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queenofhearts7378 · 1 year

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Constellations Ch. 5

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Chapter Titles include: *Captain America PSA voice* So you've witnessed your first ghost attack, Baby's first battle, What literally everyone has been waiting for, Guess Who? Ghost Edition, and Sam Judo flips Draco. Buckle in this is a long one folks.

(Notes: Just a reminder that Danny spent a whole summer with the Malfoy’s before GoF. As such, I didn't think it felt right if all of Draco’s interactions in the book were exactly the same. So there were definitely some changes through the year, including him not being as big of a jerk.

Danny made him think about things.

….He was still a jerk though.)

..........

A week after Danny left Malfoy Manor, Draco’s parents took him to the Quidditch World Cup.

It was thrilling, as it always was. His father had made sure they had top box seats, as the Minister's personal guests even, with a sizable donation to St. Mungo's.

But all Draco could think of was that it would be a lot more fun if Danny had been with him.

He could have talked to Danny about the tactics and strategies they were using in the game. About the differences between school and professional games.

Danny probably would have laughed at the mascots brought out and told him another wild story from his hometown.

He hadn't even noticed Potter and his friends till the minister was showing him off like a prized owl. Draco rolled his eyes and ignored them.

Maybe it was better Danny hadn't come. He'd be insisting to meet Draco's "arch enemy". He found Draco’s hatred of the Gryffindors comical.

The match and the whole trip back to the luxury temporary house his parents had commissioned weeks before, were nothing but a whirlwind Draco didn't quite remember. It had been a relief to escape into the charmed house, where none of the partying outside could be heard.

The next thing Draco knew, his mother was pulling him out of bed.

"Get up Draco." She ordered. "Dress quickly and follow me."

His mother was waiting by the door by the time he made it down the stairs. It was only opened an inch, but Draco could hear the screams and spell fire coming from outside.

His mother looked at him, her hand on the door. "I'm going to get Lucius. Wait for us just inside the tree line."

Draco felt like a rock had suddenly dropped in his stomach. "Where's Father?"

"Don't worry about that," she said softly. She leaned forward to cup his face. "Wait for us, and stay out of the way."

And Draco did as she asked. He followed the crowd, till he made it to the forest. From there he wandered just in the tree line till he found a hidden clearing with a view to the camp grounds.

His back hit a tree and he grabbed his elbows, slowly sliding to the forest floor, for once not caring about the leaves and dirt that would get all over his expensive robes. All he could think about was "What if Danny had come with?"

He wasn't stupid, he knew what was happening as he saw flashes of red and green and a family of muggles spinning above pointed wands. He knew exactly who was out there. A dark head flopped forward and Draco felt his stomach twist into knots.

That could have been his brother.

There was a part of Draco that always….knew this was how muggles and squib were treated by some wixen. It was a mindset he had always known, this is how muggles were supposed to be treated. It was what he was raised on.

And Danny….Danny was such a muggle. He never hid his upbringing, always going on about the things he did and how different it was in the wizarding world. He gladly called himself a squib, a defiant look in his eyes as if he was taking the almost slur and reclaiming it as something to be proud of.

That could've been Danny. But he's safe.

He's safe.

For the first time in his life, Draco hated being a pureblood.

He's safe.

Draco sat there against the tree with the words thudding in ears as the sounds of the battle grew fainter and fainter. He was absolutely lost in his head till Weasley tripped over his big feet and landed in front of him.

And he couldn't stop himself from replying back, followed by Weasley swearing at him vulgarly.

Potter and Granger were right behind him. Granger had crossed her arms and frowned at him, while Potter seemed to gear up for a fight.

He's safe.

Normally, Draco would be all too willing to knock Potter’s ego down a couple of notches. But he was just….not feeling it that night.

(It had absolutely nothing to do with how-for a moment- Draco saw someone else standing in Potter’s place. And nothing to do with the fleeting thought that if Danny had been with him-)

He's safe.

"You should go, Potter." Draco muttered turning away from the stupid trio, "You wouldn't want to find out what they do to muggleborns."

They snipped at him some more before walking away, Weasley giving him one last unreadable look before they were out of sight.

(“Did either of you notice something….off about him?”

“Yeah. He didn’t insult us or try to fight Harry.”

“Well, yes but....he didn’t call me a Mudblood.”

“....Okay that is weird. Heh, who knows? Maybe he grew a conscious over the summer. That’d take a miracle though.”

“Who cares, it’s still Malfoy. He’s still a prat.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”)

"He's safe." Draco reminded himself, as the last of the screaming faded from earshot.

….

CRASH

Draco whipped around, wand already in his hand. Danny caught his wrist and shoved it down.

"Dude I thought you were trying to keep the wizard thing on the down low."

"What?!" Draco shrieked, "We're being attacked!"

"Yeah I know, we were just talking about this a second ago."

"I believe you called it an 'illogical paranoia'." Sam drawled.

"We just call that Monday!" Tucker added brightly.

"And any other day that ends in 'Y'." She said.

Tucker finger gunned and clicked his tongue in agreement. Draco looked at them in disbelief. And then he noticed everyone else.

During the Death Eater attack at the World Cup, everyone had been running and screaming. Either away from, or towards the chaos.

Draco could still hear smashing sounds, faint screams, and the occasional cackling coming from the other side of the block, but it was….muted, half-hearted.

Many of the others on the street seemed more annoyed than anything. Checking their phones and either turning in a different direction, or stopping on the side walks to complain about their way home being blocked off for the next hour and, "I've got laundry to do Kathy, my washing machine had better be fine or I'm gonna riot."

(There were maybe one or two others, seeming to experience about the same amount of scared/confused anxiety he was experiencing. They were either being laughed at or sent pitying glances and Draco suddenly remembered being called an outsider multiple times. He thinks he is finally starting to understand what they mean.

He does not like it.)

Sam dropped her backpack, pulled out a book, and settled on the curbside.

He gave a what-are-doing-and-why-are-we-not-running-away gesture that she luckily understood.

"If we freaked out about a ghost every time one attacked we'd never get anything done." Sam rolled her eyes, "People in the blast zone get out. We stay here, out of the way. Everyone else goes about their business and plans around the attack."

Draco turned to Danny to talk some sense into him, or forcibly drag him away from the concerning crashing sounds, and about had a heart attack when he couldn't see him anywhere.

Panicked, he turned back to Sam and asked, "Where's Danny?!"

She didn't even bother looking at him before deadpanning, "Bathroom."

He wasn't sure what kind of face he made at her, but she rolled her eyes at him and shut her book. "Relax Draco, this happens all the time."

He scowled at her, "I'm going to go find him."

"By the Ancients, you're as bad as Danny." She groaned into her book before leaping up and going after him. "Seriously Draco, you're not gonna find him. You're only going to get yourself hurt!"

She darted in front of him, spreading her arms out as if that would actually stop him. He tried to move her out of the way, she grabbed his wrist, and the next thing he knew he was on his back trying to get all the breath that had been knocked out of him back into his lungs.

Sam leaned over him. "We need. To stay. Here. Where Danny and Tucker can find us when they get back. If I have to knock you out to keep you safe then I will. I promised Danny I'd look after you, despite how much I want to throw you to the wolves and leave you to fend for yourself."

"What is your problem?!" Draco spit out as he sat up.

"You." She said bluntly, "And everything you and your family stand for. You're everything I hate in a person. An elitist, classist, racist, bullying coward who'd rather run away or hide behind daddy's money than actually face his problems."

She squatted down to look him in the eye, "I have been surrounded by you old blood money types since before I was born. I know the type. I have walked those gilded paths, danced those marble halls, and been fed those silver spoons. I've been in your shoes before and I despised who I saw in the mirror."

Sam let out a breath, "But Danny vouches for you, and I trust Danny. He sees so much good in everyone, and I've seen people abuse that time and time again. Including rich assholes. Don't be the reason he gets hurt again or I'll do more than knock you out of breath."

She stood back up and held her hand out to help him up. He stared at her for a moment, before grimacing and accepting the hand. "I have no intention of hurting him."

"You'd be surprised at the amount of people that hurt him despite intentions." She muttered darkly. "You getting hurt would hurt Danny. Please stay away from ghost fights."

As soon as she said that, a black and white blur shot past them and crashed into a parked car. An audible groan echoed across the quickly clearing street.

You see, while Draco was distracted by Sam, Danny had dragged Tucker to the nearby alley and threw himself in the dumpster.

"There are so many ways I could make fun of you for this," Tucker said as a flash of light came from the cracks in the dumpster, "But I'm just too shocked at you showing even the slightest hint of caution regarding your secret identity."

Phantom phased his head out of the top, "What are you talking about? I'm always careful!"

"Me and Sam have a running bet on how long it takes before you blow your secret in front of Draco, Mister stands-on-top-of-the-nearest-available-surface-and-shouts-his-catchphrase."

Phantom crossed his arms as he floated out of the dumpster. "Okay there is no way I'm that bad."

Tucker gave him a flat look. "Just yesterday you threw yourself out of Vlad's office window, and transformed on the way down. Leapt off the picnic table at lunch, while shouting your catchphrase, in the middle of lunch. Oh also when we were just walking down the street and you jumped on a car, ran across it, and then threw yourself off with a fancy flip while transforming mid air."

Phantom floated there with a sheepish look.

"Yeah I'm honestly baffled you even have a secret identity still. You're as good at being discreet as you are dodging."

"I can dodge," Phantom muttered as he picked up Tucker and flew them through the building to get to the fight.

The universe decided to prove Tucker's point by sending several floppy disks directly into Phantom's face as soon as he appeared on the other side of the building.

They both yelped, Tucker throwing his arms and legs around Phantom before he could be dropped on the pavement several stories below.

"You suck!" Tucker hissed into Phantom's collarbone.

Phantom narrowed his eyes before abruptly turning intangible right above a car with a convenient mattress strapped to the top.

Tucker screamed at the sudden free fall, and then screamed obscenities at Phantom once he stopped bouncing.

Phantom cracked his knuckles, "All right now who's-oh great."

"I am TECHNUS! Maniacal master of the mechanical! Wizard of the interior circuitry, and RULER of the ELECTRICAL GRID!"

"Is that a new speech?" Tucker asked the ghost.

"It is! Thank you for noticing, Ghost Child's more technologically inclined friend!"

"It's an improvement! I liked the maniacal master part." Tucker gave Technus a thumbs up, before settling down on the car mattress to absolutely destroy him digitally.

Technus had already made a three armed, three legged mech suit from what looked to be just desktop computers and their various accessories. Which was weird because he usually just ripped anything vaguely tech powered from the vicinity.

(Many college students with finals coming up were grabbing their weaponry to fight for their papers, or drowning their sorrows in the nearest, cheapest liquid. They all had backups upon backups stashed around Amity and Elmore of course, this wasn't the first time Technus attacked near finals. But it was the principal of the matter and they'd rather just beat a ghost for their laptop back, rather than go through the 20 step process of recovering their work.)

The monitors made up his main body, his digital face shining out of each individual one giving him a vaguely eldritch look with all the eyes and cackling mouths. The towers made up the bulk of the limbs, with those old Webcams making up the joints. The keyboards came together to form four pronged claws on the three arms and the whole thing was wrapped in the various cords and mouses to hold it together. It was 3 stories tall and crackling with electricity at the plug-in prongs.

