, ________. You’re kind, and you’re smart, talented. You’re everything I’m not and it made me hate you.” 

You shrink, but Lo’ak pulls you towards him, hand coming up to brush your cheek. 

“But you’re all of that and more,” he continues, the words gushing like a river. “You’re always there, you support me and you defend me and see things I don’t.” 

You become shy under his gaze because for the first time, he’s seeing you. He’s seeing you for every single thing you’ve been to him and it makes your stomach knot. 

“I have something to tell you,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.” 

Your gaze is soft, palm still in his as he turns and reaches into the bag he discarded next to him. Your eyes widen when he produces your notebook, edges curled the slightest as he hands it to you. 

“My journal,” you say, taking it from him quickly. “I’ve been looking for this. Why- Why do you have it?” 

He looks guilty, lips rolling as he avoids your gaze. 

“Did you…” 

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “But there were woodsprites and I knew it was a s–”

“Lo’ak this is private,” you murmur incredulously. “Why would you read this?” 

“How long, ________?” he asks quietly, grip on your hand tightening. 

“Lo’ak, don’t–”

“How long?” he presses desperately. 

Your eyes are watering, like that wicked night all over again and Lo’ak begs Eywa for the final push. 

“Since we were ten,” you whisper brokenly. “It was my first performance and it was so stupid, but I was throwing up because I was nervous and you talked me through it.” 

Lo’ak is stunned, the memory like the faintest of outlines. 

“We didn’t even know each other that well,” you hiccup. “But you patted me on the back and you gave me this–”

You pull your fingers from his grasp and flip the journal to the last page, revealing a hidden pocket. Your nimble fingers pull a tattered string, the remnants of a vine, threaded with wilted flower petals, preserved from being pressed inside your notebook.

“You said that they made you make it during lessons,” you say, breath hitching. “That it’d be my good luck.” 

He’d forgotten all about the memory completely, too caught up in driving whatever wedge he could between you two, building up walls to seal you out. 

“And you kept it this whole time?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief. 

“I’d hold on to anything you give me,” you admit in defeat. “Heartbreak included.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. 

“________, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hand coming up to your neck. “You have to know that. I’m really fucking stupid, but if you give us a shot, I won’t mess it up.” 

Your hand comes up to his wrist, crumpling as you bow your head. 

“Don’t do this to me,” you beg, moving to break away from him. 

“Please.” 

His hold tightens, other hand twining with yours. 

“If I…if I give myself to you, I’m giving you everything,” you say hesitantly. “If you break this, you break me. I don’t think I can come back from this.” 

Lo’ak presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips as he searches your gaze for any semblance of hope. 

“This is me being fearless, ________,” he whispers. 

You melt, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He’s frozen for the shortest of moments before relenting, pushing up onto his knees to deepen the kiss. 

He’s cradling your face and your hands are wandering and Lo’ak can’t help but think he could get used to loving you. 

To being loved by you. 

BONUS

“I was gonna give it to you on your birthday,” Lo’ak says sheepishly a few nights later under the stars. “But, you know…” 

Your usual place among the branches of the looming trees have a lot of memories both bitter and sweet, but you suppose you could make new ones. 

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you say sweetly, tail swishing to wrap around his ankle. “You’re all I need.” 

Lo’ak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your saccharine words if the pounding in his chest is anything to go by. 

His hands are shaky as he pushes the hide towards you, a bow made of vine tied neatly around the gift. 

“Wanted to,” he says simply, moving the hair from you face to see your reaction better. “Open it.” 

You’re gentle with the present, like you are with most things, but eager to see what he’d gotten you. 

A tiny gasp falls from your lips when you finally see it, wide eyes meeting his as you free the jars of paints he’d mashed up, the brushes he fashioned, and the brand new journal he bound himself. 

“Lo’ak, wow…” 

“So you can paint me more,” he says, then adds timidly. “Or maybe us. Maybe you could paint us.” 

an — holy shit guys, this was such a big project for me because i really wanted to dive into so many different things in this fic. to everyone who was waiting patiently, thank you sososo much. as usual, i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless! although requests are paused for me to catch up, like always, if you wanna chat with me about literally anything, my askbox is open. lots of love hehehe :) xx

. 

.

.

neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn

[victoirey]

Okay but imagine:

Neteyam and Lo’ak both falling in love with reader after seeing her threaten Tuk and Kiri’s bullies and seeing her become close friends with their sisters and them both pining over her from a distance but never actually talking to reader and driving Jake crazy until her smacks some sense into both of them

♡. "king(s) of your heart" —

synopsis / in which the sully brothers are head over heels for you.

gn!reader | this is basically headcanons on a polygamous relationship between the sully brothers. polygamy is where two or more people share one person and only one person. they dont love eachother romantically. it is 1:40 am and I'm tired. yes that is a taylor swift reference in the title. lotsa words

i am a firm believer that these boys like girls who, although kind, are still rough around the edges in some way. they see you cussing out aonung and his possé? instant attraction. instant. like *snap* instant. they see you playing with children and chasing them around? instant INSTANT infatuation. no joke. literally down bad seven seconds in.

thus, it starts the pining.

you start seeing little trinkets next to you, coincidentally left by the wind ( or by neteyam's tail swooping them into your vicinity ) — but still, you love them. you keep them. you cherish them. neteyam is ecstatic and lo'ak is NOT having that

lo'ak starts giving you a bunch of well thought out gifts. from afar. he steals the method his brother uses. his brother is pissed. jake sees this. is entertained at first. but then it just gets boring and he has to go all military dad on them.

"you two love them is what I'm seeing. you two love them so bad it's disgusting. am I correct?"

"yes sir."

"...good. you three remind me of me and your mother. but, if you keep on going like this, just pining over them without them knowing who you even are, then you'll never get them to be yours. your mother and I agree on polygamy being alright, but we also agreed on you two being cowards. ask them on a date. both of you. figure something out. I will not have cowards as sons. okay? okay. now go get 'em."

that half encouraging speech half scolding was EXACTLY what they needed. they settled everything aside, realized that love triangles were for white people, and instead settled on a polygamous relationship between you and them, based off of communication and shared love.

#bondingbrothers

the only problem was getting you to accept both of them... so let's go depending on your species,

if you're a human, you'd probably be more open to the idea which is obvious considering that humanity has always had polygamy in its history. so, it'd be easier for you to accept, and you do.

if you're a na'vi, a race that is canonically and strictly monogamous— you'd be conflicted. you wouldn't know whether or not this was right, except, you would follow your heart, in the end, wouldn't you? you'd be theirs as quick as a human would be. primarily because I know all of you are down bad for the sully brothers. it would be near impossible for a na'vi to enter a polygamous/amorous relationship canonically.

alright, im in the mood for a mini drabble, aren't you? ( featuring dreamwalker , aka , human reader !)

"...what???" you breathed, confused. you had been caught off guard, initially, with how you'd been receiving trinket after trinket both in your avatar and out— and honestly , you thought it just couldn't get anymore surprising.

it did.

somehow, the culprit, or rather, the culprits, were the sons of Jake Sully, who is ... alot of honorable things. so , naturally , you're confused.

"we know that we like you, y/n— and we heard that polygamy was practiced amongst humans... so, you know, we wanted to see if you were for it." neteyam started, and lo'ak continued. "but if ya aren't—"

"oh I'm for it. I'm for this." you interjected. "just.. why me??"

they looked relieved but also offended at how you judged their tastes. how dare you , how could you not be confident in yourself !?!? absolutely unacceptable.

they'll love you until you're able to love yourself, and after that.

"excuse me-uh!" lo'ak gasped, his offense shown. "I will have you know that you are not just you??? where do you get that from?!? you're someone whose struggled through so much stuff and you're so strong and—" "

"quiet, skxawng." neteyam shushed, and lo'ak glared but reluctantly obliged. neteyam awkwardly coughed into his hand, picking up the pieces his brother dropped. "what we're saying is that— you're ... pretty cool. so, be ours?"

"but only if you want to!" lo'ak interrupted once again, then his head snapped to neteyam— "what'd i do?!" he said, as his brother punched him ( gently. ) they bickered, and bickered - and bickered. that is until your snicker caught them both stilling.. they smiled, knowing that they had both made you smile— and you laughed.

"you're both idiots!"

they took that as a yes, and it was.

ALRIGHT IM TIRED OF BUILDING THE RELATIONSHIP ITS TIME TO ACTUALLY GIVE YOU A PEAK ON THE OFFICIAL RELATIONSHIP except we'll take it one step at a time <3

— early days

first things first, things get so awkward between you guys ! this is your first relationship. this is neteyams first relationship. this is also lo'aks first relationship. and it's a polygamous relationship! it would've been a lot of work to communicate in the earlier days, especially since lo'ak and neteyam butt heads constantly.

lo'ak and neteyam are constantly planning fancy dates to surprise you, which can also double as brotherly hang outs, yeah, but they're so focused on wooing you in their own ways they forget to compromise and find a way both of them can woo you.

of course, you see this, and reassure them that hey— you don't have to spend this much time to make me happy! you guys already do by merely existing (and it is definitely not because the "y/n" we are speaking about is a reader insert and every reader is down BAD bad for the sully brothers)!

naturally, that doesn't solve the problem.

what solves the problem is you sitting down with them to communicate. you all guide eachother to a compromise, something that suits all of you. the brothers agree on an alternating schedule. one day would be a day where you'd just chill with primarily lo'ak, and one day would be a day where you'd just chill with primarily neteyam. however, Sundays? Sundays are bonding time between the three of you it's like a date! neteyam and you, lo'ak and you, and then its like reconnecting and bonding between brothers when it comes to lo'ak and neteyam.

the schedule worked well for you guys! neteyam could do his own thing, so could lo'ak, and they'd only have to cooperate for one day, which would still strengthen their relationship! also, you'd be showered in love all day!

perfect !!!!

— getting to know eachother better

naturally, they were not born on earth. you weren't either, but nonetheless— as a human, you know more about humanity than they ever will. especially since you keep yourself updated on trends & history & human literature — so naturally, they feed you information while you feed them information.

you tell them stories of human mythology and they stand in awe at how complex humanity can be in many other ways besides weapons. there is more to humanity than what meets the eye, and you show them that. you bring them local human foods like fries because I am a firm believer that the lab has an artificial garden that grows potatoes. they are in awe. they love fries. I hope you love fries too, reader. personally fries are the only thing I can imagine eating besides noodles.

other than the difference in species and the fact they're curious about your differences— they're also curious about you in general.

what is your deal? what makes you tick? what makes you happy? what has you absolutely excited? they hope you indulge them, and you hope they indulge you.

— general headcanons

neteyam prefers to keep affection private— the most you'll get from him is a forehead touch or kiss, and maybe a tail wrapped around your waist.

loak however is the opposite. kiss him, hug him, climb him, he'll absorb everything like a sponge. he's for pda 100% he will take any chance to show people he loves you more than he could love anyone else.

neteyam and lo'ak, ever the competitive siblings, love to compete in things — racing eachother, sparring with eachother, you name it— they're doing it and all in the hope of impressing you.

they're also very protective of you, in and out of your avatar body. you fall off a branch? "LO'AK GET THE FIRST AID KIT—" "GOT IT!" "GUYS ITS JUST A BRUISE—"

naturally, Jake is supportive of your relationship. he's seen alot of polygamy and polyamory in his lifetime, and he's not against it. he's all for it actually!! Jake Sully Number 1 LGBTQ+ Ally on Pandora. he rolls with the lgbtqia+ plus , guys. every moment. like, not to call people out but have you seen max patel???? that man is MORE THAN JUST AN ALLY and also it's quite literally 2100s. come on now. you can't tell me he wouldn't be an ally.

the siblings are willing to learn more about polygamy and welcome you with open arms! kiri is basically your best friend — tuk is the one child you swore to protect like seven seconds into meeting her. spider and you, both being human, are also friends! you exchange stories with eachother and also bicker alot!!

you cant expect neytiris support to be more than just advice or knowing looks. personally, I think she's more open minded than people take for. I have no evidence. I'm just right. she mothers you in no time.

you, lo'ak and neteyam are new to polygamy, and although no one can promise a peaceful ride— you could care less.

you can get through anything with eachother.

[lovebugism]

Hi I am begging on my knees for more of your steddie x reader it’s so good I’m crying

BIZARRE LOVE TRIANGLE | baby fever

summary: steve's got a bad case of baby fever. it's not so bad until you start getting sick with it too. eddie has to come up with a solution before all of you fall ill.

pairing: steve harrington / f!reader / eddie munson

a/n: i just realized i haven't posted anything steddie related in almost three months. i am so sorry. this is a total travesty. please enjoy this 3k blurb and find it in your heart to forgive me <3

You squint at the grocery list scribbled on a bright blue sticky note. It’s a mish-mash of all your different handwritings. Some are certainly neater than others. “This just says crabs… I think...”

“It doesn’t say crabs, you loon,” Eddie laughs from where he mans the shopping cart beside you. He’s steering the thing about as well as his van. “It says cereals.”

“No, it says a bunch of gibberish that no one can read but you,” you retort with a giggle of your own as you follow him down the breakfast aisle. “And we just need one box of cereal, alright? Singular.”

He turns to you with a cartoonish pout on his lips. “But why?”

“Because you’re like a kid, Eds. You eat the entire thing in one sitting, and then you’re absolutely haywire for the rest of the day.”

And, just like a child, the boy stands in front of the vibrantly colored boxes of cereal with a wide grin on his face.

The local grocery store was smaller compared to the others in town, but they had every brand of the breakfast food known to man, stacked in neat rows from the floor to ceiling. 

Eddie’s got a twinkle in his eye as his gaze runs over them all. And even though you think it’s all boyish and hilarious, you let him have his fun. 

He grew up unable to enjoy all the goodness of overly sweet cereal because bills and food with actual sustenance were always more important. Now, he’s got a halfway stable job with Wayne at the car shop, and he’s living at his own place with his boyfriend and girlfriend, and he can buy whatever the hell kind of cereal he wants. 

So, as far as he’s concerned, everyone who said he’d never amount to much can suck it. 

And you know you’ll let him buy the whole damn grocery store out of their cereal if that’s what he wants. It’s the least you can do for the world’s best boyfriend — a title he begrudgingly shares with Steve The Hair Harrington.

You’d give him the world if you could, but for now you’ll have to settle for a couple of boxes of Lucky Charms.

“Okay, so the OJ’s we got last time tasted like absolute shit,” Eddie mutters, mostly to himself as he crouches to peer at the lower shelves. “I saw a commercial for Waffle-O’s this morning, and they looked pretty good. But I know you like Breakfast With Barbie and Steve ate a bowl of C3PO’s every day for, like, two weeks, so…”

You stand by the cart and laugh at his rambling. You turn to look behind you with a lighthearted joke sitting on the edge of your tongue. It dissipates when you realize Steve isn’t next to you. 

Instead, he’s still standing at the end of the aisle with his back to you and Eddie — like his feet forgot how to work when he caught sight of the family across the store. It’s a mother and a father, dressed in their mid-weekday finest, with a baby swaddled at their chest and a toddler bouncing in the seat of the shopping cart. 

And you know it’s got the boy totally lost in his own head. You know he's picturing you and him and Eddie as that happy family — the one fills every store you walk into with baby babbles and bubbly laughter. 

Steve told you his senior year of high school he wanted a baby, that he wanted six of them, and that he wanted them all with you. And you were just a stupid seventeen-year-old girl who would’ve done anything he asked you to, though you definitely drew the line at babies. 

