#Bell plays whatever you the player want them to play.

[tomialtooth]

Dungeons and Dragons first came out in 1974 so it would be entirely possible for the cast of cold war to have sat down and played a game in the safehouse.

[hangmanssunnies]

Heat To Boil

Summary: After a failed Tinder date, you go to hang out with your friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin. When you get to his house, you unexpectedly find him with a baby, and it is a sight that rewires something in your head. Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. And that is a task you would be more than willing to help with; now, you just need to find the courage to bring it up.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 9k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ Only, Friends to lovers, baby fever, smut, P in V, Oral, Hangman with a baby (deserves its own warning)

Author's note: The attorneys at work keep bringing their babies in and letting me hold them, and @top-hhun has done absolutely nothing to discourage the subsequent baby fever I've been dealing with. Anyways, that's where this fic came from. I hope you enjoy this. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

You had become friends with Jake unexpectedly some years ago, hitting it off at your mutual friend's wedding. Part of you had, of course, hoped the attractive blonde aviator would be interested in you, maybe in a romantic sense, but it never came to fruition. He shipped out the week after the wedding, but the easy rapport you carried with him started with sharing jokes about how trashed other people got at the reception, and eventually developing into a true and close friendship. 

It was for the best because the more you got to know Jake, it became clear to you that he didn't want the same things that you did. He was focused on his career and didn't have time for a partner. When he did talk about settling down, it was never in an authentic way, more joking that he was waiting to swoop in if Coyote's marriage fell apart or that his Mama would set him up with a nice southern belle who wanted to give her twelve grandkids. Jake would claim he was too busy for a relationship, away from home too much to be steady. However, none of that seemed to stop him from finding time for you, which is probably why you hadn't been able to completely repress your feelings for him despite some valiant efforts. 

Just today, after a failed lunch date with someone from Tinder, you texted Jake disheartened. He hadn't hesitated first to ask if you were okay and then invited you over for dinner to tell him all about it. He had even promised to cook you whatever you wanted. A special treat guaranteed to make you feel better, considering Jake's superb culinary skills. 

You walk into Jake's house without knocking or ringing the bell, knowing he left the door unlocked in anticipation of your arrival. After securing the front door's lock into place, you toe off your shoes, making sure to set them neatly in line with the others there. Jake's home is clean and tidy, just like it always is; the organization of the entry is no exception. You know from the smells and sounds wafting towards you that he must still be cooking, which is odd because he's almost always done by the time you show up. 

Venturing further into the house you see him, standing in the kitchen, with a baby strapped to his chest. It's an unexpected sight, and you're frozen by it. Jake's in a casual white teeshirt, jeans, and a dark navy blue sling with a camo pattern wrapped tightly around him, securing a tiny infant in place against his broad chest. His hair is fluffy like it often is on his days off, and the golden strands fall across his forehead. Seeing it like this always creates an instinctual desire to run your fingers through it. However, you can hardly even process that thought because you're so distracted by the bundle on his chest. Music is playing on his record player, and he is humming along. 

Jake suddenly stops the humming, and the prep he is doing, looking down at the baby. After a pause, a smile pulls at the edges of his lips, his eyes crinkle before he drops a kiss on the infant's head. And it's like everything is right. Jake with a baby seems so natural. The fact that he exists any other way than with a baby in his arms every day feels wrong. Your heart starts beating harder in your chest, and a thought pops into your head, instantly taking deep root: Jake needs a baby of his own. Right now — like yesterday, actually. 

You don't know what sound you must have made, but Jake looks up and finally notices you standing in the hallway. He doesn't appear at all startled as a wide grin spreads across his face as he greets you, "Howdy there, Doll!"  

"You have a baby," you say stupidly in an entirely delayed response. 

"Yeah, this little guy is Jackson. Coyote and the Mrs wanted a date day, so I offered to watch the baby for them. They were supposed to be here two hours ago to pick him up, but I'm sure they just got caught up." Jake laughs and presses another kiss to Jackson's head. Before continuing on, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind," you manage to breathe out, unable to tear your eyes off Jake or even pretend you're not staring. He quirks an eyebrow at you but otherwise doesn't comment. After he gestures for you to join him, he returns to the cutting board in front of him. You are transfixed; when you sit down at the bar in the kitchen, it occurs to you that you should probably say something and not just stare like an idiot. "Do you want me to take him?"

"I think he is just fine here," Jake says, examining the sleeping baby strapped to his chest again. Jackson has hardly moved since you showed up, clearly passed out, not disturbed by the music or any of the kitchen sounds. 

"At least let me help finish cooking then?" You request. 

"No, Ma'am. Bubba and I have this dinner taken care of. I did pick up that wine you like from the store. Maybe you can open it up for us?" 

Entering the kitchen, you pull out two wine glasses from a cabinet. Opening the fridge you see your preferred wine stocked, as well as a few of your other favorite drinks stored there. Warmth blooms in your chest that Jake picked up things for you when he was at the store last. It was touching that he would take care to buy something he would never touch but getting it anyway just to have beverages you prefer on hand. After pouring the wine, you set one glass next to Jake's cutting board, making sure it's in easy reach for him. 

"Thank you," he says appreciatively. You sigh and lean against him, pressing your face into the bicep of his arm, careful not to disturb Jackson or the sling as you do. Closing your eyes, you breathe him in, looking for the subtle cedar scent of his cologne to soothe you. However, only a hint of it tickles your nose, the cedar not as strong as it usually is. Today, Jake smells more like clean laundry and his natural musk than anything else. You are surprised to find it still does the trick in helping settle your nerves, though. Jake hums but doesn't protest your closeness, instead asking, "Long day?" 

You don't answer with words, just humming noncommittally against his arm. You leave your face pressed there for a moment longer. "Not enough wine to talk about it yet," you eventually say into his arm before pulling away. Settling on the other side of the counter again, you take a long drink of the wine you poured. Deciding to admire Jake again, you ask, "How was your day?"

"It was pretty good. Javy dropped Jackson off this morning. We had tummy time, went on a walk, and to the grocery store to get things for dinner. Then we got a little cranky, so we rocked in the lazy boy for a while." You took a moment to picture Jake doing these activities and can't decide which is most swoon worthy. Jake is always swoon worthy, of course, but knowing that he was caring for a baby while doing it feels like an extra kick to the stomach or maybe ovaries. 

"And?" You ask him, taking another drink of your wine and pillowing your face on your palm. 

"And what?" Jake asks. 

"What else did you and Jackson do today? I want to hear every detail." 

Jake gives into your request easily. Starting his description of the day over, he tells you how even though he has babysat before, the Machados were still anxious to leave Jackson alone here when they dropped him off that morning. Jake told you about tummy time, which toys they liked and which were uninteresting. How long their walk was, and what they saw. He told you about the old woman who fawned over them in the store and how they helped her with getting her groceries to the car. It was endearing that Jake used the first person plural 'we' as if he and Jackson were a team with equal agency in their day's activities. It was especially cute when Jake told you about the tantrum they had thrown earlier in the afternoon as if he had been crying right along with his godson. 

Just as dinner was finished and you were setting the table, Jackson woke up and started to get fussy. Jake cooed to the baby affectionately, leaving to the guest room, where Javy had stuffed almost a car full of supplies for Jake to watch Jackson. Some of the just-in-case supplies included toys and clothes Jackson wouldn't even be able to use until he was at least a year old.  

When Jake comes back, both he and Jackson are wearing different clothes. Jake is in a soft green shirt and sweats, while Jackson is now wearing a giraffe onesie. He has the baby propped on his hip and doesn't offer you any explanation aside from that they had an accident. Then he sees that you have plated and set everything for dinner at the dining room table, and he offers a soft thank you. 

You watch as he balances Jackson on his hip and starts following the written out directions for making a bottle that's taped to his fridge. Jake isn't someone who struggles, and you know that this is something that he is fully capable of doing, but you also can't help but think that it would be easier for him if he had two free hands. So, you gently pull Jackson from his arms and into your own instead. 

The baby blinks up at you, his eyes still soft and sleepy. He babbles a bit of nonsense but otherwise makes no protest at you. Jackson has the same brown eyes and skin tone as his father. Even with his chubby cheeks, you can tell that the little boy is going to be Coyote's mini-me. The similarities in their appearance are so close it's like the universe had just hit copy and paste. 

He is so cute you can't stop the grin that stretches across your lips when Jackson snuggles into you. One of his hands starts grabbing at your shirt's fabric while he absently gnaws at his other one. The little boy completely steals your attention as you walk around the living room and dining room with him. Asking him how he feels about his day with his Uncle Jake, pausing for his babbling like they were real answers. Jake comes up behind you several minutes later, setting a steady hand on the small of your back.

 "Here, let me take him," Jake mutters practically in your ear while reaching for Jackson. 

"No," you protest, turning away from Jake's reach. "You've had him all day. I've only gotten to hold him for a few minutes." 

"Now, darling," Jake drawls. 

"Don't darling me."

"Doll," He says 

"Don't Doll me either." You snap, though the aggression of it is completely manufactured. 

"Fine, fine," Jake says, holding his hands up. "You can have him for a few more minutes, but then it's my turn again."  

"How is that fair?" 

"It's fair because he is my godson." 

You pout at Jake, and he pouts back." I can't believe you're going to be a baby hog like this. Don't you know sharing is caring?" 

"Jackson isn't a rental car, sweetheart. Can't just hand him out to anybody."

"So what? You don't trust me with him?" 

"No," Jake says, suddenly dropping all of his dry, teasing tone. "Of course, I trust you with him. Of course, I trust you."

Jake steps closer when he says this, crowding a bit into your personal space. His sea glass green eyes hold you in place, and you don't think you imagine that they flick downwards, that he has his sights set on your lips, that Jake could be considering kissing you. However, a breath later, he is swooping Jackson out of your arms and into his own, quickly back peddling. 

"You can have the baby back after I feed him, okay? I don't want to risk him throwing up on that pretty blouse you've got on." 

"Kidnaper! Baby Snatcher!" You half gasp, half yell, and start to chase after Jake as he runs away, holding Jackson close and carefully but still managing to evade you.  

You're both laughing, and Jackson has started joyfully screeching as well when the doorbell rings, startling all three of you. Jake hands Jackson to you wordlessly before going to check who's at the door. It only takes a minute for him to come back with Coyote in tow. Who immediately rushes to sweep his baby from your arms and press kisses all over his cherub face. 

After Javy examined his son to ensure nothing was out of sorts, he handed Jackson back to you to hold while he and Jake packed up all of his stuff and moved the car seat. This was only after he made a sly comment about how good you looked with a baby in your arms, though. 

When you are alone with Jackson again, you take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror hanging on the wall. It wasn't such a hard thing for you to imagine holding a baby, and it looking normal, like something right, especially when you start to picture one with Jake's features or one that would take more after you, possibly even some sweet mix. The feeling of casual want that started from seeing Jake when you first arrived suddenly twists into an unexpected ache and intense need. 

You expect it to let up, but it doesn't. Rather, the feeling smolders in you, burning hotter and hotter until it feels slightly consuming. Seeing Jake hug and kiss Jackson goodbye, promising they would spend another day together soon, nearly does you in. Heating your feelings from a low simmer to a roaring boil. 

When you and Jake finally sit down to actually have dinner, it gets a little hotter with every sip of wine you take. Every time that Jake smiles and his eyes crinkle around the edges, the way he asks about your failed date with the perfect mix of sympathy and care, even the way he reheated dinner, all adds to the fire. As Jake is starting to put away the leftovers from dinner, refusing to let you help, you can't keep it in anymore, and you boil over. 

"Jackson was so precious," you say, casually swirling the bit of drink you have left around in the glass.  

"Little mans is so fun. I love him. It's always a treat to babysit," 

"You were really great with him today." 

"Aw, thanks Doll. Now, what do you want to do with the rest of the night? Play a game, watch a movie? We can do anything you want."

"Anything I want?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jake says easily as he pops the lids of his pyrex container into place.  

"I want a baby." You say in a quick breath. You nearly slap your hand over your mouth in horror that had just jumped out of your mouth. You really haven't had enough wine to be this bold, but then again, maybe you were a little intoxicated on having seen Jake be so domestic. 

"What?" he asks with a laugh, probably thinking he misheard you. You grip the edge of the cool countertop trying to steady your nerves and prevent your hands from shaking. 

"Jake, I want a baby," you tell him more slowly, making sure each word comes out clearly. 

"No, you don't," he laughs, shaking his head. He starts tossing dirty dishes into the sudsy water of the sink and stacking up the food containers to put in the fridge. Jake turns away from you before saying, "I thought you've said you didn't want kids."

"It's complicated," you explain softly. "Are people not allowed to change their minds about things anymore?" 

"Oh, so are you debating or like —"

"I don't really know how to say this more clearly. I want to have a baby with you, Jake." 

He freezes. You see his shoulders tense, and he stares into the fridge for a long moment, slowly finishing storing the leftovers. When he closes the fridge, he still doesn't look at you immediately. 

"You want me to be the father of a child you have? You want to have my baby?" Jake asks you incredulously. You gulp, now feeling entirely too vulnerable to speak, so you just nod in agreement instead. Jake's eyes are piercing, and his body language is tense as he stands in front of the sink again. He heaves a heavy sigh, his lips flattening into a tight line. Then he scrubs his hands over his face before narrowing his eyes at you, "This is not a very funny joke." 

"It's not a joke, Jake. I want a baby, and I know you would be a good father." When Jake's demeanor still doesn't change, you continue on hurriedly. "I think we could do the whole platonic coparent thing easily enough. We get along so well, and we're already such good friends." 

There is a long pause where he does not say anything, turning on the sink, waiting for the water to heat, and sudsing up a scrub daddy sponge. Only once this task is started does he answer you in a very stoic, perfectly level tone, "No, I don't think I can do that. I can't just sleep with you."

"Oh, well. I see. Forget that I asked, please." You mutter, embarrassed but trying to not let the sting of rejection affect your tone. You knew that this could backfire, but you didn't think it would feel this bad. Feel like the pit of your stomach falling so low you are almost nauseous. 

"I'm sorry, Dolly." 

"It's okay, Jake, really. It's just the wine getting to me."

"Are you going to ask someone else?" 

"What?" 

"Are you going to ask someone else to give you a baby?" Jake asks in a gruff tone. 

You wouldn't actually, you wouldn't want one without Jake. In fact, this urge to have a child came from seeing him. However, you didn't know how else to play off your out-of-pocket request than to commit to the bit. Nonchalantly, you say, "Maybe." 

"I could help you find someone," he offers. 

"Please, Jake. It's okay you said no. You don't have to try and fix my situation."

He practically ignores you, asking, "What about Rooster?"

"I'm sure that I would have fun with the process," you say. Jake, who has focused himself with dedication on the dishes, looks up at you sharply. He quickly looks away again as you continue, "I'd be worried about having a baby that's born with a full mustache, though. So, no, thank you." 

"I'm sure Fritz would be happy to help you out." 

"No —"

"Harvard—" 

"No Hangman. Stop," You say much harder with emphasis, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument. 

"I tell you no for one thing, and suddenly I'm Hangman to you?"

"No, you're Hangman when you disregard the people around you, no matter what they say. You're Hangman when you decide something's a mission objective, and you refuse to let it go. This isn't your problem to fix or one to pawn off on one of your friends." 

"You made it my problem when you just asked me to give you a baby," Jake says, frustrated. Roughly scrubbing the dishes, rinsing, and setting them in the drying rack. 

"Well, the moment you said no, it's not your problem anymore. I'm absolving you of responsibility. It's my problem, and I will find someone for myself to put up with me, at least for a night." You joke, trying to lighten the mood again, not wanting to ruin the whole night from this mishap. Jake doesn't react more than his face darkening significantly, a deep frown pulling at his lips as he rinses the last dish and closes the dishwasher. 

"Put up with you?" He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. Jake reaches for a dish towel to dry off his hands, and you're momentarily distracted by the thick fingers and web of veins tracing up his arm. It's a better sight than meeting Jake's intense eyes, those eyes that can stare you down and leave no room for you to hide. 

"I mean, I know I'm a lot, but I think even I can get someone to fuck me once or twice. If I want and am very lucky, I'll only need one night. There are also other options, of course, like sperm banks and adoption. Let's just let it go. Okay?" When you don't get an immediate response, you glance at Jake once more. He is staring at you, but it's not a look you like. He's looking at you like you are a problem to be fixed, a puzzle to solve, an item to take off his to-do list. So you force a chuckle out and smile.  

"I don't think I want to. Actually, I can't let this conversation go." 

"We have to," you insist. 

"Why?"

"Because Jakers, it doesn't have anywhere else to go. I expressed a stupid desire without thinking. It was awkward, and that's okay. It doesn't have to stay that way, though. Now we laugh and forget it. There is no other option." 

"A lot. Put up with. Stupid desires," Jake scoffs the words as he rounds the kitchen island. He spins the bar stool chair you're sitting on by the back, turning you to face him. Then he sets his hands on the marble countertop on either side of you, effectively boxing you in. Even sitting on the tall bar stool, you have to tilt your head a bit to look up at him. When your eyes meet again, the green isn't as soft or kind as you're expecting. "I don't like how you're talking about yourself right now." 

"I'm just being honest. I'm taxing to deal with; people get tired of me. My past relationships have certainly taught me that I'm only desirable under the right conditions. And I am stupid. I just ruined our whole night because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. What kind of normal person asks one of their best friends to fuck a baby into them unprompted?"

"Oh wow, I'm not even sure where to start with all that." Jake breathes. You can't take seeing his furrowed brow and disappointed frown. So instead, you examine his right arm that's stretched by you, mapping out the moles and freckles there. "You've developed a warped sense of the truth, Doll."  

It's your turn to scoff and roll your eyes. When you do, the arm you've been studying shifts, and Jake cups your cheek. Gently, he urges your face to turn back towards his, and a calloused thumb sweeps across your cheekbone. "Listen to me good now. The things you want and desire they ain't stupid, and neither are you. You're not too much. You're just enough."

"Thank you, Jake." You whisper. And while his words are kind, you don't really believe them.  

"Don't say thank you."

"What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you believe me and mean it," Jake urges you. 

"I don't want to lie to you. That's not who we are, that's not our friendship," You say. Jake's hand drops from your cheek, and he steps back quickly as if he's been burned. After you had been so surrounded by him, you nearly reach out to urge him close again. Running a hand through his hair, you can tell he's resisting the urge to pace. 

"Is that our friendship, one built on honesty?" 

"I thought so." 

"Then I've failed you, and I've failed us because it's not." 

"Jake, what are you talking about?" You ask him, confused. He shakes his head at you and doesn't respond, instead backing away further until he is abandoning you in the kitchen. Swiftly, you stand to follow him, "Where are you going?" 

"I'm leaving." 

"And going where? This is your house," you remind him. You've caught up to him in the doorway of his bedroom, where he's grabbing a hat and his wallet. "I'm sorry I ruined tonight, and I'll leave. You have to be honest with me before I do, though. I have to know we're going to be okay tomorrow." 

"I can't," Jake says tersely, not meeting your eyes and attempting to sidestep you in the doorway. 

"I was wrongly under the impression there wasn't anything you couldn't do, Hangman. But I guess we are finding a lot of things you just can't do tonight, aren't we?" You aren't expecting the little lash out of a taunt to get you anywhere. Jake is normally always calm, cool, and collected, acting with decisive precision. However, nearly as soon as you've finished speaking, Jake's hands are on your arms, and he backs you up until you gently hit the wall of the hallway across from his door. 

"You're asking for more self-restraint than I have, Doll." He warns roughly. The sudden movement doesn't make you back down like he was probably expecting. Instead, the rush makes you feel emboldened. 

"I don't care. I can accept you don't want a baby with me, that you don't want to fuck me. I can accept that you want to force me to talk, but I can't accept you making me question our friendship." 

"Oh god. You really don't understand. My honesty is not going to make this better," he warns. 

"Yes, I do. Whatever it is, please tell me. I can think of many things you could be referring to, like that I'm not attractive to you. How I would make a terrible mother. Maybe I'm not a good friend. Or you don't actually like spending time with me. Whatever it is, you have to tell me. I've never thought you would lie to me. So, I need to know, or it's going to drive me crazy." 

"There you are, all twisted up again," Jake sighs. 

"And whose fault is that?" You snap back. Jake still has you pressed against the wall, so you set your hands on his broad chest with the intention of pushing him away. However, he doesn't budge; in fact, he does the opposite, coming even closer so he is flush against you. You refuse to tilt your chin to look up at him as he looms, rather only lifting your eyes in a cold stare. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're going to leave me hanging to dry, but you could at least —"

You don't get to finish the thought because a hand has snaked to hold the side of your neck, thumb tucking under your chin, turning your face upwards to Jake's waiting lips. The first brush of his lips on yours doesn't line up quite right, but that doesn't stop your breath from catching. Shifting to get a better angle, Jake applies two more feather light kisses. Your hands, which are still resting on his chest, creep up, and you loop them around his shoulders, using the leverage to lift higher on your toes and get closer to him. 

This prompts him to deepen his next kiss, lips moving harder against yours. When you open your mouth wider in invitation, Jake's tongue traces along your bottom lip but doesn't dive in. You whine when Jake pulls away to take a breath. 

"Forgive me, Doll, I should've asked first." 

"Asked what?" You wonder, not moving your eyes away from his lips and strategizing how to get them back on yours. You think if you could just get a little higher, you would be able to kiss him without Jake needing to bend down so much. 

"May I kiss you?" He asks. 

"Yes, please." You answer immediately. You tug your hold on his shoulders, hoping it will urge him to get right back to it. Jake doesn't, though. His hand shifts from your neck to cup your cheek again, his other leaving the wall to settle on your waist. 

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes, Jake." His hand traces up your side from your waist and back down again in what is a soothing motion. It's too soft and delicate for what you want right now, though, so you tug on his neck again, pressing your chest into his. He gives in this time, molding his lips to yours once more. 

When his tongue meets yours, a low rumble emulates from Jake's chest, and the sound sends a new wave of arousal coursing through you. Reaching up, you push off Jake's hat, not caring where it falls, only that it's no longer in your way. When you thread your fingers into his hair, it's smooth and silky, providing no resistance when you tug it. 

"Tell me what you want, Doll," Jake says when your lips part again. 

"You. I want you," you whimper, tugging his hair again. A wide grin breaks across Jake's face, and his eyes crinkle around the edges. He tucks his face into your neck, and you can still feel him smiling. 

"What else do you want?" He questions. When his lips brush a spot that makes you stretch your neck to give him easier access, he nips it lightly. You stumble, coming up with a response, just sighing his name as he finds another spot to bite. "Come on now, you said it so pretty earlier. Tell me again."

Once his request processes through your lust filled brain, you push on Jake's shoulders once more. This time, he doesn't resist, backing away from you and creating some space between your heated bodies. Sagging against the wall, you try to catch your breath while examining Jake. His hair is disheveled now, some of it falling across his forehead. 

"You said no, you don't want that with me. You don't want this with me," You answer, finally dropping your gaze to examine the grain of the hardwood floor near your feet. Confusion at this sudden turn in attitude from him settles over you as your head clears. One of Jake's hands enters your field of vision, turned upwards in an offering. "Come sit, we need to set some things straight." 

Taking Jake's hand, he curls his fingers with yours and gently tugs you back through the doorway of his room. With his direction, you perch on the edge of his four poster bed. Jake presses a kiss to the back of your hand and lets it go to settle on the accent chair that's in the corner. 

"We'll be honest, right?" You say hesitantly, already missing the feeling of Jake's hand in yours. 