"I see you've decided to go with the Electronics Section from Goodwill look!" Phantom quipped as he shot forward slamming his feet into one of the arm joints and knocking it to the ground. "So what's the evil plan for today, and can we hurry up? I have stuff to do."

"That stuff is meeting your demise!" Technus yelled as he caught Phantom and threw him into one of the buildings. "For I have a new secret weapon!" The cords reached out from the stump Phantom had just made and reattached the arm back in place.

Phantom shook his head free of rubble, before flying back up, fists glowing with ecto energy. "Oh I'm sure it's a blast!" He said, shooting ectoblasts at the various monitors.

He heard Tucker booing from the ground, "You need new jokes!"

Technus laughed wildly as he swiped at Phantom like a pesky bug, "Behold! I will control the social media platforms of the internet! I will be THE hippest thing since The Beatles!"

Phantom paused his attack to stare at him, "Dude how old are you?"

"IRRELEVANT!" Technus shouted as he slammed a hand down on Phantom, shoving him down into the road. "You cannot stop me, Ghost Child! Not once I use the power of MYSPACE!!"

Phantom grunted, legs and arms bracing against the cobbled together claw to keep the sparking plugs away from his face as they tried to zap him. "You have gotta be kidding me."

Tucker shook his head, "Dude you are so OUTDATED!"

"WHAT?!?!" Technus screeched. Phantom used Tucker's distraction to go intangible into the ground, before popping back up next to a furiously typing Tucker.

"Not to sound ungrateful but could you hurry it up a little?" Phantom hissed.

"You could give me a hand. Oh wait, you stink at firewalls." Tucker shot back, eyes not leaving the screen. Phantom made a strangled sound and Tucker looked up to see him wrapped in various colored cords trying to choke him.

"Sor-ry," Phantom gasped, "L'il….tied up."

Technus yanked him back and twirled him like a lasso, before launching him through a house leaving Phantom shaped holes in the walls.

"Ouch." Tucker winced, "Don't think the pun deserved that."

Technus cackled his mad scientist cackle and took off in the direction he just yeeted Phantom.

Tucker slid off the car and started jogging after them. With his eyes on his PDA, he almost tripped over Sam and Draco when he made it to the other street.

Draco was staring open-mouthed at the Phantom shaped lump currently pulling himself out of a car.

"Dude, MY CAR!" A guy wailed from his apartment window.

Phantom floated upwards, rubbing the back of his head, an annoyed look on his face, "Bill it to the mayor."

Phantom dodged the floppy disks, and keyboard button projectiles Technus started shooting at him.

Tucker yelped and dived behind a mailbox to avoid the collateral. Sam pulled Draco to the ground behind one of the parked cars as Draco pulled out his wand and casted a quick protego.

Sam didn't blink at the magic. Draco though, was definitely freaking out about whatever was happening.

"What are those things?!"

She gave him a look full of disbelief, "They're ghosts."

"Those are not ghosts!!!" Draco protested rather shrilly, giving a very good impression of Pamela Manson at the last PTA meeting.

Unfortunately, this impression also attracted the attention of Technus. "You must be new!"

The giant mech dropped down on the car Draco and Sam were hiding behind. Sam swore as glass scattered the ground, and tried tugging Draco away from the possessed tech. The mech leaned over the two teens, Draco’s wand shaking in his hands as he casted stupefy.

The magic bounced harmlessly off the tech and Technus let out a delighted laugh. "A little witchling! It's been ages since I've seen one of your kind! Wait-."

The mech leaned forward and Sam hissed, kicking the screens with her combat boots. She shoved Draco behind her and pulled up her fists in a fighting pose. “Back off you Matrix knockoff!”

All of Technus’s screens focused on Draco, sending a shiver down his spine as the red eyes shined through the glass. “Your new friend looks so familiar! Have they ever been on TV?”

“I don't even know what that is.” Draco said from behind Sam.

That apparently shocked the tech ghost enough that he physically reared back in surprise. This gave Phantom the opening needed to grab an arm and yank him further back, dragging the mech several meters across the street.

“Memory problems?” Phantom yanked him one more time, before launching himself towards the main screens, “Maybe you just need a reboot!”

Technus screeched as Phantom landed the hit, static warping his voice as several of the screens broke, sending more glass down onto the street. Draco cast another protego to keep the worst of it from them as Sam pulled him further down the street and away from the….creatures fighting. Sam grabbed her backpack as the two of them ran to where Tucker was huddled behind the blue mailbox, tapping furiously at his PDA.

Draco ripped his arm away from Sam’s grip, again, and kept his wand up as he watched the fight in disbelief. He yelled in shock as lightning struck the ground near to where they were.

There was a giant crash, more staticky screeching, and then a black and white blur shot towards them. A freezing arm wrapped around his and Sam’s waist, and Draco shrieked in terror as they were suddenly flying fast as a broomstick into the air. He didn’t have time to attack the creature before the two of them were dropped on a nearby rooftop.

Draco sat on the roof, eyes wide as he got a good look at the human looking creature claiming to be a ghost.

He could feel the waves of cold pulsing from the slightly glowing figure, the only thing Draco could recognize as ghostly. A black and white suit made of unrecognizable material, snow white hair floated in a nonexistent breeze. Their eyes were as vibrant green as the killing curse and Draco’s mouth went dry.

This was not a ghost. It couldn't be.

“You’ll be safe here.” They said, legs no longer below the waist and just a silver wisp of a tail, whipping back and forth in agitation.

Then they were gone, leaving Draco sitting on a roof with shaky legs and a head full of questions.

Phantom shot towards Technus once again, eyes and fists glowing a furious ice blue, “Ever had your Windows freeze on you?” He froze the ground around the legs, the ice trapping Technus in that one spot.

Technus tried tugging the leg out, but the ice held. “Foolish child! This cannot stop me! Nothing will prevent me from taking over the MySpace!”

Tucker came running up to Phantom, something small clutched in his hands, “Danny! Catch!”

He chucked the small black rectangle towards the hero. Phantom swooped down and grabbed it. He held up the USB and grinned. “You’re the best Tuck. Go help Sam keep an eye on Drake.”

Tucker gave a two finger salute and took off towards the fire escape.

Technus pulsed with electricity, weakening the ice enough to break free, before charging at Phantom and swatting him into the road. Phantom grunted in pain, but shot at the joint of the claw with an ectoblast and wrenched it off. He twisted around the cords that shot out towards him before landing on the biggest screen, his fingers clutching onto the edge.

“You have any tissues?” Danny asked with a wide grin.

“What?" Technus sounded flabbergasted at the non sequitur, "Why would I need tissues?”

“Don’t you know?” Phantom held up the USB, “There’s a virus going around!”

And then he jammed it between Technus’s digital eyes.

The thing about Technus, is that when he possesses tech, it becomes ridiculously malleable. It’s why he’s able to surround himself with giant robot suits built entirely out of the useless junk from your garage. It also means that any new tech can just automatically absorb into the amalgamation, no need to search for usable ports.

Technus screeched that staticky screech once again, the noise suddenly turning to the dread inducing dial up noise as all the screen went blue one by one. As soon as the last screen went blue, all of the tech shut down. The mech suit collapsed into its original parts and Technus was forced out, spinning head over heels in the air.

Technus held his head, clearly dizzy, and sneezed three times in a row. Phantom uncapped the thermos and pointed it at him, “I recommend a few weeks of bed rest.” And then he sucked Technus in as the ghost sneezed his objections.

Phantom let out a sigh as he capped it, wincing at property damage left from this fight. “Vlad is going to take this out on me for sure.”

He caught sight of Sam, Tucker, and Draco on the fire escape of the building and panicked for a moment before diving into the adjacent dark alley and straight into the dumpster once again.

He was getting really good at recognizing familiar dumpsters.

Danny winced as the bruises started making themselves known, twinging with the movement of Danny throwing the lid open to crawl out. Looking up, he saw Draco’s perturbed face.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment.

“So!” Danny said, putting on his best Captain America PSA voice, “You witnessed your first ghost attack.”

“You’re in a dumpster.” Draco said in disgust.

Something squished underneath Danny’s shoes as he shifted his weight and he winced, “Uh, yeah.”

He gripped the lip of the dumpster and pulled himself up. His ribs immediately protested and he winced. This made his hand slip onto an unknown slippery substance, causing him to lose his grip and he flipped over and landed flat on the pavement.

“Ohhhh, that’s gonna bruise,” Danny wheezed to himself.

Tucker laughed at him. Sam rolled her eyes. Draco looked like he wanted to help Danny up, but he was not gonna touch Danny after being in the dumpster.

Draco pulled out his wand and casted the single cleaning spell he knew to rid Danny of any dumpster juices he acquired.

"Thanks Drake," Danny said as he stood up, "But aren't you gonna get in trouble for using so much magic around non-magicals?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, "I'm sure it could be excused after…..whatever that was. You said it was safe here." He accused him quietly.

Sam and Tucker suddenly looked like they'd rather be anywhere else but there.

Danny winced at them before dragging Draco deeper into the alley, Sam and Tucker taking up spots on the corners to play lookout and stay out of the twin's talk.

"It is safe here." Danny said.

"That was not safe!!!" Draco hissed, waving his arms much like Wes did when you got him going on a good rant. "That!? We were being attacked by those-those….those creatures!!"

"Ghosts." Danny snapped, "I've been telling you for over a year! And only one of them attacked us! Phantom was trying to stop him!"

"Ghosts don't look like that!" Draco stressed, "They're pale echoes leftover from life! They're grey and can't touch anything and they can't-they can't do things like grab me!"

Draco wasn't going to admit that that was what had scared him more than anything. Ghosts had always been non-threatening to him, save for whatever gossip they could overhear and their ability to spy through solid walls. But ultimately, they couldn't touch him, so they couldn't hurt him.

(Peeves did not count. He was an incorrigible prankster that manipulated his surroundings, rather than interacting directly with humans. A nuisance, much like getting some gum stuck on the bottom of your shoe.)

Danny huffed out a breath, "Drake, did it ever occur to you that there were different types of ghosts?"

Draco sneered at him, "I know that, probably better than whatever muggle nonsense has been shoved in your head."

Danny had to turn around and count to ten because he was pretty sure he would've flashed his eyes at Draco. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Ghosts are a wizard thing Danny." Draco said, less antagonistic.

"They're really not." Danny rolled his eyes and looked back at his brother. "Look, just because we don't have magic, doesn't mean we don't still see it."

"But wizards-"

"Can't erase everything magical. There's too many humans, too many animals, too much history to just….blank it out."

Danny blew out a breath. "Amity is….weird. It's always been weird, it's one of the reasons Mom and Dad settled here. From what they could find out, it's like ley line central and surrounded by crossroads and full of ambient ectoplasm, which makes it the perfect weak point for ghosts to cross between realms. And ever since they made that portal…."

Danny remembers growing up in Amity pre-Accident. Shadows were always darker than other places. Whispers in places no one was. The town library had an entire wing dedicated to rituals and summonings, and the constant urban legends that sprung up at the slightest hint of the paranormal.