But you’re older now, and far more settled than you had been all that time ago. Steve’s ready for a family, but you don’t think you’re anywhere close.

“How about we just compromise and get all three?” Eddie finally concludes with the boxes already in his arms. He dumps them into the cart and notices that your attention is elsewhere. He realizes then that Steve’s gone too because his attention is stuck on a nice family minding their own business. 

“Not again…” he murmurs to himself while you go rescue the boy.

“I’ve never seen someone so sick with baby fever in my life,” you laugh as you drag Steve back to the cart by his wrist.

“I can’t help it!” he defends weakly. “They were so cute! They were all matching and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I can’t wait to coordinate outfits with our baby. Doesn’t that sound like the cutest fucking thing ever?”

“It sounds very adorable, Stevie,” you nod understandingly and try to ignore the way your stomach twists at the thought of him and his baby girl wearing matching pastels every time they step out of the house. “And we can be just like them in five years—”

“Five years?” he gapes.

“Maybe even ten,” Eddie shrugs and nonchalantly tosses a box of Count Chocula into the cart.

“Ten years— You guys are insane if you think I’m waiting ten years to have a kid!” Steve protests with a pair of buff arms crossed boyishly over his chest. “I’m not getting any younger over here, you know that, right?”

“You’re twenty-five, Steve, stop being so dramatic. We’re just now trying to get settled. I’m still in school, you’re still working at Family Video, Eddie’s still… Eddie. Don’t you think we should have actual careers before we have a kid?”

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance even though he knows you’re right.

It’s not like he wants to keep working at the stupid store on Main Street. He keeps putting off the conversation with his dad about another job, because he puts off every conversation with his dad. He’s scared of what asking for a position at his firm will do to his pride.

“She’s right, and you know it, Steven,” Eddie tells him, then scoffs. “I mean, can you really imagine me with a baby strapped to my chest on tour?”

You and Steve both pause and tilt your heads to the side as you picture the sight, terribly in sync as always. You can imagine it, quite perfectly actually, tangible enough to touch.

“Well—”

“That’s the cutest thing I think I’ve ever heard,” Steve finishes your thought for you.

Eddie cowers at the sudden attention. “Okay, stop looking at me like I’m a piece of meat, alright? We are not having a kid right now. There’s no fucking way.”

Steve all but deflates at the rejection as Eddie pushes the cart down the aisle, desperate to escape the bubble of tension the conversation had created in the cereal section.

You smile sheepishly over at Steve and wrap your arms through the crook of his elbow, standing on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “He’s being grumpy about it, but he’s right… It’s just not a good idea right now— but it will be, okay? One day. Just not… to-day.”

┄

The day, for you, comes exactly seven of them later. 

You accompany Steve on his morning run and his routine stop for coffee. You’re not quite sure how he’s still mobile because your muscles are screaming, even after the warm shower you took to soothe them.

You left him alone for all of half a second to use the bathroom while he ordered drinks for him and you, and something extra for Eddie for when the boy decides to roll out of bed.

When you return, you find him bouncing a baby on his hip — a young thing, maybe three if you had to guess, with two buns in her hair like bunny ears and a sparkly pink dress to match the bows she wears in them.

Steve smiles down at her, talking to her in a baby voice and saying something you can’t hear because you’re frozen in place. You resemble him at the grocery store a week ago, when he was thrown into a daydream so suddenly that his body all but shut down. 

You look at him now, tickling the baby’s sides just to hear her giggle, and you see him with your firstborn — sleep deprived, covered in spit-up, and still the most beautiful human you’d ever seen.

You have to shake your head to remove the thought before it ruins you entirely. 

Freshly jostled from your stupor, you walk over to him. “Steve… Please tell me you didn’t steal someone’s baby.”

He laughs. “What? No! She was just a little fussy, and I offered to take her while her mom looked for something,” the boy explains. You look just behind him to see the woman bent over at one of the smaller tables, sifting vigorously through a large baby bag.

“She doesn’t seem very fussy now,” you observe, eyes flitting between his and the child's and noticing they’ve both got matching grins.

“She doesn’t, does she?” he smiles, softly scratching at her sides again to make her laugh. And she does, most enthusiastically so, tilting her head back and letting the giggles spill from an open mouth.

He turns back to you, with wide eyes and raised brows and a bemused grin. “I like she likes me.”

“Of course, she does,” you scoff. “Babies always like you.”

The mom returns with a snack in hand and a relieved smile. Steve passes the baby back to her with little effort. She whines at the loss of him, though the brightly packaged treat is quick to quell her sorrow. 

“Thanks for taking her,” the mother's grateful smile falters with exhaustion. “If I don’t give her the same snack at exactly the same time every day, she tends to go a little nuts.” 

Steve tells her that it’s no problem, that he was a part-time babysitter at one point in his life, and that her kid was better than those little shits combined. He censors himself before the swear slips out, though.

You go your separate ways when the barista calls out your drink orders and walk hand in hand back to your place.

“Did you get their names?” you ask him before taking a sip of your latte.

“The mom’s name was Maeve and the kid’s name was Harper—”

“Holy shit,” you mutter.

Steve snaps his head over to you because he thinks you’ve burnt your mouth. Instead, he finds you with a distant smile on your face.

“Those are the cutest names I’ve ever heard. It sounds like something out of a fucking cartoon or something.”

“Yeah…” is all he can say because his mind is preoccupied with a million other thoughts. He doesn’t tell you them, obviously, but you know they’re there. The sly smile pulling at his lips makes it obvious.

“…Why are you looking at me like that.”

“Because I’m totally gonna wear you down,” he grins and brings his coffee to his mouth, sipping through his smirk.

You only scoff in response. “Never.”

┄

It doesn’t take you very long to realize that Steve was right.

You spend the rest of the day thinking about it — about him with a baby and how perfect he'd be as a dad. The thoughts plague you far more than they usually do. They take up the entire frontal cortex of your brain and make it nearly impossible to think about anything else.

You’re self-aware enough to beat yourself up about it. 

You were just telling him that it wasn’t time yet, and you knew you were right. As far as you’re concerned, you still have another few good years before you’re ready to even start seriously considering it. 

But here you are, having to calm yourself down every time the thought of Steve Harrington with a baby, your baby, crosses your mind.

You wait until the boy heads to bed to talk to Eddie about it. You find him in the kitchen, eating handfuls of Breakfast with Barbie like a maniac. You’re too preoccupied to make a snarky comment about it.

“Steve wasn’t lying,” you warn him.

“..About what?” he wonders through the mouthful.

“About him not waiting ten years to have a baby! He wants one now!” you explain through a yell-whisper hybrid. “And he told me he was going to wear me down, and he was right.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide too, like he’s just learned you caught some sort of plague. You have. It’s called baby fever, and it’s only a matter of time before the entire house is afflicted. “Shit…”

“So you have to be the strong one, Eddie.”

“Oh, god,” he whines with pinched brows. “Why does it have to be me?”

“Because I saw him hold a baby today.”

“…And this is a bad thing?”

“Of course, it’s a bad thing! My hormones went crazy, okay? It’s like my brain stopped functioning, and I started thinking with my ovaries or something! All human instinct told me to lay down and procreate the second we got home!”

Eddie laughs to himself. “Are you sure it was human instinct, or was it just you on a normal Wednesday?”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you tell him, a sudden solemnity to your features. “You have to put your foot down whenever Steve talks about it because I will cave.”

“Alright, alright, have some Barbie cereal and settle down,” he tells you with a playful grin.

He offers you the box and you pout for a moment before sticking your hand into it and pulling out several red and purple butterfly pieces.

The boy wraps an arm around you with his free hand. He pulls you closer and noses at the crown of your head. You sigh as you relax into him. 

“I’ll take care of it, okay? I actually have the perfect idea.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you waver through a mouthful of cereal.

“Don’t worry about it,” he lilts with a grin, smacking a kiss to your forehead. “Let me take care of it.”

┄

You and Steve are tangled in bedsheets, both slowly rousing but trying desperately to go back to sleep. 

You’re laying on your stomach, face smushed into the pillow you clutch to your head. Steve lays halfway on top of you — his legs knotted with yours, arm splayed over your back, and softly snoring in your ear. 

Both of you noticed the lack of Eddie’s presence, but chose not to linger on it too much, figuring he must’ve gone for a breakfast run. 

He returns hardly a moment after the thought of him crosses your mind. You hear the door open and shut again, then the shouts of your names entwined with a muffled barking.

You groan at the intrusion on your sleep.

Steve huffs and shifts against you, voice gruff with fatigue as he wonders: “Why do I hear a dog?”

The mixture of confusion and subtle knowing has you both shuffling out of the bedroom and trudging into the living room.

You round the corner and find Eddie standing by the door with a rowdy goldendoodle bouncing at his feet. He’s trying hopelessly to undo its leash when the thing starts to squirm at the sight of you and Steve.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the both of you when he notices you standing across the room. A smile bursts like early morning sunshine on his face. “Surprise!” he beams.

The metal of the leash clicks when he finally gets it unbuckled. The dog dashes your way, all but jumping into Steve and then spinning in circles with excitement as it tries to figure out who to accept attention from. 

“You got us a dog?” the boy wonders, head cocked back to dodge the thing as it licks at his chin.

“You said you wanted a baby,” Eddie shrugs. “So, I got you a baby.”

“This is so not what a meant,” the boy grouses in response, though he’s got his arms wrapped around the dog like he’s hugging it. “I mean, it’s not even a baby— it’s huge.”

“The woman at the shelter said he was eight months old. And he is a he, so stop calling him it.”

You crouch beside Steve, scratching the dog behind his ear. He pants with his tongue sticking out, almost looking like he’s smiling. It makes you smile too. 

“We don’t even have dog food. Or toys. Or a bed,” you stress. “What are we even gonna name it?”

“Well, I took care of exactly one of those things,” Eddie lilts with a grin. “They only had that gross artificial shit at the grocery store, but they did have some badass collars and an engraving machine, so…”

You and Steve peek through the dog’s golden curls and find a black band with silver spikes dotted around the neck. “Super metal, huh?” you hear himEdiejoke as you reach for the dangled heart pendant handing around the collar.

“…Ozzy?” you recite.

“See what I mean?” he beams. “Metal.”

[elsa-fogen]

Hey-hey! I've seen you mentioned somewhere that you think Rosie is straight (or bi?). How do you think Alastor would react if she ever got a boyfriend? (Not necessarily a serious one, but, I mean, us girls also have needs an' all lol)

So, Rosie is TERRIBLE at choosing boyfriends for herself. Somehow. She's also over excited about every new partner and always is like HE IS THE ONE! And Alastor is trying to warn her an remind her about last 50 "The Ones", but she never listens. And then she cries over broken heart (for one evening, then goes back to normal). Usually her boyfriends end up on their dinner table in 2 weeks or so. Sometimes they get to go alive. Sometimes they can even last more than 2 weeks and that's where Alastor begins to worry. He doesn't belive in love and suspects that new Rosie's boyfriend is going to use her somehow, and that's why acting like a good man (Alastor doesn't belive in good men either). Usually he's right tho. He threatens them that if they broke Rosie's heart, they'll be killed in the most painful way possible.

It was two or three times where the man was actually good and in love with Rosie, and they even were together like 1-2 years before Rosie got bored (and they were probably also eaten)

Tho, she has a good taste in women (pun intended). It's because she never thinks of them as of a serious partner (because she is from that time you know yeah). Alastor doesn't mind her girlfriens at all, in fact, he can even become kind of friends with them. And yes it happened few times where girl fell in love with him lol

It didn't end well (for all of the love triangle)

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Fic Titles: Song Edition

Part III

More than distance between us - California King Bed, Rihanna

A waking nightmare that is only worse when I am sleeping - Kill The Messenger, Jack's Mannequin

Company under cover, filling space in your sheets - Candles, Daughter

Everything looks better when the sun goes down - Make me wanna die, The Pretty Reckless

Lay your head on me one last time - So cold, Breaking Benjamin

So just pour a drink (let's talk it over) - Robots will cry, Cobra Starship

Am I the one you think about - Pink Rabbits, The National

Until you hold my hand - Swing Life Away, Rise Against

All colors and cares glaze to gray - Taro, alt-J

I fall in love just a little ol' little bit - Someone new, Hozier

Sometimes goodbye is a second chance - Second chance, Shinedown

Have we got our lines crossed? - Don't waste my time, Victor Lundberg

A souvenir for the morning - The Consequence, You Me At Six

I hate loving you as much as I do - Where is her head, The National

Destined for this and the crown - Solo, Jennie

Soft skin and soft lips - girls, girl in red

Every time we lie awake - I hate everything about you, Three Days Grace

But we're still sleeping like we're lovers - Still, Daughter

Can't give you my soul - Somebody Else, The 1975

I can feel you dreaming of me - Wester, AFI

There's a fine line between love and hate - The Diary of Jane, Breaking Benjamin

Could you love me at my worst? - @ my worst, blackbear

Because we're one of a kind - God's Menu, Stray Kids

Triangles are my favorite shape - Tessellate, alt-J

Desperate minds mean desperate measures - Playing the blame game, You Me At Six

Someone I am made for - Forever yours, Sunrise Avenue

Put your sweet lips on my lips - Like real people do, Hozier

And I'll lie and you'll believe - Just tonight, The Pretty Reckless

Call me your favorite, call me the worst - Call me, Shinedown

Then tell me to leave (and baby I'll go) - July, Noah Cyrus

More titles!

[vernons-girl]

hi! yeah um i.. read ur newest fic 'not her' with kmg and i kind of wanted to add a continuation to that...? (only if u want to ofc!)

so basically reader got her heart broken by mingyu and her sister, soooo she goes on and vents her feelings and how heart broken she is to another one of her pals, seungcheol (without knowing seungcheol likes reader) so he comforts her and u can probably add the ending (fluff or angst or anything!)

im sorry this is too long.. i rlly tried to make it shorter lmao (btw i LUV ur fics so much)

not her | kim mingyu - choi seungcheol pt.2

PART 1 ; PART 2 ; PART 3 (final)

angst, fluff,wc:2.5k

taglist: @gaslysainz ; @graybaeismytae ; @mansaaay

a/n: did i completely put mingyu aside in this part? yes. will i make a part three where we really dive into the drama with everyone kdrama love triangle way? you guys tell me hehe

You couldn't bear looking at the scene that was unfolding in front of your eyes so you gathered your stuff in a hurry and left, completely forgetting the idea of shopping for a new outfit.

You made it home in record time. Rushing to lock yourself in your room once you made it through the door.

Mingyu choosing someone else than you was one thing, but your sister going behind your back to betray you, after you had confided in her? That was a whole other thing.

You couldn't help but cry as soon as you found yourself alone in the comfort of your room. You were feeling too many things at the same time and couldn't quite pinpoint why you were crying. Was it the pain? The anger? The disappointment? The heartbreak? Maybe it was all of it at once.

You couldn't bare the idea of having to face any of them about the issue right now, let alone having to see your sister when she would get back home, so you did the first thing that came to mind : you packed an overnight bag, texted your most trustful friend and headed over to his place.

You reached Seungcheol's place about an hour after you had texted him. You hadn't told him much over text, actually you hadn't told him anything besides 'can i come spend the night?' to which he agreed, of course, he didn't need to know why you needed to spend the night over at his place when you had a perfectly decent bed of your own, he just agreed without any further questions.