"Yes. I'll be honest." Jake answers reassuringly before continuing, "From the beginning, I never wanted to be friends with you. 

"You didn't?" 

"Nope," he says, popping the p. "I never wanted to be friends, and then once we were friends, I was stuck. You didn't seem to want the same things as I did, and I'm not the kind of man to complain about the friend zone."

"I haven't friend you zoned you," you say, scandalized at the suggestion. 

"Just earlier tonight, you asked me to have a baby with you, platonically," Jake deadpans. 

"Because I can't conceptualize you wanting me any other way." 

"I want you. I've always wanted you, but not platonically, baby." 

Baby. Jake was a casual sweet name user, there was doll, sweetheart, honey, darling, those all were commonplace, but baby was new. Hearing it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. He called you baby, and he has wanted you. You could have had him from the start if your fears and insecurities hadn't held you back. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper. 

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to need me, to love me," Jake explains with more hesitation than you've ever heard from him as if he is tip-toeing through this conversation. Worrying your fingers together, you have to take a calming breath to settle your own hesitation before answering him, "Well, that's easy because I do."  

A gleeful grin stretches across his face, and it's so bright you feel a matching one appear. He rubs a hand over his face, hiding it from view for a moment, and when you see his face again, he is still smiling. He looks as if he is trying to bite it back but can't quite manage. 

"Well, alright, a few more things we have to iron out then. I love spending time with you. You've never not been desirable to me." You can't help a disbelieving laugh when Jake says that, and the look he gives you is disapproving. "I mean that. I was thinking about it even the time I came over to bring you soup when you had the flu. Wanted to bundle you up and crawl into bed with you." 

"Oh, come on, that can't be true. I was so gross." 

"It is. I promised I would be honest, and I'm not going to be breaking any of the promises I make to you. Can you believe that?" 

You study his face, tracing over his nose, and jaw. He still has the hint of a grin that hasn't slid off his features yet, and he looks so very earnest. You can't imagine that Jake would be in the business of lying to you, and the openness he is offering makes it feel like you can believe him. That you can keep trusting him just like you always have. "I can believe that."

"Great. So, baby —" 

"Yes?" You say entirely too breathily before he can even finish the sentence. It was really a surprise how much hearing him say that already turned your brain to some form of liquid. 

"I want to sleep with you," Jake says plainly. 

"Then why are you all the way over there?" 

"I didn't want you to feel any sort of pressure while we were talking, and wasn't confident I could keep my hands to myself." 

Standing up from his bed, you walk steadily over to the chair Jake is sitting in. Crawling into his lap more confidently than you truly feel, his hands automatically slip around your waist, steading you against him. Holding eye contact with him, you say, "I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself." 

"Fuck, you're going to kill me," he sighs, tightening his hold on you. You go to kiss him again, but when you do, he blurts out, "I don't have any STDs or STIs." His cheeks stain a little pink, and he looks as surprised by the declaration as you are. 

"That's good to know. I'm clean too," you inform him. 

"Good to know. I just thought it was important to put it out there. Got to do safety checks first and everything. I don't want us to have any questions or be unsure about anything, and it's important to consider all the factors involved with —" Jake's rambling comes to a halt when you dip your face into his neck, kissing at the underside of his jaw softly. 

"Jake," you say, linking your arms around his neck and playing with the short hair there. "Will you give me a baby?" 

"Fuck, Doll. I promise to give you anything you want. The ring, the house, the baby. It's yours." 

You don't waste any time kissing him. When your lips meet, all the hesitancy and nervousness that Jake had while you were talking melts away. His mouth confidently teases yours open for his tongue to quickly follow. Your hands thread into Jake's hair again as his start to roam your back, sides, and arms. When you wiggle closer on his lap, he groans and grabbing a handful of your ass, lifting you up. Jake stands easily and walks you back to the bed. 

He doesn't drop you on the bed like you're expecting. Instead, he sets you down gently, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as he does. Laying on your back with Jake standing over you reminds you just how large and broad he is. 

With surprisingly little fanfare, he pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side. Jake shirtless is not a new sight; in fact, it's a tantalizing one you've seen too often. He has every right to be proud of his body, you know how much time he dedicates at the gym. So it shouldn't be a surprise that, never one to be self conscious, Jake hardly could be found wearing a shirt if the situation didn't require it. However, you realize this is the first time that you don't just have to look but can also touch. 

Wanting to get the nervousness of undressing out of the way, you sit up, quickly discarding your shirt and tossing it aside. Before you can shimmy out of your bottoms, Jake's large hands are on your wrists, stopping you. 

"You're doing my job," he chastises huskily. Jake is slow and meticulous in removing your clothes, running his hands over all the skin that's exposed to him. When he pulls off your bra, leaving you only in your panties, he just sits back and stares for a moment. Such intense scrutiny from his gaze has you covering your chest, crossing your legs, and looking away. 

"I wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone tonight," you mutter, knowing that you don't have the sexiest underwear on and perhaps were not as physically prepared for this intimacy as you would like. 

"Good," he says lowly. "No one else is going to get to see you like this anymore." Grabbing an ankle in each big hand, he spreads you out for him. He slides off your panties so you're completely bare, and takes up his staring once more. "Ain't you fucking gorgeous?" Jake mutters and you realize he ain't talking about you necessarily; he's talking to your pussy. Whining his name gets Jake to shove off his sweatpants, leaving him in a pair of dark grey boxer briefs as he crawls over your body. 

As he kisses you again, your hands greedily explore his exposed skin. His chest hair proving to be much softer than you had imagined it, and his shoulders are taut as he holds himself up. While Jake's lips move with yours, you use a leg to encourage him to ease more of his weight into you, seeking friction. Kissing down your neck he lavishes attention to your breasts, licking and sucking his way across your skin. 

"You know, I was too busy to make dessert," he says when he reaches your core. One of his hands teasingly traces all around the skin. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, he asks, "Do you mind filling in?" 

"Jake, you don't need to." You say, trying not to squirm when his fingers dip between your lips. 

"I want to. Do you not want me to?" 

"I know it's not everyone's thing," you answer, giving him an out. 

"It's my thing," Jake says. His eyes lock onto the cleft of you, and he licks his lip, biting at the bottom one. Reaching up, he grabs one of your hands and brings it up to his hair, encouraging you to thread your fingers there. His fingers that are teasing you spread you open more, and he groans, "Oh yeah you're my thing." 

Jake's tongue traces over you, probing until he finds the spot that makes your hips jump. Once Jake finds your clit he doesn't waste his time. Widening his mouth, he latches on and sucks. While he starts gently, he ramps up to sucking hard and twisting his tongue as he does. When you pull at his hair, he moans encouragingly.

"More," you request tugging his hair gently. Jake listens, sliding a finger into you. Whispering praise into your thighs about how pretty you are and how good you taste. You don't know how long Jake spends between your thighs, but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry. He sucks and licks, fucking his finger into you until the sound is sloppy and wet. He slips a second finger in, stretching you, occasionally scissoring them wider open in you. 

Even when you are whining and gasping, working against Jake's tongue, he doesn't let up. You don't have the mind to worry how you're trying to suffocate him with your thighs, which he keeps pushing back open with no complaints. All that you can focus on is Jake, how good he is making you feel, and how close you're getting. It's a matter of time until you're shuddering and falling apart for him.  

Continuing to lavish attention even as you jerk with sensitivity, Jake seems content to keep eating you out. You try to pull him away by his hair, but he just licks into you harder. "Jake, enough," you whine, trying to wiggle away from his mouth.

 "I haven't had my fill yet, Doll," he says, pulling his mouth off you but not going far, pressing wet kisses to your thighs. 

"I haven't even seen your cock yet, and I don't know why it isn't in me." You say, trying to reason with him. It doesn't come out very strong, though as Jake's fingers curl in you, making your cunt flutter. 

"Patience is a virtue," he teases.

"Being virtuous isn't really at the forefront of my mind at the moment."

Jake sighs dramatically and presses one more kiss to your pussy before sitting back on his haunches. You can see the hard outline of him in his briefs as he gets off the bed. You watch his every move closely, more than ready to finally see him naked.

However, Jake is clearly taking some sort of joy from making you wait, because he detours to start picking up your hastily thrown clothing. As he is laying them out on the chair, you lose your patience. Grabbing one of his decorative pillows, you throw it at him. It smacks him between his shoulder blades before dropping to the floor with a thunk. 

Spinning to face you, Jake crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge, his eyebrow raised. "Did you just hit me with a pillow?" 

"No, I wouldn't do that," You deny trying to look innocent. Jake tsks at you, picking up the makeshift weapon and setting that neatly on the chair as well. 

"Being desperate for my cock isn't an excuse to misbehave, baby." 

"Big talk for someone who still hasn't shown it to me. It's okay if you don't have a pretty dick, Jake. It won't change how I feel. I'm still going to want you to fuck me."  

Goading someone into action was a wonderful tactic you had learned over the course of your friendship with Jake. Something he easily did with others, and something tonight that it proved was just as effective against him because he doesn't even respond to your words. Sliding off his underwear, his dick springs free. He's hard from eating you out, and just from the first glance you get, it's clear there isn't one thing for him to be self-conscious about. 

The fleshy pink length is nestled among dark hair, and the size of him is nothing to dismiss. It's a very symmetrical cock, lining up nicely with his balls and adonis belt. Bouncing a bit as he gets back on the bed, you can't bring yourself to look away. You know he is going to fill you so deliciously. When he's finally close enough for you to touch, you hesitate though. 

"Speechless?" Jake wonders, with no ounce of shame or self-consciousness present. 

"Can I touch?" You ask. Jake nods, taking your hand and bringing it to your mouth. You suck a few of your fingers in, wetting them with your spit. Then he guides your hand to his dick, encouraging you to wrap it around him. Jake's hand covers yours for the first few strokes, showing you what he likes, but then it falls away, letting you explore. He grunts when you trace one of the veins that runs along the side, following it down to cup his balls. He allows your teasing for a few more strokes before he pulls you close, kissing you hard. 

The hard planes of Jake's naked body pressed against yours is nearly too much. He is so close and yet not close enough. With some gentle maneuvering, Jake is in between your legs and checking that the position is comfortable for you. Jake runs his length through your lips, the head bumping into your clit. Despite all the encouragement and build up, he's still not in a hurry. When his cock is wet from you, it starts to slide effortlessly. Losing your patience, you cup Jake's face, making him look you in the eyes. 

"Jake, fuck me now. Please." You say. He nods, kissing you slowly. Then finally, he grabs his cock lining himself up and pushing the tip into you. When his pelvis meets yours, he holds himself there, your breaths mingling together in light pants as he stretches you out. The time he gives you to stretch and adjust is necessary, but once you have, Jake fills you deliciously. 

"How're you feeling baby?" He asks. Your thumb moves across his cheekbone, soothing until the worry lines between his eyebrows disappear. Only responding when you know you're okay and so is he, "Perfect. Feel so full of you."

"I'll fill you up," Jake promises. 

"Yeah?" You ask. He hums his agreement and rocks his hips against your experimental, drawing a small gasp from you. 

"Promise," he says, starting a lazy punctuated rhythm, moving his hips against yours. Your hands explore the skin of his back as he thrusts into you. You hike a leg up on Jake's hips, letting him get a little deeper in you. The action makes him moan, and he pulls your other leg up around his hip, too. 

Hooking your ankles together, you use the leverage to encourage Jake to fuck into you faster. Digging your heels into his ass and lifting your hips up to meet each of his thrusts increases the heat boiling between you. His face falling into your neck, Jake starts whispering dirty praise about how good you feel around him and how long he's been dreaming about this. 

Stamina clearly isn't something that Jake is lacking in. He fucks you until you are both dripping with sweat, and you are begging for him noncoherently, unable to process anything but how good his cock feels. He maintains a steady rhythm, snapping his hips to meet yours the whole time. 

"You feel so good. Want to get you there again. What do you need?" Jake pants huskily. 

"Harder," you answer shakily, snaking your hand to play with your clit. You're close, and you know it's not going to take much more for you to get there with how long Jake's been building you up. He listens, slamming his hips more pointedly into you, grinding his pelvis every time he bottoms out. 

Huffing, Jake pulls out of you a few minutes later. Making you cry out wantonly, reaching for his retreating body. He takes a moment to kiss both your hands that he unhooks from his neck. Then, shushing you gently, he grabs a pillow and lifting your hips, he slides it under them.

"It's okay, just a little better angle." He explains to you. You flop back on the bed, content to have Jake manhandle you any which way he wants if it means he'll be in you again.  

"Oh, you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" He asks, as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty and wanting him. His fingers dipping in to play with the wet dripping from you. A flash of shame passes through you as he asks that. You drop your arms that had been reaching out for him back to the bed, and you screw your eyes shut, turning your face to the side looking away from him. 

Jake had already got you to cum once, and it was possible he didn't want you all over him as he was trying to get off now. Preferences were probably something y'all should have talked about more in depth before jumping into intimacy. You didn't want him to think you were overly needy or hard to please. You didn't want to ruin what you and Jake could have the very first time together. Noticing the shift in your enthusiasm Jake immediately stops pressing his cock into you, worriedly asking, "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing," you answer, staring up at the ceiling looking for patterns there. It's easier to play this off if you don't have to look at him; easier if you don't have to acknowledge the unexpected, unwelcome swell of emotion that's overcoming you. 

"Doll, look at me." He orders you, but you shake your head, refusing. Jake grips your chin, tilting your face to meet his eyes. They are intense studying you intently, completely focused on you. "The honesty we just promised each other needs to extend to sex nearly more than anywhere else going forward with this relationship," Jake says seriously. His hard dick is pressed against your thigh, and you don't know how he's able to have such a level-headed conversation considering the circumstances, just having been balls deep in you a minute ago. "So, what's wrong?" 

"I don't want to be too high maintenance or needy," You sigh, trying to work through your words. Knowing this conversation is important, but also not completely sure how to express what you're feeling. "Sometimes I might seem needy, or maybe I could take a while to cum or not at all, which wouldn't be a reflection of you. I don't want you to think, well, I don't want to be too much for you to change your mind about this, and now I'm ruining the mood with a dumb fucking insecurity."

"Stop," Jake says gently, but leaving no room for argument. "You haven't ruined anything. I'm sorry I called your pussy needy. I didn't know it would make you feel this way. Can I tell you something, though, Doll?" When you give a hesitant nod, Jake's voice drops so low it's nearly gravelly. "I want you to be needy. I want your pussy desperate for my cock, desperate for my cum. I want you as desperate for me as I am for you." 

"You're desperate for me too?"

"Frantically and wildly so." He answers easily. Then he asks with his thumb ghosting over your nub, "Are we okay? Is this still okay?" 

"Yeah, this is good," You sigh, enjoying the zing that runs up your back when he nudges your clit more pointedly. 

Jake grabs his cock, giving it a few languid strokes before he guides it back into you. You push your hips up to meet him. The new angle that the pillow gives him leverage to hit somewhere that's just a delicious feeling. As he rocks into you, his thumb maintains its place on your clit. Your fear of the mood having been ruined proves wrong as the coil in your core quickly builds, pushing you near the edge once more. 

"Cum in me, Jake, please. Give me a baby," you request, your thighs quivering as you near your orgasm. 

As his hips snap nearly frantically, Jake rolls your clit over in nearly the same rhythm. He moans your name a minute later, falling over the edge and spilling inside of you. Though his hips stutter to a stop leaving himself fully seated in you, he continues working over your clit. It doesn't take long until you're dissolving into pleasure along with him. 

The ripples run through your body, and you feel every muscle tense and relax, turning into jelly. Jake grunts when you spasm around him but doesn't move or pull out until you've fully melted into the bed on the downward crest of your peak. 

When he does pull out, he doesn't go far, shifting enough to spoon you. Settling behind you, Jake pulls you close to his chest, wrapping you tight in his arms. His hand is tracing lazy patterns on your hip and occasionally venturing to the soft skin of your belly. You don't have the mind to be self-conscious at the moment, still a little too blissed out. It takes significant brain power to process his question when he asks, "Do you actually want to have a baby?" 

"Do you?" You wonder. 

"You can't answer a question with a question," Jake chastises you. Turning in his arms so you are sprawled against his chest, you snuggle close, nuzzling him affectionately. 

"Do you know how it was seeing you with Jackson today?" You ask him. 

"If it was even half of how it felt seeing you hold him, then I'm sorry." 

"Whatever you felt, double it. Triple it even." You say lightly. "It was enough for me to ask my friend, who I thought could never want me, for a baby." 

"I do want you," Jake immediately reassures you. 

"Thank goodness for baby fever, then. Because at least now we know we want each other," you reason, slowly starting to draw mindless patterns of your own against his skin. 

Jake heaves a sigh and strokes his hand down your back, wondering, "Was this just baby fever?" 

"No," you answer after thinking about it for a long span of silence. "I would have a baby with you. It seems right. I want that, I think." You can feel the relief in his body, hearing that, all his tension easing into relaxation. 

"Good," is the only response he gives you, kissing the crown of your head. You expect more but don't get it. Rather, Jake seems content to just bask in the afterglow. That doesn't seem to be too bad an idea, so you close your eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat.  

When you wake up from your impromptu nap, you're not alone in bed. However, you are now under the covers of a different comforter than there was before, and Jake is no longer acting as your pillow. He is on the other side of the bed, but his hand is stretched out, grazing the middle of your back. 

Rolling to face him, you admire the sight he makes stretched out on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Jake's got a book open, folded in half, clearly abusing the book's binding just so he can have one hand on you. When he notices you sleepily admiring him, Jake shoots you a soft smile. 

"Hey baby," he whispers. 

"Hi," You whisper back scooting closer to him and grab the hand that had been touching you, threading your fingers together. 

"Let's go on a date," Jake suddenly springs on you, squeezing your hand. 

"I would love that," you respond, feeling giddy as butterflies erupt in your stomach. "Want something first, though."

"I already told you I would give you anything you want, and I meant it," Jake says, setting his book on his bedside table and giving you his full attention. 

"Good, because I want round two and a shower, which hopefully has round three involved." 

"Your wish is my command," Jake says easily. You move even closer to him so your lips are only a breath apart. "I meant it, the ring, the house, the baby. I can make it all happen by tomorrow." 

"Let's start with breakfast in bed," you say, kissing him hard. When your lips hardly touch because you're both smiling too wide, well, that actually makes it feel all the better. 

[avatar-anna]

It's Not a Competition (But It Is)

i just feel like this song is so reader coded in this series like she literally gets annoyed by how much she likes him and at first refuses to admit but of course she can't hide it forever...

Hockey Player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader Masterlist

"What are you staring at?"

"Nothing. I'm not staring. Who's staring?"

You narrowed your eyes at Harry from across the couch. He was on one end, you on the other, as you studied for your respective midterms. You hadn't meant to stay after hooking up, but Harry offered his shower and an extra set of clothes and promised not to bother you if you wanted a quiet place to go over your notes, and despite the warning bells flaring in your head, you stayed.

As promised, there were no distractions. You were able to go over your psych notes in peace, the only sounds in Harry's apartment being the instrumental music he put on and the clicks of his keyboard as he worked on his laptop. It was comfortable, almost too comfortable, you thought. This wasn't the kind of relationship you anticipated when you and Harry hooked up for the first time. It was supposed to be strictly physical, transactional, a satisfaction of mutual needs.

But you felt it—Harry's stare as you reviewed key terms and quizzed yourself with your professor's review guide. There wasn't any heat behind the stare, it was more of a soft, warm glow. Affection. Harry stared at you with affection, and you weren't sure how to make the responding butterflies in your stomach stop fluttering so intensely.

"You're being a creep," you finally said, shifting in your spot on the couch as if you could physically shake off the weight of that stare.

Harry's brows raised above his blue light glasses, amused by your assessment. You'd never seen him wear them before, but they framed his stupidly beautiful face perfectly. You thought they softened his appearance, made him look less like the overconfident jock you knew too well.

"You really wanna know?" he asked, a playful grin on his face. "I don't think you wanna know."

"I asked, didn't I?"

Harry's grin widened before turning back to his laptop. "I just think you look pretty in my clothes. That's all."

His smirk was self-satisfied as if he knew what your reaction would be, which pissed you off even more. Before you knew it, you took a throw pillow and chucked it at his head.

"Ow! What the hell?"

"I look pretty in your clothes?"

"It's a compliment, princess," Harry said. "You would be the one to get pissy over something like that."

You sniffed. "Sorry I'm not at your feet like one of your adoring fans."

"Hey now, I never said I didn't like it. I like this thing we have going on. The banter. It keeps things interesting."

"Whatever."

"Would you rather I said you looked hot? Sexy?" Harry challenged, though his smirk told you he was playing around, laying a teasing trap to see if you'd take the bait. "Why can't I tell the girl I'm sleeping with she looks beautiful in my clothes? That's like every guy's wet dream."

You frowned and picked at your nails, trying to ignore the effect his words had on you. "You're sounding too romantic. Like you're my boyfriend or something."

Closing his laptop once more, Harry set it on the coffee table in front of him and turned toward you completely. He looked too soft, too cuddly, too kissable in his worn gray sweatshirt, his hair extra curly from the shower you shared together earlier. And when he shuffled across the couch toward you, the smell of his shampoo dizzied you, made it hard for you to focus on his words.

"You say that like it would be a bad thing," he said. His voice was light, but there was an undercurrent of weight to it. This was the conversation you and Harry avoided, danced around, hid from, at every turn. You could see it in his eyes sometimes that he wanted to have it, that he wanted more. But you...you just couldn't.

"We agreed—"

"Yeah, yeah. We agreed. Just sex," Harry grumbled as he pulled off his crew neck. "I can haul you over my knee and spank you all I want but I can't say you can't look cute in my clothes. Pathetic, Y/n, really."

You blushed, playfully swatting his hand away when he tried to push your—his—shirt up. "What are you doing? We already did that!"

"Well not-couples don't sit around studying together, so come on," Harry said, smiling as he play-fought you on the couch.

You giggled your way out of your clothes wrapping your arms and legs around him as he kissed along your jaw. "No, don't do that. This is strictly sex between us. Only girlfriends hold boyfriends like that."

"Don't make fun of me," you said, breathless from laughing.

"I'm not making fun, princess. Promise. We're just two people who love to fuck. And study together and train to—"

You cut Harry off with a kiss, fisting a hand in his hair tight enough to make him hum. The slide of his mouth against yours was familiar, practiced, as dizzying as the first time you kissed him. Since the very beginning, it had been easy with Harry. Too easy, too right. You thought it was just the tension between you and him finally snapping in half, that he'd finally pushed enough of your buttons and you just needed to get him out of your system. And then it happened again, and it felt just as good as the first time. Maybe even better. So it kept happening again. And again. Until you were staying over at his place and he had a drawer at yours and he laughed at your stupid jokes and you knew what he meant when he talked about hockey stats and his favorite place to eat off campus.

And now you were here.

You didn't know where "here" was, though. You knew where Harry thought it was, you knew what he wanted beneath all his teasing and joking. But you didn't know what you wanted. Or you did, and perhaps didn't know how to admit it.

"I should go," you whispered after, even though you knew you didn't have to. Harry's body was warm and sturdy beside yours, the hand drawing circles up and down your back and through your hair pleasant, calming. Your eyes were getting tired, blinking slower and slower as your head laid on his chest.

"Yeah," Harry replied, his chest expanding and falling as he sighed. "But I don't want you to."

You didn't either, though you didn't say it out loud. You just nestled deeper into Harry's chest and wrapped your arms around his waist.

And you stayed.

*.*

Harry woke to the sound of his phone buzzing noisily on by his bed. Too tired to make any sense of who was calling him at such a late hour or why, he didn't even bother sending it to voicemail, merely turning over in his bed and dozing back to sleep once the buzzing stopped.