(Sydney Pointdexter's haunted locker legend had been going for over 70 years. Danny didn't hear about it only because whenever he or Jazz heard the word 'haunted' they immediately tuned the person out. It was a side effect of years of being subjected to their parent's lectures on ghosts. He loves them but there's only so much he can take in at a time.)

Amity Park had always had its roots in the dark, creepy, and dead. The 'Nice Place to Live' sign had always been an inside joke to the town, which supported the highest number of abandoned warehouses, cults, and ghost sightings in America.

Opening the portal and solidifying the bridge between the two realms just allowed Amity Park to fully showcase just how weird they can get.

And get the tourist money for being weird.

"Look can you just-" Danny ran his hands through his hair. "Can you just trust that we know what we're doing? We've been dealing with the ghosts for over a year now. Wizards aren't here dealing with this, we are. Just cause we don't have magic doesn't mean we're helpless."

Draco stared at him, and Danny could see how tense he was. And Danny wondered yet again just what had happened while they were separated that was making Draco this scared.

Draco clenched his jaw as his eyes flitted around the alley. "You'll explain things to me. Properly." He demanded, rather than asked like a normal person would.

Danny looked at him, "If you do the same, yeah."

Draco nodded. "Yes. Fine."

"Alright, good."

The two of them stared at each other awkwardly for a moment. Danny finally let out a sigh, turning to walk out of the alley. "Okay, let's head home."

..........

Tag list: @ladylynse @burningprincesssuit @raisa3ibex @random-shit-writing @home-of-renn @who-needs-braincells @connisk @thecatchat

#how we feeling folks?#literally NO ONE guessed the correct ghost smh #i guess i'm doing good at surprising you guys #fyi this is actually much longer in my drafts but i had to spilt it up because this is almost 5k and i still have the whole fenton works #thing i want to do with the parents and that one scene that has been living in my head rent free since chapter 1 #danny phantom #danny fenton #queen will write #crossover #draco malfoy #sam manson #tucker foley #also i stand by the headcanon that amity is super weird and its always been weird even before the portal #my amity is basically the love child of metropolis and gotham that was dropped in the part of america where everyone smiles at you #constellations #my fics #dp twin au #harry potter #okay fine....take your guest appearance of the golden trio and then say bye

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semi-sketchy · 3 months

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God damn can people learn to use their words already

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woolandcoffee · 8 months

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#woolly rambles #very extremely accidentally managed to spoil my partner's proposal plans this weekend and i couldnt feel any lower 🫠#i very off-handedly guessed a key part of it and i've been kicking myself ever since #he was so disappointed #and like we're fine he's rallied and is going to come up with something else #and has even said he was okay with changing it because hes told a few of our friends #and was thinking of switching to a plan that only he knew #but i still feel like shit about it #it feels like being a kid who accidentally ruined a game you didnt know the rules to and now everyone is upset #and you didnt mean to do it #and wouldnt have done it if you had Known #and you cant blame the other kids for being upset because you did very much ruin the game #i know its all going to be fine and everything will sort itself out #but right now i feel horrible about it #like tearing up at the airport as i type this feel horrible about it #trying to tell myself that big events like weddings always have whoopsie moments like this that feel devastating but actually are fine #and that this blip is just us getting that moment out of the way early #but idk if its working #hoping that spilling my feelings into the tags of a tumblr post will help #also very much may delete this later #i really do suck at the elaborate social rituals

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gayfranzkafka · 10 months

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(insane post incoming) okay i've been a taylor swift re-recordings hater since the beginning but the Speak Now re-recording is making me INSANE i think it's partially just that i'm having a weird time emotionally anyway but like "Timeless" made me TEAR UP like bro WHAT like something about it being soooo essentially of that era but new like the novelty of it BONKED me over the head with a reminder of what it felt like to hear all those songs off Speak Now for the first time when i just had this IDEA of what love was & hadn't actually experienced it yet (& wouldn't for many years!!) like way before i even knew i was a lesbian just listening to taylor sing "enchanted" alone in my bedroom wondering who the guy she was singing about was & if she ever saw him again (because i was #blessed to not have internet access and therefor not know it was the dude from owl city she was singing about alsdfhaklsdhfasdh) & i remember just pouring through the little lyric booklet & its pictures & intro & mostly it was just me & the music & this picture of her in a ballgown in my head & this made up but hopeful romantic idea of what love is and like S C R E A M

#anyway i'm doing fine in case you're wondering #not to overshare but i think it's like. also because in my relationship rn we are like having to work through some things & like not even #anything out of the ordinary like just compatibility stuff that comes up for any longterm couple but we started talking about like spending #the rest of our lives together in very hypothetical way but still like really early in the relationship & now my gf is more like 'okay i #do really want to date you but i want to focus on working through these things & it feels overwhelming to talk about the longterm future rn #like not even in a way where i don't trust them & us to work through this but i'm just like. at the end of the day i guess i AM a romantic #& do have this idealized version of love that i believe in like i think that can be a bad thing (part of what kept me with my abusive hs ex #& i think it can also be a strength like i think it's NICE that i can still so clearly see & believe in a future with my gf even when we ar #working through hard stuff & when they feel overwhelmed but like. it's like is that DUMB or just like. i feel my feelings in a really inten #*intense way that i DO think is (sigh) like taylor a LITTLE BIT & it's like oh what does it mean for other people to not necessarily share #my same relationship to love like even the people you love will have a different relationship to love than you if that makes sense which li #*like duh but is also feeling like a mindfuck rn ANYWAY in conclusion i don't think my feelings are REALLY just about speak now but i DO #also think Speak Now WAS this formative text for me & represents/influenced the way i relate to love and like. SIGH. well i am thinking #about it. and i DID listen to 'timeless' on repeat & feel so emotional over it i literally felt like i was going to throw up <3 #and it's objectively like not even THAT good of a song asdlfjashdfasdfahsdf #anyway hiiiii how is everyone

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jensonsbuttons · 1 year

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i feel like we've talked abt this many times but i've been thinking (hate it when that happens) and jenson as tp what do we think...... he'd burn it all to the ground for sure but by blorbo law it's fine, he can't do anything wrong

HIIIII KAJS <3 please do not apologize i love the thoughts you get from thinking. very big brained.

we did talk about it before and i think we're right in he might burn it to the ground. however, might i interest you in a common trope. let's set the scene....we have a protagonist and a side character. they're having a conversation. our lovely protag is standing in front of the side character and says "not to worry! i've got everything under control."

meanwhile, behind our protag, everything is not under control. explosions are happening, a car just swerved to avoid the issues that are clearly not under control, a lamp post just slowly fell down, someone just screamed out "my leg!" and there are several fires that need to be put out.

that's the best sum up i have. do i still want him as tp? yes absolutely.

#okay SORRY this took me forever to answer i took in a stray dog last night and he's been my life ever since #but anyway yeah i mean!!! he'd be average i really do think he'd be completely average at like...everything but media #obviously he's a part of a media team now so that would help a lot to train him on what to say #and he was good at it back in the day of thanking everyone at home and at the factory and blah blah #so like??? media wise i think he'd be perfectly fine #it's just literally every other aspect of the job that would probably be a learning curve. a very steep learning curve at that #but also tbf and i guess i have to be objective (ugh) i think he probably has learned a lot over the years #so like yes while i give him grief for being Simple i also think he'd bring more to the table and be willing to learn more #so i think that would make him a good tp too ya know?#also also he was a former driver so he brings that aspect of it as well to get along with the drivers and blah blah #idk i'm very very conflicted on jb tp at this time.......want him but don't #media = good everything else = 😳🫠🫥🫣😲🥴#thank you as always for reading my ramblings 😌#i hope you're doing well kajs!!!!!!#answered #kajs

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vivalasthedas · 1 year

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so she was happy to kill three random men just to get in a room

but a single woman is too much to protect a crying child?

#i dont like the main character so far in case it isn't clear #shes fine #she's just dragon age cliche #mixed with edgy for the sake of edgy 'true neutral' style bs #im guessing its laying groud work for character growth and it works for that for sure #but its one of those even for internal personal logic i dont get it #kill everyone you need to until its killing someone to protect a kid then oh no i can't risk it #doesn't seem like it makes sense from a character reasonng perspective?#so just feels wonky and like there's none #which fits for a dragon age product tbh #slaughter hundreds of rando humans while walking around? absolutely cool #they're poor and mean so who cares #kill a few chantry mothers and oh no step too far xD #you can't blow up the rch part of town thats not okay #(again ths is said with so much 'i will die on this hill for comedic purposes' intent not actual ire or whatever

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misterradio · 2 years

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wow david hasselhoff has a weird voice compared to everyone else

#watching this jekyll and hyde musical WOOOOOO #everyone seems to be doing an english accent except him #original nonsense #ohhhhh facade is such a good song for the theme of personal/private life grr grrr grrrrr it makes me wish tgis musical had more of that the #THEME. Instead of saying that the two parts of human behaviour are good vs evil. AUGH #''well You dont have to deal with this behaviour. he's marrying Me not You.'' LOL #every time anyone is introduced we say their name like HI POOLE. HI JOHN.#this pacing is so fast.. The dialogue and singing... AHHH #slow down please.#(shrek they dont even have dental voice) they don't even have bitch bitch bitch.#OH MY WORD HE LIT SOMEONE ON FIRE AHHHH made me yell out loud . AMAZING #''love is worth forgiving for'' yeah but if this dude is THIS hot n cold with u then there is a huge problem ...#hyde evil pained laugh in front of utterson kind of swag actually ::-)#YAY WE R DONE..!!!!!!!!!!#It wasn't the Anthony warlow concept album but it was pretty good I guess LOL #It made me wish the pacing was better . And some of the moments I rly liked in the album weren't there #But it is cool to have more context for stuff going on ::-)#I think I like the way warlow paced some of his dialogue more ? esp when he was transforming and sh-t #Also lisa/emma got way less screen time than I thought she would 😔 SAD #okay other than that the music was fine and it was a fun watch ::-)

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tried-andtrueblue · 1 year

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also friday was so draining

#i...#yeah #i dont know if i want to get into it here #but it was just really #idk it was fine i guess #but i just felt so stupid and alone and STUPID #and awkward and pathetic #and just completely unprepared #okay that's it for now #ok i also felt gross and not-me #hated how i looked because everyone else looked so 'them'#i didnt feel like myself at all #also hated talking to all the people pretending to be nice to me who have never showed interest in speaking to me #my date for the evening was one of my really good friends who left after the first year #and i just felt like people were being so much nicer and friendlier to her even though they haven't seen her in 3 years than they ever #would have been had i gone alone #im glad she came with though because i would have been completely alone otherwise #and i would have felt even more awkward about it #it's really just not my thing. ive never felt comfortable enough in my own body to 'take up space'#and i like observing my friends and watching them have fun without taking part myself #i really do.#but it's always seen as me being left out when i just want to watch them #i know it always comes from a place of them wanting to include me but i genuinely cannot do things like that without feeling so unnatural #and terrible #it's definitely something i should talk to my therapist about #i just cant seem to let go? at all #but when we were racing in the hallways outside i was fine doing that #i had a lot of fun doing that #but i couldnt dance with my friends or talk to people without hating every second of it #the music sucked also. they clearly didnt bother to look at the suggestions

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scuderiahoney · 4 months

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Stick Around

Oscar Piastri x bestfriend!reader

Masterlist

Summary: You’ve been searching for your soulmate your whole life. Maybe you’ve just been looking in the wrong place.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, cheating/infidelity (not by a main character I promise) mild swearing, excessive use of italics

|Age 20|

“You can’t seriously still be reading that stuff,” Oscar says.