He greeted you at the door with a worried look on his face that he couldn't conceal no matter how hard he tried. You've confided in him before, but never did it feel so worrying. Without a second thought, he pulled you inside with a hug. The action broke down all the walls you had tried to build on your way there instantly. You felt as if you were falling apart in his arms, melting in his embrace perhaps, and you let the tears stream down your face, not caring about the embarrassing whines coming out of your mouth as you did so. He didn't seem to care either. Because all he did was hold you, closely, firmly but carefully, rubbing soothing circles on your back, shushing you like one would do with a baby. But it all felt so right amongst all the chaos around you that you let yourself be in the moment, until he pulled you straight on your feet to lead you to the living room, "Come on, let's talk about this around a warm drink, yeah?" he said, trying his best to show off a reassuring smile.

You obliged and sat down on the couch as Seungcheol got some snacks ready along with something to drink. In the meantime you allowed yourself to relax, sunking down onto the couch wishing it could somehow swallow you whole.

Thankfully, Seungcheol joined you pretty quickly so you didn't have the time to get lost in your thoughts once again. You straightened up to grab the cup he was handing out to you from the tray he had placed on the coffee table in front of you.

"Sooooo..." Seungcheol started, he didn't want to push you into it but he still needed to at least have an idea of what was going on.

You took a sip of your drink followed by a deep breath.

"So... I had a crush on this guy, and I genuinely thought that he could like me, you know?" you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes once again.

"And I wasn't the only one thinking this.. my sister thought so too." Seungcheol now had a curious look and urged you to keep going.

"I was supposed to meet up with him in a few days and I really wanted to confess, I really did." this time, the tears fell from your eyes, you couldn't help it, it was so fresh, so hard, your body needed to express this unbearable inner pain it was feeling.

Seungcheol offered some comfort with his free hand coming to rub up and down your arm, "We don't have to talk about it any more if you don't feel like it," he reassured you.

"No, it's okay, you affirmed, so, you started again, I wanted to make things right, I wanted to impress him, to make him like me any more than he might already do, so I went to the mall to do some shopping, a sob escaped from your dry lips, but then I saw them, him, her" you sniffled, letting out shaky breaths in an attempt to calm yourself down.

"Them ? Him? Her?" Seungcheol asked.

"My crush and my sister" you finally said, your heart breaking a little more. The look on your friend's face changed to... confusion?

"Wait so you saw your sister with your crush at the mall? What about it?

- They were kissing, Seungcheol. Kissing."

Upon hearing this last word, his expression morphed to anger in a matter of seconds.

"What the fuck?!" he suddenly exclaimed, almost slamming his mug down onto the table.

"She kissed him knowing you liked him? This is so twisted. I can't believe it." He let out in disbelief, rubbing a hand down his face.

"And he didn't tell me either. He never told me he was seeing someone. What if she told him about my crush on him and they both fucked me over? you put your face in both on your hands, crying softly, What am I supposed to do now Seungcheol?" you questioned desperately, almost pleading him for an answer.

He leaned back in his seat, looking up in thought.

"Who is he?" he finally asked.

"Who's who?" okay maybe it wasn't the best idea to play dumb, but how could you tell him that Mingyu, your friend who also happens to be one of Seungcheol's, broke your heart ?

"The guy, he said firmly, who's the guy?" ok so now he wasn't playing. You've never seen him look this serious before, the concern and anger still obvious on his face.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the worst when you breathed out : "Mingyu."

He clenched his fists upon hearing the name leave your shaky lips. As a matter of fact, his whole body tensed.

"So you saw Mingyu kissing your sister who knew you liked Mingyu ?" he summarized.

"Yeah.." you confirmed, your gaze lingering on the floor, the carpet curiously looking much more interesting than you friend who was sitting across from you.

"Does she know ? he asked

-Mh?

-Your sister. Does she know you saw them ?

-No, they didn't see me and I came over before she got home, so we didn't talk about it.

-And do you think he knew?

-Knew what ?

-That you liked him ?

-I don't know.. I don't think so, you reasoned, he would never be so cruel. you affirmed

-Yeah, you're probably right.." Seungcheol agreed, even though he wanted nothing but to punch his dear friend in the face for hurting you, he also knew it wasn't his style to hurt people's feelings. I mean this guy literally apologized to his last girlfriend for breaking up with her so of course he wasn't going to hurt one of his closest friends.

Seungcheol sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "This is a messed up situation, no doubt about it," he muttered, his expression reflecting a mixture of concern and anger.

You nodded, feeling a bit of relief knowing Seungcheol was there to listen, even if he couldn't magically fix everything. It was nice knowing there was at least one person you could trust in this whole mess.

After a moment of silence, Seungcheol leaned forward, taking both of your hands in his, his eyes fixed on you. "Listen, I know it hurts like hell right now, but you're stronger than this. I'm not going to tell you to not think about it because I know it feels impossible right now but you need to focus on yourself, okay ?

- Yeah.. you replied.

- What do you need right now?"

You thought for a moment, wiping away the tears that still lingered. "I just... I need some time to figure things out. Away from all of this," you said, gesturing vaguely around you.

Seungcheol nodded in understanding. "Alright. I get it. You can stay here as long as you need. I'll be here for you, okay?"

You managed a weak smile, feeling a sliver of hope, "Thank you, Seungcheol. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He smiled back, a reassuring presence in the middle of all of this turmoil. "You don't have to figure it all out right now. Just take it one step at a time. And remember, you're not alone in this." he finally said, giving your hands a reassuring squeeze.

And as you glanced over at Seungcheol, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest, realizing just how much he truly cared for you. Perhaps, in the midst of all this chaos, there was a silver lining after all—a silver lining named Seungcheol.

"Come on, let's get you settled in bed, yeah?" he said, standing up and offering his hand out for you to take. You did so and followed him down the hallway.

As Seungcheol led you to the spare bedroom where you would be spending the night, he couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside him. On one hand, he was glad to be able to offer you a comfortable place to rest after everything you'd been through. But on the other hand, he couldn't shake the pang of jealousy he felt at the thought of you sleeping under the same roof in a bed that wasn't his.

As he pulled back the covers and fluffed the pillows, he tried to push aside those selfish thoughts. After all, what mattered most was that you were safe and comfortable. But as he glanced over at you, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful you looked in the soft light of the bedside lamp, your eyes heavy with exhaustion yet still so full of resilience.

"Here you go," he said, gesturing to the bed. "I hope you'll be comfortable here."

You offered him a grateful smile as you sank down onto the mattress, letting out a contented sigh. "Thank you, Seungcheol. I really appreciate it."

He returned your smile, trying to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at the sound of your voice. "Of course. Anything for you."

As he turned to leave the room, he couldn't help but linger for a moment, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form. In that moment, he realized just how much he cared about you—more than just a friend, more than just a crush. And as he quietly closed the door behind him, he made a silent promise to himself to always be there for you, no matter what.

As you settled into the comfortable bed Seungcheol had prepared for you, your mind started to buzz with thoughts of the events that had unfolded earlier. Despite your exhaustion, sleep eluded you as you thought about your sister's and Mingyu's betrayal. A notification from your phone interrupted your thoughts, a message from your sister asking where I was, seemingly worried as to what you were up to. Against you better judgment, you decided to ignore it for the moment as you let out a heavy sigh and turned your attention to Seungcheol.

He had been so kind and supportive throughout the evening, offering you a safe haven and a shoulder to lean on. His actions spoke volumes, and somehow you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more behind his gestures. The way he looked at you, the tenderness in his voice—it all hinted at a deeper connection between you. And as you drifted off into a restless sleep, you couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps Seungcheol's feelings for you ran deeper than mere friendship.

After ensuring that the spare bedroom was tidy and comfortable for you, Seungcheol made my way to the living room to clean up the mess from earlier. As he picked up discarded snack wrappers and empty mugs, his mind also ended up wandering to the events of the evening.

He couldn't shake the anger and frustration he felt towards Mingyu for hurting you, someone he cared deeply about. And yet, amidst the chaos, he couldn't deny the flutter of hope that sparked within him at the thought of being there for you, of being the one you turned to in her time of need.

As he finished cleaning up, he reached for his phone and sent a quick text to Mingyu, his fingers hesitating over the keys. Despite his anger towards him, a part of him couldn't help but wonder if this was his chance to finally confess his feelings to you. But as he stared at the blank screen, he couldn't bring myself to send the message. Instead, he pocketed his phone and made his way back to the spare bedroom, his heart heavy with uncertainty and longing.

As Seungcheol lay in bed, the weight of the evening's events heavy on his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the situation than met the eye.

As he mulled over the possibilities, a nagging thought tugged at the corners of his mind. What if Mingyu wasn't entirely clueless about your feelings? What if, somehow, he had sensed your affection for him, even if you hadn't explicitly confessed it?

The idea seemed far-fetched at first, but the more Seungcheol thought about it, the more it made sense. Mingyu was perceptive, after all, and he had always been attentive to the people around him. Perhaps he had noticed the subtle glances, the lingering touches, the way your face lit up whenever you were near him.

But if Mingyu was aware of your feelings, why would he pursue a relationship with your sister? Was it out of genuine interest, or was there something more sinister at play? Seungcheol couldn't shake the feeling that there was a piece of the puzzle missing, something lurking beneath the surface that he couldn't quite grasp.

As he drifted off to sleep, his mind buzzing with unanswered questions, Seungcheol's thoughts inevitably turned to you. Despite the troubles of the evening, one thing remained clear: his feelings for you ran deep. With each passing moment, his love for you only seemed to grow stronger, anchoring him amidst the storm of uncertainty.

As he vowed to uncover the truth about Mingyu's intentions, Seungcheol's resolve was fueled not only by a sense of justice for you but also by a burning desire to protect you from further harm. For he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would do anything to ensure your happiness, even if it meant confronting his own heartache in the process.

With that thought in mind, Seungcheol closed his eyes, feeling a sense of determination wash over him. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he would face them head-on, armed with nothing but his unwavering love for you. And as sleep finally claimed him, he couldn't help but cling to the hope that, somehow, everything would turn out alright in the end.

[ilikekidsshows]

The Totally Spies-ification of Adrien

Okay, it's been long enough that I can actually discuss how Adrien's slavery is depicted in the show without anger-fueled exaggerations and hyperbole. I want to discuss how Miraculous treats Adrien's slavery very flippantly and how it is, like everything in this show post-retool, all about Marinette. The show has a lot of stuff that hints that the writers intend for Adrien to be viewed a very certain way. I believe the writers made Adrien a slave for Marinette’s benefit and I will explain how I came to this conclusion.

I’ve joked before about how Astruc has worked on Totally Spies, “one of the kinkiest cartoons ever made”. I’d like to tackle this idea and how it relates to Miraculous more seriously. I’d like to tackle the topic of titillation and how it relates to how this show approaches slavery with such flippancy. My claim is that Adrien being a slave is not meant to be horrifying, which is why the story doesn't treat it as such; it's meant to be titillating.

I usually don't use Read Mores, since they can lead to broken links later, but this is really long. Strap in, folks.

Titillation for the context of this analysis means “content with the intention to excite romantically or sexually”, basically it’s about “kinky” stuff. The purpose of talking about sexuality in relation to Miraculous is not to paint the writers as some kind of fiends, but to present the fact that many teenagers are curious about romance and sex and will think about sex unprompted. This means titillating content in cartoons doesn’t even need to be related to sex to be titillating. And Astruc has a history of putting titillating stuff in his work, with Totally Spies being a very notable example of how you can include non-sexual titillating content in a kids’ show.

It all comes down to expected audience reactions. Adrien is meant to be sexy. I don’t mean that in a “the writers think this is sexy” way, but a “the writers think the projected audience of straight teenage girls will think this is sexy” way. He gets put into bondage three times in ‘Copycat’, ‘Anti-Bug’ and ‘Reverser’ and all three times the camera seems to like to show him off. He is meant to be an object of attraction for the audience. The people criticizing this show have been pointing out how Ladybug's costume accentuates her butt for years, but this is not something that occurs with just Ladybug. When he isn't posing for the viewers, Cat Noir gets whacked around by Akuma’s a lot, but a lot of the time it ends with him in a prone position that is also titillating, in ‘Pixelator’ it goes as far as having his butt jut out. However, the idea that Cat Noir is the one who gets hit when an Akuma needs to show off how dangerous they are is also part of the power dynamic where Marinette or Ladybug gets to show off, so it’s not purely for titillation, which is why other examples, like ‘Stormy Weather’ are more comedic.

It’s likely that Adrien-as-Adrien doesn’t get to participate in the show’s slapstick much, since that aspect of the character is presented as the perfect beauty, a role usually reserved for female characters who only ever get a little bit flustered or banged up to make sure they keep looking attractive. Marinette screams "waack" and runs face first into a wall in the same episode where the silliest thing Adrien gets to do is sneeze (Mr Pigeon). Adrien is meant to be attractive, sexy, titillating, in different ways in his different forms. As Cat Noir he is more active and more sexy, as Adrien he’s more passive and pretty, much like how female love interests can fall into these categories. It’s the Betty and Veronica dichotomy; in the Archie franchise Betty and Veronica are shown as the wholesome and sexy romance options and the reason the writers go out of their way not to resolve the love triangle is to keep the appeal of these both options going. People’s tastes differ, so it would alienate some audiences to pick one over the other. With Miraculous they solved the problem by having the two romance options be the different identities of a single character.

Frankly, as of the season five finale, Adrien is approaching “sexy lamp” levels of replicating sexist ways of writing a female character but just changing the gender. What else do you call him lying on the floor in despair while his love interest gets his superpowers and uses them to beat up his abusive father, while somehow being perfectly fine and happily kissing Marinette later after said father is dead and gone? Adrien’s trauma is debilitating when it serves the writers’ purposes, but stops being a problem as soon as they need him to smile and look pretty. The main reason Adrien’s trauma is so inconsistent is so that he can act as Marinette’s trophy so that Marinette has somebody to kiss in the final shot. If Adrien was despairing about not being good enough for her, or grossly crying about being an orphan, Marinette wouldn’t have a fun time kissing him. And if Marinette isn’t having fun, the members of the audience projecting onto her aren’t having fun either.

Speaking of how Adrien’s depiction relates to Marinette, here comes the controversial part of this post: while Marinette is not depicted as a literal slave owner in-story, narratively, she is very much treated as Adrien's owner from a meta perspective. We, the viewers, are meant to see Adrien as Marinette's property, and the twist of Adrien being a part of a slave race in a dynamic where Marinette holds all the cards is meant to be a good thing. We have been primed to view everything about Adrien to actually be about Marinette, because Marinette is the center of the universe of Miraculous and Adrien belongs to her because he’s the main character’s love interest. Adrien being revealed to be a slave that Marinette could control but then chooses to “merely” manipulate is meant to be glorifying to Marinette and titillating to the viewer. I will elaborate.

Marinette has been incredibly possessive of Adrien since day one and she is only occasionally depicted as being in the wrong about this, when she goes too far by the show’s standards. She stalks Lila and Adrien whenever she sees them hanging out together and she’s unreasonably jealous of Kagami. The only time she is depicted as being in the wrong is not when she's sniffing Adrien's pillow after breaking into his room, but when she actually bullies Kagami out of jealousy, and even that is depicted as more of an unfortunate misunderstanding than Marinette actively doing something wrong. Marinette is more sympathetic towards Kagami when she finds out she and Adrien aren't as close as she thought, that Kagami’s pursuit of Adrien is more hopeless than hers. Basically, Marinette is only in the wrong because Kagami isn't a threat, not because she was doing anything wrong by bullying her to defend her “territory”.