And then it happened again.

That time, Harry did send the call to voicemail, believing it to be one of Harry's teammates trying to pull some kind of prank. By the third call, he was thoroughly annoyed.

"What?"

"Do you not like me anymore?"

Rubbing his eyes, Harry looked down at his phone, more specifically, the caller ID, for the first time. "Y/n? Is everything okay? Why are you calling so late?"

"It's Friday night why do you—hiccup!—why do you sound like you're asleep?"

"Because I was," Harry said, groaning before sitting up in his bed. Running a hand over his face, he asked, "Are you drunk?"

"No! Yes! Maybe a little tipsy. The nice bartender gave me a double shot for my drink," Y/n said, giggling to herself.

*.*

Harry woke up some more at her giggling, already reaching for the pair of jeans he'd ditched by his bed earlier. He'd gotten home after an away game earlier and didn't have it in him to go out, not to mention the pile of homework he left for the last minute. Y/n went out with her friends, insisting that she could go a Friday night without hooking up with him. Harry had laughed at the time, but selfishly wished she was with him now.

"How nice of him," Harry replied, trying not to let the idea of anyone flirting with Y/n bother him too much. "So, you're okay?"

"I—hiccup!—I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, you're the one who called me out of the blue."

"Well, I," Y/n started, her voice drowned out by loud noise of whatever bar or party she was at. Then it all quieted as if she was suddenly alone. "I wasn't going to call you, but then I did."

Harry smirked. "Aw, did you miss me, princess?"

"No!" she snapped, perhaps a little too quickly. "No, but I just—I was ready to leave and no one else was and I know it was stupid of me because you're always tired after away games, but I thought—"

"I'm already on my way," Harry said, sliding off his bed as he picked up his jeans off the floor.

"Really? You don't have to. We're not—I mean you're not—"

"Send me your location, princess. I'll make sure you get home safe."

Y/n was quiet for a moment, presumably sending Harry her location while he shrugged into a t-shirt and grabbed his jacket. And an extra one for her, just in case.

"Maybe...Maybe I can stay at your place tonight?"

Harry's heart leaped in his chest, but he didn't let himself get his hopes up. Y/n was drunk, and he might've just wanted to hear the plea, the affection, in her voice. She didn't like him that way, or didn't want to admit that she did. He just needed to be patient.

"Course, princess," Harry finally said. "Sit tight, okay? I'll be there soon."

Skating always brought you clarity. Going through a familiar routine and landing tricks was what made sense. Moving through the music, letting the music move through you, helped you relax.

But today was different. Today you skated around the rink in circles, no choreography or music flowing through you. You skated in a daze, hoping you could leave your thoughts behind you with another lap, but they were as quick as you were as you glided across the ice.

"Y/n?"

Your most persistent thought of all.

You skated one last loop before coming to a stop at the rinks entrance. Harry stood on the other side, backpack on his shoulders and baseball cap covering most of his curls. It was a vision you were more than familiar with, you even knew the slightly concerned furrow of his brow.

"Everything okay? You weren't at the library."

"I—I just needed to skate," was all you managed to say, your breaths still coming out unevenly.

"Oh. Can I join you?" he asked, already shrugging out of his backpack.

"Just like that?" you asked him, blowing a stray strand of hair out of your face.

"Just like that."

Leaning across the barricade Harry kissed your forehead. There was a small smile on his face as he pulled away and gingerly pushed that same strand of hair away.

Because that was a thing you and Harry did now. You'd finally admitted to yourself what Harry had known all along, so now he was your boyfriend. It had taken a moment to wrap your head around it, though your dynamic with Harry didn't change all that much. Not at first, anyway. Until your first date at a bowling alley, then the second at a sushi place in town, then you began opening up about your home life, your family, sharing things with him that you never had before. Now you got extremely jealous when girls came up to him and tried to flirt, and Harry, who wasn't afraid to admit he'd always been jealous when he saw you flirt with other guys, wasn't afraid to scare those same guys off.

You and Harry were finally dating, and it was...good. more than good. It was—

"It was the date, wasn't it? Was it too much?" he asked later as skated beside you, having finally gotten his skates from his locker. Harry's skates were clunkier than yours, meant for speed and agility so he could race down pucks and out skate his opponents, while yours is slim and geared toward performing tricks. You watched them as they glided across the ice as you figured out what to say.

The date Harry referred to wasn't meant to be anything special, not any more special than the others were. But then Harry did what Harry did best and went above and beyond.

He somehow scored tickets to the ballet and surprised you with them and a candlelit dinner before the performance. It was perfect, all of it incredibly perfect. Harry in his suit and tie, different than his game-day suit, you in the fanciest dress you owned—pale yellow and off-the-shoulder, the bodice shaped like a bow.

It was a night filled with hand holding and kisses to your bare shoulder as you observed the performance. The seats Harry got were far from the stage, but you didn't care. You were enthralled by the dancers and the night your boyfriend planned for you, and Harry was just enthralled by you. You felt his stare all night, the same one he'd had since the first time you met, only now you knew what it meant.

Then at the end of the night, he walked you to your door, kissed you, and let you go inside. When you asked why he wasn't following, all he said was, "You have a competition tomorrow. I know you like to be alone so you can mentally prepare."

And that was that. He left, and you went inside and replayed the night in your head over and over and over again. You saw him the next morning at your competition, but you were too focused, all your feelings carefully compartmentalized so you could perform your absolute best. But the second you got off the ice, you thought of him, and only him, and all the ways he made you feel entirely too much and how you couldn't see yourself with anyone else.

It was too much, too many giant feelings to make sense of all at once. So you took some time to yourself the next couple days, and instead of meeting Harry at the library to study like you'd planned a week ago and headed for the skating rink instead.

"The date was perfect," you said now, your eyes trained on the ice beneath your skates. "It wasn't—It wasn't the date."

"So...you blew off studying with me because you...what? You just felt like it?" Harry asked, his voice carrying the slightest edge to it. Your boyfriend was incredibly patient despite your apparent aversion to dealing with your growing emotions. But he was still human, and honestly, you were a little annoyed with yourself too.

"No, I—"

"Then what's going on, Y/n? I know things haven't been easy, but if I'm coming on too strong and we need to slow down, then—"

"I don't want to slow down."

"Okay, then what—"

"I love you!" you said, coming to a stop in front of him. The words just tumbled out of your mouth, and now they wouldn't stop, like a dam had broken inside you. "I've come to the realization that I'm in love with you. A lot, and—and I'm overwhelmed by it and a little annoyed that you've managed to make me feel so much more than I ever planned to, so... that's why I didn't show up. I'm sorry, I just—I love you, I guess, and I didn't know how to tell you. But I also couldn't sit next to you and not say it either."

Harry said nothing for a couple seconds, looking down at his skates, then you, then back down again. Then he began to laugh.

You gaped at him. "Hey—You're laughing at me? I know it wasn't as romantic as you would've made it but, but I love you, you stupid fucking jerk!"

That only made him laugh more, which made you spin on your skates and glide away from him. He called after you, but you kept going, except he was a faster skater than you were and caught up to you before you wanted him to. Harry grabbed you by the waist and spun you around so faced him. He was smiling wide, his nose bright red from the chill of the rink.

"I'm laughing because you got to say it first," he said. "I'm laughing because I have been waiting for the right time to tell you, walking on eggshells for almost two years now, and you just—you beat me to it. That's all."

You blinked. Then laughed a little yourself. "So it was a competition? I won?"

"Yeah," Harry scoffed. "You won. Now stop stress skating and come with me to the library, you neurotic freak."

"Competitive ass."

"I love you," Harry said, using the smile he usually reserved for getting out of trouble or getting what he wanted. It was a smile you pretended you could resist, perhaps more for your sake than his, but now you didn't even try.

You rolled your eyes before kissing him, not confused or scared of the butterflies that erupted in your stomach as a result. " I love you too."

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Synopsis: You find yourself developing a crush on mischievous soccer player Eita Otoya. The only problem? Eita and relationships don’t exactly go hand in hand — which is something you’re only all too aware of, considering he just so happens to be your best friend’s older brother.

BLLK Masterlist | Karasu Version

Pairing: Otoya x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 12.9k

Content Warnings: crack fic, otoya is a red flag let’s not lie to ourselves, he’s lowkey ooc at the end, reader says ‘i can NOT fix him’ but then accidentally manages to anyways, otoya plays video games but sucks at them, otoya’s younger sister is given a name (look at that word count LMAO i’m not calling her ‘otoya’s younger sister’ the entire time), std jokes, your honor eita otoya IS a loser

A/N: yes this is based off the song “best friend’s brother” from victorious. yes this is probably the dumbest otoya fic you will ever read (i promise i’ve written him better before). yes this is four times longer than it was supposed to be. idk what to say either i just get carried away LMAO

On the first day of your first year of middle school, you were told by your teacher to sit next to an entirely disagreeable looking girl. Her round face was adorned with a scowl, and there was a scrape on the bridge of her nose. She had silvery hair cut in a choppy bob, and blunt bangs streaked with green covered her forehead. When she noticed you staring at her in surprise, she made a face at you.

“What do you want?” she said.

“I’m supposed to sit here,” you said. “Teacher said so.”

“Whatever,” she said with a scoff. You gave her an uneasy look as you set your things down beside her, sliding into your chair and watching her out of the corner of your eye. If she noticed, she did not care, gripping her pencil in her hand so hard it was a miracle it did not snap in half, her scowl deepening as she looked over the introduction sheet you all had been given to fill out. 

“I’m Y/N L/N,” you offered meekly, not wanting to accidentally offend her. She seemed like the kind of girl you really shouldn’t mess with, not if you wanted to keep your life and limbs intact.

She glanced at you. “Seiko Otoya.”

“Nice to meet you, Otoya,” you said.

“Seiko,” she said firmly. “Nobody calls me Otoya ‘cause I have two older siblings and it’s confusing.”

“Ah, but neither of your siblings are here, so it wouldn’t be confusing,” you pointed out before you could stop yourself. Seiko gave you an annoyed look.

“So what? Everyone’s been calling me Seiko since I can remember, so if you try to get my attention by saying Otoya I won’t realize,” she said. “What’s your problem with it?”

“I don’t have a problem,” you said, pulling out a pencil of your own and filling out your introduction sheet. Your handwriting was ten times nicer than Seiko’s, you noticed — she had a messy scrawl that was barely legible, especially when compared to your neat print. 

“That’s great to hear, L/N,” she said, shoving her arm over her paper so you couldn’t look at it any longer. “Quit copying me.”

“Of all the assignments to copy on, do you really think I’d pick this one? It wouldn’t even make sense, since all of the information is about ourselves. See, this one asks about our families,” you said, tapping your eraser against the question you were referring to. “It’s not like I would write that I have two older siblings, because I don’t, even though you do.”

Seiko scoffed, puffing her cheeks out and turning back to her work with a pout. “Fine.”

You had been hoping that you’d befriend your desk partner, considering you didn’t know anyone at the middle school. All of your friends from primary school lived across town from you, so they were attending another middle school, which had the unfortunate effect of leaving you by yourself. Unfortunately, it seemed like you were out of luck when it came to making friends with the girl beside you, because Seiko was surly at best and downright hostile at worst.

When the bell rang to signify the end of the first half of the day as well as the beginning of the lunch break, you all but leapt out of your seat, speed-walking towards the cafeteria as fast as you could, eager to avoid another stiff conversation with Seiko. For her part, she rolled her eyes, taking her own time to gather her things and push in her chair, ignoring you completely all the while.

In your haste, you didn’t watch where you were going, and because of your shyly-ducked head, you ran straight into the back of a tall, heavy-set boy.

“What is wrong with you?” he snapped, spinning around to face you. He had close-cropped hair and thick brows, a narrow mouth pressed into a taut line, and a pinched, ruddy face. 

“I’m sorry,” you said immediately.

“You made me drop my chocolate milk,” he said. “Apologize again, and give me money to pay for more!”

“Your chocolate milk is still in your hand,” you said quietly. He glared at you, and then, before you could react, he was unscrewing the cap and pouring its contents all over you.

“Like I said,” he said. “You made me drop it.”

“What — why would you do that?” you sputtered. You had thought that middle school would be much the same as elementary had been, only with different people, but this never would’ve happened, even just last year. You looked around wildly for a teacher, but there were none; though you were surrounded by laughing peers, you realized that you were alone in this hallway, completely and utterly alone. Everyone was laughing at you and milk was dripping down your once-white shirt and you were alone and things could not get worse. 

The boy held out his hand. Things got worse. “Gimme your lunch money, freak.”

You stared at him blankly, tears welling in your eyes but refusing to fall. He tapped his foot, and slowly, when you understood that you had no choice, you reached into your pocket, fumbling around for the bit of change you had brought with you.

Suddenly, someone slapped your wrist lightly — in reprimand, and not hard enough that it hurt, but so that you were startled and ceased your actions immediately. Looking up, you saw it was Seiko Otoya, looking much the same as she had earlier, though her cheeks bloomed with a rose-colored flush as she jabbed a finger at the boy.

“Who do you think you’re messing with, huh?” she shouted, loudly enough that you were surprised no adults were alarmed. The boy’s eyes widened.

“Seiko?” he said. “I didn’t know you were—”

She let out a challenging war cry and then lunged at him. You gasped as she tackled him to the ground and socked him in the nose, looking entirely ridiculous all the while. It was like watching a chihuahua beat up a mastiff; Seiko was tiny compared to the boy, but vicious, not even giving him a moment to breathe as she rammed her fists into his face, over and over.

“Miss Otoya!” an authoritative voice said, cutting through the brawl. “What is the meaning of this?”

Your teacher stood before you, one of your classmates at her side. When Seiko did not move, she yanked her off of the boy, helping him stand and giving Seiko a stern look.

“He spilled milk on L/N and tried to take her lunch money, so I was just trying to give him a taste of his own medicine,” Seiko said with a shrug.

“You should’ve come to me, not taken matters into your own hands,” your teacher said, massaging her temples when she saw the state of your uniform. “Do you have anything to say to this young man?”

Seiko squinted at the boy, his bloody nose and shivering frame, and then she nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Go on, then,” your teacher said. Seiko placed her hands on her hips.

“I’m sorry—” she began. Your teacher nodded encouragingly. “—that I didn’t hit you harder. You could’ve gotten surgery and fixed that ugly nose of yours if I had actually managed to break it. I’ll do better next time, promise.”

The boy burst into tears. Seiko was sent to detention, giggling all the while. You were given a new uniform and the knowledge that there was at least this one person in the school who was on your side.

It was only natural that, after such an ordeal, you and Seiko ended up as fast friends. Her gruff exterior never softened any, but you found that she was kinder than she let on, and lonely in her own way.

“I learned that move from one of the wrestling matches my older brother likes to watch,” she explained to you a few days later. “I’ve been itching to try it out, so thanks for giving me the opportunity.”

“Itching to try it out?” you said in wonder, accepting the orange slice she handed you and biting into it.

“You know, I beat up 95% of the boys in my kindergarten,” she said thoughtfully. Despite the far-fetched number, you were inclined to believe her. “I’m kind of the opposite of my siblings in that sense. They’re both super popular, especially my brother Eita, but I’ve never been like that. I’m the sort of person that people generally stay far away from.”

“Well, I’m not staying far away from you,” you said. 

“Right,” she said, cracking her knuckles with a smirk. “Who knows when that guy or his lackeys will come back to take revenge on you? You’ve gotta keep me around for a while, just in case.”

It was the best she could offer in terms of friendship, so you only smiled and said that you would.

You visited her house for the first time the following summer, during that part of the season when the days were long and faded into night so slowly that you could even fall asleep while it was still light out. She invited you in and then immediately tugged you after her, not bothering to offer an explanation, as was her way. You stumbled up the stairs, trying to keep pace as she whipped around a corner and knocked frantically on a shut door.

“What?” a muffled voice shouted from inside of the room. 

“It’s Seiko, open up!” she shouted back. “I have to show you something!”

The door opened to reveal a boy. He was a year or so older than you and Seiko, with a delicate, handsome face and a slender, willowy build. His hair, which boasted the same strange coloring as Seiko’s, fell into low-lidded eyes that narrowed with irritation when they settled upon his younger sister.

“What is it?” he said. “I was in the middle of playing a game with my friends.”

“Look,” she said, placing her hands on your shoulders proudly. “You said you didn’t believe I had a friend, but I do, see? This is Y/N L/N, and she’s here to hang out with me!”

Her brother seemed unimpressed. “Did you have to rough her up a bit or something to get her to agree to it?”

“No!” Seiko said. “She actually likes me, right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you said, confused at what kind of argument you had accidentally found yourself in the middle of. “Um, Seiko’s my best friend at school, and she’s never beaten me up or anything, so…”

“Holy crap, you must be desperate,” he said.

“Hey!” Seiko said, kicking him in the shin. He winced and promptly slammed the door on your faces.

“You suck!” he said. “I have a soccer game tomorrow, so you’re lucky you didn’t permanently injure me!”

“I wish I had!” she said. “Come on, Y/N. He’s a jerk. Let’s go swimming. Did you bring a bathing suit? If not, you can borrow one of mine.”

“I have one,” you said. “Wait, so was that your older brother? The one who watches wrestling matches and all?”

“Yeah, that’s Eita. He’s in the grade ahead of us. I guess you could say we’re closer with each other than with our older sister, since she’s already finished high school, but to be honest, he’s dumb and mean, so we don’t get along very well,” she said.

“I picked up on that,” you said. “He seriously didn’t believe you had any friends?” 

“No!” she said. “I told you back when we first met that he and our sister are super popular and I’m not, didn’t I? The thing is that he’s aware of that, too, and he always teases me for it, so when I told him I actually had made a friend, he acted like I was making it up. That’s why I took you to meet him, but he just had to go and be annoying about it! Ugh. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.”

“That’s the worst. Oh, and he plays soccer?” you said. She gave you a strange look.

“Mhm, why?” she said.

“Dunno,” you said. “Just wondering.”

Even you weren’t sure why you were curious about Eita Otoya. Your first interaction with him had hardly been memorable, and if anything you should really despise him for being rude to Seiko. But wasn’t it common for siblings to fight? That didn’t mean he was a bad person, did it?

Actually, it was irrelevant. You doubted you would see much of him, so no matter the quality of his character, he wasn’t someone you needed to be thinking of as anything more than your best friend’s brother. Resolving to push it aside, you spent the rest of the summer with Seiko by their pool, eating popsicles and playing mermaids and getting into splash fights and entirely ignoring whatever signs of her brother’s existence presented themselves.

In fact, until you and Seiko began high school, your path hardly crossed with Eita Otoya’s. He was always out with his friends whenever you came over, and the things he preferred to do had such little overlap with yours and Seiko’s interests that it was as if he did not even live in the Otoya household at all. Indeed, you saw more of their older sister, who was already in college, than you did him, and he became nothing but a vague thought in the back of your mind, only considered when you saw a random sock on their kitchen floor or a soccer jersey thrown across the back of the armchair in their living room.

All of this changed when you and Seiko became high schoolers and she joined the swim team. Her practice hours were long and irregular, which meant there were often times that you’d sit around her house, doing homework while you waited for her to come back. Some days she was only five minutes late; others, it was half an hour or more. It was frustrating, but it could not be helped, so you learned quickly that you should bring something to entertain yourself with if you dared to head to the Otoya household on a day she had swimming — which was every day, or so it seemed.

“Hey. You’re L/N, right? Seiko’s friend?”

You were pulled out of writing a history paper by someone speaking to you curiously. When you looked up, you saw that it was Eita Otoya, a brown paper bag in his hands and a friendly smile on his face. He set the bag on the counter and rummaged about in one of their cabinets, pulling out two plates while he gazed at you, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, I am,” you said, omitting the fact that you had been coming to his house for years, seeing no merit in bringing it up. “You’re her older brother.”

“Yup,” he said, emptying the contents of the bag onto one of the plates. “I can’t believe you’re doing homework at your best friend’s house.”

“She was supposed to be back half an hour ago, but I think one of her teammates pissed the coach off, so they all got held back again,” you said. “I figured I might as well be productive while I waited for her.”

“Smart,” he said. “Want some?”

He held up the plate filled with churros at you. You furrowed your brow, feeling entirely awkward — this was probably the longest conversation you had ever had with him, and certainly the only one you had had without Seiko present.

“Uh, sure,” you said.

“Good choice, these things are delicious,” he said, shaking his head as he heaped a generous portion onto the other plate. Pulling out the chair across from you, he handed you your plate and then sat down with a dreamy exhale. “I swear they put crack in them or something.”

“It’s possible,” you said, debating whether you should close your laptop before deciding you might as well. It wouldn’t do for your keyboard to get sticky with cinnamon sugar, and it would probably be rude of you to have it out while he was sitting with you.

You both were quiet for a while — you were too unsure of what to say to him, so you opted for silence, and he was distracted with eating his churros and texting someone on his phone. Maybe you should’ve kept your laptop open after all.

“Say, L/N,” he said. “If you were a girl—”

“I am a girl,” you interrupted him, somewhat put-out that he had forgotten that. He rolled his eyes and took another bite out of a churro, chewing and swallowing it before responding.

“Obviously,” he said. “You didn’t let me finish. If you were a girl who was dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?”

“You could’ve just phrased it like ‘if you were dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?’ You didn’t have to specify the ‘if you were a girl’ part,” you muttered. It was a childish thing to be hung up about, but for some reason it really irritated you to think that he thought of you as something other than you really were.

He cocked his head at you, like he was trying to discern whether you were really being serious or not. He must’ve decided that you were, for he chuckled. It was not quite condescending but bordering on it, and it did not improve your mood any.

“Alright, I’m sorry. That’s my bad. Well, if you were dating someone, and they cheated on you, what would you do?” he said.

“I’d be upset and break up with them immediately, duh,” you said.

“Why?” he said.

“What do you mean why?” you said incredulously. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“I’m not sure. No one’s ever cheated on me before,” he said with an impish grin, leaning over the table and snatching one of the churros off of your plate. “That’s why I wanted to know what you think.”

“No one’s ever cheated on me before, either. I’ve never even dated someone. That’s just the kind of thing where you already know what you’d do, though you hope it never happens,” you said.

“You’ve never dated someone? But you’re so pretty,” he said. You coughed, a bit of the churro that you had just swallowed sticking against your throat peculiarly at the compliment, which he had tossed out so casually it was as if he had just been commenting on the weather.

“Thanks,” you said. “Anyways, er, like I was saying — like I was saying, I wouldn’t stay with a cheater. Not ever.”

“That’s a shame,” he said, taking your empty plate, stacking it atop his own, and setting both in the sink. Running his hands under a stream of water so that there wasn’t any residue left on them, he shook his head. “It isn’t that big of a deal, you know. Like, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t mean anything?” you said. “Of course it means something. It means you don’t have any respect for the person you’re dating, and I wouldn’t want to be with someone who doesn’t respect me, so why would I stay with someone who cheated? Plus, I’m sure you’ve heard what they all say — once a cheater, always a cheater. If they did it before, they’ll do it again.”

“That’s not very conducive to a growth mindset,” he said, patting his hands dry on a red-striped dish towel.

“Maybe not,” you said. “But people who cheat can grow somewhere far away from me.”

“That sounds like my cue to leave,” he said with a two-fingered salute. “I used to wonder why you were friends with Seiko, but to be honest, I can see it now.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, he had left the kitchen, running up to his room, taking the steps two at a time. You were rendered absolutely bewildered, your sugary fingers and your unfinished essay and the two empty plates in the sink serving as the only proof that the conversation had even happened in the first place.