You peer at him over the top of your magazine.

“What stuff?” You ask, playing innocent.

“Your horoscope,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Haven’t you outgrown that yet?”

You shrug, directing your gaze back to the page in front of you. Today, you should avoid the color pink and embrace your skepticism. Oscar’s doing enough of the last part for the both of you. You could gain a great deal of information from social interactions. That’s helpful- you’ve been in search of some gossip. Your soulmate is just a click away- wait, no, that’s an ad. You huff and set the magazine down on the table. Oscar nods in agreement.

“I just think maybe it’s better to live your life without worrying about what the stars say,” Oscar says, waving his hands around in a way that you think is supposed to represent the stars. “Just, like… do what you want to do.”

��I do,” you mutter dryly. “Doesn’t hurt to have some advice, though.”

The two of you have always been like this. Oscar is a skeptic, you’re a believer. He calls it being easy to brainwash, says it in a teasing way that makes you glare at him every time. He’s taken it as his responsibility to keep you from falling for things. You’ve told him time and time again that you’re fine on your own. You just like the idea of predestiny, that what’s going to happen was always meant to.

Oscar is just worried you’ll join the first cult you cross paths with.

|Age 5|

It’s the day after you turn 5 when you first hear the word soulmate. Sol-meight. You sound it out through your lips, sticky with jam from your breakfast. Your best friend at the time, a girl whose name you’ve long since forgotten, had said it.

“S’when you’re meant to be,” she explains, in that all knowing tone that only little kids who know nothing at all seem to have. “Like, my mum and dad say they’re soulmates.”

Oscar, who’s sitting next to you, scoffs. “Everyone’s parents say that. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

He’s taller than you, even sitting down, hair cut short after one of his sisters stuck gum in it a few days ago. His cheeks are rosy red, and there’s cream cheese on his nose. Years later, Oscar’s face will be one of the first ones you ever remember meeting. Right now, he’s just the boy in your class whose mother knows your mother, and because of that, he’s the boy who rides to school with you in the backseat. He’s not the worst, you guess. He’s… okay. Sort of just… always there.

“Is too!” Your friend says, shaking her head, pigtails bouncing. “Mum says there’s signs.”

“What kinda signs?” You ask, and Oscar turns to look at you in disbelief.

She shrugs. “Dunno. I’ll ask later.”

She comes back to the breakfast table the next day with a magazine page, torn haphazardly and slightly crumpled. On it is a list of signs someone could be your soulmate. The two of you pore over the page at every available opportunity for at least a week, barely able to read all the words.

Your friend forgets about soulmates a month later and moves on to an obsession with Barbie dolls. You carry the magazine page with you for years after that, until it’s worn and falling apart. Then you copy down the list into a safer place, worried you’ll lose it forever. 15 Signs He’s Your Soulmate, written with magic marker on pink construction paper and stowed away in your desk.

|Age 10|

“I hate olives,” you sneer, staring at the very last slice of pizza.

It’s a birthday party. You can’t for the life of you understand why there’s pizza with olives on it. Olives don’t belong on pizza- not much does, in your opinion. Just pepperoni, really. Maybe a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese, if you’re feeling fancy.

Katy, one of your classmates, is standing next to you. “I love olives. Here, I’ll pick them off for you and you can have the last slice.”

The pizza still tastes a bit like olives in the end, probably baked into the cheese, but it’s better than it would’ve been. Katy is your best friend after that. The two of you are inseparable from the moment you get to school until the moment you leave. You beg your mothers for sleepovers on the weekends, for day trips during holiday breaks. YouandKaty. Your names melt together until they become one.

Oscar still rides to school with you in the morning. Sometimes, Katy does too. Katy doesn’t like Oscar. She doesn’t like most boys, calls them gross. Since Katy thinks boys are gross, you do too.

“Be nice to Oscar,” your mother tells you one morning. “He’s not done anything to you.”

You’re in the backseat of the car, on the way to his house. “He’s a boy. Boys are gross.”

Your mother sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. She says your name sternly, and you shrink in your seat. When Oscar gets in, you say hello and force a smile.

Oscar’s the one who finds you crying on the playground. You thought you’d chosen a better hiding place, really- nobody had bugged you in your spot between the two large myrtle trees. But Oscar finds you anyways. You can’t even bring yourself to tell him to go away, too busy feeling sorry for yourself.

“Wha’s wrong?” He asks.

His cheeks are red- he’s likely been running around with the other boys. You shrug, pulling up another clump of grass and letting it fall from your fingers. Oscar sighs, scuffs his toe in the dirt.

“Katy doesn’t wanna be friends anymore,” you say, rubbing at your bare knee. “She says I’m not cool enough.”

Katy likes olives. You don’t. It’s on the soulmate list. You’re meant to be best friends.

Oscar’s quiet for a moment. Then- “That’s stupid. You’re like, the coolest person I know.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “Shut up.”

“M’serious,” he says. He holds his hand out to you. “Wanna come play cricket with the gross boys?”

You take his hand, wipe your tears with your other hand. “Yeah. I do.”

|Age 12|

“Are you and Dad soulmates?” You ask your mother one morning, before you even leave the house.

She’s standing at the counter, a piece of toast in her hand, half eaten. Her coffee is half drank, too.

She tilts her head at you. “What do you mean, love?”

“Like, when you met, did you just know he was the one? Did it feel meant to be?”

She laughs. “Oh, god no. We were polar opposites. Barely spoke to each other for the first year after we met.”

You stare at her in surprise. “What changed?”

She sighs, wistfully, staring into her mug. “He asked me if I wanted an orange. I said yes. And when he handed it to me, he’d peeled it for me.”

You blink. “Because you hate peeling oranges.”

“I do,” she agrees. “Love isn’t just a feeling, it’s an action. I think love is more about the choices we make and the things we remember about each other than whatever is written in the stars, honey.”

|Age 15|

There’s a boy on the football team- Ryan. Ryan has dark, curly hair and long, long eyelashes and this smile that makes your heart melt and your brain all fuzzy. Ryan doesn’t like olives, either, but he has a birthmark on the back of his right hand in the shape of a lopsided heart, and if you squint hard enough, you have one that matches on the back of your left arm. You stare at in the mirror for hours after he points it out, his hand on your arm.

You stare at your lips in the mirror for hours, too, after he kisses you for the first time. You think maybe you look different. You must. You’d never been kissed before, but Ryan hadn’t minded.

You go on group dates with him, because you’re nervous and your parents think you’re a bit too young to really be dating. You go to the mall, the movies, the diner down the street from the school. It’s your first taste of freedom.

Oscar asks you if you really like Ryan, like- “like like him?”, one day when you’re sitting in his backyard. Your mothers are inside, drinking wine. His sisters are in the pool, you’re laying out in the sun. Oscar sits under an umbrella and squints at the brightness of the world around him.

“Yeah,” you say, in the same tone you’d say duh or of course. “I think he’s my soulmate.”

“Why’s that?” Oscar asks tilting his head.

“We have matching birthmarks,” you say, again, in the same tone.

Oscar forms his mouth into a little o shape. You squint at him, pushing yourself to sit up.

“Why’re you so worried about it, anyways?”

“M’not,” Oscar says, crossing his leg over his knee. “S’just. He’s kind of an arse, isn’t he?”

He whispers the curse word so his sisters won’t hear. Oscar’s big into karting and racing right now, and the older boys at the tracks swear like sailors. There’s a swear jar stuffed to the brim sitting on the kitchen counter inside, right next to the half empty wine bottle.

Ryan is a bit of an arse, you’ll admit. To almost everyone.

“He’s nice to me,” you shrug. “He brought me flowers, yesterday. Isn’t that what matters?”

Oscar shrugs. He doesn’t ask about Ryan again.

Oscar is the one who brings you flowers when Ryan cheats on you and the other girl tells the whole school. He brings them to your bedroom door and you let him in. He sits with you, even as you cry, the door open the parentally required six inches. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t tell you he warned you. He just stays.

When Oscar moves to England, you wave goodbye with a smile. Then you lock yourself in your room and bawl your eyes out for a week straight, harder than you ever did about Ryan.

|Age 18|

Your university roommate, Emma, was born on the same day as you, at the exact same time. Down to the minute. You find it out on your second day of living together. It’s fate, kismet, meant to be. The stars and planets were aligned exactly the same way when you both took your first breaths.

Oscar laughs when you tell him, though he does admit that it’s a pretty cool coincidence. You’re chatting with him on the phone, telling him about your first week of university. You talk a lot, despite the distance. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or whatever.

You and Emma aren’t in any classes together- you have completely different majors. Despite this, you still become fast friends. You study together in your room and in the library, meet up for meals, and join a book club together. When Emma gets invited to her very first uni party, she brings you along with her. Your closets become shared.

You visit her family over the winter break for a week. She lives closer to the beach, and you love getting to soak up the sun with her and meet all the childhood friends you’ve heard stories about. Oscar comes home for his break and texts you, wondering when you’ll be back and if you’ll even have time for me, or are you too cool for me now?

You tackle him with a hug when you see him, standing at the kitchen counter in your house when you get there. He’s laughing and pushing you off of him, acting like he didn’t miss you just as much. You know he did. It’s written all over the smile on his face.

Emma visits your family later in the break, and that’s when you have your first fight.

“He’s definitely in love with you,” she insists from her spot on the air mattress on your floor.

She’s talking about Oscar, who she just met today. You’d brought her with to a barbecue at his family’s house. You’re regretting that choice. She’s spent all night afterwards pointing out all the signs that he’s in love with you- his hand on your shoulder, the look in his eyes, the way he smiled at you.

“He’s not,” you say, cheeks burning hot. “He’s- we’re friends.”

“Friends, right. Guys and girls can’t be just friends,” she says.

“Yes, they can!” You say indignantly.

Emma ignores you, rolls over, and goes to sleep. She leaves for home the next day- not earlier than she was supposed to, but it feels weird anyways. When you get back to campus, things feel different. You never really talk about the fight, though there wasn’t much to talk about, anyways. It’s not like she’s mean to you- the two of you still hang out, still see each other often. But Emma makes new friends, and you do too, and you stop doing everything together. It’s alright, you suppose, it’s just…

You were supposed to be destined to be friends. But soulmates shouldn’t be this easy to let go of. It’s written in the stars, it’s shouldn’t fade away like this.

Months ago, you and Emma had talked about spending the holiday break somewhere far away- somewhere tropical, exotic, so grown up and chic. But it hasn’t come up lately, and then she mentions a trip she’s taking with some friends from her classes. You book a flight to England instead and see Oscar in his new home for the first time.

You have new roommates next year. None of them have the same birthdate as you. You think that’s okay.

|Age 21|

There’s a stain on your dress, someone’s wine or sangria or cranberry juice that they’d been too clumsy with. You suppose it could be yours- you’re really not sure. It’s your fault for wearing such a light color to a club like this.