This gets flipped near the end of the season, though. When Adrien and Kagami do start dating, it's depicted as this big tragedy even more so than Master Fu losing his memories. Master Fu going missing is an afterthought, while Adrien choosing someone else over Marinette is the big “darkest hour” moment of the season three mid-finale, the cliffhanger moment of her crying in Luka’s arms while all hope is lost. Marinette isn’t directly crying about this, she is crying from “all the pressure”, but Marinette breaking down happens immediately after a scene of Kagami leaning in to kiss Adrien that has a somber dirge playing in the background. The first part of the finale has everything going wrong at the end; Master Fu is missing, Chloé gets willingly Akumatized, Marinette breaks down, and Kagami leans in to kiss Adrien. These scenes being put closely together is telling us that these are all bad things to happen.

Adrien ending up with Marinette is a given, but it's also taken for granted. Every girl with an interest in Adrien is depicted as an antagonist, while Marinette can do whatever she wants in pursuit of Adrien and will still be morally correct. Chloé and Lila, even Kagami to a degree, are villainized for their attraction to Adrien in a way Nathaniel, Luka or Zoé are not with their attraction to Marinette. Chloé and Lila are full-blown villains while Luka and Zoé are some of the most selfless members of the cast. Kagami is aggressive and socially awkward in a way that is used to justify Marinette's initial distrust and dislike of her (in ‘Ikari Gozen’ Alya voices her pity towards Marinette for having to spend time with her) while Nathaniel is just the pitiful bullied loner who’s still a liked member of the class friend group. Girls who want Adrien are bad for trespassing on Marinette’s territory and trying to “steal” something that “belongs” to Marinette.

The writers thinking Adrien belongs to Marinette is also not just subtext. Later in season five, when Marinette and Adrien finally start dating, Marinette even outright states that Adrien “kinda does a little” belong to her when she’s scared that Zoé has a crush on him. The fumbling of the line means that the writers are aware of how toxic it is to consider your partner your property, but they want to include that sentiment anyway, because that’s how they view the situation. Marinette’s boyfriend is her property and other people can’t even look at her property. ‘Emotion’ continues on this increased possessiveness by having the entire Marinette plot happen because she can’t conceive Adrien keeping things from her, because he isn’t allowed privacy from her while Marinette lying to Adrien (or Cat Noir) is a show staple.

This same attitude of Adrien not being allowed to have romantic options outside of Marinette has also been in the fandom for years. Every time a new female character was introduced, there was a worry that she’d “try to steal Adrien from Marinette”. Marinette and Adrien are endgame, the writers know this and the fandom knows this. The characters don't know this, but it doesn't matter because Adrien was already seen as Marinette's (future) boyfriend even back in season one when he barely knew her. And this attitude the writers and audience have is extended to the characters more and more as the show goes on, as almost every single character becomes an Adrinette shipper in support of Marinette in season five, while no one thinks to ask Adrien what he thinks about this. Only once, in ‘Desperada’ did Alya suggest that Adrien could make his own choice on who to date, but it was implied the choice should be Marinette specifically (Marinette smiles at this, while Kagami frowns). The cast is lucky the writers have decided Adrien already is Marinette's, or he’d be really uncomfortable.

Season five episode ‘Pretension’ goes as far with this as having Marinette basically ask Gabriel for permission to be with Adrien, convinced that she and Adrien can be together with no problems if she can just get him to approve of her. And then Gabriel tells her he’s promised Adrien to Kagami. You know, like a piece of property women were treated as before women were allowed to live without a man to control them. The finale then ultimately does have Gabriel agree to hand Adrien over to Marinette by dying and leaving her in charge of Adrien. Just because she uses the privilege to do some things for Adrien’s benefit doesn’t make what happened any less of a patriarchal transaction. In fact, the writers wrote it that way on purpose, with the knight and princess parallels they set up between Marinette and Adrien earlier in the show being something they are prominently proud of (the “reverse fairytale” as they put it). Adrien is the princess the dashing hero Marinette gets to earn with her feats of bravery; he’s handed to her like a piece of property and Marinette is too happy with her acquisition to even be outraged on Adrien’s behalf. And Adrien wasn’t even allowed to know about any of this, instead it gets handled solely between Marinette and Gabriel, like his opinion on the matter didn’t even matter. And why would his opinion matter, since he already is ready to promise himself to Marinette, even as the writers deny him the agency to actually make such a promise.

The goal of making it obvious that Adrien is cool with being objectified like this is probably why they make Adrien so obsessed with Marinette in season five, constantly repeating her name to himself and saying stuff like: “I can’t stop thinking about you” in ‘Pretension’. They need to drive it home to the audience exactly how okay Adrien is with everyone forcing him to be with Marinette. After all, you can’t force the willing. As of ‘Confrontation’, Adrien’s official goals for the future are: “I love Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” I guess, from the perspective of the writers, the childhood dream of wanting to be what his parents wanted from ‘Wishmaker’ wasn’t sad because of Adrien’s lack of agency; it was sad because he wasn’t forsaking all of his personal pursuits for Marinette specifically. As far as the writers are concerned, Adrien should only care about Marinette and nothing else.

This same entitlement is also present in Ladybug and Cat Noir's relationship. Every time Cat Noir is upset with Ladybug, like in Frozer, Glaciator, Syren, The New York Special or even Kuro Neko, they never talk about what caused it. This is especially blatant in cases where Ladybug has wronged Cat Noir personally, like Kuro Neko or the NY Special, where she never has to face up to what she did wrong because Cat Noir comes back because she “needs him”.  Cat Noir will always come back to her without her having to do anything because she is the main character and she says she needs him. He exists for her and her needs. He exists for her; it’s just another way he’s hers.

Speaking of how Adrien is treated affects Marinette, even Adrien’s trauma actually belongs to her in the writing.  I pointed out earlier that Adrien’s trauma shows up when the writers need to put him out of commission, but disappears as soon as he needs to be Marinette’s trophy, but it goes further than just inconsistency. The early seasons spend several episodes on how Adrien is being locked up by his father and unable to hang out with his friends and, between him and Marinette, Marinette is the one shown to be more upset and hurt by this. They don’t do this in every episode, as ‘The Bubbler’ actually does a phenomenal job of making Adrien’s upset actually about him, but the big point in ‘Glaciator’ is that Marinette is so upset that she can’t see Adrien that she accidentally leaves Cat Noir on read so he’s upset about that. Adrien is only upset because he didn’t get attention from Marinette, while Adrien’s literal abuse at the hands of his father is only important because it makes Marinette upset. Even Adrien himself gets in on this action in ‘Conformation’ when the writers go as far as having Adrien chastise himself of not being more worthy of Marinette’s love when his dad is once again busy ruining his life. Even Adrien himself makes his abuse about Marinette; him being abused is bad because it’s inconveniencing Marinette and inconveniencing Marinette makes him less worthy of her.

‘Cat Blanc’ is possibly the worst offender of all, though. This episode should be all about how Adrien is abused by Gabriel, culminating with Gabriel turning him into a monster that destroys the world. And yet, what is the episode actually about? It’s about Marinette. The worst thing that could happen to Adrien is about Marinette. Only Marinette gets to remember or even know about the possibility of Cat Noir getting Akumatized and only Marinette is traumatized by it happening. After all that the writers later dare to use this event that didn’t actually happen anymore, that Adrien doesn’t know about, to justify him giving his powers to Marinette, because he’s “scared of getting Akumatized” when something like that has never happened as far as he knows. But the writers had him reason this way anyway, because apparently the culmination of Marinette’s character development in the show means taking Adrien’s power as her own and then failing to win even with that at her disposal.

Another note about ‘The Bubbler’ that has to be pointed out is that it’s also the first example of Marinette being presented as good for Adrien simply because she treats him better than Gabriel. The final scene of Marinette giving Adrien his best birthday present yet and letting him think it comes from Gabriel is done to show how selfless Marinette is by letting Adrien keep thinking good things about his abuser. This idea that Marinette is morally good simply because she’s better than pond scum Gabriel is also present in the season five finale, where Marinette manipulates, gaslights and keeps important information from her abused slave boyfriend. Marinette is presented as being in the right because at least she didn’t literally control him with a magical geas like Gabriel did and gave him the object with which to do so (while notably not telling him what it does). Marinette will do the bare minimum of not taking literal ownership of Adrien and we’re meant to see her as a paragon of goodness for it, while she still has no respect for Adrien’s autonomy and hasn’t had any since the show started.

The way the Sentimonster “reveal” is handled shows this utter lack of respect for Adrien’s autonomy that the writers, and Marinette by extension, have. The reveal is not for Adrien, but for Marinette, just like every other piece of Adrien has been made to be about Marinette. Marinette gets to know and she gets to decide if Adrien gets to know, and she decides “no”. She will manipulate him and lie to him to keep him happy for herself, she will keep important information about him to herself that he might never find out if anything happens to her, because Adrien is hers and no one else’s and she has the right to make that decision because the world revolves around her because the world of Miraculous was created to be her playground. “Adrien” is just a toy on that playground for Marinette to play with as the writers see fit.

Now we’re coming back to Adrien’s role as the sexy, titillating love interest character that I talked about at the start of this essay. If Marinette granting Adrien the bare minimum of freedoms as a slave while manipulating him “for his own good” is meant to be a good thing, why is Adrien even a slave? Well, outside of the writers wanting to add a plot twist that doesn’t come with any messy plot they’d have to write about characters other than Marinette, Adrien being a slave is also meant to be titillating. What really is magical super slavery than very, very off the wall bondage and power play stuff? The idea that Marinette could rob her love interest of his free will with ease but won’t because she cares about him so much is very empowering in two different ways. It gives Marinette all the power in the relationship and it makes her out to be such a good person that even having ultimate power over another person won’t corrupt her. Adding to that, we have Adrien’s people pleaser abuse victim personality, which makes him fawn over the people he loves. If Marinette ever wanted to have control over Adrien, Adrien would give it to her of his own volition, no need for magical super slavery or unbreakable geases.

As I stated earlier, Marinette is meant to be the point of view main character the audience of teen girls projects themselves onto. So, really, Adrien’s slavery and abuse responses are all about that fantasy of having a cute boy you have all the power over but not needing to use it because the boy is so nice and devoted to you anyway. Adrien really is “perfect”, the perfect object of attraction, a being who technically has free will but whose free will you never have to take into account because he’s been designed and trained to value other people’s wants and needs over his own.

Marinette doesn't literally own Adrien within the story, but the writers make it very clear that they think she should. In fact, in all ways except the literal, she already does.

[ladyriot]

Once upon a time, I used to believe that the reason I read Rizzoli and Isles' Dean arc as queer was the way he came up in the fight that Maura and Jane have in the first episode of season 3, wherein Maura directs specific vitriol at Jane's "boyfriend" in her anger at feeling betrayed when Jane shoots Paddy. I've realized recently that it all starts much earlier. As in... the literal first episode. And it's actually, subconsciously, been one of the major reasons I ever interpreted Jane and Maura as potentially queer for each other.

In Jane and Maura's first scene on screen together, Dean makes an appearance that reveals a tension between the two women and plays off of their earlier intimacy.

First, Maura and Jane display their close, intimate relationship as they survey the crime scene. Both Maura's immediate defence of Jane as she chastizes Korsak for not warning her it was a Hoyt-like crime, and Maura setting Jane's broken nose present them as intimate.

This is placed almost immediately next to their meeting Dean for the first time, reinforcing him as a stranger, even an interloper onto that scene of intimacy. Maura indicates her interest in Dean non-verbally (which reads as intimate too), and further, she reads the potential for Jane's territorial behaviour to emerge and both gives a little warning and phsyically steps between them.

Because of Maura's displays of intimacy and knowledge of Jane, Jane's response of outright aggression becomes more meaningful. Her posture shift does not only indicate a desire to threaten Dean's intrusion onto her crime scene but also Dean's intrusion into her intimate connection with Maura. Jane slants herself as if she's offended she's not an option.

Um... what is that thing about how you point your feet at the person you're most engaged with in a social situation? There has to be some meaning about where you point your pelvis...

Anyway, later scenes show us what Jane looks like when she's inviting romantic attention from men, and that involves her making herself smaller, making herself look less sure and aggressive, and leaning into traditional femininity. It's quite the opposite of what she's doing here, which I read as laying a claim... on the crime scene but also on Maura.

This is fascinating because, at first, I'd mistakenly believed it was Maura's queer jealousy that cropped up first, but this reading actually presents the opposite scenario.

This kind of framing comes up again, in this same episode, when Jane flees her apartment to stay at Maura's for the night. In Maura's guest room, Jane spies to see who Maura's nighttime visitor is, and then they have that exchange on the bed. The question of Maura's potential attraction to Jane comes up in the same brief span as the question of whether or not Maura has ever had a crush on the same guy as her best friend, intermixing these two potential attractions in such an interesting way.

It's almost like Jane is giving mixed signals here. She's asking Maura if she's attracted to her only in joking terms... because for some reason she doesn't feel like she can ask it seriously. But as their conversation turns towards Dean, and their supposedly shared attraction to him, I'm instantly reminded of the concept of some of Eve Sedgwick's work on homosociality and erotic triangles and how those theories have impacted my own understandings of love triangles in media. I'm going to way oversimplify it here, but essentially when two people of the same gender are vying for the attention of the same different gendered love interest, I'm more interested in the bonds presented between the two of the same gender — whether it's rivalry, intimacy, potential sexual attraction (especially when it's wrapped up in taboos, social norm violations, and repression), or some complex mix of the three. And just, wow, this connection between Jane and Maura is ripe for that kind of reading. It becomes really easy to read Jane's "pursuit" of Dean as a way of attaining conventionality through a connection that also engages her potentially unconventional attraction to Maura (and a resistance to admit that) by being with someone Maura finds attractive. Jane isn't really showing attraction to Dean, but she is very much going for the closest conventional relationship she can that partly expresses her repressed, "taboo" attraction. (I wonder now if this contributed to my reading Jane specifically as a lesbian, rather than bisexual, through most of the series, but that's a bit besides the point).

Doesn't this just make it so interesting how Maura had physically insinuated herself between Jane and Dean?

It's also significant for me that when Jane does pretty herself up with lipstick to go see Dean, she rebuffs him and is consistently iffy about him despite the so-called attraction she admits to Maura. It's also very much giving that repressed queer experience of having a crush on a girl and being so jealous of her relationship, but not being able to conceive of yourself as queer, so mistaking that for a crush on her boyfriend. You know?!

Later on in the show, when Jane is with Dean, there is still so much to this dynamic. Maura calls Jane on a date with Dean and she immediately runs to meet her, choosing her, prioritizing her. It's what makes it so sick-inducing when, after Maura reveals that she doesn't know if she wants Jane to catch Paddy, Jane goes on to tell Dean the FBI agent with a hard-on for catching criminals at all costs about his presence in Boston in a specifically romantic scene. You know, which then causes a chaotic scene that requires Jane to shoot Paddy after feeling up his daughter to set her up on a sting... There was so much wrong with that, I'm honestly surprised there was a moment in Maura's tirade for her queer jealousy to slip in, but it does.

Hell if they're not in big fat queer love with each other, whether they admit it or not.

[songsofadelaide]

Covet

tw/cw: set in 2013, we're in high school, always sleepy female reader, established relationship, fluff, slice of life, mentions of other female students gossiping about reader, making out, dry humping, atsumu going through it, reader trying to prove a point — From where you sat, gently cradled in his arms, you could see why other girls seethed at you in jealousy. His brown eyes drank in your every feature like you were the only thing worth looking at in the world. wc: 2.6k words

Everyone knows that the sleepy second year girl is happily taken by Japan's number one high school setter.