“Your brother’s really weird,” you said to Seiko when she got back, smelling faintly of chlorine, though you knew she had already showered at the pool. She cringed.

“Tell me about it. What did he do this time?” she said, pulling a large sweatshirt on, her hair sticking up every which way afterwards.

“He gave me churros and asked me what I’d do if someone cheated on me,” you said. She snorted.

“Sounds like him,” she said. “He’s kind of a serial dater, you see. He doesn’t tell me much, mostly because I��d be seriously grossed out by it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a cheater, too. Seriously, I don’t even know how we’re related. He’s the worst. I’d tell him to stop if I thought that he’d actually listen to me.”

“Oh,” you said.

“Don’t be so gloomy,” she said, elbowing you in the side affectionately. “It’s not like you’ll ever get with him, so why are you worried? I’d never let you date a cheater like that. Seriously, if you ever get a boyfriend—”

“If?” you said.

“You know what I mean. Anyways, like I was saying, I’ll beat him up if he cheats on you, whoever he might be!” she said, flexing her biceps, which were admittedly impressive, albeit hidden by the puffy sleeves of her sweatshirt.

“What if it’s your brother?” you said. 

“Ew, why would it be him?” she said, pretending to gag. “Never date Eita. You deserve way better. He’s like a walking STD, probably. Just being in the same room with him is enough to give anyone herpes.”

“It was just a hypothetical question. And also, don’t you live with him? That’s nasty, do you have herpes, too?” you said. She ran her hands through her hair in a futile attempt to tame it; you reached into your backpack and pulled out a comb, tossing it at her.

“I’m immune because we’re related,” she said. “They only transfer if you have those kinds of intentions, so you’re safe for now, but I’m just saying, he’s a genuine health risk to be around. And to answer your question, yeah, I’d take any opportunity to punch him, so if he cheated on you I’d go at it doubly hard!”

“That makes it seem like I’m more of an excuse for you to mess with your brother than you actually wanting to defend my honor or anything,” you said.

“There’s a bit of both factoring into the decision,” she admitted. “Let’s stop thinking about it, though. I’m feeling itchy in places I should not be feeling itchy at just the prospect of you guys being together.”

“I didn’t need to know that,” you informed her. She stuck her tongue out at you, and the topic was, in turn, forgotten.

For some reason, though, you found yourself showing up at the Otoyas’ house earlier and earlier. Not enough to draw suspicion, but enough that you almost always had at least a couple of minutes there by yourself. Mr. and Mrs. Otoya had long ago grown accustomed to your presence and treated you more like another daughter than anything, so they didn’t find it strange, and Seiko’s older sister had recently moved into her own apartment nearer to her university, so she didn’t even realize that it was happening.

In fact, there was only one consequence to this newfound habit of yours: in the many moments before Seiko returned from her practices, you struck up a friendship with her brother, Eita.

Things were awkward at first, you couldn’t deny it. He didn’t have much interest in you, and in fact it seemed like he only entertained you because it would be even worse if he didn’t. 

“Oh, you’re here again,” he’d say if he got back from soccer before Seiko came back from swimming. “No Seiko?”

“Not yet,” you’d say, a poster board or worksheet or laptop in front of you. “She should be back in a few minutes. We’re supposed to finish this project together.”

“I told her she should’ve picked soccer,” he’d say with a laugh. “We always finish on time.”

“Cool,” you’d say, because how else could you respond? He’d raise his eyebrows at you, and then, if he felt generous, he’d give you a churro. If not, he’d dart off to his room, mumbling some excuse about having to call one of his friends or something, which you never responded to, because it was mostly unimportant to you.

There wasn’t any huge reasoning behind it. Talking to Eita Otoya wasn’t particularly stimulating, and though you certainly found him good-looking, you wouldn’t go so far as to say you had a crush on him. Mostly, you found him to be a bit of an enigma, and if in figuring him out, you got a few churros out of it, then you supposed it was a fair enough deal, but it wasn’t like you were seeking out his company or anything.

Eventually, he seemed to warm to you a bit more, though you were still standoffish, Seiko’s warning ever-present in the back of your mind — the one regarding walking STDs and herpes and whatnot. You never brought it up with him, but that really was the cause of your shyness, not — not anything else. Definitely not anything else. Why would you be shy around him of all people?

“Hey, L/N,” he’d say nowadays, greeting you cheerfully and sitting next to you as you did your homework. “How’re things going?”

“They’re good, thank you,” you’d say, scooting away from him inconspicuously. Herpes. STDs. Genuine health risk. Oh, he smells really nice… 

“I’m doing well myself,” he’d respond, despite the fact that you typically didn’t bother with asking. “Still no Seiko?”

“Nope,” you’d say with a sigh. “Still no Seiko.”

He’d wrinkle his nose. “Damn. Sorry to hear it.”

“It’s fine,” you’d say. “She’ll be here soon, and she’ll probably be full of complaints about her coach.”

“I’d stick around until then, but unfortunately, my PC is calling,” he’d say, or he’d give some other such goofy excuse that was obviously designed to pull a laugh out of you and usually did. “See you around, L/N.”

“Later,” you’d say. “Have fun with your PC.”

It was nice. You wouldn’t say you were close with him by any means — definitely not as close as you were with his sister — but the two of you got along. You didn’t know much about him, and you doubted he knew much about you, but you both could hold enough of a conversation that you began to actually look forward to spending time with him.

Only because he was oddly funny in his own way, and kind of sweet, too. It had nothing to do with how nice his laugh sounded or how bright his grin was or the way he spoke to you, gently but also mischievously. You didn’t even notice these things, not one bit. 

“Y/N!” he said one Saturday, banging into the kitchen excitedly. At some point, you had indeed become Y/N to him, though you couldn’t quite place when that shift had occurred. “No Seiko?”

“She’s at a meet,” you said. “She told me she’d come back once she was done with her races, but she texted me a few minutes ago that her coach is making her stay for the entire thing, and she doesn’t know how long it’ll take. I thought about going home, but then I thought that, since I’m already here, I should just wait for her.”

“I’m surprised you’re not doing homework,” he said, hopping onto the counter, a box in his hands, ostensibly filled with churros.

“It’s Saturday,” you pointed out. “I did all of my weekend work yesterday so I could be free today and tomorrow. Seiko and I were supposed to have a movie marathon, so I didn’t want to be distracted.”

“Supposed to?” he said, wandering around his kitchen, taking out cutlery and plates with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“Who knows when she’ll get back? Hopefully, it’s soon, but I’m sure you’re aware of how random the meet schedules can be, so we might run out of time to have a marathon proper,” you said.

“It’s like I always say,” he said.

“She should’ve picked soccer,” you completed for him. “What makes you bring that up today?”

“Our matches are timed,” he said. “No uncertainty there. Look, forget about that for a moment. I walked past this bakery on my way back from soccer practice, and they were having a sale, so I stopped in. I asked Seiko, and she said you like these. Is that true? Because if she was lying, I’m gonna kill her.”

Instead of churros like you had expected, he was holding a plate of cupcakes, frosted in pastel shades, crystal sprinkles glittering under the ceiling lights. They were beautiful, like little flowers or jewels, and you beamed as he put them on the table and waited for you to speak.

“No way!” you said. “Are these from that place by the park? I’ve been wanting to go there for ages, but their stuff is so expensive that I could never justify it. I can’t believe they had a sale! Thank goodness you happened to walk past. I would’ve cried if I missed my chance to try their stuff.”

“So, as a girl, you’re impressed by this?” he said as you unwrapped one of the cupcakes and shoved it in your mouth. You gave him a surprised look, your chin covered in icing, sweet cake filling your cheeks. He suppressed a laugh, handing you a napkin as you rapidly chewed and swallowed.

“What d’you mean?” you said.

“I’m trying something new,” he explained. “Buying flowers is kinda lame nowadays; plus, if I get cupcakes instead, then I can also have some, so it’s a win-win.”

“I see,” you said, dabbing at your face with the napkin.

“I thought I’d ask for your feedback, since you’re the only girl I talk to regularly. Besides Seiko, obviously, but it’s not like I’m going to ask my little sister about this kind of stuff,” he said.

“I’d say I was pretty impressed,” you said. “However, I would also say you shouldn’t mention that you got them on sale.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mention that to a girl I was actually interested in,” he said. “I just told you because I knew you’d refuse to eat them otherwise.”

“That’s true,” you said. “Buying these at full price would’ve been stupid in any situation, but especially so because it’s not like you’re trying to be nice to me or anything.”

“You make me sound like a villain,” he complained. “I still got them for you, didn’t I? Why does it matter what my reasons were?”

“Your reasons are kind of villainous,” you said. “You got them for me so I could tell you whether your new strategy for picking up girls was a winner or not.”

“I compensated you for your services!” he said. “What kind of villain would do that? By the way, is it? A winner, I mean.”

“I think so, but everyone’s different. It could work with one person and not another,” you said.

“Good enough for me,” he said, patting you on the head. You paid him no mind — not true, even the lighthearted touch made you feel all squirmy and strange — and pulled out your phone, which had just vibrated with a text. 

It was Seiko, and you sighed as you read the message. Eita peered over your shoulder and then hummed sympathetically.

“Ooh, is that Seiko? Yikes,” he said.

‘now the coach is making us all go to dinner as a team :/ we can have our movie marathon another time?? sorry i made you wait and then stood you up.’

A second later, your phone buzzed again. 

‘i feel like eita LMAO omg pls don’t slap me like his last ex did. i’ll make it up to you another time PROMISE!!’

You would’ve laughed, but you felt so discouraged by her earlier text that you could only muster up a half-smile. Eita gasped in offense when he read the second message, drawing back and sticking his nose in the air, folding his arms over his chest.

“I can’t believe she’s airing my business out to you like that,” he said.

“I can’t believe you got slapped by your last ex,” you said, though the words lacked the teasing bite that they should’ve had. He frowned at you.

“Are you just going to go home now?” he said.

“Guess so, since Seiko won’t be back until tonight,” you said. “Oh, well. At least I got cupcakes. I’m sure the girl that you stood up wasn’t so lucky.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he said. “No, she wasn’t.”

“And you claimed you weren’t a villain,” you said, shaking your head in disappointment. “See you later. Thanks for the cupcakes.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then, just as abruptly, closed it again. You arched a brow at him, but he only smiled at you.

“See you,” he said, putting the cupcakes back in the box and handing it to you. “Take these.”

“Don’t you want them?” you said. He had never given you the extras of anything he had ever bought before, preferring to keep them so he could eat them later that night or for breakfast the next day. 

“Nah, I got them for you, so you should keep them,” he said. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime,” you said, your fingertips brushing against his as he handed you the box. A burst of static electricity shocked you, and you bit back a hiss as you accepted it from him, not wanting to seem whiny when he hadn’t even reacted.

“Hold on,” he said as you made your way to the door. “Listen, if she stands you up again, I’ll watch the movies with you.”

“Really? They’re not your genre, so I’m sure you’ll be bored,” you said.

“You don’t even know what my genre is,” he said. 

“Maybe not,” you said. “I’ll take you up on that, then, so I hope you meant it.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t,” he said.

“You’re not half-bad, you know,” you said thoughtfully, tucking the box under your arm so you could unlock the front door. “Seiko always calls you mean, but you’re pretty nice.”

“If she was half as agreeable as you, I wouldn’t have to be mean!” he said. “It’s way easier to be nice to you than anyone else, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that. What even were you to him? Just his little sister’s best friend, or something different? Were the two of you genuinely friends, or were you just the girl he asked for help with his stupid relationships that never lasted for longer than a week? Did he like you? Did you like him? No, of course you didn’t. This was Eita Otoya. You could never like him, not if you valued your friendship with Seiko or the well-being of your heart. You didn’t like him. You didn’t, you didn’t, you didn’t.

“That’s good,” you said finally. “Thanks again.”

“Bye,” he said.

“Bye,” you said, and with a final look at him, you let the door swing shut and turned towards your home.

The next day, you got up early so that you could make it to the bakery before they ran out of their best wares. Eita hadn’t specified how long the sale lasted, and if there was even a chance that it was still ongoing, you wanted to take advantage of it.

Thanks to the odd hour, there wasn’t a line outside of the bakery, and you felt confident as you walked into the warm, dough-scented building. It was airy and bright, flowers and sweets in the windowsill, the display cases well-lit and stocked with a multitude of desserts. Plants hung from the ceiling, and the pale wallpaper was covered with floral motifs, small birds perching amongst the blooms. The bakery itself was so beautiful that you almost forgot what you were there for until one of the employees cleared her throat.

“Can I help you, miss?” she said.

“Hi!” you said. “A friend of mine mentioned that you were having a sale yesterday. Is that still happening?”

“A sale? We don’t do sales here, I’m afraid. Is it possible that they went somewhere else?” she said.

“No, he specifically said the place by the park,” you said, furrowing your brow. “Are you sure you didn’t happen to have a sale?”

“Positive,” she said. “I was working yesterday, too, so if you describe him, I can let you know if he came or not.”

“He’s about this tall,” you said, holding up your hand at approximately Eita’s height. “Plays soccer, silver hair with a green streak—”

“Yes! He came in right around lunchtime yesterday and bought cupcakes,” she said. “Um, is he single, by any chance?”

“As good as,” you said. You had no idea what the state of his romantic life was, but considering how quickly he jumped from girl to girl, there was almost no point in saying that he was taken. “If he ever comes back, feel free to make a move on him. He’d probably appreciate it. Moving on, do you mean to say that he got those at full price?”

“He would’ve had to,” she said. “Like I said, we don’t do sales. We’re not that kind of establishment.”

“I might faint when you answer this, so please be slow and careful when you do, but how much, exactly, is full price for what he bought?” you said. “Out of curiosity.” 

She told you. You did not faint, but it was such an exorbitant number that, for a moment, you really thought you might.

The next Saturday evening, you went to the Otoyas’ with a wad of cash in your hand. Seiko and her parents were away the entire weekend for an invitational meet, but for once, she was not the one you had gone to visit, so this was of little consequence to you.

You rang the doorbell and waited with crossed arms, the humid air oppressive against your skin. According to your weather app, it was going to rain soon, and you pursed your lips at the thought that Eita might not be home and you’d get caught in the downpour with nothing to show for it.

Luckily, the door opened, revealing him standing there in a pair of shorts, his hair still damp and a towel around his neck. You focused very hard on pretending like he was wearing a shirt, even though he was not, and it worked well enough that you could just barely greet him properly.

“Y/N? Hey, I’m sorry you walked all this way, but Seiko’s not home. Did she forget to tell you she’s gone for the weekend?” he said.

“No, I’m here for you,” you said.

“Huh?” he said.

“Not like that! I mean, I went to that bakery, and the girl working there told me they never have sales, which means you paid full price for those cupcakes. That’s insane! I can’t accept that,” you said.

“So, what, are you gonna vomit them out at my feet or something? That sounds gross, please don’t,” he said.

“I’m paying you back,” you said, extending your hand and offering him the money. “Don’t even think about refusing. I already feel horrible.”

“No way,” he said. “It was a present. You don’t pay people back for presents, that’s like a faux pas or something. I think. Er, I’d have to look it up to be certain, but I’m pretty sure it’s frowned upon.”

“I didn’t even do anything present-worthy, so why would you give me one?” you said.

“Yeah, you did. You helped me out, remember? Gave me advice and all,” he said.

“That was hardly worth all of this!” you said. “Seriously, at least take a little bit.”

“Nah,” he said. “You should come inside.”

“For what?” you said. “Seiko’s not here.”

“True, but I feel bad that you walked for nothing, so it’s the least I can do,” he said.

“It wasn’t for nothing. It was to pay you back, which I will do, and after that I’ll go home,” you said.

“Doubt it,” he said. “Come on, it’s going to rain soon. If you get sick and blame me for it, my sister will kill me.”

Reluctantly, you followed him into the kitchen, hyper aware that you both were alone. It had never been like this before; always, someone else had been in the house, whether his mother or father or one of his sisters. You shouldn’t have cared that it was just the two of you, but you found that you did. It was as uncomfortable and strange as the turbulent skies and muggy atmosphere, but also pleasant in a way, like the sweet smell of yeast in a bakery or flower petals dusting against the crackled tops of sugar cookies in a windowsill.

“Do you like Super Smash Bros.?” he said, taking the towel and rubbing his head vigorously, giving him the frazzled appearance of a hedgehog, or perhaps an electrocuted cat of the cartoonish variety.

“It’s fun, but I’m not that good. Seiko usually beats me,” you said. 

“We can play, if you want,” he said. 

“Okay?” you said. “Why?”

“I’m just trying to think of things that we can do, since you’re here and all,” he said. 

“What were you planning on doing if I didn’t come?” you said.

“I was going to go on a date,” he said. 

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you actually had plans! I should leave so you can get to that,” you said. He waved you off dismissively, already turning the console on and connecting the controllers.

“It’s fine, I already canceled on her. Hopefully she gets the hint. If I have to spell it out to her that I’m not interested anymore, it’ll be annoying,” he said.

The TV flashed with the starting screen, the music blaring as you sat on opposite ends of the couch, remotes in hand. Outside, thunder rumbled ominously, and you thought that you should probably send your location to your parents so that they didn’t get worried. While Eita messed with the settings, you did that, receiving affirmative responses from both of them in turn — which made sense, as neither of them knew that Mr. and Mrs. Otoya, along with Seiko, weren’t home.

“Do you care what map we use?” he said.

“Seiko and I usually just go random,” you said. “So whatever you want is fine.”

“Random is the best,” he said. “Especially when you get the interactive maps that actively try to kill you. It’s way more exciting that way.”

“Exactly,” you said. Half of yours and Seiko’s matches were decided based on who could adjust to the map faster; sadly for you, this was frequently your best friend, and only very rarely you. 

“What character do you play? I know Seiko likes Palutena, so probably not her, right?” he said.

“I only ever play as girl characters, but my favorite is Zero Suit Samus,” you said, clicking on her and changing her outfit so that it was the burgundy version.

“You only play as girl characters? Why?” he said.

“It’s the best way to bond with your avatar. If you can’t connect with your character, then how can you hope to win?” you said.

“Are you for real?” he said. You maintained a straight face for as long as you could before breaking into laughter. 

“Obviously not. I just like playing as characters I think are pretty, since I don’t have much of a chance at winning either way,” you said.

“That makes sense,” he said. “I play as Sheik. He’s based off of a ninja, so it makes sense.”

It was your turn to give him a strange look. “What?”

“Because we’re descended from ninjas and all, so I have to stick with the theme. It’s like the Otoya brand,” he explained.

“I got that part,” you said. “What do you mean by he, though? Sheik is a girl.”

He paused right before clicking on Sheik, his eyes wide. “No way. He’s obviously a guy.”

“Not so,” you said. “I looked up a list of all female characters in Smash when I was trying to pick a main, and Sheik was on it. She’s Princess Zelda’s alter-ego, apparently.”

“Are you messing with me again?” he said. 

“No, not this time,” you said. He mulled this over before shrugging and clicking on the character’s icon anyways.

“Whatever,” he said. “I’m used to her, so there’s no point in changing. Besides, it doesn’t really matter if she’s a girl.”

“Very true,” you said. “Alright, I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Be prepared,” he warned you as he pressed the start button and the screen switched to a countdown. “I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you said. “Considering how frequently I’m pummeled by your sister, I’m used to losing.”

“Good. Get used to it more,” he said, immediately starting off before you could even orient yourself on the map. “Bang! Gotcha! You really are bad at this.”

“Just as an aside, the TV makes sound effects, so you don’t need to add more of your own,” you said, wrinkling your nose and dodging out of his next attack.

“It makes it more fun,” he said. “You should try it. Really helps you get in the zone.”

“Hm,” you said. “I’ll leave it to you.”

Somehow, you and Eita were actually evenly matched, and during the final round, you knocked his character off of the edge, guarding it until he couldn’t hope to recover and fell to his defeat. 

“Yay!” you said as the victory screen showed your character posing. “I haven’t won in ages! This is awesome.”

“Rematch! You only won because you’re one of those dirty edge guarders!” he said, already setting up the next game.

“‘Dirty edge guarders?’ That’s how the game is played,” you said.

“Nuh-uh, it’s against the rules,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

“No? There aren’t really rules in Smash. How do you not know this? Also, you should really stop saying things when you don’t even know if they’re true,” you said.

“My older sister would always tell me it was against the rules when we used to play,” he said. You waited for it to dawn on him; when it did, he groaned and facepalmed. “She was full of shit?”

“I’m afraid you were, in fact, duped,” you said.

“No wonder she always beat me,” he grumbled. “Whenever I was close to winning, she’d say whatever I was doing was against the rules.”

“That would do it,” you said. “I don’t mind playing again, though.”

“This time I’ll beat you for sure,” he said. “Now that I don’t have to abide by any bullshit guidelines.”

The two of you got wrapped up in a series of matches, eventually turning on the random character selector as well as the random map selector, refusing to read the tutorials so you were really going into things blind and figuring it out as you went. You had way more fun than you had expected you would, and as the evening went on, any thoughts of feeling self-conscious vanished from your mind. It was just Eita Otoya, after all. He was only your best friend’s older brother, the one who brought you treats and played soccer and sucked at Smash and had a childish sense of humor. There was no reason to feel shy. Well, besides the fact that he had never opted to put a shirt on, but that was a non-issue when your attention was focused solely on the screen.

You weren’t sure how many rounds you had gotten through when his phone rang, so shrilly and insistently that he was forced to pause the game and take the call. He didn’t leave his spot on the couch, though, which meant you were able to observe him as the girl on the other end began to scream.

“How could you cancel on me at the last minute?” she said, loud enough that you could hear her, though his phone wasn’t on speakerphone.

“It wasn’t that hard,” he said. “I just texted you and said I’m not going.”

“You’re such a piece of shit. I thought — I thought everyone was wrong about you, but they weren’t. They weren’t at all,” she said, her voice cracking.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that they were,” he said. “Listen, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now, so could you hurry up and say what you want to say?”

“Did you ever even like me?” she said.

“Yeah, at first,” he said. 

“Not anymore, though,” she said.

“Guess not,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Is that it? You’re ending things just like that? Didn’t it mean anything to you? I bragged to all of my friends about you! You were so sweet, and you even got me cookies…was it all just a game?” she said.

“It wasn���t a game,” he said. “As I said, I liked you back then. I wouldn’t have done all of that if I didn’t.”

“Because that’s supposed to make me feel all better,” she said.

“I’m just explaining myself,” he said.

“You’re the worst. You’re — just, you’re the worst, ugh!” she said before hanging up. Eita made a face at the phone and then put it facedown on the table beside him, unpausing the game without a wasted moment.

“They were from the grocery store,” he said after a bit.

“What?” you said.

“The cookies I got her. Grocery store variety,” he said.

“Oh. That’s kinda shitty,” you said.

“She seemed pretty happy about them regardless,” he said. “I wasn’t about to waste my money when I knew it wouldn’t last.”

“You wasted your money on me,” you pointed out. The corners of his mouth quirked up.

“You’re Seiko’s best friend. I’m pretty sure you’re not going anywhere, so it’s not a big deal. Consider it a peace offering for not believing you were real at first,” he said, landing a combo attack on your character.

“That was ages ago,” you said.

“It’s downright traumatizing for a person when others don’t think they’re real. Fucks up their psyche and whatnot. Acknowledging my mistake was the least I could do,” he said.

“Another fact you just made up?” you said.

“Maybe,” he said. “Was it plausible?”

“Not in the slightest,” you said.

“I tried,” he said. “Woah, nice one, Y/N.”