It’s your birthday. You’ve been able to drink for a few years, but it’s still your birthday, and for once, Oscar is there for it. Or really, you’re there for it, there being England. You’re on yet another trip to visit him, money saved and scraped together from your job on your breaks from school. Oscar helped pay for the plane ticket as a birthday present, and your parents got you a new luggage set to take along.

Oscar’s disappeared- at the bar, you remember, closing out his tab. You check your phone- 2:22 am. It’s really time you should be headed home-

You’re jostled from behind, and moments later, you feel cool liquid deep down your back. You turn, and there’s a guy standing there, sandy blonde hair and a terrified look on his face.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, British accent smoothing the words over. “I didn’t mean to-“

“S’okay,” you tell him, though you wrinkle your nose at the feeling of what was likely beer running down your back. “The dress was stained already.”

The man sighs. “It’s not okay- let me make it up to you. Can I buy you a drink?”

You frown. “I think I’m supposed to be leaving. My friend just went to pay.”

“Oh. That’s too bad.” The guy’s eyes light up, then. “Wait, how about I take you on a date?”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. 2:22, you remember. Angel numbers. You are in the right place at the right time.

“I’m only here for a couple more days,” you say, cautiously.

“I’m free tomorrow if you are,” he suggest. “Well, more like later today, but-“

“Yeah, okay!” You’d at brightly, and hopefully not too eagerly. “I’m free.”

He’s holding out his phone for you to put your number in when Oscar pops up. He looks between the two of you with raised brows. “Everything alright?”

“He’s taking me on a date later today,” you explain, tapping the last number. “Because he spilled beer on my dress. Can you check if I put my number in right? My fingers aren’t working right.”

Oscar laughs, leans forward, and nods. “That’s right.”

You don’t remember getting back to Oscar’s apartment. You barely even remember the guy from the bar until Oscar brings it up that morning, a teasing tone in his voice. Suddenly you’re checking your phone every minute, looking for a text from him. You name him Angel Boy, mentioning the angel numbers you’d seen just before you bumped into him. Oscar, well versed in your obsession with things that are just meant to be, rolls his eyes affectionately.

When the sun is trending towards the horizon and Angel Boy still hasn’t called or even texted you, your mood sours. You plant yourself on the couch, an episode of some stupid reality show playing. You’re not paying attention, only staring at your phone.

By the time 7:00 rolls around, you know it’s a lost cause. You can hear Oscar in the other room, shuffling around, and you feel tears well up in your eyes. There’s got to be someone out there who’s actually meant to be yours, right? One of these times the signs will be right, and it’ll all work out. It’s just… you’re getting discouraged.

Oscar appears in front of you and slips your phone out of your hands. He shoves it into his own pocket. He hands you a jacket, one of his, and you stare up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m taking you out to dinner,” he says, as he reaches to brush the tears from your cheeks. “Just because he’s not going to text you, doesn’t mean you should just sit here all night.”

You could cry even harder at that, at the fact that Oscar cares enough to try and break you out of your moping. You don’t really want to go out, but he has this hopeful look on his face. Both of you don’t need to be sad today. So you stand up, pull the jacket over your arms, and take a deep breath. You walk out of the apartment, your arm linked with his.

The ramen bar you go to is probably better than anywhere the guy would’ve taken you, anyways. If you’re being honest, the company is better, too.

|Age 22|

Oscar flies you out to the Netherlands to see him race. You’d been at the Melbourne Grand Prix, of course, but he’d insisted he’d fly you out for at least one race in his first season- promised it years ago, when Formula One was just a dream on his bucket list. Zandvoort works well- it fits into your schedule, and the summer break starts right afterwards, so he’ll actually have time to spend with you.

In the days leading up to the race, he’s extremely busy and extremely apologetic about it. You reassure him that you understand, that you knew what you were getting into, knew he’d be busy. You wander around the paddock, say hi to Logan- who you know only slightly better than all the other drivers- and keep yourself entertained. You spend time with Oscar when you get the chance- between interviews and practices, stolen moments of privacy in his driver’s room. It’s nice, it really is, but it’s also… weird.

You’ve been thinking a lot, lately, about what your mother once said about soulmates and love. For all the soul searching you’ve done, all the stars you’ve tried to read, you’ve come up empty. You’ve resigned yourself to the fact that maybe there’s just not anyone out there for you. Maybe you’re not meant to have a soulmate.

The thing about letting go of that pressure, though, is that it leaves space. Not a hole, not an emptiness, just… space. Room for other things to sneak in and make their home and grow. Somewhere along the lines- you don’t know when, maybe it’s been there all along- a seed had been planted. Now the roots are digging cracks in your heart, the leaves are shading out every other thought, and there are flowers blooming.

For months, now, your heart has been jumping in your chest every time Oscar texts you. You can’t wipe the grin off your face when he calls. You’ve been following every race, waking up at odd hours to cheer him on, sending him selfies with the tv to prove it to him, to make sure he knows you’re watching. You feel a little crazy, because suddenly he’s all you can think about.

Maybe love is about choices. You start making them, start choosing him. The only question now is if he’ll choose you, too.

The whole weekend is chaos. Oscar crashes in practice, sending himself and your heart spinning. He’s okay, thank god- though his mother texts you frantically, asking if he’s really okay. Then the race itself is even more chaotic, between the rain and the crashes and all the stuff in between. Oscar ends up in the points, though not as high as he’d hoped to be. You cheer for him either way.

You stick around the paddock all the way through his debrief, even when he tries to say you can head back to the hotel without him. Eventually, you leave with him and Lando, his arm around your shoulders the whole way to the car that’s waiting. It’s nice. He’s warm. Lando is making small talk, trying to get to know his teammates best friend, the one Oscar never shuts up about. You feel your face grow hot and hope Oscar doesn’t notice.

In the hotel lobby, Oscar makes a stop at the complimentary snack bar. Lando says something about Kim, his trainer, getting after him, which Oscar ignores. The three of you ride up together in the elevator, with Lando demanding most of your attention as he begs for stories about Oscar as a kid. Oscar’s quiet- you wonder if the weekend is weighing on him more than he’d previously let on.

You say goodnight to Lando and then Oscar scans you into the hotel room. Two beds, a couch, and a balcony that the two of you had eaten breakfast on that morning. You walk over to your bed and sit on the edge, flopping down onto your back.

Something lands on your stomach, softly. You look down, and your throat suddenly feels tight. It’s an orange. It’s a peeled orange. Oscar is standing at the window, pulling the curtains closed. His back is to you.

You blink, picking it up delicately. “You peeled it for me.”

“You hate peeling them,” he says. It’s very matter of fact. The same tone he’d use to say duh or of course.

You stare at his silhouette, the slope of his shoulders, the soft puff of his hair. You sit up, stomach turning. Suddenly, you need to be close to him. You stand up, orange in hand, pulling one of the pieces from it. You hold it lightly between your fingertips. Love is an action.

You hold it out to him. He takes it, smiles down at you.

“I love you, you know that?” You say, before you lose the courage.

“Yeah, I love you too,” he says, giving you a goofy look.

“No, like-“ you pause. Maybe you shouldn’t do this. Maybe you should just-

But it’s too late, because a wave of understanding washes over his face. His eyes go wide, lips parting. His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, the orange slice still in his fingers.

“Oh,” he says, voice cracking. His face splits into a grin. “Jeez, took you long enough to catch up, didn’t it?”

When he drops the orange slice on the floor so he can grab your face and kiss you, you’re somehow still so startled that you also drop the rest of the orange. That’s okay, though. He’ll peel another one for you without you even having to ask. Stars light up behind your eyes at the feeling of his lips on yours, and you realize then that maybe soulmates are just the people who choose to stick around.

…..

Deep in your desk in your childhood home, there’s a piece of paper. It’s been unfolded and refolded a million times. At the top, the title says, 15 Signs He’s Your Soulmate in messy, primary school handwriting. You pull it from your drawer and uncap the gel pen that sits in the cup on the desk.

At the bottom of the list, beneath your faded magic marker scrawl, you add:

#16: He peels your oranges.

#16: childhood best friend??

#16: YOU JUST KNOW

little bit of a different format for this one. as always, feel free to check out my other fics and tell me what you think!

#oscar piastri oneshot #oscar piastri x you #formula 1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #formula one fluff #formula 1 fluff #f1 fluff #soulmates #f1 soulmate fic #oscar piastri x reader #Spotify #honeywrites #Oscar piastri

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luveline · 7 months

Note

hiyaa girlyy!! so i have a fic request and it's totally fine if you don't want to write / don't feel comfortable reading or doing it: and also, i'm not sure if someone thought of this yet, but how about spencer just being friends with a stripper. like their are murders ongoing abt strippers and spencer sees reader at one of the crime scènes and everybody's shocked since their sooo sweet and comfortable together? (and bonus point if she wears his jacket or something since it's cold)

thank you for your request! if you have more requests for this pairing please send them my way!

"I tried to call you!"

Hotch looks up from his phone at the shout. He'd been texting Jessica one handed in an attempt to tell her and Jack that he won't be home tonight, and he isn't usually easily startled, but he isn't expecting you to talk to him. Or call him.

He blinks back his fatigue —you're obviously not talking to him. You're almost nondescript in your hoodie, but Hotch isn't confident you're wearing any pants, or underwear. It was a rush job to bring everyone out from the club, and you and the rest of the dancers stand on the sidewalk in various states of undress.

"Can we get some jackets, please?" Hotch asks, turning back to the beat cops standing by. "Thermal blankets? Anything?"

When he turns back, Spencer's not where he was. Hotch casts his gaze back to you near the club doors, your hair messed up from the scuffle but your face intricate and untouched, just as pretty as the rest of your fellow dancers, and doubly so as you throw your arms around Spencer Reid's tall shoulders.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Spencer says, squeezing you hard, your heels lifting off of the rain-sullied sidewalk. "I told you to stay home!"

"I can't stay home, Spencer. How would I make money?"

"I'll pay for the hours you miss, I told you that, too."

"Baby, you couldn't afford it," you tease lightly, setting back down. Your hand immediately rises to Spencer's cheek, your painted nails scratching delicately at his skin. "I've missed you. Where have you been?"

"California, then Albuquerque."

"Killing bad guys?"

Hotch doesn't consider Spencer a lonely guy, and he doesn't think he'd ever be collected enough to enter a strip club, and yet. There he is, hugging and checking over a stripper with as much care and tenderness as he'd show any member of the team. And judging by your smile, you're enamoured with him. Whether romantically or otherwise is anyone's guess.

Morgan's, apparently. "Sorry, I'm sorry, does Reid have a girlfriend? Like, a…?"

"You can say stripper," Emily says, though she's similarly nonplussed. "I mean, there's no way. Right?"

"They're just friends," JJ says.

The team turns to her in betrayal. Clearly, JJ knew about this and said nothing, and Hotch has things to do but this is so thoroughly bizarre that he gives himself five minutes of curiosity; he lets the others berate her for answers.

"Come on, JJ! When did this happen? How did this happen?" Emily asks, her voice dropping to a scandalised whisper.