Your relationship goes back a year from now, when you were both first years. Atsumu had found you asleep nearby while he was closing up the gym, book in your hand but your head definitely in dreamland. It wasn't your intention, but you had overslept and woke up at dusk fall, which was way beyond the afternoon time limit you set for yourself.

You walked home together that one time and became fast friends afterwards. He would catch you at the cafeteria and drop a milk box or juice box in your hands from time to time. ("Y'know, to keep you awake, aho," he once told you.) On other days, it was one of Osamu's experimental onigiris. Some days, it would be two or three jelly fruit sticks he obviously nabbed from Suna. His loud laughter whenever he'd tell you a stupid joke would draw everyone's attention to you both until he was unwillingly dragged away by his twin for their next class. 

There were rumours spreading around about Atsumu being a heartbreaker, but you thought it was already given seeing as he was popular and had a lot of admirers around him. You never quite understood why he wouldn't date anyone, though. Apart from volleyball and classes, there was nothing else in between for him. 

...except there was something. Or someone. Because that's what he'd been telling the girls who confessed to him...

Not that it was any of your business, but if he were seeing someone while also hanging out with you, it would pose a problem because you didn't want any jealous girlfriend on your tail, especially when you just wanted to sleep in peace. 

"I think we should stop hanging out with each other too much."

You recalled how red his face went after you told him that while you were on your way home together one time. 

"One of the girls from my class said you rejected her because you were already seeing someone. Now I don't wanna be caught up in some vicious love triangle, Miya. You of all people should know that I value my quiet life and I just want to sleep and write in peace—"

"Man, are ya dumb or what?!"

"What?! Why am I suddenly the dumb one here?!"

"Because you are!"

You stared at each other angrily, red-faced and ready to shout again before he finally let out a sigh of defeat. 

"Ya really don't get it, do ya?"

"G-Get what?"

When you arrived back home, it was your mother who opened the gate for you, and she was caught entirely by surprise when Atsumu bowed down before her and formally (and nervously) asked if he could start dating you. 

(Apparently, your mother and his mother knew each other since they were both part of the same local tea club, so he pretty much had her approval from the get go.)

The fact that you were what was in between his volleyball and classes made you absolutely self-conscious. You had asked him to keep it a secret for the meantime until just recently...

What was supposed to be an unconfirmed rumour finally came to light on your second year, when Atsumu first came to your homeroom to join you for lunch. Seeing him there surprised your classmates, particularly Suna, who jokingly raised the question of dating at his teammate. 

"Huh? Yeah, we're dating." 

It slipped out of the setter's mouth so smoothly and easily that it completely gave away how long the two of you have been going out. 

It was no surprise that some of the girls at school considered you some kind of odd bird when word came out that you were Atsumu's mystery girlfriend.  Whispers and murmurs were afloated a lot when  the other girls from your class thought you weren't around. 

"Maybe he likes prudes?"

"...a sheltered girl from a traditional family..."

"He found her asleep near the gyms. She probably waited for him out there and..."

Locker room talk like this was rampant and it definitely put a dent on your peaceful school life. Yes, somehow every aspect of your relationship with your boyfriend was whispered about, passed around like notes in class. Atsumu was popular in his own right and was often the subject of things you wished you never heard. Things you wished you could shut your ears to. 

"Ah, I wish he dated me instead. I'd give him such a good time."

And while you were completely dense to his feelings at first, you knew exactly what the other girls meant when they talked about giving him a good time. 

You didn't have the nerves of steel that other girls did when it came to such perverted talk, but you had an iron will to change how such words were being thrown around you so casually. Especially since they were talking about your boyfriend.

Saturdays meant half-day training for the volleyball club and Atsumu found himself invited to your house at the most convenient and curious time. He arrived there still in his club tracksuit, obviously not thinking much about the invitation, but he looked rather unnerved when you opened the gates for him in that airy pale blue sundress with the ribboned straps resting on your shoulders. He followed you in soundlessly as he looked around the compound, looking to greet your family.

"It's unusually quiet here today. Where's your mom and aunts?"

He had taken his seat on the tatami floor of your spacious bedroom, training bag set aside on one corner. 

"There's no one else here," you told him, shutting the sliding doors behind you. 

"Oh."

You stared at each other for a solid minute, faces slowly turning red at the prospect of finally being able to spend an hour or two completely alone with each other.

"D-Don't stare at me, aho!" You started, cheeks obviously flushed as you stomped towards him. 

A chuckle left his lips, a grin finally appearing as he stretched out his hand to reach for you. You gently slid your hand into his and felt yourself be pulled down beside him. Surprisingly, you both let out sighs of relief at the same time, but he could tell that yours was definitely out of defeat. 

"Are ya finally gonna tell me what's going on, sweet thing?" 

There was no way he could make himself small, even as he sat before you, broad shoulders slightly hunched so he could meet your gaze. 

"I'm sure you're aware that you and your brother are pretty popular at school. Everyone was caught by surprise when they found out that we've been dating for quite a while now."

"Yeah, I know that. Are ya hearing any troubling things?"

He reached out to caress your cheek, callused fingers brushing over the warmth of your face. You lowered your eyes, avoiding his gaze as you pursed your lips. 

"Sex talk makes you uncomfortable, huh? Especially when it's me they're talking about," he said. "I don't think there's much we can do about that. Ya know how people will still talk about whatever they want."

"I... I don't like hearing how other girls think they can give you a good time. It's annoying," you stated, another sigh of defeat leaving your lips. "I'm sorry. I  know I shouldn't let their words get to me, but it really leaves a bad taste in my mouth whenever I have to play deaf to their words."

"A good... time? Like what? They gonna receive my sets or something?" He said with a laugh as he pulled you into his arms. "Whatever they say won't change the fact that it's you I want."

He couldn't see how your lips curved upward as your cheek collided with his collar. "I love you."

The softness of the way you spoke those words made him tense up for a moment, but he smiled as your eyes met again. "You really put one hell of a love spell on me, ya know." 

From where you sat, gently cradled in his arms, you could see why other girls seethed at you in jealousy. His brown eyes drank in your every feature like you were the only thing worth looking at in the world. 

"Do you want to, uh, kiss or something?" You asked him, observing the expression on his face. "I mean we've kissed before, but not the, uh..."

"Yeah, I think I get why Samu called this a tasty situation," Atsumu chuckled to himself once again, as he finally came to terms with something. "Sure, sweet thing."

He shifted his sitting position as he gently hoisted you onto his lap while you moved to straddle him, hands on his shoulders. 

"Perfect," he stated, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. "All yours."

The boy was smiling as you kissed, obviously delighted with the little sounds you made as your lips moved in sync with his. His hands made their way to your waist and he could feel you trembling. 

Ah. 

The heat coursing through your body shot up to your head and you hesitantly pulled away from the kiss as you felt callused fingers gently sliding under your skirt, part of which had already pooled around your waist. 

"I-Is that your... S-Something's poking my butt."

"Yeah, that's definitely mine," he replied with a lazy grin, holding your gaze. "You don't see anyone else here now, do ya?"

"Right, uh..." You stammered, head too hazy to form a coherent sentence. "Can... Can I move closer? C-Can I move?" 

"Stop asking questions, babe, just— Tch."

A low growl through clenched teeth left his mouth as he felt your hands paw at the bulge under his immaculately white track pants, antsy fingers gently shifting the twitching length before sitting down on him, your crotch rubbing against his erection. His fingers sank into your waist as you slowly started rocking your hips against him.

You told yourself that this was the farthest you could go for now, seeing as it took so much courage for you to even start this conversation. 

And yet, you couldn't help but applaud yourself for this little achievement, especially after seeing the look of resolve wash away from your boyfriend's face, his expression a mixture of both frustration and pleasure. You coiled your arms around his neck and dove in for an open-mouthed kiss which he met so eagerly. 

The afternoon heat and your exchange of heavy breaths made your head go cloudy. Your mind was so fogged that you didn't even realise the soft moans slipping out of your lips and how your hips moved so erratically. Atsumu was staring at your face through half-lidded eyes, a heady, absent-minded smile on his face as he tried to pace his own movement, his fingers digging into your thighs as his own hips instinctively thrust upward. 

You felt a warmth pool at the pit of your stomach, the buzzing in your head blocking out everything save for the electrifying pleasure you shared with your boyfriend. Atsumu felt hotter than usual, most probably due to his black training shirt taking in all of his body heat and part of yours as well. 

"Ngh... I l-love you so much— ah!"

Your words were drawled out and garbled, but the smile on his face only meant he understood what you said, but he was more focused on the way your body tensed up. You threw your head back as a sharp cry of pleasure escaped your lips, your movements finally slowing to a halt. He rested his forehead on your shoulder and you swore you heard him curse under his breath. You felt his shoulders tense up as well, your fingers gently raking the hair just above his nape to soothe him as his climax concluded as well. 

The buzzing in your head was replaced by the sound of your own pulse, the sound of your own blood rushing through your ears making you so self-conscious that you almost pulled away from Atsumu's grip. The same heavy exhales left his mouth as he raised a hand to sweep away the strands of hair that was stuck on your sweat-sheened neck. 

"You..." He started. "Look at ya. You're so fucking pretty and those scrubs oughta be jealous."

You cupped his face in both your hands before leaning down to kiss him softly, tears pooling in your eyes as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. 

"I love you, too," he said, his voice low that it reverberated through your chest. "Only you."

Your aunts found the two of you curled up together comfortably as you dozed off, the sliding doors drawn open to let in the cool afternoon breeze. Your father was oddly suspicious as to why you were wearing a longer dress compared to the flimsier one you had on earlier, but you brushed it off as dressing appropriately for your guest. 

Your mother and aunts were laughing and whispering to themselves as they observed the boy placing food over your rice before finally getting some for himself. "My, Atsumu-kun, we're sure she can get her own food, so don't worry and eat up."

"Ah, but I, uh, like doing things for her," he replied with a bashful smile on his face, a hand suddenly on the back of his head. "She does a lot for me, too. I guess I just want to take care of her."

Your father quirked an eyebrow at the younger man's reply, but your mother playfully nudged him. The older women's chattering filled the dining room again, but you paid no mind to their banter. You smiled to yourself as Atsumu stuffed his face with rice and steamed vegetables. 

This boy was yours, all right. And you could take care of him way better than anyone else could claim.

Atsumu messaged you when he got home that evening after having dinner with your family, including the part where Osamu teased him for coming home in his spare training shorts. 

He was visually surprised when you turned up to school the following Monday wearing the darkest pair of tights underneath your black skirt uniform. 

"You probably left welts on her, Tsumu," you heard Osamu tease his twin. "Try not to be so hot-blooded next time."

He wasn't wrong, though.

The girls from your class were surprised when you entered the changing room with them for gym class, even taking the middle locker as you stripped down from your school uniform. You heard the whispers die out as you slid out of the dark tights, revealing fading purple streaks on your thighs and waist which were obviously greedy hand prints left by Atsumu.

"I-It's nice of you to join us today, uh..." one of the girls started, her eyes flitting from the bruises to the calculating look on your face. "You rarely change with us whenever it's time for gym class."

A soft hum left your lips as you pulled up your hair to a ponytail, revealing a single love bite just below your right collarbone. You smiled at them coolly, allowing them to gaze and gape at the little love bruises printed on your body.

"Looks like you had a fun weekend," another girl remarked, the verve in her voice gone as she eyed the red and violet bruise on your chest before finally looking away. 

You got into your gym uniform and stretched your arms upward, feeling absolutely accomplished as you made your point without even speaking yet. All eyes were on you again as you spoke rather happily. "Ah, thanks. Atsumu and I had a great time. Anyway, I'm heading out first. Nice to talk to you." 

The girls' changing room was oddly quiet whenever you were there afterwards.

Author's Notes: Happy new year, friends and folks! May we all have a prosperous one. During my short break, I decided to read some of my old work and thought of publishing a select few - my favourite ones and some which I thought were pretty bold pieces, this one included. Atsumu is one of my favourite dark horses, one I never thought I'd like so much. This is part of my older HQ series on AO3, Dreams of Fire Trees and Silver Moons. I can still recall how much I enjoyed writing this, though I was a little doubtful about it. I hope enjoyed reading this one just as much. 💛

[londonspirit]

Our Flag Means Death’s season-two finale has it all. There’s a declaration of true love between our favorite criminals, Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby) and Ed, a.k.a. Blackbeard (Taika Waititi). There’s also a heartbreaking death (RIP, Con O’Neill’s Izzy Hands), a pirate wedding that ends with the words “You are now officially mateys,” and some big-time fight scenes. “Mermen” packs a tight punch in only 30 minutes. The episode is both thrilling and satisfying, so even if Max makes the grave mistake of not renewing the series, fans will feel closure in a way that they didn’t with season one’s sendoff. And Our Flag Means Death creator David Jenkins already has some fun ideas brewing for a third season (and beyond!). The A.V. Club spoke to Jenkins about his plans to evolve Ed and Stede’s relationship, potential spin-offs, and how everyone on the show is handling its passionate fanbase.

The A.V. Club: First of all, how dare you kill Izzy Hands? Was that always the plan when you mapped out season two? 

David Jenkins: [Laughs] Yes. I felt that Izzy had reached a point where he broke through a lot of his major patterns. It was fun to give him a season where he got to do everything and where Con O’Neill got to do everything. Well, I won’t say everything, because Con can do light years beyond what I think he can do, and I do think he can do anything. We wanted to show the depth of that character. Izzy is one of my favorites. He’s like middle management who is in a sort of love triangle [in season one]. He got his wish at the end of the first season by breaking up his boss and his boss’ lover. He got punished as a result, and he had to come out on the other side, which felt like a good journey.

AVC: Despite everything that happens in season two, including Izzy’s death, the finale ends on a happy note with Ed and Stede living together. Why was it important for you to show that?

DJ: Season one ends on such a tough note for them. As you said, after what they’ve been through, they should get a moment of happiness. I won’t say however fleeting. They are going to have challenges ahead. They’re both not the most mature yet. I think that’s the fun of it, to leave them in a place where it’s a good kind of stasis. They’ve sent the kids off in the car, so to speak, and now they’re going to have to really grow if they’re going to start an inn. It won’t be easy, but I like that they’re going to try.

AVC: “Mermen” has all the elements necessary for a season finale. Did you partly add all that as a way to provide closure in case this is the end for OFMD?

JD: What’s important to understand is that you never even know if you’re going to get a second season. Maybe if you get picked up for two right away, and even then, but especially right now, who knows? I think with season one’s end, it was a gamble to leave it the way it was. Everybody stomached through it. Now if it turned out they didn’t want us to make more, I just didn’t want to have another story where the same-sex love story ends in tragedy, unrequited love, or if one or both of them are being punished.

AVC: I actually love that about Our Flag Means Death. It reminds me of Schitt’s Creek in a way because the love story just exists and is perfect; there’s no questioning it as right or wrong.

JD: That’s such a nice compliment because I also think Schitt’s Creekdoes that really well.

AVC: You’ve previously said you want Our Flag to have only three seasons. Is that still true or do you feel like the show has scope to continue beyond that?

JD: I feel like Stede and Blackbeard’s story is a three-season story, but the world of the show could go beyond that. It’s a really rich world with so many stories to tell and really good performers to tell it. I do want to see how Ed and Stede become a mature couple in the next season. They’re a couple who is like in their late twenties right now as opposed to being teens at the end of season one.