You had just hit his character in a series of successive blows, entirely by accident but to devastating effect. He lost his first life, respawning in and jumping back to the offensive.

“Why do you even do it?” you said, finally vocalizing the question that had been bothering you for almost the entire time that you had known him.

“Do what?” he said.

“Date people, when you know you’re going to break up with them so quickly,” you said. “What’s the point?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, the glare of the screen reflecting in his fern-colored irises. “It’s always fun at first. I meet a pretty girl, and I talk her into giving me her number. We go on a date or two, and I think it might actually be different this time, but it never is. By the third or fourth date, I’m bored beyond belief and dreading going on another. Then we break up and I do it all again.”

“That sounds exhausting,” you said.

“Near the end, it is,” he said. “But it’s pretty amusing in the beginning, so I don’t see a reason to stop.”

“Do you cheat on your girlfriends?” you said. You knew for sure what he would say, but still, you wanted to hear it from him.

“What is this, interview-Eita-day? Yeah, I have in the past, but only a couple of times,” he said. “Both of them were when the relationships were on their last legs and I couldn’t be bothered to care anymore.”

“That’s callous,” you said. “You should’ve just broken up with them.”

“Dumping girls is the worst. They get all upset and start crying, and I know I should feel bad because I’m the reason, but by that point, I just want to go home,” he said. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“A little bit,” you said. “For the most part, though, I just don’t understand. Why do you keep going for people you know you’re going to get tired of?”

“It’s not like I can look in the future and see that I’m going to end up bored,” he said. “It just happens. We run out of things to talk about and sit there in silence. It sucks. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“How does that even happen?” you said. “You talk all the time with me. I didn’t think you were capable of running out of things to say.”

“That’s different,” he said. “I’m not worried about impressing you — no offense — and you’re funny, plus you like some of the same things as me, so it’s easy to have a conversation with you. It’s not the case when you’re going out with someone. You’ll understand when you decide to date yourself.”

“Don’t the girls you go out with like the same things as you?” you said.

“Not really,” he said. “They think video games are for losers, and they’re too scared to go on the rides at amusement parks. Some of them understand soccer, but not to the point that it’s something they’d want to talk about frequently.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you said. “You’re only going out with people who you have zero shared interests with. It’s normal that you’d get bored of them, and that they’d get bored in return.”

“You’re thinking too much about it,” he said. “It’s not that deep.”

“That’s how it works,” you said. “Quite fundamentally, actually. It’s impossible to build a relationship with someone when you both have nothing in common. In fact, it’s unfair to all involved parties.”

“Are you trying to give me advice?” he said.

“Depends. Will you take it seriously if I do?” you said.

“Not sure. It’s kind of ridiculous for me to be listening to my little sister’s friend about this kind of thing,” he said.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you said.

“True,” he said. “Go ahead, then.”

“What do you even look for when you’re thinking of dating a girl?” you said.

“How hot she is,” he said. You waited for him to elaborate. He did not.

“That’s it?” you said.

“Pretty much,” he said.

“Why?” you said.

“Why not? Isn’t physical attraction important?” he said.

“To a certain extent, yes, but after a while, less and less so,” you said. “Haven’t you ever watched any romance movies? ‘It’s what’s on the inside that counts.’ Physical attraction alone isn’t enough in the long term.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “So what do you suggest?”

“Are there any girls you genuinely enjoy spending time with? Not romantically, just because you like talking to them, even if they’re not the prettiest or whatever,” you said.

“I don’t really spend time with girls unless I’m trying to date them. It never works out. They always end up liking me, and besides, it makes my girlfriends mad if I’m friends with other girls,” he said. 

“You seriously have zero female friends,” you deadpanned.

“And just how many male friends do you have?” he shot back.

“None,” you said. “Okay, fair enough.”

“Wait, no, I guess we’re friends,” he said. “Yeah, you’re cool, Y/N. I mean, you’re pretty as well, but I don’t really think about that part much because you’re friends with Seiko.”

“Thanks,” you said. “You’re cool, too.”

“Now what? You’re a girl, and I like talking to you. Where do I go from there?” he said.

“I was going to say you should try dating one of those girls instead, but obviously that’s not applicable here,” you said.

“Ah,” he said. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m all that unique,” you said, taking advantage of his distraction to win another match. “It won’t be that hard for you to find someone else that you like hanging out with, and then you can just date them. Hopefully, you won’t get bored with a relationship like that.”

Eita didn’t respond. You doubted he knew how to and you were glad for his silence, because you yourself felt embarrassed that you had tried so hard to help him. Since when had you been the kind of girl who wanted so badly to give people guidance? He had his problems, no one could deny that, but why did you care about them? Why did it matter to you if he was happy, or if he grew out of whatever phase he was currently in?

Maybe it was because you knew he could be better. The caricature of him that you heard about, from Seiko and from the rumors around your high school, contrasted so harshly with the Eita Otoya you knew. People loved him because they wanted to be him, to have that effortless and selfish attitude towards life, but you didn’t think that very many of them took the time to understand him.

You doubted anyone at school knew that he was horrible at Super Smash Bros., or that he was entirely gullible and liked to make other people laugh. How many of them would find him admirable if they knew of his addiction to churros and diet sodas? He wasn’t cool or charming or suave the way he pretended to be. At the end of the day, he was nothing but a dumb boy blessed with a handsome enough mien that had fallen into a crowd which demanded more of him than he honestly should’ve had to give.

Putting this protectiveness down as a symptom of your friendship with Seiko — of course you cared for her older brother, he was a part of her family and you cared about her, it only made sense — you noticed that there was a lull in the storm. Bidding Eita farewell and shoving the money into his phone case when he was preoccupied with turning the game off, you ran home before it could begin to rain again, blaming your queasiness on the fact that you had not yet eaten dinner and nothing more.

“Eita’s been talking about you a lot,” Seiko said to you at lunch one day, a couple of weeks after the evening you had spent with her brother. Both you and he had mutually agreed not to bring it up, and Seiko was none the wiser, or at least so you had thought.

“What do you mean?” you said. She took a sip out of her juice box.

“Nothing bad. He just asks me how you’re doing and stuff,” she said. 

“That’s not that weird. Why’d you bring it up?” you said. For a moment, you had thought she meant that he was asking about you for a different reason, but this just sounded like a typical and general concern.

“It’s a little weird. He doesn’t typically care about how other people are doing. The other day, he asked me when you’re coming over again, since according to him it’s ‘been a while.’ Like he’s keeping track or something!” she said.

“He’s not wrong. It has been a bit,” you said.

“I know, I know,” she said. “Season’s almost over, and then I’m all yours.”

“You don’t have off-season workouts?” you said.

“Fuck off-season workouts,” she said. “I’ll skip on the days we plan to hang out. My coach won’t say anything. I’m the star of the team, so he has to live with it.”

“You’re the best,” you said.

“And you’re trying to change the subject!” she said. “Are the two of you buddy-buddy now or something?”

“Or something,” you said. “We’ve just spoken a few times while I was waiting for you to come back home from practices.”

She narrowed her eyes at you before nodding slowly. “Look, just so you know, I don’t mind if you’re friends with him or anything.”

“That’s good. I’ll keep it in mind,” you said.

“He’s my brother, after all. I like knowing that my best friend is getting along with my family,” she continued.

“I get along with your family so well that I’m surprised they haven’t started calling me Y/N Otoya yet,” you said.

“But I want you to be aware of what kind of person he is,” she said with a note of finality. “He might do something that hurts your feelings.”

“You’ve told me. Many times, actually,” you said.

“And I don’t want you to stop being friends with me if he does,” she said. “Okay?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you said. “You’re my best friend in the entire world.”

“You promise?” she said, in a rare show of vulnerability.

“Promise,” you said. She punched you in the arm, returning back to being the Seiko you knew.

“Good. Then do what you want with him,” she said.

“What?” you said.

“Just saying! You deserve better, obviously, but I won’t turn down a chance to have you as my sister-in-law,” she said. “Besides, he knows that if he messes with you, I’ll take your side, so that might be an incentive for him to stay on the straight and narrow.”

“Seiko! It’s not like that!” you said. “I don’t have feelings for him. He’s your brother.” 

“Whatever you say,” she said in a sing-song voice, taking another sip of her juice box, obviously done with the discussion. 

She knew you better than you knew yourself. That was what happened when a person was best friends with another for years upon years, and that was why she understood even before you did what it was that was brewing between you and her brother, what had been brewing since long before that evening where you had finally noticed a palpable shift in your dynamic.

Exam season began shortly afterwards, so you didn’t have the time to go to the Otoyas’ when you were so wrapped up in studying. Then, once exams were finished, Seiko was finally freed from her grueling practice schedule, leaving her to be, as she had said earlier, all yours. This meant that even when you did go to their house, you were solely there to be with her, and so you saw little of Eita, barely speaking to him beyond exchanging pleasantries.

Sometimes you wondered how he was doing. Had he found a girl he actually liked and ended up dating her? How was that relationship going, if so? Or was he still continuing as he had been, chasing whoever he found the most attractive and then running away from them when things inevitably didn’t work out? You hoped that that wasn’t the case, though you didn’t find the former option all that appealing, either. You should’ve, because it would’ve meant that he had taken your words to heart, but you didn’t. The thought of him dating anyone was wrong and weird and you didn’t like it, but because you weren’t quite sure why that was, you decided to avoid both the feeling and its cause alike.

Halfway through summer break, on a day when your parents were on a business trip and Seiko was visiting one of her cousins in the city, Eita Otoya showed up on your front porch, knocking on the door furiously until you opened it. He was just about the last person you had expected to be standing there, red in the face and panting for breath, wearing a sweat-soaked jersey, hair sticking to his forehead and a white box in his hands.

“You look horrible,” you said.

“I ran all of the way here,” he said. “After my soccer game.”

“What for?” you said. 

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” he said. 

“I was just at your house the other day,” you said. “Jeez, you look like you’re about to pass out. Let me get you some water. You really could’ve walked, you know…”

He had never been to your house, so he trailed after you dutifully, sitting at the dining table and gulping down the glass of water you offered him within seconds. Taking it back, you refilled it and gave it to him again.

“You were there for Seiko, not me,” he said.

“She’s my best friend,” you said. “Obviously I was there for her.”

“And what am I?” he said.

“Not that,” you said.

“I should be upset, but for some reason, I’m kind of glad that you said that,” he said. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Rude much?” you said, his words stinging. “Is that all you came here to tell me? If you don’t want to be friends, that’s fine, but was there really a need for you to come to my house and announce it? How’d you even get my address?”

“Seiko told me,” he said.

“In hindsight, I should’ve seen that coming,” you said.

“I haven’t dated anyone,” he said, all in a rush, the sentences tumbling out of his mouth like he was not sure if he’d ever get the chance to say them again. “Not since that night that we played video games together.”

“Seriously? If I ask Seiko, will she confirm that?” you said.

“Of course! I’m a lot of things, I know that, but I’m not a liar. I’ve never tried to hide who I am, especially not from you,” he said.

“Well,” you said. “That’s good, then. I’m proud of you.”

“I’ve tried finding the kind of person you described,” he said. “Someone like you. You said it would be easy, but it’s not. It’s really fucking difficult.”

“Maybe you should look harder, then,” you said, rolling your eyes and placing his empty cup in the dishwasher before you forgot about it. “There’s no way I’m the only girl in the entire city that you can bring yourself to genuinely like.”

“You’re the only one I want to like,” he said. You froze in the middle of putting dish detergent in the dispenser, giving him an incredulous look.

“I’m what?” you said.

“I get that you probably don’t feel the same way. To be honest, I didn’t even realize that I did until Seiko yelled at me about it, because it’s not like it usually is. I want to spend time with you, as much as possible, even if we’re not doing anything but eating snacks or playing games. I want to listen to you talk, even if it’s about something that I think is boring. I want to buy things that’ll make you happy — the nice versions, not the kinds from the grocery store, because I don’t want to imagine that it won’t last. I want it to last,” he said.

You stared at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Of all the things he could’ve said, that was the most unlikely. What was it about you that made you so different, that the ever-fickle and brutally honest Eita Otoya was driven to such a confession? You knew he wasn’t making it up, because he was right — he never did. Not once had he ever tried to mislead a girl about who he was, and you sensed that this was much the same. The problem wasn’t that you didn’t believe him. It was that you simply couldn’t understand.

“I don’t get it,” you said.

“What do you mean? What else am I supposed to say?” he said. “I like you. I think I have for a while now. At first, I thought it was just because you were my sister’s friend, but according to her, you normally don’t feel this way for the friends of your siblings.”

“You’ve been talking to Seiko about me?” you said. Suddenly, the side comments she had been making recently made a lot more sense.

“Who else would I go to? It was humiliating, asking her for help, but you guys have known each other for forever, so I figured it was the best option,” he said.

“That’s true,” you said, starting the dishwasher and pushing it shut. “Wow. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“If you’re going to reject me, don’t worry about it. I didn’t tell you all of that because I was expecting you to say yes. I just wanted you to know that — that I did take what you said into consideration,” he said. 

“I’m glad you did,” you said. “It must’ve been weird, following the advice of your younger sister’s best friend.”

“You’re more than that,” he said. “You’re more than just Seiko’s friend to me. You’ve been more than that for a long time now.”

“Why me?” you said. “Why is it me, and not one of the hundreds of other girls that would jump at the chance to fix you, to be the one who finally got Eita Otoya to settle down for good?”

“It’s that bratty little sister of mine’s fault,” he said. “Because of her, you kept showing up, and by the time I noticed, it was way too late. At that point, I was already asking her what your favorite desserts were, just so I could get them for you.”

“I see,” you said.

“Besides, being with someone who wants to fix another person sounds awful. Do you want to fix me?” he said.

“If you expect me to, then you should probably just leave,” you said. “I don’t mind helping when I can, but the only person that can fix you is you.”

“Exactly,” he said. “You mentioned once that cheaters can grow somewhere far away from you.”

“Hm? Oh, I did say something along those lines, didn’t I? That was over a year ago, though,” you said, thinking back to that random conversation, unsure of why he even remembered it.

“I’ve done it,” he said. “It was hard, but I’ve done it anyways. For you, but also for myself. I’m not so sure that the highs are worth the lows anymore, and besides, I hate doing things I don’t like, and dating around is becoming one of those things.”

“Is that so?” you said. “I’m glad you realized that.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too. Uh, I should probably go now, so…here. For last time. You shouldn’t have paid me back. Don’t even think about pulling something like that again.”

He opened the box, revealing an assortment of cookies, all the different kinds you liked. You didn’t need to ask him to know where he had gotten them from, and you admired them as he stood and pushed in his chair.

“Thanks for hearing me out, Y/N,” he said. “And don’t worry, I won’t make things uncomfortable, so feel free to visit Seiko whenever. I’ll stay out of your way when you come over. She doesn’t have any other friends, so don’t ditch her just because of me.”

“You’re pretty self-important, aren’t you?” you teased. “Did you think I’d give her up just because of you? Not likely. Anyways, why would things be uncomfortable?”

“Usually it’s pretty unpleasant to have to be around someone when you know they have unreciprocated feelings for you,” he said.

“I don’t think they’re unreciprocated,” you said. He quite literally paused in his tracks, foot still raised in the air as he spun to face you.

“What? You should’ve said so earlier!” he said. “Do you mean I was acting all angsty and emotional for nothing?”

“I wanted to make you suffer a bit,” you said. “I mean this gently, but you deserve it.”

He hung his head. “You’re not wrong.”

“I’ve liked you for a while as well, though like you said, I hardly understood it myself, and I didn’t have the benefit of Seiko drumming it into my mind — mostly because that’s not the kind of conversation you really want to have with your best friend about her brother,” you said. “I also knew about your reputation, and no matter how wonderful I found you, I was a little wary, so I never gave it much thought.”

“But now?” he said.

“I mean, it’s kind of hard to reject a guy who runs to your house with cookies and a dramatic speech about how much he likes you,” you said.

“When you put it like that, I sound like a loser,” he said.

“I want you to consider that you play Super Smash Bros. in your free time, and that you are obsessed with anything ninja or Naruto related, and then I would like for you to repeat that statement with the same indignation you just said it with,” you said. He huffed in defeat.

“That’s fair enough,” he said.

“Like I said, I do like you, but I’m not in the business of fixing people. The second you start getting bored or wanting to cheat on me, break up with me, and be an adult about it. Don’t run away. Just be honest, and for my part, I’ll hold back my tears until you’ve left, alright? If you can swear you’ll do that, then I don’t mind trying,” you said.

“You’re way too nice to me,” he said.

“I can add in more demands, if you’d like,” you said.

“Now, I didn’t say you had to do that,” he said. You chuckled.

“I thought you were really serious about me, though?” you said. “Since you mentioned it, I do have one more condition. Say yes, and I’ll be your girlfriend. Say no, and…you better get back to searching.”

“What is it?” he said eagerly, grabbing your hands and holding them in between his own. “I’ll do anything.”

“You have to be the one to tell Seiko,” you said. He paled.

“You wouldn’t,” he said.

“Just did,” you said. He scrunched up his face in thought, obviously imagining his sister’s reaction. Though she had given both of you her blessings in her own way, there was no doubt in your mind that she’d give the two of you a hard time — especially him, considering the fact that she already did that without even having a reason to.

“I’ll do it, but you have to come along,” he bargained. “Someone has to nurse me back to health once she’s through with me. It might as well be you.”

“You’re in no place to be asking for things,” you said.

“Please?” he said. “She’s scary as hell, and I’m saying this as someone who regularly plays against guys big enough to become pro wrestlers.”

“Alright, alright,” you said. “I’ll come with you, and I’ll put bandages on all your bruises.”

He grinned at you. “Deal.”

“Deal,” you said.

“Then I guess you’re my girlfriend now,” he said.

“I guess I am,” you said.

“Nice,” he said. “Wanna play Mario Kart?”

You snorted. “Why not?”

So you sat down on the sofa — next to each other this time, not on opposite sides, your head leaning on his shoulder and his thigh pressed against your own — and you did just that.

“So let me get this straight,” Seiko said. Eita, who had just delivered the news, was attempting to hide behind you, which was a largely ineffective method of disguise. “You two are officially dating.”

“Pretty much,” you said, when it became obvious that Eita was too petrified to respond. It was funny — he talked such a big game when it was just words, and he was the first to make fun of Seiko, but as soon as the prospect of a fight came up, he cowered away, as any smart man would.

“Interesting,” she said. “Eita, come here. I just want to say something.”

He shuffled out towards Seiko, head bowed and hands clasped together. “Yes?”

“If you ever hurt even a cell in the bodies of the mites that live on her eyelashes—”

“What the fuck?” you said. “That’s disgusting. Thanks, Seiko, now I’m going to be scrubbing my eyelashes for the next week.”

“Don’t worry about it, everyone has them. They’re normal,” Seiko said. “Like I was saying, Eita, if you mess with her, I’ll kill you. Forget about sibling loyalty; it all goes out the door on that day, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he said.

“Good,” she said, nodding in satisfaction. He looked around like he was searching for a camera, obviously in disbelief that she had let him off so easily.

“Is that it?” he said.

“For now,” she said. “Ask me again in a few months and the answer might change.”

“I’ll take it,” he said. “Well, see you later. Let’s go upstairs, Y/N.”

“What? Y/N and I have plans to bake together tonight!” Seiko said.

“No way, we’re watching TV together! I’m going to make her watch all of Naruto!” he argued. In unison, they both turned to you, waiting for your response, waves of hostility rolling off of them.

“Oh, boy,” you said, already feeling a headache coming on. “This is going to be a lot more annoying than I anticipated.” 

[somegirlontheinternet135]

Ok but, how cool would it be if there was a click & point adventure game and dating sim based around The Beasts

Like, imagine you, the player, woke up in a dark, unknown forest. You don't know how, or why, you got there, but one thing's for sure, you don't want to stay for long, who knows what kind of horrors could be lurking in the darkness. . ? Quickly you make use of the environment, gathering wood & making a fire (via a minigame) in hopes it'll alert some cookies to your location, and while it doesn't work at first, it does give a certain someone, or something, a beacon to your location. . .

As you sit before the fire you just built, you begin to notice something was off. . . the forest you were in, it was quiet, eerily quiet, normally at night, many forest would be bustling with some sort of life: the sounds of night beasts, owls in the night, maybe the occasional cricket, but there was nothing. What only adds to this uncanny wood were its lack of creatures, not once did you encounter any sort of beasts on your journey. . . both these factors alone made you question what was really happening, is this all a dream? were you going crazy? questions were racing through your head, till finally, something snaps you out of it. . .

"Ooooooh!~ What do we have here?~"

"Has a little cookie come by to give me a visit?~"

A voice from the darkness pulls you out of your thoughts, jolting you onto your feet. Hearing that so suddenly within such a vacant space, you could've sworn you were alone. . ! You frantically look around, desperately trying to find the source of the voice, but the thing only laughs at you. . .

"W-Who's there?! show yourself!!"

"*Ehehe he he he HE HE HE HE!*"

"Try looking up here, darling~"

Your attention was slowly drawn to a tree behind you. On one of the branches, two heterochrome eyes staired at your from below, taking you off-guard, was that. . . a cookie? The creature made zero attempts to hide themselves as he jumps off the tree branch, over your fire. Light from the flames revealed their figure, they appeared to be some sort of jester, its figure & face making them resemble that of a cat. They do a bow before finally introducing themselves

"Shadow Milk Cookie, the world's favorite trickster~"

"Pleasure to meet you!"

In this scenario, the player is given two options, each of course having a different outcome:

Run Away

Sprinting away in fear will, of course, cause Shadow Milk to chase, eventually getting caught, though this does increase his interest in you

"*heh he he HE HE HE!* where are you going you silly little thing?!~"

"That was so much fun!~ I think I'm starting to like you already!~"

Standing Your Ground & Ask Questions

Respectably, you don't anything regarding the fallen heroes, but asking more questions does leave Shadow Milk upset

"H-How could you not know who I am?!"

"Shadow Milk Cookie, actor, playwright, dictator, does that not right a bell?!"

This's basically how the story starts. The player is isekaied into this strange world and are quickly met with the Fallen Heroes, who all woo the player with their charm & status in an attempt to find out how they got in, so they can do the same to get out. . . whatever that means. But one thing leads to another, and they all fall in love with the player, fighting over them. As for the player, they transverse through the strange world, learning of it and its secrets via minigames, hidden secrets, and puzzles, all while learning about the fallen heroes and their backstories. . .

I picture the game itself being a mix between one of those disturbing click & point adventure games (i.e. Sally Face, Fran Bow, and Little Misfortune) and a dating sim (i.e. Obey Me) which by itself, would cause major emotional whiplash, cause imagine going from seeing the most messed up sh*t to smooching your jester bf. For reference, think of the game as "Little Goody Two Shoes" something you should play btw!

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 1.2k | tags: first date, first kiss, very slight angst | written for the stwg daily prompt kiss in the rain)

Today has to be perfect, Eddie vows as he parks his van in the Harrington's driveway.

Because today Eddie is taking Steve out on their first date.

Frankly, he has no idea how he managed to get a date with the Steve Harrington. Even more, he has no idea how someone as beautiful and kind and sweet and funny as Steve would want to go out with someone like him.

It certainly helps that they saved the world together and share many, many traumas, as well as some horrible scars that tell the story of everything they've been through.

Eddie wants to believe that's not all that binds them, that the months they've spent growing closer over shared custody of Steve's six nuggets, movie nights, and long hours spent smoking and talking on top of the Munsons' new trailer have a lot to do with it, too.

But Eddie also knows that the Eddie of a year ago would have scoffed at the idea of going out with King Steve. Just like that Steve wouldn't have gone out with the town freak.