In the background, Spencer peels out of his jacket that barely fits around your shoulders. You wear it anyhow, wrapping your arm through his and leaning on his shoulder. "Thanks, Dr. Reid."

"I really wish you'd stay home when I tell you too." He rubs your arm amicably.

"Her old boss was a typical heavy-handed sleaze," JJ explains, voice soft with sympathy. "Spence said he used to see her at the grocery store with bruises. She stayed with him for a few days and found a new club… He said she can smile through anything, even a broken wrist."

Hotch understands. This part of Virginia pretends to be better than it is, and while you seem happy enough now in your profession, he knows it can't be easy. Spencer did for you what he would've done for anyone. You've clearly seen the good in him, treating him with a real and easy affection, adoring through shivers as you look up at him and ask, "Are you eating enough? You look tired."

"I'm exhausted worrying about you. You're exhausting. Like, where are the sweatpants I got you? You'll get hypothermia."

"I was trying not to get murdered. You're lucky I grabbed the hoodie." You turn to the team, as though you've known they were watching the entire time. "You wanna introduce me to your friends?" you ask. Hotch detects a hint of insecurity under all your bubbly sweetness.

Spencer laughs loudly, ushering you forward with a hand on your shoulder. "Don't chicken out this time."

"Don't embarrass me in front of the special agents!" you whisper.

"I'm a special agent."

"No, you're a doctor. He's a special agent." Your gaze narrows in on Hotch. "Hi, you're the boss, huh?" You eye his naked marriage finger briefly, and he knows you're kidding, but he still has to fight to stay expressionless as you continue, "How come handsome guys like you don't ever wanna see me dance?"

Hotch puts out his hand. "Aaron Hotchner. It's nice to meet you."

You shake his hand, though you stay as close to Spencer as you can manage without stepping on his shoes. "Right. Too respectful. It's really nice to meet you too, Agent Hotchner. Can you catch the bad guy soon? I'll end up on Spencer's cough again if I don't make rent."

Morgan opens his mouth and Hotch promptly shuts him down with a raised hand. "We will. You have my word."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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vminizzle · 4 months

Text

Relief

꒰ genre ⤑ suggestive, FLUFF

꒰ warnings ⤑ dry humping, (cum in pants), that’s all 🚶🏽‍♀️

꒰ words count ⤑ 0.6k

꒰ A/N ⤑ hi hi hi everyone, well I'm back again I guess. I really wanna apologize for my inactivity. Here's a very little drabble like promised. It's really nothing but, perhaps a proof of me still being alive here? lmao. So, thank you for waiting for me. I'm still working on SL pt.3., I know I'm taking so much time. sorry sorry, I guess I'm more lazy than I thought ahah. Unfortunately for the people waiting, I'll release the third part next year only. Please stay patient. Reminder : English is not my first language. And... I'm a feedback craver, please don't be shy and leave a lil comment please, you know I love it! xoxo - sunny

M RATED?

Jungkook came home exhausted from work as he found you in bed, wearing just one of his oversized shirt and a pair of panties.

“hey! you’re home.” you said sweetly as you started to sit up a smile plastered on your lips, but he shook his head gesturing you to stay still before crawling into bed hovering on top of you.

Laying down on your chest, his face pressed into the crook of your warm neck, he just sighed as he shifted against your panties.

You curled one of your legs over his thin waist, closing your eyes enjoying the friction of the rough material of his pants against your thin panties.

Jungkook ruted forward against you with a low moan passing by his lips. His cold hands sliding up under your shirt, feeling your warm skin, making you shivered as his long digits caressed your sides.

He didn’t pull his face from your throat as he continued humping against you, going faster and faster until he finally still his hips, pressed tightly to yours, a soft moan escaping his mouth.

You stroked over the back of his head, sliding your fingers into his soft black locks.

“was it good, babe?” Jungkook slid off to his side, a tired smile decorating his pretty lips.

“thank you my love.” he said softly.

You threw your right leg over on his waist, and kissed his cheek.

“bad day?” you asked turning on your side to stare at him.

“I had too much work. So many things to deal with today.” he sighed heavily closing his eyes.

“Wanna talk about it? I’m all ears.” you said softly playing with the buttons of his shirt.

“Tomorrow.” he replied grabbing your hand gently in his.

“don’t wanna shower before sleeping?”

You sat a little looking down at him waiting for an answer.

“’m too tired to move.” he chuckled eyes still closed.

You stared at him and sat cross-legged this time.

“You want me to help you?”

He opened his eyes, standing himself up on his elbows.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he smiled, his dimples on full display making your heart melt at how cute he was.

“It’s okay darling, I’m fine don’t worry.” he reassured you.

“But you just c-“

“want to help me, huh?”

“Yes of course.” you replied immediately.

“ok then.” he laid down on his back again.

“Cuddle with me.” he said grabbing your arm pulling you so you’re on top of him.

“You’re so-“ you started before he cut you off.

“in love with you?” he said smirking making you close your eyes hiding your face into the crook of his neck, smiling at his words.

He laughed softly at your reaction.

“I love you.” he said one hand stroking your lower back, the other hand, fingers tangled in your hair.

“I love you ‘koo.” you whispered against his neck, peppering soft little kisses on the smooth skin.

He took your face in his hands and kissed your lips, taking his sweet time to enjoy the softness of them. It was a lazy kiss but it was full of love. He smiled at you lovingly as he parted away.

“I promise to make it up to you tomorrow.” he muttered feeling guilty about not making you come earlier.

“it’s fine.” you chucked shaking your head.

“Good night.” you kissed him one last time, before laying your head down on his muscular chest again, his strong cologne invading your nose.

“Good night my love.” He laid a gently peck on your forehead, holding you tightly in his strong arms.

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intoxicated-chan · 1 year

Text

Come Back to Me, It’s Almost Easy

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Memories from his past come back to haunt him. Reminding him of how much he’s failed.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Almost Easy” by Avenged Sevenfold. I’m in the mood for some heavy angst. Requests are open!!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 870

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, heavy angst, major character death, sleep deprivation, death, blood, light violence…

“You have a choice between saving one person or saving every world.”

Miguel knew it all too well. He’s gone through it just like every other Spider-Man, so it’s nothing new. He should’ve expected it coming which is why he never really reacted or mourned his losses.

He knows what’s coming, which means he shouldn’t have felt this awful about himself. It was almost easy for him to move on from everyone else, but the loss of the most important people broke him.

He can easily tell other Spider-Mans that it’s part of the job, so get up and continue doing what you’re doing. But when he’s asked to do it, he can’t help but cry out loud, the feeling of going crazy by asking him to forget everything. He can’t do that.

But the way he held you in his arms, the way your fingers weakly grazed his face… He won’t forget the way he begged you to stay with him, and how shameful he felt when he realized that no matter how different he chose to do things, it was always going to be the same.

“You’ve been awake for almost 48 hours, Miguel.” Peter B. told him, Mayday in his arms as he watched Miguel struggle to stay awake, “Maybe you should take a break?”

“M’fine.” Miguel nearly pulled at his hair, huffing heavily as he stared into the screen, “Everything is fine.”

“I asked if you were fine, not everyone else.”

“And I said that I am fine.” Miguel growled at Peter B. “And besides, don’t you have better things to do than bother me?”

“I’m just worried about you, Miguel.” Peter B. stepped closer but remained a good distance just in case, “Everyone else is worried, even Miles. We’re here for you.”

“And I said…” Miguel slammed his hands on his desk, “Leave me be!” Snapping at Peter B. without even looking at him, “I don’t need you breathing on my back.”

“Okay, okay.” Peter B. mumbled, hurrying off before Mayday could begin to cry.

But Miguel didn’t react, he remained hunched over at his desk. Watching as multiple screens popped up and then closed by Lyla. His eyes had started to burn, and he began to slump over his desk and maybe, fall asleep.

But the second he felt fingers running through his hair, it caused him to abruptly stand up. He scanned every inch of the room… But he was all alone.

“Miguel?” He flinched, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He then huffed after a minute, learning that it was Lyla who just spoke to him.

“Just perfect.” He heavily sighed, “Everything is perfect. Not like I’ve lost an entire family in an instant. So yeah, I think I’m doing good.”

He hears Lyla sigh, “Get some sleep.” She said but sounded like a demand, “I won’t say it again.”

He thought about the scenario over again, what mistakes he made and how easily the warning signs showed from the start. If he had never let his guard down, his family would still be alive.

Miguel sighed once more. He had to apologize to Peter B. and fast, it wasn’t his fault, he was just worried about him.

“Now do you believe me?” You softly spoke as you watched Miguel cradle his daughter in his arms, “See? You aren’t hurting her.”

“I guess I should believe you more often.” Miguel softly spoke as she began to sleep in his arms, “Thank you, (Y/n).”

“For what?”

“For giving me a chance.”

“Anything for you, Miguel. You deserve the world.”

He shouldn’t have. He never should have believed that it was all true. Pushing away his mindset and letting him fall into the beautiful feeling of love. If he didn’t, then you’d be continuing your life that didn’t involve him.

“Stay with me, (Y/n)!” Miguel cried, his tears streaming down his face, “The ambulance is almost here! Just hold on a bit longer!” But the ambulance isn’t in his sight. So, carefully, he began to stand, still holding onto you.

“Don’t.” You cough, “I need you to promise me, Miguel.” He feels your hand come up to his face, weakly trying to wipe away the tears, “Take care of her Miguel…”

He drops to his knees, “Don’t say that!” You laid on the ground, his hands coming up to cup your face.

“She’ll need her father.”

“I can’t do this without you!”

“Let her know that her mother will always love her…” You cough, then cough again, and then again until he sees blood spilling from your mouth, “No matter what happens.”

“Stop! Please!” He begs you.

“And know that forever, I’ll always love you…” Your voice gets weaker by the second, your vision begins to fade, “No matter how far you go. I’ll be here.”

He remembered the sounds of the sirens. How hard it took him to force himself to put his mask on as he watched the medical technicians try to help you.

And so, Miguel stopped wishing for a lot of things. But there was always one wish… If he could go back in time to fix things, could he be able to have the family he wished for?

#x reader #x female reader #angst #heavy angst #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spider man #spider man x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spider man x y/n #spider man 2099 #spiderverse #spider man across the spider verse #spiderman #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader

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nadvs · 21 days

Text

watch and learn (part six)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The thick, heavy feeling of humiliation floods Rafe’s body when he hears rapid knocks at his door. Someone must have heard his father’s shouting.

He avoids eye contact with Ward as he stalks past him to open the door. And of course, you of all people, are standing there.

Your eyes are deep with something he hasn’t seen in them before. Concern?

Rafe flits his gaze away from you, clenching his jaw, sure you can tell he just wiped a tear away before you knocked.

“What?” he says stiffly.

“Everyone can hear you,” you say. Rafe is ready to snap at you for daring to scold him when he’s so obviously in the middle of something tense.

But you’re gazing past him, staring right at his father, who’s clearly embarrassed. Your mouth is set into a hard line. Rafe has seen you irritated, but he realizes he’s never seen you angry.

“I don’t know what the issue is, but I doubt you need to scream about it,” you say. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. The last time you and Rafe spoke face to face, he was a jerk. But here you are, defending him.