AVC: So if OFMD continues in some other form, are there characters you’d like to focus more on or other historical references you’d like to include?

JD: Yeah, a lot, because it’s such a rich ensemble. How do you not want to see more of Joel Fry, Samson Kayo, Ewen Bremner, Nathan Foad, or Vico Ortiz? Any one of them could carry their own show. It’s fun to think about that and the storylines we can do with them, mixing and matching all our characters. Vico is incredible, for example, and I especially love watching them in an action sequence. This is a weird comparison, but there’s a Harrison Ford and Sigourney Weaver vibe they put out. I’m such a fan of what they do.

AVC: You also really like parallels and coming full circle as a storyteller.

JD: Yeah, I do.I knew I wanted to start season two in the Republic of Pirates and end by coming back there. Stede goes on an amazing journey between the episodes. He’s thrown out of there initially, but then he comes back as a hero. I like the symmetry of that. And then the Republic of Pirates gets destroyed; it dies. It’s not just Izzy; it’s the place too. It was important to have a home, this stronghold for everyone, be destroyed. But the characters are not crushed. They’re going to try to move on.

AVC: One of season two’s new characters is Zheng Yi Sao, played by Ruibo Qian, who quickly becomes an integral part of the crew. What was the casting process like for her?

JD: Ruibo is an amazing find. One of our incredible casting directors, Cindy Tolan, she had Ruibo in mind immediately for that part by the time it got to her. And we had looked and looked before talking to Cindy. Ruibo has her own fascinating story because apparently, she had a couple of strong premonitions that she’s going to play Zheng Yi Sao. She had a modern take on the part without it being strained. She’s incredible. She’s a trained theater actor with a lot of chops. She has to go toe-to-toe with Taika and Rhys. She did it with such grace.

AVC: Season two takes Blackbeard on an interesting turn of denouncing being a pirate. But in the finale, it’s almost like he’s reborn as one, especially with that gorgeous shot of him coming out of the water. What was the thought process behind this arc?

JD: Thank you. Blackbeard is a guy in recovery when he comes back to the ship when he’s wearing the jumpsuit. He’s trying to hang on and find some kind of footing. Who is he if he’s not a pirate? Meanwhile, Stede is on his way up and wants to experience the rockstar life of a pirate, while Ed as Blackbeard is over it. It was an interesting tension of, which one gives up their dream? A lot of times in relationships questions can come up, like who is going to give up on their dream to take care of the kids? Obviously, no one wants to, but someone ends up giving up more than they want to at some point. What’s wonderful about a mature romance, and what I’d want to see more of in season three, is Ed and Stede making these tough decisions.

AVC: Stede and Ed’s relationship has led to a passionate, vocal fandom, which you didn’t have as you were writing season one. While working on season two, how did you avoid doing fan service and focus on meaningful storytelling?

JD: I never anticipated the strong reaction to season one. It’s incredible it happened. Everybody is buoyed by it in the cast, crew, and the writers’ room. To be perceived on that level with such enthusiasm makes us want to make more of it. A lot of the things the fans love are not different from things the writers love. We are fans of the show. We’re writing fanfic, but it’s called fic when we write it. The big thing for us is to make sure we’re writing beats for the characters that feel true and have moments where all of us go, “Ooooh, we have to do this.” If the beats stay true, it won’t feel like we’re simply pandering.

AVC: How do you break down those beats for Ed and Stede’s relationship as they go from wanting to take it slow to sleeping with each other this season? And where do they go next?

JD: It’s challenging with them because most rom-coms end with couples getting together. They don’t then stay with them and say, “We’re together now, but it’s turbulent; how is that going to work out?” We thought, “Okay, let’s look at our relationships in the room. What have we encountered? Who’s been dumped? Who has had to forgive somebody?” These questions were fun for the second season. I think for the third, it would [be], “Okay, who’s had a relationship for over 10 years? What things do you have to work on?” It’s fun to watch two people like Ed and Stede go through this experience.

[bit-odd-innit]

I made a joke tag on this post about how Nancy is genre-aware and can feel the arbitrary love triangle closing in around her but then I thought about it for a millisecond too long and— Nancy can’t shake it: The muggy, suffocating pressure prickling along her skin and cottoning up her lungs. At first it’s easy to ignore. She’s been shaking off the relentless crush of pressure in one form or another for years. They are bigger things to focus on, bigger mysteries to solve. So when she catches Dustin watching her and Steve with what she can only describe as wist she’s confused, but she lets it slide. She thinks, not without guilt, they really only spend this kind of time together when the world is ending. Maybe he’s nostalgic. It’s sweet, in a twisted, broken sort of way. She resolves to make more of an effort when this is all over, but right now everyone needs to focus on what’s important— But then she’s walking through the woods and Robin is talking about rekindling old flames that should have never been snuffed out and it jars her into a stutter step. Because what? Where did that come from? Robin wasn’t there when there was a flame, paltry and dim though it was. Steve’s always been kinder to her than she deserved, so maybe his version of events gave Robin a false sense of their compatibility. Even so, why? And why bring it up now? She can’t parse it now, so she latches to the one thing that makes hope spark in her chest: Robin calls her a friend. Robin considers her a friend. And it’s been so long since someone has earnestly, sincerely called her a friend, she basks in the warmth of it and almost lets herself forget how strange— And then Steve is smiling at her so sweetly and his eyes are shining so brightly and he’s telling her about his dream, about six kids and a Winnebago and she knows she’s meant to be charmed by it all but instead she feels like she standing at the gallows with a noose flush to her throat. When they get a brief moment of calm, she takes Eddie aside. 

“Did you tell Steve we should get back together?” He grins, lopsided and smug. “No need to thank me, when it comes to matters of the heart I am but a humble messenger—” “Why?” “Why what?”  “Why do you think Steve and I should get back together?” Eddie blinks, his smile sliding off his face, and there’s a dull flicker of confusion in his big bright eyes, as if he just found himself caught somewhere he was not meant to be. But then it vanishes and he’s back to one, beaming and bombastic as he answers, “Isn’t it obvious?” “Explain it to me.” “I—” His tongue darts out to wet his lips and his gazes bounces across her features, scanning for the answer he thinks she wants. “Its...That’s what’s supposed to happen.”   “Eddie.” She doesn’t break eye contact, keeps her voice steady, encloses her hands around his trembling fingers.  “Dig deep. Why did you tell Steve we should get back together?” The color drains from his face, his eyebrows bowing in fear. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “I don’t know why I said that. I think...” His mouth falls open, working soundlessly, and he huffs out a shaky breath. “I think I wanted to say something else? But I don’t remember...I don’t remember what I, and then that came out instead, and I don’t know why I said it I don’t know why I said it Wheeler what the fuck?” “I know.”

“I’m wanted for murder I don’t care about your relationship woes! I didn’t even know you guys dated until after you broke up, and that was what? Two years ago?” “Almost three,” she says quietly.  “Wheeler what the fuck?! Is this...?” He drops his chin to his chest and waggles his hands in a faint circle. Because they are still connected, Nancy’s hands go along for the ride. “Is this him?” “No.” A righteous fury licks its way up from her belly, fanning out across her circulatory system. The muscles in her neck strain as she clenches her jaw. “No, this is something else.”

“What’re we gonna do?” “We’re going to fix it.” “How?” “I’m rewriting our plan,” she replies. And when she sets her shoulders and straightens her spine she feels the pressure that means to crush her push in.  And she pushes back.  “I’m rewriting all of it.”

[charlie-lec-stories]

Some Odd Numbers are Even // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Max knows that he's always been in love with his best friend, even if she was driving for the enemy, and he could live with that, but her dating the rival he has a crush on it's where he draws the line.

Warnings: Some angst, but they all take it like champs. Max kisses people when he's drunk. Some sexual comments.

Author’s Note: I had to work on this one a lot to make it fit the theme of the blog, but it motivated me to keep editing my stories, this is the beginning of everything. Rate: +18

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When Max Verstappen met Y/N he was the most hormonal 15 years-old on Earth, or at least that's how his father called him, always running around chasing girls instead of focusing on what was important. He has to admit that his head wasn't filled with the purest thoughts when they got introduced by their mutual friend, Pierre, but when she humiliated all the boys on the track winning by almost twenty seconds, he knew he fell hard. She called him her best friend the second time they hung out and, to Max's dismay, their destiny seemed to have been sealed. Best friends. He hated it, but he would take what he could get. With time, he learned to live with it. She was the first person he told he was feeling "confused", as he initially called it, and then the first he decided to let know that he was bisexual when he finally understood it. He was glad that she took it great and she was kind of surprised that he ever thought she could get mad about him liking people. They enjoyed gossiping around and sharing their opinions on the different people they liked, but he never dared to tell her how he felt about her. She has had at least five boyfriends and countless one-night stands since they met and everything always ended up in heartbreak for her. He spent years wanting to scream "I'm here, just look at me", but she never looked his way, at least not like he wanted. Still, he tried to be supportive, because she still was his best friend and his massive crush on her wasn't her fault. He was supportive when she dated that weird dude from Canada who was obsessed with her hair, when she told him that she wanted to learn how to play the guitar and when she decided that she wanted to drive for Mercedes in F1. He was still a little pissed off that she signed with Mercedes, but he took it like a big boy.

However, there was something they could never see eye to eye about and that something was actually a someone: Charles Leclerc. Max and Charles had quite the history when it came to their relationship, they were rivals above all but, unknown to Charles, the monegasque was also Max's bi awakening when they were 16. The dutch took his time getting there, but he ended up understanding that even though he was constantly wanting to rip Charles' head off, he also find him attractive. Of course, that didn't make Max like the other, he knew the difference between finding someone good looking and liking them at all. Would he have sex with Charles? Probably, in another universe. Did he stopped disliking Charles? No, definitely no. But his best friend adored Charles. Y/N could write a whole encyclopedia about Charles, she was in love with him, but Charles was that unreachable entity that never looked at her as more than Pierre's friend. He was always nice to her, attentive, charming, funny, even warm. He liked her, not the way she liked him, but he liked her anyways. The three of them were trapped in this weird triangle and Max hated it. He hated Charles for getting the attention he wanted and for getting even hotter with time. But for Max things only got worse.

They were all 24 and it was the first time in a long period that the three of them were single simultaneously. Charles had broken up with his girlfriend of two years before the start of the season, Y/N was on a celibacy run since the beginning of the year and Max broke up with his latest boyfriend who he only dated for three months. On the first race of the season he noticed that the Ferrari driver was a recurring character at the Mercedes garage. For a moment, Max thought that Charles was considering moving to Mercedes, but he soon found out that the Ferrari driver had other intentions.

"... And then I said "I'm coming on your camera, mate". Never felt so stupid in my life". Y/N laughed at Charles' story and Max could feel his blood boil inside his veins. "But well, at least I wasn't the one who suggested to milk the goats on Goat Simulator". He added softly looking at George Russell, Y/N teammate, and making the girl giggle.

"Good to know you're funny, Leclerc, now you can make a career in stand-up when you finally fail making one in racing". Charles rolled his eyes and then smirked.

"Look at that, Mr. World Champion is scared of a little competition". Charles taunted him. "What is it, Verstappen? Afraid of me stealing the title this year?"

"Okay, enough of the testosterone battle". Y/N cut them off before Max could reply. "Neither of you got the bigger stick".

"Are you sure about that, Cherie?". Max was five second away from murder. The wink was like playing with fire, but Charles did it anyways. The championship wasn't the only thing he was stealing from Max that year. "Never say things like that without proof".

That same night, around 4 am, Max opened his hotel room to an extremely happy Y/N: "You won't guess who helped me break my celibacy streak". Well... he could guess.

By summer break Charles and Y/N were officially the paddock's favourite couple, for everyone except Max. He was furious about it, and Charles fighting him the championship so closely wasn't exactly helping. Even the fans could see how much Max resented the relationship between his known best friend and rival. Every podium, cool down room and interview that included the two was filled with drama. Petty comments, eyes rolling, arms crossed and even once, Max calling Charles an idiot. But what Max didn't want to admit was that the more he was forced to spend time with Charles, the more he started to like him. He was funny and Max found himself having to suppress a laugh at one of his jokes more than once. He was also extremely good at racing and that was something that Max liked, it was the first thing that made him fall for Y/N in the first place. Also, his best friend was constantly telling him how nice Charles was to her: romantic, loving, caring. And even if Max didn't like it, he could see that Charles actually cared about Y/N, he could see that Charles was in love with her. It broke his heart, it pained him like anything before. He thought he could take it, that he was mature enough to let her go and be happy for her. But he couldn't, so he decided to put some distance, to take care of himself and protect his heart.

The second part of the season was intense. Max won his second championship, but he had put so much distance between him and his best friend that she wasn't there to celebrate with him. She was at the Ferrari garage, hugging a defeated Charles and running her hands up and down his back. The monegasque had the prize that Max wanted the most and, suddenly, the award on his hands wasn't that important. Not when she was there, supporting him. It hurt to watch, her kissing Charles and hugging him tight. Charles smiling at her, nodding his head as he accepted her words of encouragement. She was probably giving him the same speech she gave Max when he first started in F1. "You're more than enough". "Your time will come". "You have what you need to be a champion". He could remember it like it was yesterday when she would ran her fingers through his hair, his head on her lap, softly crying, the ghost of another DNF haunting him. It always worked though, her mumbled sweet words, fixing his broken ego and shattered heart. No matter the distance, Max just couldn't let her go and now he had nothing, not even his best friend. Around Christmas he had come to the conclusion that the main reason why he hated Charles and Y/N's relationship so much was because he didn't know if he wanted to be her to date Charles or be Charles to date her. He liked them both, and if learning he was bi was shocking back in his teenage years, addressing the fact that he liked two people at the same time was even more. So he did what he did best when it was off season, he got drunk. Shit-faced drunk, so wasted that he couldn't remember his own home address.

The red door in front of him was familiar and for a moment he wondered if he actually made it home. That door made him feel home, somehow. He knocked on the door a few times. His head was spinning and thinking hurt his brain. The door swung open, his best friend was looking up at him worried from the other side of it. He didn't think it through, he just grabbed her face and smashed his lips on hers. For a moment, he thought he could feel her kiss back, but as quick as the kiss started, it ended. With a mumbled "You don't know what you're doing" and sad expression on her face, Y/N led him inside and dropped him on the couch. Charles was sitting there, without a shirt and looking at him with a pissed off expression. Max had lost whatever self control he had and the words just started pouring out of his mouth like a river.

"What are you looking at, Leclerc?". He asked, words slurred.

"You just kissed my girlfriend". Charles knew it was pointless to argue with Max on that state, but he was as angry as his face showed.

"Deal with it". Max rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. "And put on a shirt, for fuck's sake, or I'm kissing you too".

For Max, there weren't many feelings worse than a hungover. It was easily on his top 5, along with heartbreak, losing at basically anything, visiting his father and eating tuna, not in that specific order. He did the best he could to look around but the sunlight was burning his eyes off, figuratively, but he felt it literally. The feeling of the furniture underneath him was oddly familiar and the smell in the air was definitely Y/N's. For a moment, he closed his eyes and decided to go back to sleep, satisfied with the feeling of being home. Suddenly, he remembered that he shouldn't be there. Sitting straight up, he found himself ready to throw up from the sudden movement. He took a look at his surroundings, Y/N's home was different from when he last remembered, a few months back. A lot of Ferrari merchandizing adorned the living room and a few framed pictures on the walls showed Charles' smiling face. Max felt the pain in his chest when he noticed that she still had up all of their pictures together. He was the most horrible friend on Earth, she loved him and he pushed her away. A picture in particular caught his attention, it was a podium from the first half of the season, in Silverstone. The three of them got into the podium on that occasion and Max had agreed to take the picture without much drama. Y/N was in the middle and both Max and Charles had their arms around her waist. They all looked genuinely happy. Max couldn't help but feel like he messed everything up, he was the only one to blame for that being the only picture they all had together. The only one, and Y/N had it hanging on her living room like it was a moment as cherished as the other life changing moments hanging on those walls. He couldn't take it anymore, he had to get out of that house. He picked up his phone and wallet from the coffee table, but his keys were nowhere to be found. He searched the whole living room desperately for almost fifteen minutes.