Which is why Eddie needs today to be a success.

Today has to be perfect.

As he rings the bell, his heart beats wildly in his chest and sweat forms on his palms.

Steve answers the door with a smile that makes Eddie's knees weak. "Hey," he says, and Eddie's mind blanks for a moment. Steve's wearing those jeans, the ones that look like they're painted on, showing off his legs and...other parts. And he has them paired with a striped polo shirt that is not supposed to look as good as it does.

"Hey," Eddie replies, finally finding his voice. "You ready for a day full of adventure?"

Steve grins and nods, stepping out and closing the door behind him. "Lead the way. As long as there are no monsters to fight, I'm game."

Eddie's plan is simple: a picnic in an empty field he found a few weeks ago, but first some good old-fashioned ball throwing to indulge Steve's love of sports. It's no secret that Eddie hates sports, but he's willing to make an exception for Steve. He often feels that Steve is the one indulging the kids, Robin, or even himself, because except for Lucas, none of their friends enjoy sports, either playing or watching.

So Eddie wants to show Steve that his hobbies and interests are important too, and that Eddie can try to be as involved in them as Steve is in his.

They drive to the field with music blasting, a mix tape that Eddie has made especially for this occasion, a perfect blend of his and Steve's taste in music, and he feels a little more at ease as Steve sings along, off-key and carefree. When "Somebody To Love" comes on, Steve playfully nudges him with his elbow and Eddie joins him as they both sing along, grinning broadly.

"Did you bring me here to murder me and get rid of the body, Munson?" Steve jokes at the sight of the empty field and Eddie lets out a theatrical cackle.

"Afraid I'm going to have my way with you, Harrington?"

Heat pools in his stomach at the smile Steve gives him in response.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

Deciding on a hasty retreat before he does something embarrassing like whimper, Eddie climbs out of the van and goes to the back, pulling out an old baseball and a pair of gloves.

"Thought we could start with this," Eddie says, holding up the ball to Steve, who has followed him to the back of the van.

Steve's eyes light up at the sight. "You remembered."

As if Eddie could ever forget all the secrets and stories Steve had shared with him, while the stars above them were the only witnesses to some of the best moments of Eddie's life.

Steve had told him how he had always loved baseball as a little boy, and how his father had sometimes taken him to games. Looking back, Steve said he probably loved his father's attention and time more than the sport itself, but for whatever reason, it had been his first great love. He collected all the cards and knew everything there was to know about stats and players and rules. All he wanted was to be a player.

When he tried out at school, he didn't make the team. It was only years later that Steve found out why he had trouble hitting the ball with his bat: he had impaired vision, something his parents never bothered with, so he was never examined. At the time, he believed it was because he wasn't good enough, a failure. His dad seemed to think the same thing, because after he didn't make the team, he never took Steve to games again.

Steve hadn't played since, so Eddie figured it was time to help Steve have some good memories of baseball again.

Eddie shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, figured you'd like it."

They toss the ball back and forth, Steve coaching Eddie on his form, laughing when Eddie fumbles a catch. They're both having fun, and Eddie starts to relax, thinking maybe this date won't be a disaster after all.

But then Eddie misjudges a throw, and the ball smacks him right on the forehead. He stumbles back, more surprised than hurt, but his confidence takes a hit.

"Shit, Eddie, you okay?" Steve rushes over, concern etched on his face.

Eddie laughs it off, though his heart sinks. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just my luck, huh?"

Steve looks relieved but still worried. "Maybe we should take a break."

Eddie nods, feeling like he's already ruined things. He wonders why he thought it was a good idea to throw a ball with an ex-jock when he failed gym class more than once. So much for giving Steve a good baseball memory.

Still, he trudges over to the van to get everything they need for the picnic he has planned. The delighted smile on Steve's face at the sight of the basket and the blanket under Eddie's arm makes him think that maybe all is not lost. But just as he spreads out the blanket and unloads the food he's prepared, he glances up at the sky and sees dark clouds gathering. Still, he clings to the hope that they can finish before the rain comes.

Eddie should have known better. Luck and he have only been acquaintances at the best of times.

Just as they're settling in, the first raindrop falls, then another, and within seconds, it's pouring.

Eddie's heart sinks. This day was supposed to be perfect, and now it's a mess. "I'm so sorry, Steve. This was supposed to be perfect and now —"

Steve cuts him off with a bright laugh, his hair plastered to his forehead, rain running down his face. "Eddie, it's fine. Really."

Eddie looks at him, confused. "But the rain, and the ball, and—"

Steve steps closer, cupping Eddie's face in his hands. "I don't care about any of that. I care about you. You did so much for me today, Eddie." And before Eddie can respond, Steve kisses him.

It's a soft, lingering kiss that makes Eddie forget about the rain, the ball, and everything else. When they pull apart, Steve's smiling. "This is perfect, Eddie."

Eddie laughs, feeling lighter than he has all day. "Yeah, it kinda is."

As they pack up the picnic in the pouring rain, Eddie realizes that maybe perfection isn't about everything going right. Maybe it's about finding the right moments, even in the midst of chaos, with the right person.

[mattscoquette]

𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑨 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬/𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 - 𝑻𝑾𝑶 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉.. a quiet introverted girl attempts to befriend her popular neighbor

cursing

2.2k words

introduction 1 3 4 5 6 7

matthew sturniolo,

woke up the following morning in a frenzy. being one of four boys, his mom implemented a strict morning routine when the triplets started kindergarten, that they have been following right up until now, their senior year of high school. this morning however, matt was awoken about five minutes before he had to leave to the sound of chris and nick’s yelling to hurry his ass up. matt scrambled to pick out whatever clothes he could find, a pair of grey nike sweats and a fuzzy brown hoodie, and hurried downstairs to brush his teeth at record breaking speed before he was out the door heading the the mini van.

as he was throwing his and his brothers hockey bags into the trunk, he caught a glimpse of addilyn leaving her house and starting to walk down the block to the bus stop. as if his thoughts were being read, chris out loud wondered “what senior is still taking the bus?”

before matt could even open his mouth to make a rude comment, nick was already calling her over to offer a ride.

“dude what the fuck,” matt muttered under his breath to nick as addilyn approached the van, “i don’t wanna drive her.”

addilyn’s appearance totally switched from what she was wearing when matt saw her last night. her slim fitting dress was swapped out for a pair of mom jeans and an oversized sweater, her curly brown hair held back by a clip. “are you sure?” she breathed, looking at nick, “i’m okay with taking the bus, really.”

“we don’t mind at all, do we matt?” nick smiled through gritted teeth, nudging his brother in the arm.

“we don’t have time to mind,” chris interrupted them, climbing into the passenger seat, “we’re gonna be late.”

matt huffed, telling addilyn she could sit in the back seat with nick. he quickly plugged his phone into the aux cord, playing circles by mac miller as he backed out of the driveway and made his way to school.

*₊˚ 𓂃✧

it was only fourth period, and matt was already pissed off. the start to his day had been thrown off by waking up so late, and addilyn richardson being in his van this morning did not help one bit. he wasn’t sure what it was about that girl that bothered him so much. maybe it was the way she shut out the world by indulging herself in a book or in a drawing she was working on. or maybe it was the way her curls would stick up and fly away from the rest of her hair sometimes making her look like a mad scientist. or maybe it was the way she was the only girl who didn’t pay one ounce of attention to him. being the school’s best hockey player alongside his two other triplet brothers definitely made matt one of the most popular guys in school. he never had any trouble when it came to girls, because all of them already wanted him. except addilyn.

get yourself together man, she’s weird matt thought to himself as he entered his physics class, sitting next to his best friend nate. as he plopped his backpack down beside his friend, matt looked up at the white board and read in all big letters:

PARTNER PROJECT ON ENERGY OF MOTION - DUE IN TWO WEEKS

matt and nate grinned at each other, beginning making plans to pair up. the bell rang, and the teacher began to lecture. matt pulled out his notebook, already struggling to follow along with his teacher’s presentation. he had never been a straight a student, but he needed to keep his grades decent to stay on all his teams. however, physics was bringing his overall average down, and he needed to do well on this project to be able to start in his upcoming hockey games.

as the class made its way to an end and the students began to pack up, the teacher started to explain the project. “it’s quite simple really,” he began as he was erasing his notes from the board, “you and a partner will pick your own type of demonstration to show how kinetic energy is used in everyday objects.”

“this project will be worth a quarter of this semester’s overall grade, for both you and your partner, so it is crucial you all do well on this.” he explained, looking directly at matt. “before i let you all leave, i will be assigning your partners.” the entire class groaned.

he pulled out his class roster and began reading off names paired together.

“alexa and william… michelle and quincy… peter and xaiver… isabelle and ryan…”

please let me be with nate, matt thought. please let me be with nate. please let me be with nate.

“matthew and addilyn… louise and theresa… nathan and catie…”

no fucking way. of course addilyn was matt’s partner. he didn’t even know she was in his class. he looked around, annoyance written all over his face and he locked eyes with the curly headed girl sitting in the back of the room. she didn’t look too pleased either.

“this is an out of class project, so i suggest you start working on this asap.” the teacher announced just as the bell was ringing.

matt headed straight for the door when he felt a small tap on his shoulder. “what?” he snapped, looking down at the girl who tapped him.

“sorry,” addilyn said in a hushed voice, “its just- do you want to work on the project after school? we can go to my house, or i can come to yours or-”

“yeah, thats fine.” matt cut her off, walking out of the classroom, trying to shake her and walk with nate.

“which one?” she called out to him, her voice barely above a whisper.

“my house, but don’t expect anymore free rides from me. take the bus home.” matt told her angrily. she simply nodded and let him walk away from her, watching as he laughed with his friends in the hallway.

*₊˚ 𓂃✧

it was currently 3:30p.m., and matt was sitting at his kitchen table waiting for addilyn to come over. he had his laptop and textbook open, with messily written notes scattered all across the table. he found out later on in the school day that if he failed physics this semester, not only would be not be starting in his games, he would be benched for the rest of his hockey season. so to say he was stressed about this project was an understatement. he was broken out of his thoughts when he heard a tiny knock at the door, yelling for one of his brothers let addilyn in.

she wasn’t too excited about this project either, to be quite frank. but not for the same reasons as matt. addilyn simply hated working with others. she felt her quiet and introverted nature caused her to not work well when came to partner projects, so she typically opted to do these assignments alone. she even tried emailing her physics teacher after class, begging for him to let her work alone. he insisted that this was a two-person project for a reason, and told addilyn to stick it out. so here she was, at 3:30 on a monday, in matt sturniolo’s kitchen.

addilyn wasn’t sure why matt didn’t like her very much, but she wasn’t exactly is number one fan either. all the girls in the school loved matt. star hockey player, good looking, what wasn’t there to like about him? addilyn never looked at people surface level, though. she was a hardcore people watcher, mainly due to the fact she was almost always alone. she saw right through matt’s act and knew he was mean. she wasn’t sure how on earth he was related to nick and chris. they had only started talking a day ago, and she was greeted with smiles and waves every time she passed one of them that day. nick had even gone as far as switching his seat in art to sit next to addilyn. “i never liked sitting by the window, he had told her, “it’s always too drafty.”

addilyn quietly put her belongings down at the chair opposite from matts things, trying her best to be careful and not do anything to piss off matt even more. she was already on edge having to work one on one with him in his own house. matt didn’t even bother to look up at her. he mumbled a small “hi” as be started to type away on his laptop. addilyn pulled her belongings out, a stark contrast to matt’s. her notes were all written perfectly, with all the t’s crossed and i’s dotted, in a small cursive font that looked identical to if it were typed. matt took slight note of this.

“how do you write so neatly?” he genuinely asked, then realized he sounded nice, following up with “you probably so much free time on your hands because you have no friends” after addilyn told him quietly she re-writes her notes during lunch.

addilyn simply rolled her eyes. “i came here to work on the project, matt, not to take shit from you.”

“besides,” she started “we both get the same grade on this, and i am not letting you fuck up my gpa just because you want to be a dick to me.”

“it’s not like i can afford a bad grade on this either, sweetheart.” matt shot back at her.

sweetheart. why did her stomach suddenly feel weird?

stop it addy, she told herself, it’s matt, for crying out loud.

addilyn scoffed and began to look through her notes. “what were you thinking we do the project about?”

“i was hoping you could just do all the work.” matt had replied, blunt and matter-of-factly.

“what?” addilyn said in shock, dumfounded.

“what do you mean, what?, i don’t know shit about physics, you do. plus, i know you hate to work on these kinds of things with other people, so why don’t you do it alone?” matt told her.

she was in shock. had he really noticed i always work alone? she thought.

stop addy. he knows you work alone because you’re always doing things alone. it isn’t rocket science to connect the two.

before she could open her mouth to reply, chris came downstairs into the kitchen, grabbing a pepsi from the fridge. a smile grew on addilyn’s face as she said hi to him.

“no way, you and addy got paired together for this project?” chris gawked at matt, looking between him and addilyn.

“you’re so lucky, dude,” he continued, taking a swig of the soda, “justin told me he did this project when he was a senior, and everyone did so bad. thank god your partner is like, one of the top ten students in our class, or your senior season would have been shot.”

matt simply looked at chris. he was right, this shit was hard. he looked between the paper and addilyn a few times, before asking “where do we start?”

‎*₊˚ 𓂃✧

addilyn and matt ended up working until about 7:30 that night. his mom even insisted she stayed for dinner too.

“really sweetie, i don’t mind. i’m already feeding four kid’s, what’s one more?” she laughed.

“yeah addy, stay with us for dinner, please?” nick somewhat whined, dragging out the “e” sound.

addilyn gave in, and joined the sturniolo’s for dinner the second day in a row. like the previous night, dinner was filled with chatter from nick and chris, and radio silence coming from matt’s end. instead of giving her mean looks like he did at the previous dinner they shared, he just started at his plate the whole night and picked at his food.

“sorry about matt again,” chris apologized as he and nick began walking addilyn back next door to her house, “i don’t know whats been up with him lately.”

“it’s fine, really.” addilyn said. people being mean to her, or making rude remarks, was not out of the ordinary for her. she heard small whispers in passing everywhere she went. she was just used to it. “i’m glad you and nick are nice at least.”

chris just smiled at her and nick gave her a quick side hug. “we’re glad you’re nice, too, addy.”

the trio got to the front door, and addilyn gave them a small wave goodnight before she turned on her heel to walk into her home and upstairs. the boys walked back over to their house, noticing matt had already gone upstairs and disappeared to his room. he was sat at his desk, writing in his journal, when he noticed the light in the window across from his turned on. he saw addilyn set her book bag down, and sit at her mirror undoing her hair. he couldn’t help but to think how pretty she looked.

she’s weird, matt, he reminded himself, and you don’t even like her.

he sighed, closing his journal, and getting up to pull his blinds down to try to clear his head from the girl. out of sight out of mind. he saw her give a small smile, and he returned it by giving her a death stare, yanking the blinds down.

he got into bed, tossing and turning all night about this project with addilyn. he didn’t want to work on it with her, let alone even be nice to her, but he had to for chris and nick’s sake. they only started talking to her yesterday for god’s sake, and were already acting like they’ve been best friends since birth. matt knew these next two weeks of working on the project with addilyn everyday were going to be long.

𝐚/𝐧: oooo part 2! i hope u all enjoy! i'm writing a lot but part three won't get posted this weekend because i'll be out of state. but i appreciate all the love part one got and i hope u guys r just as excited to read this as i am to write it!!! lmk if any of u guys wanna be on on taglist too <333

© mattscoquette | taglist

[ariichive]

crossed wires

k. kenma ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹🍒

fluff | misunderstandings (nothing serious) | reader has a rbf | mutual pining | cursing | fem. reader

this is a cute idea i had; i thought kenma would be a good fit for this ;p

"kenma, how do you not see what everyone else does?"

kuroo's teasing voice rung through Kenya's mind. it was like an alarm going off on an early school day. please, just be quiet. kenma stared at the giant 'GAME OVER' on his console; his irritation with his best friend seemingly growing.

"clearly, you're not seeing correctly. you sure your hair isn't cutting off any brain cells?" kenma mumbled as he pettily shut off his console. his eyebrow twitching when he heard the familiar snicker from the tall captain next to him.

"dude.. that's like.. not possible."

kenma did not have the energy to respond.

the two friends continued on their walk home after a long practice. kuroo, the whole walk there, had been nonstop bickering about the 'not so obvious but totally obvious' admirer he had: (name). admirer was not the term he would use. if anything, it was more like a butcherer stranded on a meat farm with nothing but a meat saw and an empty stomach. maybe even like one of the villains from his game; the ones with a deep rooted trauma causing an untamable hatred for the player. well, in kenma's case he was the poor player and you were the villain.

it all started in the beginning of the new school year. new faces in a new classroom. usually, kenma never really paid attention to his classmates. sure, he gave them a typical rundown and would decide to judge them based on first impressions for the rest of their lives. then boom, he would eventually forget their names come the second week of school. they didn't talk to him, he didn't talk to them.

that was hard to do when you, a classmate who sat diagonally behind him, would constantly feel stares at the back of his head. one time, he seen the reflection of your murderous gaze in his gaming console and he damn near flinched.

did he accidentally do something to you in the past? he tried to put a name to the girl with (eye color) eyes and (lip color) lips, but nothing was ringing a bell in his head.

because of this, he started to pay more attention to you.

when lunch would roll around, you would become joyful with friends, a rather pretty smile on your face. this was when he heard one of them say your name in a fit of laughter. (name). he repeated a few times in his head. kenma thought it was a nice change of scenery; his heart even skipped a little. and then when you felt eyes on you, turning and making eye contact with the quiet boy in your class, your face dropped.

it looked like a mix of both fear and absolute horror before morphing into a stone faced, angry expression.

yeah, you definitely hated him.

at first, he kept these interactions a secret from kuroo; truly not wanting to become a victim to the already relentless teasing.

until the one day you so happened to take the same train as them. today just had to be different.

kenma was set on ignoring you. he was locked into his video game: a PVP fighting game with unlockable characters and an online ranking system. kuroo usually would have ignored kenma's gaming; it was second nature to him after all. but of course, today was different.

"care to tell me why you're playing an online game with no internet?" kuroo pointed out as he stared at the constant loading circle making zero progress on kenma's screen.

kenma snapped out of whatever trance he was in and looked up at his friend with wide eyes. "...no." kuroo hummed in response, taking a quick look around the train. that is when he seen a sight that he never thought he'd witness. a girl staring at kenma with practical hearts in her eyes.

"kenma.. that girl is totally checking you out."

kenma's face contorted into one of disgust and confusion as he looked in the direction kuroo was only to make eye contact with you.

"kuroo, if that's how girls look at you i think you're never going to get married." kenma quickly shook his head and avoided looking back at you with everything in his body. "what? i know what i'm talking about. listen to me, i'm older and wiser." kuroo smirked arrogantly.

"she is the definition of if looks could kill."

"so you think she's pretty?"

kenma paused, his brain not really processing kuroo's words.

"that's not what i..."

pretty?

he hesitantly glanced at you again. with a closer look, he noticed how you fiddled with your hair when you looked at him. the way brows were furrowed, and the way your leg bounced.

it kinda looked like.. you were nervous?

"...meant?"

by the time he realized how long he was looking at you, his stop was already here, leading to his current predicament of kuroo's constant teasing and shitty advice.

"he.. HE DEFINITELY LIKES ME!"

you screamed into your pillow with a heated face. after rolling around for a few minutes to calm yourself down, you laid on your bed facing your ceiling.

you first noticed kenma during a rather boring lesson. the teacher's voice was draining all your energy, and it was getting harder to keep your eyes open. your eyes found focus on the boy in front of you, who had bleached hair and questionable posture.

he was playing a video game hidden in a book on his desk. you glanced up at the teacher one more time, making sure he was distracted. you watched as the boy played effortlessly through levels of a game you didn't know the name of.

before you knew it.. the school day ended.

it became a ritual for you, staring at his game after lazily taking notes. it came to the point where it felt like you were playing the game yourself. every time he would die and have to restart, you felt the anger and frustration for him.

a character would die? you'd silently weep for the fallen character since it seemed like he didn't give a fuck. and if he did, he wasn't one to show it casually on his face.

the most he ever showed (that you noticed, anyway) were subtle stretches of his legs, a twitch in his finger, and a knuckle pop.

or when he won after a tedious battle a sigh of relief, his shoulders dropping.

so maybe your facial expressions were a bit.. emotional compared to his and definitely not as subtle.

it didn't help that whenever the boy, who's name you learned was kenma, would look at you, your body immediately froze and you tried to get your face as normal looking as possible; not realizing what might've seemed normal to you was terrifying to kenma.

he wouldn't hold eye contact for so long before going back to whatever he was doing, much to your pleasure.

the train ride today was a change in your relationship with kenma.

why didn't he look away like normal?

it was a change yes, but not a bad one.

with delusional friends encouraging the idea, you've come to the conclusion that kenma kozume has a crush on you.

sure, maybe you were exaggerating. but any high school girl would, it's part of growing up! you justified this in your head.

and maybe you weren't too far off from the truth. his sneak glances during the school day allowed him to see the happy expression on your face when he reached an ending of the game. the look of anticipation when he was going through his game library; trying to find a new game to play after beating the last.

one he liked most, though, was the look of shock when he angled his console perfectly out of view from the teacher, but in a position for you to see more clearly.

pls reblog and like if u enjoyed it!

kinda proof read kinda didn't lol sorry 4 any errors

[mntalbrakdown]

thinkin' bout you - H. Callahan

masterlist!

mentons of: smut, MDNI, makeouts, cussing, closeted, cheating, thigh riding, oral (r! receiving) exhibitionism, slight nudes sending idk,,,?

synopsis: you were dating a football player, but also sneaking around with Hazel

wc: 3.7k

gif by @taiturner

friday night lights, a total shit show. the girls on the cheer team didn't know how to follow the choreography of the cheers and they just do whatever they want. almost like everyone else. you on the other hand just gave up and stand there smacking your pom poms together and muttering the chants.

"are you excited about today" Isabel asks you with Josie's arm wrapped around her

"yeah" you say with a weak smile.

your boyfriend, Brody or whatever his name is, you really didnt care about him, was sitting right next to you. he was in football in whatever position, you never kept up with him. you just dated him because Brittany and Isabel wanted you to.

"hey babe want to go to get food before then game" your boyfriend asks twirling a strand of your hair in between his fingers

"i would love to, but um I have plans" you say looking directly at Hazel. she was playing around with the schools pasta, scared of the bad food. she had on her brown sweater with green pants and her red doc martens paired with her silver chain that always made you go feral

in all honesty, you have been secretly hooking up with Hazel, for the past few months. you hated it because you truly did like Hazel. yet you felt that you had to hide that side of yourself. but you decided by the end of this week you would break up with Brody.

—-

when the bell rang signifying lunch was over you got up from the table that contained all your friends or as your boyfriend called them the loser lesbians. you waved at them goodbye and stared long on Hazel. Brody wrapped his arm around your shoulder that was wearing his letterman jacket, with your oversized black pants and a white simple baby tee. as you walked down the halls you met eyes with Hazel, you smiled at her while she rolled her eyes

it was all in slow motion. she looked mad, but she never told you anything or showed any annoyance all week. you were confused, what did you do? you just saw her be happy. now you were worried. who was she walking with? it was a pretty girl who was giggling and all over Hazel, why were you so... so annoyed? you knew you had no place in doing so

"i think im going to walk to class alone" you say looking up to your boyfriend

"what why" he says stopping in the middle of his tracks

"feeling sick, dont want to get you sick when the game is in four hours you say walking away while you put your headphones on. you needed to escape this place and start letting yourself relax

you walked past everyone down the halls, you usually are so chipper and say hi to your mutuals but today you felt like putting on a hoodie and hiding. people could tell something was up, this wasn't like you. even when you get into an argument with Brody you could practically jump off the walls. this time you felt a stream of tears go down your face. you got yourself together from your five-second slump because crying in front of people is so…yuck!

so you walked into Mr. G's class head held high and when you reached your desk next to Hazel you slumped down like usual.