“This doesn’t concern you,” his father says.

“It does when the whole building can hear you,” you snap. “Calm down.”

You glance at Rafe, whose eyes are red and glossy. He looks away from you again.

You can only scoff at this point, too worked up to go back to your room. You turn and rush down the hallway to take a walk.

Hearing Rafe’s father mock him for crying has tied a painful knot in your chest. Rafe’s not the warmest person, but he definitely doesn’t deserve that.

Rafe shuts the door, shoulders a little less tight than they were before you knocked. A moment passes before he looks back at his father, who shakes his head at him.

Ward seems a bit rattled. The fact that you did this to him would be funny to Rafe if he wasn’t so hurt right now.

“Get yourself together, alright?” Ward mutters, collecting his jacket and storming out of the room.

As you walk around campus, you can’t stop thinking about how broken Rafe looked after the verbal lashing. You hate to make excuses for the guy, but maybe this is a common occurrence for him and that’s why he’s so mad at the world.

An idea strikes you to try to cheer him up. Or at least make him laugh.

As you make your way back to your dorm, you text Rafe: you alone? can i come over for a sec?

Rafe wants you over for much longer than that. He replies a minute later: ya.

When he opens the door moments later, he’s embarrassed all over again. Knowing you saw him in that state makes his heart drum with anxiety. He was so vulnerable, so exposed.

“Hey. You okay?” you ask. You hold out a plastic bag from the on-campus drugstore.

“I’m fine,” he says, apprehensively taking the bag out of your hand. “What’s this?”

“Was that your dad?” you ask. He only nods.

“I know I shouldn’t say this, but he’s kind of a jerk,” you say. “I got you something.” You point to the bag. “You can use it when you run out of the one you already have. In like a year.”

Rafe can’t help but laugh when he opens the bag and sees a small plastic jar of protein powder. He thinks back to you teasing him for the massive tub sitting on his desk.

“Why…?” He doesn’t know what to say. He’s not used to getting presents.

“We’re… kind of friends now, right?”

“I guess,” he replies. Now that he thinks about it, it’s true. He has fun with you, and not just when you’re hooking up.

“Hearing what he said just… it pissed me off,” you continue. “And I have no idea how to cheer you up, but I do know you like this stuff.”

It’s such a silly gesture. But it’s so sweet, too. It makes Rafe’s heart twist in a confusing way. You care about him. As a friend.

“I just wanted to tell you that whatever you did… it didn’t warrant that,” you tell him. He watches you with an indistinguishable look.

He almost opens up about how painful it is when his father lays into him like that. Almost. But it’s awkward. Completely uncharted territory. He’d prefer to brush away the tension between you.

“You know what would really, really cheer me up?” Rafe slides his hand up the door frame, eyeing your chest, leaning closer to you. You laugh.

“Why don’t you tell the girl from last night?” you say. He wishes you’d seem jealous, but you don’t.

“Come on,” he whines, tilting his head back to silently beckon you into his room. Arousal and excitement bubble inside you, but you want to make him work for it.

“My back hurts from… what we did on the boat,” you admit. You’ve had a dull ache in your lower back since yesterday morning.

Guilt rocks him. You’re in pain? And he’s the reason? Shit.

It’s an uncomfortable feeling and yet again, he doesn’t know how to navigate it. Rafe has to pull the conversation back in the easy territory he knows.

“Why are you still so shy?” he says with a smirk.

“What?”

“Say it. What we did on the boat,” he teases, eyes hungrily trailing down your body.

You step back and roll your eyes, feeling your body flush all over again. While he has helped you gain some confidence, you’re not exactly as bold as he is just yet. Even saying you had sex in casual, sober conversation still feels a little weird.

“You’re annoying,” you sigh.

“You’re annoying,” he echoes. At this point, the exchange has become an inside joke. “And I think you need more practice if you’re still so nervous.”

Rafe tenses as he waits for your response. What if you say you’ve had enough of him? Or that you’re focused on Blake now?

You love the anticipatory look on Rafe’s face. You love that this arrangement between you two isn’t over.

“Did you not hear me say my back hurts?” you tease.

“I’ll make it better,” he flirts.

“How?” you ask.

“I’ll show you,” he promises. He puts the bag on his desk then pulls you in by the hips and leans down to kiss you.

The door slams behind you. His fingers slip beneath your shirt as he slowly paces backwards, taking you with him.

He settles onto his bed and you straddle him, resting your arms on his shoulders as you share slow, deep kisses. You feel his cock hardening at your groin.

“Where’s it hurt, baby?” he rasps, his nose nudging yours, his hand dragging up your spine. “You need a massage?”

He’s so tender during these heated moments. If he was like this all the time, you’d probably like him as more than a friend. But you know letting yourself develop a crush will bring nothing but bad.

“Everywhere,” you reply with a smile.

“I thought you said your back-”

“Nope, I said everywhere.” Rafe smiles against your lips and kisses your neck, slowly pulling your shirt off. He continues to pepper kisses over your skin as he unhooks your bra.

He gently squeezes your breasts, palms kneading you carefully.

“Even here?” Rafe asks.

“Especially there,” you say. He smirks, playing along, massaging your breasts. You start to writhe on top of him, head swimming in pleasure.

His hot mouth finds your nipple and you gasp at the sensation. With your cheek pressed against his temple, you rake your hand through his hair, feeling how damp your panties are.

You apprehensively part your lips to speak, telling yourself to say what you’re feeling like he always encourages you to.

“I’m already so wet,” you whisper. Rafe’s grasp on you tightens once he hears the words spill out of your mouth.

“I’ll massage you and then I’ll fuck that cunt nice and slow,” he says, meeting your eyes again, voice thick with longing. “You want that?”

“Mhm,” you nod breathlessly. His hands drag down to your ass, squeezing. His breath is shallow and ragged as he digs his fingers into your asscheeks, pushing you forward.

You bunch up the fabric of his shirt at his shoulders, tugging it off.

“Lie down,” he tells you. “On your stomach.”

You sink onto his bed, head on his pillow. Rafe takes your pants and panties down in one languid pull, his stomach numbing at the sight of your bare ass propped up just for him.

He starts at your calves, running his palms up and down. You sigh in contentment as he massages your legs, inching up to the backs of your thighs.

“I can tell you’ve done this before,” you say, your smile apparent in your tone. “You’re so good at it.”

Rafe breathes a chuckle. He hasn’t. He’s never touched a girl like this, never wanted to cherish and worship someone else’s body before. But he lets you believe he has.

When he reaches your ass, you tremble with the way he rubs you. Rafe watches his fingers digging into your flesh, squeezing, his cock aching at this point.

He moves up to the small of your back, his grip gentler now, thumbs rubbing into your hips.

“Here?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

Rafe thinks back to the view of you on the boat in the moonlight as he thrusted in and out of you. You looked and sounded like you were enjoying yourself. He hates to think you were in pain.

“Did it hurt when we were doing it?” he asks.

“What?”

“On the boat,” he says. “Did your back hurt then?”

“No,” you laugh. “Or maybe it did and I didn’t notice.”

Rafe wants you to know how sorry he is. But mushy words have never come easy to him, so he leans over and decides to show you, instead of tell you, how guilty he feels.

His lips press between your shoulder blades in a warm, sweet kiss. You giggle at the sensation. He lowers and kisses you again, then again, then again, trailing down your spine, thumbs still rolling over your hips.

You’re reeling. The feeling is unbelievable. And romantic. This is like last weekend, when your time together felt less like fucking and more like… well, something deeper.

You realize you must be teaching him well. Because the sex doesn’t just physically feel good anymore. It’s emotional now, too.

You feel the mattress shift beneath you as Rafe settles on his knees over you, his legs boxing in yours.

He watches his hands run up your back, massaging deep into your muscles. You let out sighs of contentment and he fucking loves knowing he’s making you feel this good.

You feel Rafe put more of his weight on you as he kneels over, rubbing you tenderly. The change in position allows him some relief on his erection, rubbing up against your ass.

He hates that he’s still in his jeans, but at least his cock is getting some attention.

“Not too rough?” he asks.

“No,” you say, your eyes closed, your pretty lips parted. “Keep going.”

He continues to massage you, denim grinding against your ass.

“You gonna take your pants off?” you ask brazenly. Rafe smiles. He loves when you share what you’re thinking, especially when you’re telling him how much you want him.

He sits up to unbutton and unzip his pants, pulling them off and dropping them to the floor. He throws his boxers on top of his jeans and settles back over you.

The feeling of his smooth cock against your ass makes your blood feel like it’s burning through you. He shifts and leans over so that his length is between your asscheeks, his hands continuing to soothe the muscles in your back.

It’s overwhelming, how badly he wants you. And how he realizes that every time he fucks you, he’ll be wondering if it’s the last time.

Rafe continues to caress you, slowly rocking against your ass.

He can’t take it anymore. He sits up to grab a condom out of his nightstand. You exhale in relief when you hear the wrapper crinkling.

Before he enters you, he slides his hand down past your ass and presses two fingers against your hot, wet entrance.

“You ready for me?” he asks.

“Please,” you whisper, tilting your hips so he can ease himself in.

When Rafe kneels over again, he guides his cock into you slowly. You moan at the sensation of him stretching you out with every inch.

The way your pussy wraps around him is perfection. He looks down to watch his cock bury into you, his arms hardly keeping him up.

He shifts to rest his forearms on the bed. His hard torso presses up against your back, his breath hot on your cheek.

“This pussy feels so fucking nice,” he groans into your ear.

He bottoms out and you can feel his thick cock fully immersed in you.

“I love feeling how deep you go,” you say. Rafe might just lose his damn mind. You have such a mouth on you.

He rocks his hips back, then plunges into you again. His teeth graze against your cheek and when he nips at your earlobe, you huff a laugh of pleasure.

“You take it so well,” he praises through heavy breaths, plunging in and out of you. “You’re perfect. Say it. Say you’re perfect.”

“I’m perfect,” you echo, and in the wild heat of the moment, you believe it for a second.

The sound of how wet you are is like a drug to him. He fills you over and over again, loving how you’re squirming beneath him, your hips circling.

“On your knees,” he whispers, propping himself up again.

You obey, back arched, giving him full access to you. His hand slips down your stomach and between your legs, finding your clit immediately.

He knows your body now. He knows it so fucking well.

He rubs in circles, his other arm locked and keeping him perched up, while he melts into you. His thrusts start to get harder and your moans get louder.

“Oh…” you whisper. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” he rasps. “Be a good girl and let me hear how nice it feels.”

Your walls are clenching around him now, your moans loud as you reach your peak, and he couldn’t stop his orgasm if he tried.

“Fuck,” he draws out, trembling as he cums. You flutter around him, climaxing at the same time, your sounds tangling together and your bodies shaking in harmony.

You’re twitching with aftershocks when he pulls out of you. Rafe runs a hand down your back, dazed as hell, appreciating how good you make him feel. Nobody’s ever had this effect on him.

He throws out the condom as you remain in his bed, coming down from the high. You turn to your side, watching him as he cleans up, your eyes taking in the sight of his taut, naked body.

This time, Rafe didn’t say anything about him, a man he wouldn’t name, not being able to fuck you as good as he can. But he called you perfect.