"You're awake". Max stopped moving at the voice of Charles ringing through the air, deep and raspy from sleep. The dutch was currently kneeled in front of the couch, trying to see if his keys were underneath it, and his back was facing Charles. He took a deep breath before he stood up and faced him.

"Yeah...". Was the only thing that Max could manage. He wanted to spit a mean comment, say something sassy enough for Charles to go away, but after seeing all of the monegasque's belongings so naturally laying around the house he didn't have the heart to disrespect him in what was undoubtedly his home.

"You had quite the night last night". Charles walked further into the living room, looking at Max with a puzzled gaze. "Do you remember anything from it?"

"Well, the last clear memory is downing something that tasted awful". Max scrunched his face remembering the taste.

"You came here around 4 in the morning-". Charles stopped talking suddenly. His tone insinuated that he had planned to say more, but he backed out last minute. He was visibly tense.

"I'm sorry". It was the first time Max had ever apologized to Charles in over ten years knowing each other.

"For how long had you liked Y/N?". To say that Max was taken aback by the question would be an understatement. His hungover head tried to think of an excuse, something that could spear him from admitting the truth. Charles could practically see the gears turning inside his head. "Don't bother lying. We know".

"We?". Max was pretty pale, but he managed to get paler.

"Listen". Charles relaxed a bit, moving closer to the couch. "You may don't believe this, but I actually like you, Max. I know that we don't have the best relationship, I'm willing to meet you half way, but I can't do that if you're not honest".

"There's no point in that anymore". Max admitted plopping himself on the couch. "She hates me. I'm the last threat to your relationship, Charles".

"She doesn't hate you. She loves you. Which is kind of awkward because she's my girlfriend". Charles sat next to Max on the couch, the other looking at him with a confused expression. "You kissed her last night".

"Fuck". Max hid his face on his hands. "I'm so sorry, Charles". Twice in less than 30 minutes?

"She kissed you back". There was this tension between them, neither knew what to do with the conversation. "We talked about it when we went to bed". Charles shifted on the couch. "It was an interesting conversation though. We freely left out some things we were hiding". Max sat straighter and looked at Charles, trying to show him that he was actively listening. "Like the fact that we both have had a crush on you for ages". That was something unexpected. "I know that I hasn't been the kindest guy to you through the years, and this doesn't excuse it, but it was really confusing when all of this started happening and I wasn't sure of what to do with it". Max remained silent. "You can say something, you know?"

"I don't know what to say". Max was perplexed. "I guess I just have so much to say that I don't know where to start".

"Morning". Y/N's voice softly entered their charged atmosphere. She walked to the couch and sat down, reading their conversation on their faces. "Are we talking about it right now?"

"I hope you don't mind, but we started without you, mon amour". Charles grabbed her hand and lightly squeezed it.

"I don't mind". She sighed deeply. "Max, we've talked and we want to propose you something". Max nodded his head. "We both really like you, like really like you-"

"Already went through that, amour, he's still processing it". Charles chuckled.

"Oh, okay. To the point then?". She asked mostly to herself. "We know that this is kind of weird and you may not be into it, Charles himself is still working on the idea, but we'd like to know if you'll be interested into adding yourself to this". She pointed between herself and Charles. Max kept quiet.

They waited patiently for Max to gather his thoughts, they knew that it was a lot to take in and they weren't aware of his crush on Charles, so there was also this fear of him not liking Charles back. They spent the night talking, went through all the options: ignore it, break up, take some time, open the relationship, and lastly, they ended up with the only option that made them happy. They both liked Max, they both wanted to be with him, but they loved each other and hated the idea of breaking up so one of them could date Max. Charles had a few contradictions with the idea, he was too wired into monogamy and found the idea uncomfortable, but at the same time he felt like it was the right choice, the one that could make him feel complete. He still had a lot to think about but he wanted to give it a try. Y/N was more open to the concept, she was more in touch with her feelings and less into monogamy than Charles.

"I have been in love with you for so long". Max said softly out of the blue. His eyes met Y/N's when she looked at him. "You have no idea. No idea how much I dreamt about you saying that back to me". He clicked his tongue. "Do you remember when I was 16 and I told you that I saw a guy and felt weird?". Y/N nodded her head. Of course she remembered when he first came out to her. "It was Charles. We had had the most intense race ever, I was just so pumped up, the adrenaline so high. And he took off his helmet and all I could think about was punching his face and then kiss it". Chales, who had been looking at his lap since Max confessed his love for Y/N, looked up at Max.

"For that long?". Charles asked. Max nodded.

"It was my bi awakening". The three of them laughed softly. The air became lighter around them.

"I always thought it was Pierre, you know?". Y/N told Max.

"Oh God, no! I mean I love Pierre, but c'mon, you both are more my type". Max said with more confidence.

"Does that mean that you're in?". Charles asked. Max looked between him and Y/N a few times and then smiled wide.

"Yeah, I'm in".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Okay! So, this is the beginning of the relationship. remember that none of these stories are published in chronological order. They are just short stories about different situations those three went though. I hope you like it!

[rollingsins]

three's a crowd, part four

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten (epilogue)

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au. 

pairing: emma myers x reader, jenna ortega x reader

warnings: language, a little angst, 18+ a tiny bit of smut.

word count: 4.9k

a/n: don't stone me pls.

You don’t sleep. Again. 

Jenna’s kiss. Her lips. The way she’d tasted. The way she’d begged you to come home with her. Her Whiskey covered mouth. Her hands, wild, roaming as they gripped you. 

You lay in bed, stare at the ceiling trying to will it out of your brain. 

You think of Emma. Her smile. Her sweet, good-natured disposition. The way you’re going to break her heart in two when you tell her what you’ve done. 

When the sun comes up, you’re on auto-pilot. 

You pour yourself a coffee - a large one - and sit at your kitchen table, head in your hands. 

You’re an asshole. If you’re sure of anything it’s that. 

Through all your good intentions you just can’t shake Jenna out of your brain. It’s like she’s tattooed there, ever present. Morning, noon and night. But Emma’s there too. It’s like the two of them are tugging at you, trying to pull you in either direction. Like the devil and the angel. Only they’re both angels and you’re the asshole devil who can’t decide. 

And you’re going to have to tell Emma at some point what you did last night. It will be all over your face, you know it. 

Asshole? Definitely. Cheater? Sort of. Liar? No. 

Not to her. You take another sip of your coffee hoping it will quell some of the nausea at the thought. It doesn’t. 

And then you hear a knock at the door. 

It’s Jenna. You look surprised to see her. You figured she do what she always does; drop a bomb on you and then try to pretend like it never happened the next day. You blink at her, hands fall limp at your side. You have no idea what to say. 

“Hi.” She says. She looks rough, hungover, hair a little messy. Not a shred of makeup on her face. There are a pair of dark circles under her eyes, indicating her similar lack of sleep. 

“Can I come in?” 

She notices as you hesitate. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kiss you again.” 

Your stomach flips with something - maybe disappointment. 

Asshole, you curse yourself. 

You let her in, hover awkwardly in the hallway, door still half open. You’d offer her a drink - but you’ve suddenly forgotten how to speak. She looks beautiful - even like this, dressed in last night’s clothes. Her lips, red, still swollen from yours. Your eyes dip down to them before you can help yourself. 

“I’m… sorry,” She says, unaware of the effect she’s having on you, “For my behavior last night. I was really drunk.”

It draws you out of your reverie. Last night. Walking Emma home. Kissing Jenna in the parking lot. Your stomach churns with guilt. 

“We both were.” You say, chewing your lip. It feels unfair for her to take the blame, “You don’t have to apologize-”

“I do.” She says, “I wasn’t thinking. It always happens when I drink. I should stop doing that.” 

She trails off. Avoids your eyes. 

“Do you want to sit down?” You offer, but she shakes her head. Leans slightly more towards the open door like it’s her escape plan. 

“No. This will be quick.” 

Ouch. 

It’s not hard to tell where she’s going with this. She’s about to break up your non-existent situationship again. You lean slightly against the wall, brace yourself for the blow. 

“We shouldn’t see each other anymore.” She says, “It’s too hard. For me.” 

It’s hard for you too. It’s hard in the kind of way that makes you want to rip your own heart out of your chest. 

But you don’t want it to end. There’s a part of you that thinks this is what love should feel like.  Not the quiet pitter-patter of your heart when you’re with Emma. This painful tug of desire that only exists with you’re with Jenna. You bite your lip. 

“What if I….”  You swallow, let the thought surface, “What if I end things with Emma? What if I choose you?”

Something flickers in her eyes. Hope. Want. Sadness. It’s gone before you can properly gauge it. She shifts her weight between her feet. 

“Emma is very special to me,” She says, slowly, “She’s sweet and loving and perfect.”

She is, there’s no doubt. You lean forward slightly, try to emphasize what you’re offering. 

“But what if I pick you?” You press, insistent. 

She breaks your gaze again. Inches slightly more towards the door. She does this, runs from you when it gets too real. When she’s sober and in her own head. Before she speaks you know what her answer is. A horrible, sinking feeling rushes through you as she looks at you. Final. Like she’s made up her mind. 

“I don’t want you to do that,” Jenna says, “Please. This thing between us. I’ll get over it. But I’ll never get over breaking Emma’s heart.” 

Your lip twitches. You’d try to fight it, fight for her but you know her well enough that it would never work. Emma is special. You understand why Jenna has to protect her. 

“Tell her that we kissed. Tell her it was my fault. Tell her that you pulled away.” Jenna says, “And then tell her you pick her.” 

“Lie to her, you mean?” You challenge. 

Jenna blinks back at you. 

“Do what you have to do,” She says after a moment, “She’s good, YN. She’ll treat you well. She’s better than-” 

She doesn’t finish. Swallows, hard. 

“What about what I want?” You ask, voice a little desperate. Like it’s your last chance to change her mind. 

She looks at you piercingly, “You don’t know what you want.” 

“Maybe I do.” 

“Maybe isn’t good enough,” Jenna says, “I’m not going to ruin everything for maybe.” 

Silence fills the room. You wish you could be sure. But one is never present without the other. Even now Emma niggles at the back of your mind. 

I’m still here, she reminds you, you told me it was only me.  

But then you look at Jenna.

“I’ll see you at work.” She says, turns slightly to leave. 

“Don’t go,” You all but beg, you grab her hand. Electricity sparks through you. She feels it too, given the way her eyes drop down to your linked hands. 

“YN-”

“We can talk it through. Talking helps. Maybe I’m not sure because we never talk. It’s all vague conversations and kissing and maybe talking will fix that.” 

Her hand tightens around yours. Dark eyes flicking between your own. There’s that look again, that look that tells you you’re going to be doing anything but talking. This time, you don’t resist. You let her surge forward, take your head between her hands. 

And then you’re kissing. 

It’s even better than last night. You’re sober now, it’s not a blur of meshed hands and clashing teeth. She pushes you back until you’re pressed up against the wall of the hallway. She’s strong considering she’s so small. You grunt as your back hits the wall, the noise swallowed by her mouth. Her lips, insistent as they move against yours. Her tongue determined as it slips between your lips. 

You tug at her hips, bring her closer. 

Red flushes through your body. It hits the tips of your ears, the rounds of your cheeks. 

Warm. Warm. Warm. 

There’s so much desire in you you feel like you might combust. She feels it too. You can tell by the way she’s kissing you. Hot. Hard. Fast. Like if she slows down she’ll implode. 

You feel her hands dip down to grab at your waist. You moan, suck at her bottom lip as her fingers brush the bare skin between your shirt and your jeans. 

God, you want her. More than you’ve ever wanted anything before. 

You’re one more kiss between pulling her into the bedroom and letting her have her way with you before you hear the press of shoes against the ground. And then a loud clatter as something hits the ground. 

The noise jump-starts your system. You break apart, all swollen lips and hooded eyes. 

There’s a pair of takeaway coffee cups on the ground, brown liquid spilling out into your welcome mat. Your gaze draws up to the owner. 

It’s Emma. 

Your heart catches in your throat. Her blue eyes are round, wide. A mix of confusion and hurt and betrayal. 

Like she’s just caught you red-handed. 

Your hands drop from Jenna’s waist quickly, like the touch is burning. 

Jenna steps back, but your focus isn’t on her. You blink back at Emma, fumbling, mind whirling for some excuse. Some lie. It doesn't come quick enough. 

“Sorry,” Emma says, finally. Her voice is shaky, her lips twitch, “Don’t let me interrupt.” 

And then she turns on her heel and walks out. 

Your heart thumps in your chest. 

Dread, fear, guilt all flush through you at once. The emotions catch in your throat with a lump, making it hard to breathe. Your vision blurs, only slightly. And then your words catch up with your feet. 

“Shit.” You say, detangling yourself completely from Jenna, “Shit, Emma - wait-”

You leave Jenna standing limp-handed in the hallway of your apartment, heart thudding as you run down through the apartment complex, trying to catch a flash of blonde hair. 

Emma’s quick, quicker than you as she ducks down the staircase and to the parking lot, hurrying to her car. You run, no thought in your head but ‘fuck’. 

When you finally catch her she’s climbing into the driver’s seat of her car. 

“Emma, wait.” You’re out of breath as you catch up with her, grip the car door so she can’t close it. She looks up at you, glassy-eyed. Like she might cry. But not out of sadness. She looks mad, furious, as she stares back at you. 

“Emma. It isn’t what it-”

It dies in your throat. It’s exactly what it looks like. 

She takes your silence as confirmation. You’ve never seen her angry before. But now it terrifies you. It’s not a violent anger. It’s quiet. Bubbling under the surface. She grips the steering wheel, hard. 

“It’s fine.” She says, voice low. There’s that quiet fury again, “You were confused. You made your choice. You could have told me you made your choice but it’s fine. I hope you’ll be happy together.”

She tries to pry the door closed but you hold it firm. 

“I haven’t made any choice, please can you just get out of the car?” You beg, “It was just kissing. That’s all.” 

“Just kissing?” She says, mouth agape. Her eyes are crazed, furious, “Just kissing?” 

“I’m sorry. But we said - remember - we said we were non-exclusive-” 

“You said. You said you wanted to be non-exclusive. Why? So you can have us both? Spend the night holding my hand and the mornings making out with her in the middle of the hallway?” 

“It isn’t like that,” You say, “I promise, it just happened.” 

“How many times?” She asks, voice cracking. She looks between your eyes searching, “How many times has it just happened?”

Your words die in your throat. 

Say once you idiot, you think, Lie. Say Once.

“Twice.” 

Realization dawns behind her eyes. You watch as the fury drains. Replaced with something else. Something worse. 

She looks hurt. 

“When?” 

“I don’t-” 

“When?” 

Your grip on the door limpens. 

“Last night. After I walked you home.” 