"so how is Brody" Hazel asks nonchalantly to you as everyone waited for the bell to ring

"he's good, were good" you say looking directly at Hazel trying to see if she was playing a game with you

"cool because I might start seeing this girl, she's available and likes me" Hazel could basically hear the breaks and cracks of your teeth by how tense you were

"I'm happy for you haze, hope she treats you right," you say as calmly as possible

"so...you're ok with it" she asks, but lets be honest she cannot take hints nor sarcasm

"yeah" you say nodding and taking out your notebook from your backpack

---

after class ended and you kept passing looks at Hazel with the ends of your mouth turned downwards.you couldn't actually believe it, but you couldn't hold a grudge. you got up quickly packing all your stuff and getting ready to leave school since that was your last class. you had plans on hanging out with Hazel, but those plans quickly crumbled to the ground

you practically ran out of there not wanting to be held up. Josie and Pj snickering about how you've been acting weirder after lunch. you could hear fast footsteps come closer to you until they finally reached you.

"wait up" they pull your arm to meet your face

"hey!" you exclaim, you just wanted to make it to your car

"what's wrong" Hazel says guiding your face to her, her eyebrows knitting togetehr when she sees you look upset

"nothing it's stupid" Hazel quickly shook her head, how could she be so tender when you're such a brat

"is it about me and her” Hazel asks seeing how your demeanor changed in a heartbeat just thinking about the other girl

“no” you say but she knew you were lying by the way you looked down

“was i just supposed to wait for you to break up with your stupid boyfriend” Hazel slightly raises her voice

“no, but i told you i was going to break up with him by the end of the week” you say pressing your lips together in anger

“than do it, i’ve been all over you for the past few months, and it certainly didnt look like you were, i mean the jacket?” Hazel clenches her jaw trying her best not to get her anger to overflow

“can we please leave” you whisper, you could feel people stare and overhear you in the crowded halls

which Hazel obliges and grabs your hand to lead you to her parked car. she had a Tesla, I mean she was rich what did you expect. she claimed her mom passed it down to her when her mom got a Mercedes as if it’s something everyone does.

she opened the door for you to get in the passenger seat. when you were fully seats and deep breathing to calm yourself down you hear Hazel open the driver door and sit down

“i’m sorry, it’s not fair” you say looking at how Hazels pupils dilated to how soft you became

“it’s ok, i just, want you” Hazel says smiling showing her pearly whites

“ok alpha male” you joke causing the tension to rise and disappear

you caught eyes with Hazel when you finally stopped laughing. and whatever energy you once had converted to lust. you stopped moving and slowly leaned into Hazel to kiss. the kiss was deep and passionate. Hazel slowly pulled your hair to get you to moan so she could slip her tongue. the fight for dominance was strong. so much so that when you pulled away to catch your breath a string of saliva stretched from both of your mouths.

“god i missed this” Hazel said cupping your cheek with her left hand, to be frank it was only a week since your last hookup but time it time and you yearned for her

“i missed you” you say going to quickly kiss hazel as she went over the center console to your seat

she made your seat go all the way back and reclined it so you were laying down as she was in between your legs. she was so eager to take your pants off when you try to push her away

“woah, we’re still at school we can’t do this” you say seeing all the kids walk to their car

“relax my windows are tinted, like illegally, you can’t see in” she says as she shimmied your pants off seeing how you easily relaxed

“Haze” you say as she threw your pants to the back seat

“yeah pretty” she asks looking at you with lustful eyes

“yeah? going to make you scream so loud that your voice goes raspy for a few days” Hazel says quickly kissing the top of your forehead as she goes to kneel back down to your core

“nothing, just missed this” you say as she quickly came up to kiss you

she does back down to your thong covered core that was already soaked. “this for me” she says making you lightly slap her face in embarrassment “it’s hot” she praises

she continued to play and tease you. she slightly moved your panties to the side to just take a quick peak. she than quickly slid the thin cloth down your legs and tucked it in her pants

“Haze you can’t keep those” you say reaching down to try to snatch them back

“i’ll give them back when you break up with him” she says with a bitterful mouth

she than goes to lick a strip of your core. making you arch your back from the seat. than she went in a swing time, sucking for longer and playing with your clit with her tongue.

“Fuck Haze just like that” you squirm in your seat

she continued her attack. kissing and sucking your cunt with her mouth. she was practically making out with it. from time to time she would look up from between your legs and see your scrunched up face and hands pulling her hair.

“god you look beautiful like this” she says moving from your core to the inner thigh and lightly biting it

“haze, god you’re so good” you praise her because of how good she’s making you feel

her calloused hands always feel so nice on you. you love the contrast between your soft skin and her rough. partly because you knew she had ragged skin because of the fight club that made you two meet.

Hazel runs her large hands along your thighs as she pulls away from you to kiss the inside of your thighs leaving love marks to mark you as hers.

“You always look so pretty.” She gives you a lopsided smile, giving you a boost of confidence so you could reach your climax

Hazel's big blue eyes glimmer and sparkle in the dim light, showcasing adoration and lust. She always wonders how you’re so fucking perfect. How she found the most beautiful person to walk this planet. She honestly questions how she even managed to pull you, let alone keep you. aside from having to share with Brody. She takes her bottom lip into her teeth, her eyes wondering over your body.

You both share intense eye contact, Hazel staring at you intently as she feels the need to press a kiss to your soft, full lips. You widely smile at her before leaning in, as she does the same. However, you slightly turn your head to the right forcing her to kiss your cheek instead, which makes you giggle at your childish antics.

You pull back only to see a frustrated Hazel, seeing her eyes darken. She shakes her head as she speaks, “you think you’re so fuckin’ funny, huh?” She questions, first Brody, now this?

You nod your head several times, finding it all amusing before bringing your hand up to her face to push a loose strand of dark brunette hair behind her ear.

She pulls you closer to her, her lips barely brushing against yours before she starts dragging them over your cheek, moving towards your ear.

She presses a soft kiss onto your jaw, slowly lining more closer to your chin before she moves to the other side of your face, taking her sweet time with you.

Hazel then removes her hand, cupping your jaw, moving her lips down to your neck. As she presses butterfly kisses onto your skin. She manages to suck on you harder in certain areas causing delicate moans to slip past your lips.

Hazel loves marking you up, she enjoys the thought of everyone knowing you’re hers and only hers. She thrives on the idea of everyone knowing her lips are the ones running along your skin, claiming you and taking you as hers to keep. But for a while you didn't allow her because of the relationship. Something about her just made you melt and not even care.

You can feel your cunt getting damper with the arousal that drips from your pussy the more Hazl sucks into your skin. You just barely grind your hips into hers which ends up getting you a groan of approval from her.

“You like denying my kisses?” She questions, placing one last kiss on you before pulling back, desire and lust looming in her eyes.

This time, you shake your head, “no, ‘m sorry.” You mumble, letting a soft cry out as Hazel fingers dig into one of your hips, surely leaving bruises in their wake.

The one hand that she is using to cup your jaw pulls your chin down towards her, her lips hovering over yours. “Sorry, hm?” Her soft puffs brush along your top lip as she looks into your eyes, tension consuming the entirety of the car.

She guides your face with her large hand seconds later, pulling you in so her plump lips meet yours. The kiss starts off softer, both of your mouths moving in sync as they perfectly mold together. Hazel's tongue quickly swipes over your bottom lip, asking permission for entrance as she always does.

You immediately grant her access as you open your mouth more, her pink muscle easily slipping through to meet yours. The kiss begins to pick up as your tongues swirl together in harmony, Hazel completely dominating the kiss.

Your hands find their way around to the back of her head, your fingers threading her thick hair through them as you slightly tug on it.

Hazel slightly moans into the kiss as she bucks her hips up into you. Her simple action bumps into your open swollen pussy, which sends a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You pull back to speak, “please.” You mutter, before pushing your lips back against Hazel.

The kiss has now done a complete 180, it slowly dwindling, falling apart as it becomes more messy and sloppy. You find it hard to keep up with the movement the more you grind yourself on Hazel.

“What do you want?” Hazel questions, mumbling into this kiss. As she does so, her hands find the inside of your thighs

You whine in desperation, but also annoyance because you know she already knows what you want. She litters multiple kisses along your cheek and jaw as she waits for you to speak.

“Be a big girl and use your words.” She demands, using her hands to tug at the hem of your shirt, asking if she’s allowed to take it off.

You immediately nod, not wasting any time as you help her pull the thin material off of yourself.

As soon as the shirt falls to the ground beside your pants your nipples harden at the cool air brushing past you, sending shivers down your spine. Hazel's eyes find your bare chest, her eyes raking your entire body up and down. Fuck, how she loves your body and everything about it. the freckles and moles that are now exposed and the soon-to-be bruises sprinkled on like salt and pepper.

A small smirk is brought to her lips as she leans forward a bit, “fuckin’ perfect.” Her pupils seem to be further dilated, her beautiful blue eyes casted over by lust.

Her needy hands grab at your tits before she takes one of your nipples in between her lips. She sucks on you softly, emitting a moan from your mouth as you throw your head back in pleasure. She grazes her teeth against you, pulling at you a bit, letting you go with a ‘pop’ before moving to the other.

Her fingers circle her salvia around your nipple, rolling it in between her fingers as she licks and sucks at the other, her hand gently massaging the tit her mouth is focusing on. The need that Hazel has to make you feel good takes over her entire brain, it’s all she can think about day in and day out. The idea of seeing you a breathless and moaning mess due to the reasons of her hands leaves her enthused, hungry for more.

This time she bites into you a bit harsher before pulling back, “answer me.” Her eyes peering up at you through her long, thick eyelashes.

“I want you” You whisper, your cheeks warm as you feel empowered under her burning gaze.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nod eagerly, dragging your fingertips over her shoulders, then next her collarbones.

“I want you to use me, ride my thigh, and cum all over me.” She whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth before she leans back.

You bite into your bottom lip, trying to conceal the smile that threatens to take over your face. You begin to move to be on top of Hazel's clothed thigh, gently rocking your hips on top of her thigh, your clit feeling pressure from Hazel's muscled leg.

She pushes herself further into the chair you both are sitting on, man spreading as she props her elbows up on the sides of the car, watching you intently.

Hazel looks at you as if you’re the best thing to roam these lands, like you were an angel brought down to earth, carved and chiseled from the gods above. She worships the fucking ground you walk on like nobody else. She’s obsessed with you, even more so when she has this pretty little sight in front of her. She's practically drooling over you, and you're still focused on that bonehead who wouldn't even make you moan half the time compared to her.

With her low, hooded eyes staring at you, you feel a bit nervous but you also feel confident and content. You always feel comfortable around Hazel, there’s never a time you haven’t. Not even thinking about the possibility of people seeing you at this instance.

You try to suppress your moans as you slowly pick up your pace, bending over a bit to grab onto Hazel's broad shoulders in order to keep your balance.

Hazel brings one of her hands to your thighs before sliding it closer to your ass. She first gropes at your soft skin, then harshly leaves a slap causing you to yelp out. Feeling the cold metal of her silver-adorned hand.

You both let out a moan, “fuck, angel, you’re soaking.” She states, her eyes watching the way your hot, wet cunt runs so smoothly along her thigh.

“Feels s’good.” You vocalize, your hands moving up to your tits as you play with them in front of her, sensually moving your hips back in forth in a way that makes Hazel go feral.

She shakes her head with a smirk, “my pretty girl putting on a little show for me?” She questions, trying her best to keep her hands to herself, although she’s finding it almost impossible as she continues to yearn for the feeling of your skin under hers.

Hazel's eyes continuously fluctuate in between your own, your tits, and your pussy using her to get off. Her own arousal beginning to dampen her boxers. Just watching you could cause Hazel to completely fall apart.

After a while of her letting you do your thing, allowing yourself to build up an orgasm, that fiery feeling burning deep in the pit of your stomach, just on the brink of falling over, you find yourself losing your pace.

“F-Fuck, Hazel. I’m gonna cum.” You whine, desperately chasing after your orgasm as you use Hazel for your own personal high.

“Yeah, baby? Gonna make a mess all over me?” She tilts her head, running her tongue along her cheek as she watches you begin to experience your orgasm, you simply nodding your head in response. "Fuck I bet Brody doesn't make you scream this loud"

Hazel moves one of her hands, pressing a thumb closer to the top of your clit for more stimulation. You let out a loud moan, searching your brain for words to help you process the pleasure radiating through your body.

“You like that?” She questions, already knowing the answer, cockiness swarming her attitude.

You can only let out a string of whines and whimpers, any words only coming out as a stammer. You slowly fall apart in front of her, your body getting weaker the faster she moves her finger against you.

“Listen to yourself whimper.” Hazel grins, “its fucking pathetic.” The blue eyed girl whispers, although she knows you could do anything to her and she’d melt in your hands.

“P-Please.” You meekly whine, continuing to move your hips back and forth on top of her. slowly leaning your exposed chest to your clothed one.

“C’mon, baby, cum for me.” Her soft voice guides you, finally pushing you over as your orgasm crashes into you.

It takes over every one of your senses and washes over you like a tsunami, crashing into you hard. Your vision turns white as your body spasms on top of Hazel, your cum rolling down her thigh as you make a complete mess on her.

“Fuck, sweet girl.” She groans, finally pulling her hand back as she stares at your arousal coating her thigh.

You let out breath, your body relaxing into hers, a layer of sweat sticking to your skin. You look down yourself, feeling a bit embarrassed as the orgasm fades away.

Hazel can sense that as she lifts your chin, forcing you to look at her, a reassuring look lingering in her eyes. She never wants you to be ashamed, she wants you to feel good. Always.

"that was hot" you say tucking your bottom lip between your top lip. Hazel eagerly grabs your phone to take a picture of the two of you fucked out, your bare shoulders exposed, and your messy tangled hair. quickly sending it to Brody

"Whoops my finger slipped," Hazel says earning a punch and a giggle from you

you quickly get a message from PJ and Josie of a picture of Hazel's car from the outside showing the steamy windows, paired with a message woah hazel gets action?

which made Hazel laugh and take a picture of the car from the inside of you and her kissing accompanied with her action ;p which made the phone actually overheat by the mass amount of messages from both parties. at one point you could hear the screams and jumps from outside the car

---

Hazel Callahan x reader (pretty sure if i don't add that it won't pop up on the tag :c)

taglist: @shaddyluvs @why-cant-we-all-get-along

[aaronsrpgs]

In Praise of Random Encounters

I'm in my "responding to frequently asked Reddit r/rpg questions" phase, so please allow me to defend the random encounter. This post is in response to everyone who goes, "Why do people use random encounters? They interrupt the flow of the story, and it doesn't make any sense to have something randomly show up and fight."

Did you know there was a Pokemon named after me?

In this post, I will argue against these strawmen, make a case for random encounters in certain games, and describe my favorite random encounter situations from my own games.

This disputation against random encounters can be broken up into three parts:

they interrupt what is already going on ("the story")

they are illogical

they're automatically a fight

I'm going to address these last to first.

Random encounters shouldn't jump right into fights. If used as intended, they come with an encounter distance, meaning sometimes you just see signs of the encounter, or you spot them from far away. And they should also come with what used to be called a reaction roll, which dictates how the encounter feels about the PCs. These were rolled on 2d6, which meant there was a bell curve that favored results in the 6-8 range, which were usually something like "wary" or "neutral."

Second, the logic of random encounters. If you're using them right, random encounters should make sense. They should only have a chance of happening in places where the encounters could be, and encounter tables ought to be chosen based on location. So you won't get a dire trout in a desert or whatever.

This last bit is the hardest one. If it feels like a random encounter would disrupt "your story," you're probably running a game whose underlying philosophies are opposed to random encounters, yes. It's probably also opposed to many other frameworks that were present in traditional/old-school rule sets. If your game has a pre-planned story or plot, if that plot requires a certain pace or order, and if the injection of outside elements would disrupt that plot, you probably shouldn't use random encounters.

(You also shouldn't use D&D or its cousins. You might also not want to have other players, since they can disrupt those plots. But that's just me being petty.)

A page of random encounter rules from Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. This is a shitty example. I promise it's easier than this.

So when SHOULD you use random encounters? Use them if the game you're running is attempting to simulate a world that has its own logic and background that is not dependent on the player characters. Random encounters help show that the world is in motion at all times and that people and creatures move about of their own volition. They don't show up when it's meaningful to the plot or the other characters; they wander. They're random.

Another key component of this style of gaming is that they usually consider story as something that emerges from or comes after play. "Remember how we tried to cross the raging river full of electric eels, and you dropped your sword, and I almost died, but we made it across? That was awesome." These things didn't happen because they were important plot points predicted by the DM; they are the results of rolls at the table, rolls that are honored in their immediacy and only made sense of after the fact. Does this mean that you risk having a disjointed mess from which no pleasing story can emerge? Yes! But you also risk having a story emerge that no one could have planned, that is equally surprising and pleasing to everyone at the table.

This emergent storytelling is probably the greatest joy of the random encounter. Don't approach the encounter with, "It doesn't make sense that a goblin would be here." Instead, adopt the attitude of, "Let's figure out why this gobllin would be here." (And while you're at it, use that same attitude toward books you read and movies you see.)

A related aside: in some play cultures, the DM is considered to be someone who plans everything out and slowly reveals bits of story as rewards to the other players. As a DM, this can feel really stagnant, and it can be a lot to keep track of, and there is far less joy of surprise. Using dice at the table to introduce new elements can bring some of that fun back to the DM.

Everything I've said so far is a synthesis of dozens of rulebooks and blog posts I've read across a decade of running games, so please allow me to introduce a final element: my own experience with the joy of random tables.

In 2014, when 5E was coming out to great demand on the backs of Stranger Things, Critical Roll, and The Adventure Zone, I started running a campaign for friends and coworkers. There was no developed play culture around 5E at the time, no cottage industry of third-party developers. So in running it, I was drawing on what I had been reading for years: old-school roleplaying and story games.

So I prepped my starting town (doing way more work that I would today), including random encounter tables for the area. And when the players were out searching for some ruins and getting lost west of town, I rolled a random encounter. It was some gnomes. All the gnomes here had escaped from a gnome hell for greed, so they weren't exactly kind. And their reaction roll was just south of neutral, so they were a little surly.

A bad screenshot of my "west of the town of Wall" encounter tables.

They led the players to the ruins and waited, trying to trap them inside after they'd been run down by the undead inside. But the players overcame the trap and told the gnomes off. (They didn't want to get in another fight after going through the ruins; more emergent storytelling.) So the gnomes ran off, but they would remember this.

Flash forward to a different session. In the main mega-dungeon under the town, the players were exploring a new area. Another random encounter: the devil of gnome hell! It was a giant mole with masses of earthworms for limbs, and it was searching for its escaped prisoners. It threatened to kill the PCs unless they gave it a magical item. So Pepper the elf gave up his winged sword, which he'd found in the aforementioned ruins. He loved that sword.

And here's where it all comes together. The gnomes were trying to settle the land west of town, but the humans had a fort there. The players were going to that fort to get some information about the faerie realms. How could I show this situation in a way that would, as succinctly as possible, illustrate the tension while giving the players a choice on who to join? Well, the gnomes would be attacking the fort. This normally wouldn't be much of a battle…but the vengeful gnome from the ruins had made a deal with the gnome devil for power. And now he was wielding Pepper's sword, using it to fly over the fort walls and attack.

Pepper was pissed! He wanted his sword back! The other players were more interested in figuring out a way to stop the ongoing conflict between gnomes and humans. And the gnomes were split between wanting to peacefully settle their new land and get revenge on the players for driving them off from the ruins. Who would prevail?

I hadn't planned a story, but I had created a situation a story was likely to emerge based on the players' actions and the results of the dice.

Conclusion

This isn't me saying this is the only way to play. It's not the only way I play. In a short one-shot or a tightly paced, emotional game, I would never use random encounters. But they can be fun! And they (and their associated suite of rules) can address some of the issues that lead to DM burnout and genre predictability.

If you find me in the wilderness, I will fight you.

[voidvannie]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐮

𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ 🕊️🤍 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ jamie decides he wants to change isabelle’s name but first he has to ask the most important men in her life.

ੈ✩ ━ ❪ feel free to send an any request of things you want to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts about what your read! i would love that! ❫

June 4, 2024

When you see somebody Who erases everybody in the room I don't know what to say, I don't know what to do

Jamie hadn't meant to be up as early as he was, the bold black letters of the time plastered on the screen of his phone reading 5:30 AM while he sat out on the back porch of the hughes lake house.

Another Summer of spending time with his girlfriend, her family and a couple of their friends was a nice getaway from their every day lives of playing hockey and doing all of her social media things.

The hockey players mind flashes to the small velvet black box that he had packed away in his duffel bag, making sure to keep Belle from finding.

He can hear the backdoor slide open but he doesn't take his eyes off of the sun rising in front of him.

"Morning, Jamie." Jim's voice flows from beside him, taking a seat an the empty chair.

"Morning." Jamie sends him a half smile as his head turns to look at him for just a second.

"You're up early." He says after a moment of silence, sitting the coffee cup on the arm of the chair.

"Yeah, I just needed a breather before we get up to whatever Jack has cooked up or us today." Jamie tells him with a slight chuckle.

Jim lets out a chuckle of his own and they sit in silence for a moment before the father of four broke it, "I can see all the signs, son....so go ahead. Ask me."

Oh, I I don't wanna change who you are I don't wanna mess with your dreams Or get in the way of who you wanna be

Jamie feels the palms of his hands grow sweaty as he wipes them on the dark grey material of the sweat pants he's wearing, his words suddenly catching in the back of his throat.

"Um, I.....I want to ask Belle to marry me." He finally chokes out, eyes never leaving the sunrise in front of him.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" Jim turns to look at his daughter's boyfriend.

"For about year. I’ve had the ring since December 27, 2023." He tells Jim, finding a sudden interest in playing with the thing bracelet on his wrist with 'IMH' engraved on it.

"A year?"

Jamie smiles, "Yeah. It first crossed my mind when I was traded to the Flyers. I called her right after I got the phone call when we were in Memphis and she told me that we would be okay, I'd be okay. That's when was like, 'damn, i really think i want to spend the rest of my life with this girl.'."

"And when were you sure you wanted to marry her?"

"A week after I was traded, when she packed up her apartment in California to move in with me in Philly." Jamie has no hesitation as he speaks.

Jim smiles at the adoration in Jamie's voice when he talks about his daughter, "Jamie, when Belle first came home telling Ellen and I about you, I was honestly worried. I love my sons, and I love hockey, but I didn't want my daughter to date a hockey player. But listening to how she talked about you, how she talked about the way you treated her, I told Ellen, 'i'm happy that he can put this big smile on her face and a bright sparkle in her eyes'. That's all a father could ever want for his little girl."

Jamie listens, hanging onto every word.

"And if you wanna marry my daughter, I give you permission to do so." He says as they both stand up, Jim bringing Jamie into a hug.

"Thank you."

────── ❪ 🌿🕊️! ❫

No, I I won't stop your runaway heart I just wanna be why you stay Only thing about you that I'd change is I'd change your name

Ellen and Belle had decided to take the time to have a little girls day, leaving the boys and Jim at the lake house.