“Rafe?” you breathe.

“Yeah?”

“Did you notice that we didn’t have pointers for each other this time?”

If Rafe knew he’d be hearing that a couple of weeks ago when all this started, he’d assume he’d be elated. But his whole body feels heavy. Does that mean you’ve got what you wanted out of each other? It’s over?

“I guess we’re experts now,” he says with a laugh.

“I guess so.” You sigh deeply. “I’ll get up soon. I’m just so cozy.”

Rafe is glad you know you shouldn’t stay. A part of him wants you to, and it’s kind of jarring that he wants that. But it’s too intimate and meaningful if you sleep over after sex. He can’t handle it.

He typically puts his boxers on after cumming almost immediately, even when he’s still hard and coming down. No girl’s ever seen him soft before. It feels so vulnerable for some reason.

But he lies down next to you, facing you with his head propped up in his hand, both of you naked and panting and sweaty.

“A-plus?” Rafe asks, remembering you saying the same thing in his car.

“Without a doubt,” you say. Your smile is weak and sexy.

Holy shit. He realizes this is the definition of pillow talk.

No. This is aftercare. You taught him that it’s important.

Rafe gazes into your eyes, thinking about the look in them when you interrupted him being berated earlier.

You give him a small smile before standing to get dressed.

He turns onto his back to watch you and the gift in the plastic bag sitting on his desk catches his eye. He sits up in his bed, seeing you pull your underwear on as he covers his groin with his comforter.

“Thanks,” he says, with difficulty. “For, uh… the present.” And for caring enough, he thinks. For defending him in front of a man you’ve never met. For refusing to embarrass him with the fact that you saw him crying.

“Oh, sure,” you laugh. You enjoy the view of him sitting up in bed, muscles flexed and skin sheened with sweat. But mostly, you enjoy the way his hair is all tousled and messy, the way his eyes are half-lidded and content.

“Did… the whole building really hear?” he asks. You freeze for a moment, remembering how you snapped at his father.

“No,” you respond, hooking your bra. “I was just trying to make him feel bad. Sorry if I was out of line.”

Rafe chuckles. You have nothing to be sorry for.

“You weren’t,” he replies. He thinks about what you said when you came by again. Whatever you did didn’t warrant that. He needs to be sure.

“I racked up my credit card bill,” he admits. You meet his eyes as you pull up your pants, placing your phone on his desk.

“That’s it?” you scoff. “What bullshit.” It’s such a simple reaction, but it grants Rafe a sense of validation he’s not sure he has ever felt before.

He wonders how he can possibly tell you that he’s never had someone defend him against his father without sounding like a pathetic crybaby. If he even should. Why the hell does he have the impulse to share that with you?

A few seconds of silence settle between you. Before he can speak, your phone vibrates loudly on his desk. You peer at the screen and chuckle at the notification before putting on your top.

“What’s funny?” he asks.

“Blake just told me what an ABC party is,” you say, rereading the text. It stands for anything but clothes lol. People get really creative. “You guys are hosting one on Saturday?”

“Yeah,” Rafe replies coldly. He bets you don’t smile or laugh at his texts like that.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he snaps.

You meet his gaze and feel your brows furrow.

“No, seriously. What?” you ask.

“Just go,” he responds. You huff, anger brewing inside you.

“Rafe,” you say, annoyed. Why’s he so angry? Does he not want you at the party? Or is this jealousy?

He’s silent. Expressionless.

“God,” you snip. “Your temper is… I never know when you’re gonna fucking snap at me. Like the other day at the lakehouse. Before I left. I don’t know why you were such a dick out of nowhere.”

He completely forgot about that exchange. He didn’t know it affected you. That it stayed with you. All he could remember was how mad he felt seeing you with Blake.

Goddamn it. Why is he so jealous? What the hell does he want? Exclusivity? No fucking chance. The pressure of a relationship is the last thing he needs in his life.

“So?” you demand. Rafe just stares at you. “You can’t even apologize?”

He’s confused and bitter and frustrated. He simply shrugs carelessly, face blank.

You shake your head in anger, leaving his room without another word. You told yourself you would only expect coldness from Rafe from now on. You hate that you broke your own promise.

Rafe needs to stay away from you. This effect you have on him has him so damn disoriented, like he just got off a rollercoaster and doesn’t know which way is up.

He doesn’t want to be a boyfriend. And at the same time, he doesn’t want you to be a girlfriend. To anyone.

On Wednesday morning, Blake texts you asking if you want to study at the frat house in the afternoon.

You’ve looking forward to continuing to see if your chemistry is as good in-person as it is over text. You haven’t had much time with him, but you enjoy his company.

When you make it to the house, Blake opens the door with a bright smile on his face. He leads you upstairs to his bedroom, where he has blankets laid out on the floor and draped over the foot of his bed frame and desk chair.

“Did you make a fort?” you say with a chuckle.

“A study fort,” he replies. “There’s not a lot of space to study around here. I had to get creative.“ You laugh and settle on the floor.

Over the next hour, you talk more than you study. Conversation doesn’t always flow very easily, but Blake’s a sweetheart, through and through.

Rafe’s heart drops when he hears your voice. He’s sitting on the couch playing video games with Sam, craning his neck to look back at the staircase.

You’re smiling, your hand skimming the bannister as you make your way down the stairs. And of course, Blake’s beside you, the one making you smile.

This is hell. And he’s the reason you two even fucking know each other.

Rafe catches your gaze. You look so relaxed. As if it’s normal, the way you’re walking around looking beautiful and breaking his heart.

“Thought you hated frat boys,” Rafe says, eyes floating down your body, like if inspects your clothes hard enough, he can tell if you took them off upstairs.

You catch his harsh tone immediately. Of course he’s being mean. Again.

“They’re not all bad,” you respond.

Rafe might just break the controller in his hands. He looks back to the screen, stomach turning. He hears you say goodbye to Blake and shut the front door behind you.

As you step out of the house, you think that if you’re right, if Rafe really is jealous of Blake, why he doesn’t just do something about it. Why he doesn’t just ask you to be with him. Because even though he pisses you off so much, maybe you’d accept.

But if there’s anything you know for sure about Rafe, it’s that he is not boyfriend material. He said it himself. No couple shit.

“What’d you do up there?” Sam calls out. Blake laughs and settles on the couch. Rafe keeps his eyes on the screen.

“Studied,” Blake replies.

“Sure,” Sam replies.

“Seriously,” Blake says. “I’m not trying to jump into that with her.”

“Why not? Rafe did,” Sam chides. Rafe smirks at this. He’s glad the reminder’s there that he had you first.

“You two still messing around?” Blake asks. Rafe can finally make eye contact with him.

“Yeah,” he says firmly. “She didn’t tell you?”

“I didn’t ask,” Blake says. He seems unbothered. This pisses Rafe off even more. As if Rafe isn’t a threat at all.

“You’re whipped,” Sam says. Rafe’s stomach drops, eyes darting to Sam. But he’s not talking to Rafe. He’s talking to Blake. “You haven’t even gotten any yet and you’re whipped.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Blake laughs.

“He didn’t deny it,” Sam tells Rafe, who wishes he did. “You making it official?”

“Gonna try,” Blake says. At least you’re not exclusive yet, Rafe thinks. He probably has a few more nights with you as long as you’re not eternally pissed off at him.

Blake taps Rafe’s shoulder.

“She’d be off limits if you actually liked her, man,” Blake says. “We don’t let girls get in between us.”

Rafe has to stop himself from scoffing. He doesn’t feel like Blake is his brother anymore. He doesn’t know the exact moment it happened, when he went from looking up to him to disliking him.

But if he wants a future at this frat, he needs to get along with everyone. Especially an upperclassman. And besides, what’s he gonna say? That he doesn’t want him to date you because the sex is too good?

“Right,” Rafe says, turning back to focus on the game.

That Friday night, another fraternity is hosting a mixer at their house. While it’s mainly for frat boys and sorority girls, Blake shoots you an invite. You accept, arriving at the house with Liv around 10 p.m.

Rap music is blaring through Rafe’s ears at the party. He realizes he’s checking the door to see when you’ll arrive. Blake said you’re coming.

He hates hearing your name come out of Blake’s mouth, but at least he hasn’t seen you together since Wednesday.

When you finally arrive, Rafe takes another swig of his beer and makes his way to you. He was supposed to stay away but you’re like a magnet and he’s fucking hopeless at this point. He actually misses you.

Rafe approaches you, blue eyes trailing down your body.

“Pretty sure you’re not in a sorority,” he says in your ear, ducking so you can hear him over the music. You smell his cologne, realizing just how much you’ve missed it.

Your last exchange was after your study date with Blake a couple of days ago. You’re still pissed off at how he snapped at you then. And on Monday, after you hooked up.

“Oh, are those the rules?” you say, an edge to your voice. “Since when did you care about rules?”

Rafe’s pulse quickens. You have this ridiculous effect on him, making him feel like he’s being pulled out of water he didn’t know he was drowning in every time he sees you.

“Since always,” he responds.

“Sure,” you say, squinting. You don’t return his smile. Rafe nervously scratches the back of his neck.

“What’s up your ass?” he mutters. You cross your arms.

“You’re kidding, right?” you ask. You try to give him some leniency, knowing what you know about how his father treats him. But it’s infuriating how rude he was to you. You know you don’t deserve it.

Rafe’s eyes dart away. He wishes you’d just forget about how he left things a few days ago. He grits his teeth and leans forward again.

“Sorry,” he says.

“For?” you ask. “Use your words.” He scoffs and sucks his teeth.

“I was a dick,” he finally mutters.

“Again.”

“Again,” he echoes.

“Be nice to me. I’m not friends with dicks,” you say. There’s that word again. Friends. Rafe swallows down his frustration.

“You seem to like mine,” he responds. You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder, but the smile on your face gives you away.

The moment is quick and small, but it makes his heart pound with a feeling only you give him.

“I need a drink,” you say. “Try not to piss anyone else off.”

Rafe hates that you leave his side so quickly. He realizes he’d prefer to spend the rest of this party talking to you instead of mixing.

As the night goes on, he forces conversation with his frat brothers, his eyes searching for you.

When a sorority girl strikes up a conversation with him, Rafe tries not to focus on how he’s comparing her to you and how you win in every category.

He’s standing by the staircase when he sees you again. You’re with Blake, standing inches away from him, laughing with him.

It’s a countdown at this point, Rafe realizes. Every day, he gets closer to losing the best no-strings-attached sex he’s ever had.

Fuck. It’s more than that. He knows it’s more than that when he sees you playfully push Blake’s shoulder the same way you do to him.

He’s drunk and annoyed and pissed off and wants to make you feel how you make him feel even though you’ve friendzoned him, so he cuts off the sorority girl in the middle of her sentence with a kiss.

She seems taken aback, but then she returns the kiss, her arms quickly wrapping around his neck.

Rafe keeps his eyes locked on you, and when you meet his gaze, seeing his mouth on another girl’s, your stomach swirls with uneasiness.

You turn your attention back to Blake and take his hand, leading him away so you don’t have to look at Rafe any longer.

(part seven)

author’s note: love you @rafesgiirl for the suggestion!

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