Her lip twitches. She swallows, sticks her keys in the ignition. Your heartbeat is erratic, suddenly hyper-aware you’re doing this in a public parking lot. People are staring. Watching as you dig yourself further into your own grave. 

After a moment of still silence, she speaks. 

“I don't want to do this anymore.” Emma says. There’s no fight left in her voice, no fury. Just apathy, “We’re not together, or casual dating, or whatever it was. We’re not friends. We work together and that’s it. I don’t want to hang out with you, I don’t want to see you outside of shooting. We’re done. You can tell Jenna the same.” 

Your heart twists, but not for yourself. This is exactly what Jenna had been trying to avoid. Exactly why she’s so hot and cold with you. Emma is her friend, her best friend. And you’ve ruined everything for the two of them. 

“No,” You beg, “Fine. You don’t have to see me, but don’t punish Jenna because of something I-”

She scoffs, cuts you off before you can finish. 

“I didn’t see a gun in your hand,” She says, “I didn’t see you holding it to her head. She had you against the wall. She knew we were dating. She knew we were something.”

The anger is back. She reaches out, tugs the car door from your hand. 

“Have fun with your new girlfriend. See you at work.” 

-

Jenna’s gone by the time you make it back to the apartment. 

Your body thrums unpleasantly. You feel like you’ve just been hit by a truck. A combination of the liquor from last night, and the wild rollercoaster of feeling every possible emotion on the spectrum in the last fifteen minutes. 

You try to call Jenna but she doesn’t respond. You consider leaving her a flood of text messages begging her to call you back but you know it’s no use. 

Hot and cold, this is how Jenna operates. 

Besides, if she answered you have to tell her what Emma had said. Break the news that you were both cut off. 

You spend the rest of the day feeling sorry for yourself. 

You have to work tomorrow, you were shooting with the entire cast. You wonder if news has spread by now. Wonder how awkward and uncomfortable it will be. 

When it’s time to sleep, all you can think about is what you’ve done. 

And you spend the rest of the night tossing and turning. 

-

You look hellish the next morning. 

The circles under your eyes are more like ovals now, sunken cheeks, lips cracked from the lack of water and sleep. 

The makeup team does their best, you stew inside your trailer until it’s time to shoot. 

Avoid Georgie and Joy’s curious eyes. Stay well away from Hunter, who looks as though he might dress you down in front of the entire crew. Emma’s not due in until later, maybe the quietest relief. And so you hover by the craft services table. 

“Hey.” It’s Jenna. You blink back at her, a little surprised she’s approached you. She’d had her earphones on when you’d first arrived, avoiding your gaze by staring at her own hands. You put your plate down, stare back at her hesitantly. 

“Hey. How are you?” 

Her eyebrows knit. A stupid question, maybe. But you don’t know what else to say. 

“Not good. Emma won’t see me.” Jenna says. She looks crestfallen. Heartbroken. You want to touch her, soothe the devastation off her face but you know you’ll only make it worse. 

“I’m sorry,” You offer. It feels lame. You feel as though you’re teetering on a tightrope. The wrong sentence will send you flying off, “It’s my fault.”

“It’s my fault.” Jenna says. She fiddles with the cord of her earphones. You look over to the rest of the cast. They’re clustered together, seemingly haven’t noticed the two of you are talking. You swallow, bite your lip. 

“Are we-” You hesitate, “Are we going to talk about the kiss?” 

There’s a pause. The chatter of the crew as they set up the next scene. Jenna avoids your eyes. 

“I have to fix this with Emma,” She says, “Do you understand? I have to fix it.” 

It’s not hard to tell what she means. 

She means she won’t see you anymore. No more late night chats by the pool. No more quiet confessions in the noise of a nightclub. No more longing gazes and stolen kisses in the parking lot. 

Her fist is around your heart, squeezing until it’s in pieces. 

“I understand.” You say, voice quiet. You don’t need her to say it aloud. You don’t want her to say it aloud. Somehow that will make it worse. 

“See you around, YN.” She says. A sad smile on her face as she goes. 

And then she leaves you with a half-filled plate and a lump in your throat. 

-

Emma arrives a little later. 

She ices Jenna out. Laughs with Joy and Hunter. Ignores you. 

As expected. 

You retreat into yourself. Sit by yourself at lunch, teetering on the edge of the tent-like setup trying to stay under the radar. 

Only one more month, you think. 

One more month of filming and you’d be gone. You’d never have to see any of these people again. You’d tell your agent to have them recast you for season three. Maybe quit acting all together if this is what every set would be like. Maybe you’d buy a piece of land in Colorado and live off it for the rest of your life. 

Anything would be better than this. 

Georgie finds you in your self-indulgent spiral a little later. Sits down next to you without a word. 

Your shoulders tense. 

“How are you doing?” He asks, not unkindly. You and Georgie hadn’t spoken much. You’d decided you disliked him when you thought Jenna had a crush on him, and then avoided him out of guilt for doing the former when you’d realized the truth. 

And now, he’s going to be the one to tell you you’re an asshole to your face. It’s almost poetic. 

“Jenna told me everything.” He says, “Sorry if that’s invasive or whatever.” 

“It’s not.” You tell him. You chew your lip. 

“They’ll get over it, both of them.” He says, taking a bite of his lunch, “Keep your head down and they’ll get over it.” 

“Why are you being nice to me?” You ask, a little confused, “All I’ve done is mess them both around.” 

He looks at you. 

“Because I don’t think you did it on purpose.” He says, “Because I know what it’s like to be confused.” 

He touches your shoulder, smiles slightly. 

“You’ll be fine. Chin up.” 

He stands, brushes the crumbs off his hands and offers one to you. 

“Come on, let’s go film.”

You take it, let him help you up. Just as you’re about to follow him inside, he turns slightly. 

“Oh. Almost forgot. You should probably avoid Hunter,” Georgie says, “He’s on the warpath.”

“Great.” You say. The sinking feeling is back. The list of people you had to avoid is getting long. 

“Chin up.” Georgie reminds you with a slight smile, “He’s harmless, really.” 

-

A week passes. 

You fall into a monotonous rhythm. 

Work. Sleep. Call your family. More work. More sleep. 

You steer clear of Jenna. Give Emma so much space the director starts pulling you aside on it. It’s weird, having to film romantic scenes with Emma when you know how annoyed she is with you. She doesn’t speak to you between takes. Doesn’t speak to you at all, really. Not even a good morning. 

It’s the least you deserve. 

On Friday night, the night the cast usually all hangs out, you’re with Emma when Georgie invites you to his birthday party. 

Your first thought is Emma. You look at her briefly. She’s staring at her phone but you can tell by the way her ears prick she’s listening.  

“I don’t know, Georgie.” 

“You should go.” Emma interjects, voice curt, not looking up from her phone, “I won’t be there. Not if she’s going to be there.” 

She is Jenna. Where you’ve been punished with stony silence, Jenna has taken the brunt of the vitriol. 

“She’s not.” Georgie informs her, “Jenna’s filming. You should come. You should both come. Come on. This is stupid. Can’t we all just get along for one night? It is my birthday, after all.” 

Emma looks up at him. She blinks, then nods, only slightly. 

“Fine.” 

“So you’ll both come?” Georgie asks, lighting up slightly. 

“I’ll give it a miss.” You say, “Emma should go.” 

Then, she’s looking at you. Pensive stare on her face. 

“Don’t miss it on my account.” She says, after a moment, “After all, we’re not anything to each other, right? Why should I care if you’re there?” 

It stings slightly. 

But Georgie is staring at you, waiting for an answer and you don’t want to disappoint him. He’s maybe the only friend you have left on this set. 

“Okay.” You say, “I’ll see you tonight, Georgie.”

-

It’s only when you arrive at the party, bottle of Vodka in hand, you remember other people are going to be there. 

Emma’s already drunk, you can tell by the way she’s commandeered the speaker, blasting out K-pop and dancing on the table. 

Anxiety sparks hot in your stomach as Joy surveys you, lets you in without a word. And then Hunter rounds on you. 

“I want a word with you,” He says, liquor on his breath as he tugs you by your elbow, “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Hunter,” Joy says, prying you away from him, “Not now. It’s Georgie’s party.”

“One pretty girl isn’t enough for you?” Hunter sneers, ignoring her, “You had to have them both?”

“Hunter. It’s none of our business.” Joy reminds him, shoots you a kind smile. 

There’s nothing kind about the way Hunter looks at you. 

“They’re friends, you know.” He says, “They were friends. Really good friends. But they don’t talk to each other much anymore, have you noticed?”

“Hunter.” Joy warns. 

“I’m just saying.” He raises his hands, loosens his grip, “Okay, I’m done. You’re free to throw yourself at the rest of the cast. Have at it.”

“Sorry.” Joy says, a little awkward as he saunders away, almost crashing into the kitchen door, “He’s had a lot to drink.” 

“It’s fine,” You say, “Least I deserve and all.” 

Joy pauses, looks at you like there’s something more to say. 

Georgie interrupts her before she can speak. 

“You came!” He says, looking overjoyed, “Perfect! Let’s get you a drink!”

-

Four drinks in and you’re blitzed. 

You buzz, this is the most fun you’ve had all week. Georgie sticks to your side like he knows you need a chaperone. Now that Hunter’s given you the talking to he so desperately wanted to give, he’s mellowed out. Joins Emma on the table to dance. 

It’s fun. This is what you’d thought joining this cast would be like. People laughing. Smiling. Drinking. No confusion, lingering glances. Just a bunch of twenty-somethings being twenty-somethings. 

You step out onto the balcony to get some fresh air after a few hours. Your body tingles pleasantly, the alcohol all but dissipates the slump of a mood you’ve been in for the last few days. You hear the sliding door open, and look behind you to see who’s come out. 

It’s Emma. Suddenly the buzz lessens. Your heartbeat picks up. Anxiety rushing through you. But she doesn't look angry, or upset. She’s smiling. 

“Hey.” She says. 

“Hey.” You blink back at her. 

She moves a little closer, looks out over the balcony. She smells good, like lavender, what must be her eighth drink in her hand. You’re not far behind her, the world spinning so deliciously as you stare back at her. 

She lets the silence linger, lets you wonder. The quiet hum of the night contrasts to the mesh of people inside. 

“I don’t think I’m angry anymore.” She says after a moment, voice soft. 

“You’re not?” 

“Not at you.” The implication registers. You swallow. Your brain is a little foggy, too much alcohol in your system. Suddenly, you realize she’s leaning on you slightly, in a similar state. 

Butterflies flutter in your stomach at her touch. 

“It’s pretty out here.” She says, worlds away. 

She turns to you, a slight smile on her lips. 

“You’re pretty out here.”

The world spins. You don’t know what’s happening. One minute she’s touching your arm and then next she’s leaning up, taking your lips in a soft kiss. 

Your head spins. You almost drop your glass. Foggy, you kiss her back, entranced by her smell and her touch and the soft press of her lips on yours. 

And then she’s pulling away, pupils blown. 

“Want to get out of here?” 

-

There’s not much talking. 

You don’t want to talk. Don’t want to ruin whatever is happening by putting your foot in it. 

You go back to her place, managing to slip out of the party without anyone noticing. She presses you against the wall, kisses you hard, then pulls you to her bedroom. 

She presses you down against the mattress, hard. 

The kisses aren’t soft anymore. All teeth and tongue and hot wanton desire. The drink still thrums through the both of you, it’s sloppy. She pulls you out of your clothes, then you hers. 

You fuck, cum on her fingers, then her mouth. 

It’s not sweet, it’s not romantic. It’s not Emma. 

By the time it’s all over, you’re aching between your legs, and she’s brushed off all attempts to let you touch her. You’re too elated to care. You’re too drunk to care. All that matters is she’s here with you, she’s no longer icing you out. You don’t let yourself think too hard. 

So you settle down at her side, stare at the ceiling as she lays down on the pillow next to you. Entwines your fingers. 

“That was amazing.” You murmur, press a kiss to the back of her hand, “Are you going to let me do you?”

“Maybe later,” She murmurs. There’s something behind her eyes. Hesitance. Like she wants to tell you something. 

You turn, brush her hair out of her eyes. 

“What is it?” 

“I don’t know if I should tell you.” She says. She bites her lip in that way she does when she’s nervous about something. 

You frown. Mind running wild at the possibilities. 

She’s found something else, maybe. Wanted to fuck you before telling you she’s gone forever. Your heart thuds. She doesn’t leave you waiting too long. 

“I didn’t sleep with you because I wanted to sleep with you,” She says, chewing her lip. 

You blink, a little confused. 

Oh god, you think. 

What was this, then? Why were you in her bed? Why had she invited you into her bed? Was this revenge? Payback for messing with her head? 

You cross your arms a little self-conscious. She notices, touches your arm. 

“I mean, I did want to sleep with you but that isn’t why I did it. I did it because I wanted to hurt her.” 

“Oh.” 

Her being Jenna, clearly. It makes you feel weird. A little sick. You knew it was too good to be truth. You knew she forgave you too quickly. 

“Are you mad?” 

Suddenly, despite the eight or nine drinks you’ve had, you feel completely sober. 

“I don’t think I’m really in the position to be mad at you,” You say, trying to be careful with your words. You pull the sheet up over your body, trying to cover yourself. Mad isn’t the right word. You feel a little used, but maybe that’s how you deserve to feel. 

“You’re right,” She agrees, settling back onto the pillow, “You’re not.” 

SIlence fills the room. It feels awkward, all of a sudden. Jenna’s back on your mind. If Emma can forgive you, of all people, surely she could forgive Jenna. 

“So now what?” 

“Now? Nothing. We’re not dating, I told you-”

“Not with us,” You say, “With Jenna. She’s really upset that you won’t speak to her.” 

Jenna’s name draws something out of her. Nothing good. Her face hardens. She withdraws from you slightly. 

“What does she expect?” Emma says, voice a little harsh, “Would you forgive her?” 

Probably not. Your unwavering hypocrisy is showing again. 

“Blame me then.” You say, voice a little desperate, “Don’t throw away a friendship because of me. You both can go back to being best friends and I’ll go live under a bridge somewhere. Probably where I belong.” 

“I don’t need friends who go around kissing the person I’m dating. Was dating.” 

She lets it hang. You marinate in the silence, trying to find something to say on Jenna’s behalf. You know what it will look like if you push too hard. 

“Besides,” She says, a little frosty, “Shooting is almost done. And I don’t want to be around when you two get together for real.” 

“We’re not together-” You say, for what feels like the millionth time. Emma cuts you off before you can finish. 

“But you will be. It’s inevitable. Like two freight-liners on the same track or something. They’ll collide eventually. Set everything on their path on fire.” 

“That’s a little dramatic.” 

“Is it?” She asks, eyes piercing, “Because I already got burned.” 

You fall back into silence. Unsure of what to say or do. She’s in a weird mood. So unlike Emma. Vindictive, almost. You don’t pretend like you don’t deserve it, but you hate that you’ve brought it out in her. 

“It’s fine.” She says, after a long moment, “Like I said, I’m over it. We can keep seeing each other like this, if you want. No strings. No dating.” 

You blink. 

“Seriously? After everything?” 

She nods, slowly. But there’s still something behind her pretty blue eyes. Hatred, almost. You can feel it radiating off her. 

“But you tell Jenna to stay away from me. That’s the only condition. Alright?”

Instinctually you want to fight it. Want to tell her to forget you and forgive Jenna instead. But she’s made up her mind, you can see it in her eyes. The less you talk about Jenna the better.

And selfishly, you want to keep seeing Emma like this. Even if it’s just sex. 

“Alright.”

next part