Jamie sat on the couch next to Luke, playing with a lose thread on his jeans as he watched the others playing video games, trying to think of ways her could ask four of the dozen hockey players staying.

Taking a deep breath, he just decided to rip the band-aid off and quickly blurts it out, "I wanna ask Belle to marry me."

The yelling that had been going on quiets down as everyone turns to look over at Jamie, the sounds of Luke dropping the controller to the ground following.

“Did I hear that correctly?” Quinn leans forward to be able to look at Jamie.

“Dude! Come on!” Trevor groaned as he stands up from the couch, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and slapping a twenty into Jack’s outreached hand.

“Buddy, you made me twenty bucks richer!” Jack smiled widely, “Make me an Uncle in six months and I’ll win another twenty!”

“Don’t make him an uncle cause I’m not giving him another twenty.” Trevor huffs sitting back in his place. “Marry your girl, Jamie!”

“This is really what you want?” Quinn asked, his tone serious as he looks at the hockey player.

“A hundred percent. Guys, I love your sister with every little ounce of my being.” Jamie tells them, “Belle is the only person that I see myself marrying.”

“And our dad?” Luke raised an eyebrow.

“Asked him this morning, he said yes.” Jamie wipes his hands on his jeans, growing nervous again under the gaze of all the guys.

“Well, you have my yes.” Jack grinned.

“When do you want to do this?” Quinn crossed his arms over his chest.

“This weekend, before we leave.” Jamie answered, “She’s always talked about getting proposed to on the end of the dock.”

Quinn smiled, ��Okay. You reeled me in. Yeah, you can marry my little sister.”

“Luke, you’re really quiet over there, buddy.” Jack grinned at the little pout on Luke’s face.

With the pout still on his lips, Luke crosses his arms over his chest, “Fine, you can marry my sister.” He pauses, "But I would also like to become an uncle, just not in six months."

────── ❪ 🌿🕊️! ❫

June 11, 2024

I can't see 20 years from now Hell, I can barely see today Can't promise you your sky won't drop a little rain When that smile in the mirror disappears I promise you I'll be right here

"Hey, baby." Jamie grins as he walks back into the lake house from being on the boat with the boys, leaning down to kiss her, "Got anything planned for tonight?"

"Hmm, no." Belle shakes her head, "Why?"

"I'm taking you out to dinner." Jamie tells her as she looks at him, "What is it?"

"What do I wear?"

"Something pretty."

“Okay.”

────── ❪ 🌿🕊️! ❫

Oh, I I don't wanna change who you are I don't wanna mess with your dreams Or get in the way of who you wanna be

“Have I mentioned how pretty you look?” Jamie grinned from the driver side of the rental car her shared with Trevor.

“Hmm, almost every chance that you get.” Belle smiles over at her boyfriend, bringing her hand up to play with the hair on the back of his neck. “Tonight was nice, just the two of us.”

“It was.” Jamie pulls into the driveway of the lake house, “But I have one more surprise.”

Belle raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend as he quickly jogs around the front of the car to her side, pulling the door open for her, “Thank you.”

“Always.” He smiles, kissing her for a brief moment before he takes her hand and starts leading her down towards the dock.

A quiet gasp leaves her lips as she takes in the sight of the small boat dock.

Candles lit up the walkway going out to the end. Seven bundles of roses lined up the sides as well as rose petals scattered along the middle.

“Jamie….” Belle stops in her tracks as tears begin to rise above her water line.

Jamie grins as he takes her by the hands, pulling her close to him, bringing her hand to wrap around his neck as he let his own drop to her waist, “Isabelle….,”

“No, don’t drop to one knee right now.” Her bottom lips trembles as she looks into her boyfriends eyes.

A chuckle leaves his lips as he sniffles, “You know, Trevor caught me watching your videos the night before we met? I had found them a couple weeks before and watched them all, and I never picked up that you were related to Jack, Quinn and Luke. And then I walked out of the locker room, and there you were.”

“We went back to our house after dinner that night, and I couldn’t stop talking about how amazing you were so Trevor gave me your number and I was so terrified to do anything with it. Took me two weeks to build up the courage to text you and ask you to have lunch with me.”

“After, I went home and I called my mom. I’ve never told you this, have I?” Jamie stops to ask her, which she shakes her head no, “Good. I went home and I called my mom, and I told her, ‘This girl, she’s it. She is everything that I’ve been searching for. She’s it for me,’ and she just laughed me off and said, ‘Jamie, your young, you’ll have more than one experience like this’, and I told her, ‘watch me marry her.’.”

“We’ve been there for each other through every good, bad, up, down. Through sickness, career moves, through every hockey game, every time you needed someone to participate in videos for your channel, TikTok pranks, and your pregnancy scare last year.” Jamie kept going with his speech, never once losing eye contact with Belle as he did.

“And the other morning, I was sitting out on the porch, lost in thought about how I was going to ask your dad and brothers, when your dad came and sat down next to me. He could see it on my face that I wanted to ask him, and he asked me how long ago had I been thinking about asking you to marry me. For an entire year, the thought of marrying your had been in the back of my mind, but six months ago I finally got the courage to buy the ring."

"But the exact moment that I really knew that I wanted to have you for the rest of my life was last year when you packed up everything you made for yourself in California and moved with me to Philly." Jamie's thumb wiped away the tears falling from Belle's face, tears of his own falling. "Can I get down on one knee now?"

A sob rips through her throat as she vigorously nodded her head, "Please."

Jamie chuckles before pulling the ring box out of his pocket, dropping down to one knee as he looked up at the blonde, "Isabelle Marie Hughes, will you marry me?"

"Yes, of course!" A giggle leaves her lips as Jamie slides the beautiful ring onto her finger before standing up and bringing her into a deep, breath taking, kiss.

Loud cheers fill the air as everyone comes out of their hiding spots, Luke instantly rushing to his older sister, spinning her around in a tight hug.

"Oh, let me see the ring!" Ellen grabs her hand, smiling at the diamond ring resting on her finger. "Oh, my baby is getting married!"

No, I I won't stop your runaway heart I just wanna be why you stay Only thing about you that I'd change is I'd change your name

Jamie smiles as he watches his fiancee gush over the ring with her mother, that smile growing bigger as she locked eyes with him, “I love you.” He mouths watching as she mouths the words back.

[iovevrse]

broken clocks, p. bueckers pt. 1

pairings: paige bueckers x fem reader

synopsis: when you met paige, you thought the two of you would have one of those cheesy high school love stories that lasted for years. you were wrong.

cw: timeskip from hopkins p to uconn p, a little bit sad, 2?? part seriess

Chemistry had to be one of the most pointless subjects you’d ever have to endure. It especially didn’t help that you were a senior in chemistry. Because of some silly counselors never getting the bright idea to put you in the class your sophomore year you were stuck for 45 minutes every other day in chemistry. It wasn’t just you, though. Two other people had gotten just as unlucky as you, Mia Thompson and Paige Bueckers. Despite four years of going to the same school as Mia, you’d never really talked to her, and as for Paige, she seemed all too unapproachable. You’d noticed over the years at Hopkins it was rare to see her hang out with anyone who was not one of her teammates. Her unapproachability wasn’t just because she was an athlete. She was more than one of those high school athletes that wasn’t going anywhere. She was the number one player in the country. You’d probably only spoken to her once or twice over the years. Chem class didn’t change that.

Today wasn’t any different. You’d gone through your regular schedule and dreaded being in chemistry as always. Your teacher had spent a good 20 minutes rambling about something you didn’t bother to pay attention to. Before you knew it, you were standing up, looking for a partner for an assignment you had no clue about. You’d stood there for about 2 minutes and watched the underclassman pairs form until you felt a tap on your shoulder. When your head had whipped around, you were met with a soft smile and a tall, blue-eyed girl with a blonde ponytail. Surprisingly, it was Paige. “Hi,” you said, confusion written all over your face as you awkwardly looked at the girl. “Hey, do you need a partner for the assignment,” asked Paige shyly. Her shyness and the light pink blush on her face had confused you. From what you’d seen, she was outgoing and extroverted.

Nonetheless, you agreed and asked her to explain the assignment to you. You sighed when she told you there was math involved since you hated math, but luckily, Paige claimed she was good at it. For the remaining 20 minutes of class, you’d worked on the, in your opinion, pointless assignment, and you’d learned a lot about Paige. She was funny, sweet, and smart, which contrasted everything you’d assumed she’d be. As you packed up a few minutes before the bell rang, Paige turned around and spoke again. “Not to be weird or whatever, but do you wanna come to my game tonight?” asked the blonde, licking her lips and biting them nervously. She stood there patiently waiting for your response. “Sure, I’ll come,” you responded, smiling a little, and you could tell Paige’s nervousness blew over when you agreed.

That night, Hopkins won, and Paige invited you to get pizza with her afterward. You both drove separately and met each other in the parking lot. You talked for an hour about random things, simply getting to know each other. You learned about her family and how boring she thought meat lovers' pizza was. Soon enough, the conversation shifted to college. Paige told you about how she was thinking of going to Minnesota to play basketball, and you listened to her ramble about the offers she'd gotten. Even though time was running out, you hated the topic of college. You had no clue where you wanted to go or who you wanted to be. You didn’t even know if you could live on your own away from your parents without going insane. You thought getting accepted and rejected by certain schools would make it easier, but it didn’t.

Your final months of high school had been the worst months you’d ever experienced. You and Paige had gotten extremely close. Close meaning, she was your first time. The two of you weren’t open about your feelings for each other, but it wasn’t necessarily a secret either. Everyone that was close to you knew that you were seeing each other. You guys were practically attached at the hip until it just stopped. If anyone had asked, you’d say it wasn’t your fault. Paige was the one who decided to stop talking to you without a reason or explanation. You didn’t even get a text. Regardless, you pushed through and committed to the University of Connecticut. A week after you committed, Paige announced that she’d also be committing to UConn and playing basketball for the women’s team. You were forced to hear about it all up until graduation.

[tbmunson]

Escape - Gareth Emerson x Reader

Summary: You and Gareth get paired for the most important art project of the semester.

Warnings: Slow burn, idiots in love, caring for Gareth's sisters.

WC: 4,730

Notes: I'm in recovery for surgery, so updates will be slow. Shout out to @ashes-writing for being my absolute bestie and letting me bounce ideas.

1 / 2 / 3

PART 1

“Okay, class, you’ll work as partners for your final project.” Mr. Greely the art teacher stated, earning a cheer from the class. “I wouldn’t cheer so fast. I paired you up myself. This project is to make art based on what you learn about your partner, hence the little questionnaire at your tables. It can be a painting, drawing, or sculpture. Any audio recordings or mixed tapes will be given a zero. This is art, not band.

You rolled your eyes, but not because you wouldn’t be working with Tiffany, the only other cheerleader in the class, but because there was a chance you’d have to work with one of the meatheaded basketball players. You didn’t really want to work with her either, but that was a whole other can of worms.

Mr. Greely droned on, only catching your attention when he said your name. “You’ll be working with Emerson.”

Your eyes widened, which caught the attention of a few of your classmates who began to giggle. The panic was not from the boy himself, rather the fear you would accidentally fall harder for him if you got to really know him. Your focus was disrupted by shuffling next to you as Gareth settled into the desk paired with yours. “Hi.” You said softly, meek almost.

Gareth assumed this was due to disdain for him, presented a bit more politely. He did hear the giggles after all. “What’s up?” Not a question, just a simple acknowledgement to your greeting.

You studied his side profile, debating the different art forms you could use to relay the puffy haired metalhead next to you.

“You have a month to complete this project. Oh, and, your partner will be grading you on how well they think you relay them to the world. That does have an effect on the overall grade, so get to know each other.” Mr. Greely finished as the bell rang.

“So, I don’t know if you’re busy tonight with it being Friday and all, but my house is free tonight if you want to come do the questionnaire.” You offered sweetly as you packed your notebook into your bag.

“I, uh, have to watch my sisters tonight, but, if you want to, I mean, you can come to my place.” His nerves were apparent, which made you smile.

“Yeah, I’ll find you at lunch and finalize the details.” You gripped the strap to your backpack and turned to meet Tiffany at the door.

She sputtered out a laugh as she glanced over her shoulder to Gareth. “You really got paired with the freak, huh?”

You couldn’t stop the eye roll. “Tiff, I’ve known him since forever. He’s a sweet guy. Just because he listens to different music and doesn’t dress the same doesn’t make him a freak.” You replied, trying to keep your tone level so as to not snap at the head of the cheerleading team.

“He plays a fucking fantasy game, babe. It’s weird.” She chirps back as if it was common knowledge.

“It’s an escape. Everyone has an escape. You totally zone out when you cheer. That’s your escape.” You’re fully annoyed now, but not showing it, which is hard due to the fact that she just laughs, mumbling a “Whatever.” under her breath.

You break off into your math class and sit next to Eddie Munson. “Hey, Eddie.” You say, catching his attention.

He peeks around you, looking around.

“What are you doing?” You ask, furrowing your brows.

“Wondering why Hawkins High’s very own princess is trying to talk to me. Not that I’m complaining. Just curious.” He responded with an amused look.

You can’t help the small smile that spreads at his antics. “I’m talking to you because I’m a nice person and I let you cheat off of me. It’s time to repay the favor.”

“Ooh, princess wants something from the freak. Enlighten me.” He taps the tips of his fingers together in a way that would mook maniacal if it weren’t Eddie.

You roll your eyes at the dramatics. “I have an art project and I need-”

“I will not model naked for you if that’s what you’re asking.” He had a very serious look on his face, which meant he was totally joking, something you’d come to know sitting next to him in three different classes.

You smacked his arm and furrowed your brow. “No. I need the inside scoop on Gareth. He’s my partner and I have to get to know him, like really get to know him for this project.”

Eddie nods, resting his chin in his hand. “Okay. I can help you with that. As long as I keep copying your homework and cheating off of your tests.” He smirked, a wide grin plastering his face.

“In all honesty, I didn’t even think about using that as a threat.” You giggled, reaching over and scribbling your number onto a page with a scratched out doodle in his notebook. “Call me tomorrow. I’ll be at Gareth’s tonight.”

“Oh yeah, date night.” Eddie replied kind of like an off hand comment.

“It’s not a date, Eddie.” Your eyes were wide again like they had been in art class.

Eddie laughed and shook his head. “I mean his parents. He has to watch his sisters. Although I may be reading into that reaction a little too much, but I think you-”

“Not another word or the copying does stop.” Your face was hard, begging him not to speak the words you already knew were true. You would like to go on a date with him, but this, getting to really know him as part of a project, it’ll work too. Better, you convince yourself. Better because there’s no pressure to actually like him and if you don’t, well at least you'll know and you can stop this pitiful pining over him.

“Yes, your highness.” Eddie bows as much as he can while sitting before the teacher begins class.

Two class periods later you were headed to lunch. Once you made it to the cafeteria you headed right for the Hellfire table, leaving a very confused Stephanie in the doorway. As you approached a group of freshmen were settled at the table. “Hi, does Gareth sit here?” You knew he did, but striking up a conversation would be better than just claiming a seat that didn’t belong to you.

The curly haired one looked up, surprised a cheerleader was talking to him. “I, uh, yeah.” he sputtered, earning a glare from the dark haired one.

“Dude, you can’t just tell people like-” He cuts himself off, looking up at you and wondering if you’d tear him a new one.

You laughed and leaned against the table. “I know. People like me have a bad rap, and usually for good reason. I have an art project with Gareth and we need to go over some details. No malice. No ill intent. Pinky promise.” You held out your pinky, waiting for one of the group to make their move.

The smaller boy with a bowl cut reaches out, linking his pinky with yours. “He’ll be here in a few. He usually takes a smoke break before coming to lunch. That’s his seat,” He points to a chair on the edge of the opposite side of the table. “And Jeff isn’t here today, so the spot next to him is open if you want to sit.”

“Thank you.” You smile before rounding the table and sitting in the middle seat. “My name is Y/N, by the way.” You offer a hand over the table for any one of them to take.

The curly haired boy reaches over and shakes it, “I’m Dustin, this is Mike and Will.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys. So, how does Dungeons and Dragons work? I’ve never played but it seems interesting from what I’ve seen.” You can’t find it in yourself to regret the question as Dustin and Will go into an in depth explanation of the game. You were so drawn in that you didn’t notice Gareth walking up to the table, or the look of horror as the freshmen bombarded you with facts about a fantasy game, even if he loved that fantasy game more than most things.

“Alright you guys, I’m sure she doesn’t want to hear about DnD.” Gareth sighed as he sat, drawing the attention of the four of you.

You gave him a playful glare. “I asked, actually. It sounds like a lot of fun. Very creative.” You were smiling by the end.

Gareth nodded, unable to help the thought that you were only saying that to seem nice and use it against them later. He immediately felt bad because in all the years of classes together, you’d never been that way. “Okay, well, I’m sorry. You can continue, Dustin.”

“Actually, Dustin, as much as I want to hear the differences in characters, I really need to get some stuff settled with Gareth about this project. How about I come sit here on Monday and you and Will can finish telling me about it.” You offered, finding the kids incredibly charming and utterly adorable.

“Yeah!” Dustin replied, opening a book to keep track of what he’d filled you in on already.

Gareth chuckled and leaned over to whisper to you. “You really don’t have to let them torture you like this.” The way his voice rumbled in your ear mixed with the warmth of his breath cascading down your neck, you knew you were screwed.

“Gare, really, I want to know about it. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” You assured him, placing a hand on his forearm and giving it a small squeeze.

Gareth didn’t know what else to say, so he only offered a crooked smile instead.

“Good, it’s settled. Now to the main task at hand. What time do I need to come over?”

He shrugged and went over the schedule in his head. “I’m gonna do dinner at 5:30, give them a bath, and let them play. They’ll be out by 7:30.” He offered more as a question.

“Or, I can bring dinner from Benny’s around 6, help you give them a bath, and we can all watch a movie before they go to bed.” You twisted a curl around your finger as you waited for his response.

He nodded and smiled. “Yeah, they’d like that.”

You slid your notebook and a pen in front of him. “Write down your order and I’ll be over by six.”

“Do you even know where I live?” He quirked a brow as he scribbled down an order.

“Gareth Emerson, I have lived down the street from you my whole life. Of course I know where you live.” You reached out and gently smacked his shoulder.

Gareth laughed and held a hand up in surrender. “I’m just making sure. I’d hate for you to get lost and leave me starving.” He jokes, sliding the notebook across the table with the order, along with his number. “See you tonight?”

“For sure, but you’re going to see me sitting here for the rest of lunch, if that’s okay with you.” You looked up at him through your lashes.

“It’s totally fine!” Dustin said, grabbing your attention. You’d almost forgotten about the freshmen sitting across from you.

You laughed and nodded, knowing he wanted to continue his spill about the different kinds of characters.

The end of the day came and you were headed out to your car when you were stopped by Tiffany. “What in the hell were you doing at that table of freaks during lunch?”

Your jaw clenched, but you didn’t let your anger show. “I had to come up with a plan for this project. Gareth is my partner. Art is the only class we have together and I’d like to get it started sooner rather than later.”

Tiffany scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“Actually, I’ll be there Monday too, and probably a few times throughout the next couple of weeks. I’ll sit with you guys on game days so no one sees me in my uniform at their table, but this project is important to me. Art is important to me. You know I want to be an artist. If getting to know him is what it takes to make a kickass piece, then I’m doing it.” Your tone wasn’t harsh, but it was firm, letting her know there would be no room for negotiation.

She didn’t say anything, just stomped away, which caught the attention of the older Hellfire members.

“I think she just stood up for us.” Grant said, eyebrows raised.

Gareth pressed his back against the brick wall and looked up at the tin of the sidewalk covers. “Fuck.” He shook his head as he breathed deeply.

“What, Emerson?” Eddie cocked a brow at Gareth’s pained expression.

“I don’t know. Like, this is going to be so hard. I’ve only been in love with her since kindergarten. Now she’s sitting at my lunch table, standing up for me and my friends, and she’s coming to my fucking house tonight. How am I supposed to do this?”

Eddie couldn’t help but to laugh at his friend's pained expression. “I usually don’t get in the middle of this crap, but, earlier I made a joke about it being date night. She got really defensive, and that’s fully a sign that she’s into you. Maybe just go for it?”

“You’re so full of shit, Munson. She’s just a nice person and didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.” He replied, finally pushing himself off the wall. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow at practice. Gotta get home so my parents can head out.”

Eddie and Grant mumbled their goodbyes before making their way to Eddie’s van.

It was currently 5:50 and you’d just pulled into the Emerson’s driveway with a passenger seat full of food and shakes. You released a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding before cutting the engine and getting out of the car. You’d barely made it to the passenger door when the glossy red door to the house flung open.

“Lori, get back here!” Gareth’s exhausted yell came as he chased her down the steps, not yet realizing you’d arrived. He scooped her up as she giggled.

“I was trying to see your friend!” Lori‘s giggles quickly turned into a whine when she realized her brother had no plans to put her feet back on the ground.

Gareth finally looked up, making eye contact with you as you rested your elbow on the roof of the car. “Hey, uh, sorry. One sec.” He finally returned Lori’s feet to the ground but made her look at him. “Go back inside. I’m going to help Y/N bring the food in and you can see her in there, okay?”

She pouted but nodded before walking slowly to the house.

“Someone’s got the dad voice down.” You smiled, bending to grab the bags as Gareth made his way over to you in a pair of grey sweat pants and a faded Metallica shirt.

“Yeah, well, someone had to be when my dad split a few years ago. Rick is nice though.” He replied, reaching to take the bags out of your hands.

You nodded, smiling as his skin brushed yours. “I think you’re doing a great job considering she actually listened.” You offered before bending back down to get the drink tray with the shakes.

Gareth planned on replying, but he was silenced by the sight of you bent over and the amount of leg coming out of the old practice cheer shorts you’d changed into. He watched you stand and bump the door with your hip to close it.

“C’mon Gare, shakes are melting.” You said, taking a few steps towards his house.

He nodded and followed wordlessly. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

As you and his sisters settled into the table Gareth apologized again that his sisters threw a fit to both sit next to you.

“They’re fine, Gareth. Tell your brother to stop worrying so much, Lori.”

“Yeah, stop worrying that much.” She sassed, making you laugh and Gareth roll his eyes.

“I don’t know how Clara expects me to help her with her food all the way over there.” He gave the youngest girl a look as if to say ‘didn’t think of that, did you’.

“I’ve got it. It’s just chicken and fries. She’s safe in my care.” You assured him as you opened the small styrofoam container to start tearing the strips into more manageable pieces for a two year old

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to.” He replied sincerely.

You sighed and turned to look at him. “Gareth, it’s okay to let people do stuff for you. If I minded I wouldn’t be doing it. Do you trust that?”

He was at a loss for words, only nodding in response.

“Good. Now eat your burger before it gets cold.” You instructed as you finished tearing the chicken. “One at a time, Clara. Don’t put another in your mouth until the first one is all gone, okay?”

The small girl with white curly hair and bright blue doe eyes nodded, reaching for a piece of her chicken.

You popped a fry into your mouth, fully ready to dive into your burger when there was a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see Lori looking at you with a pout.

“Can you do my chicken too? Pretty please.” She looked like she was scared you would say no.

“Of course, baby doll! Let me see.” You pulled her plate over to you and started ripping the chicken into bits.

“Lori, you eat strips all the time.” Gareth stated after swallowing a bite of his burger.

“Gareth, eat your burger and let her be. She wants my attention and that’s okay.” You assured him, cutting your eyes over to look at him across the table without moving your head very much.

“But your food is going to get cold.” He urged as you took on the second strip.

“We’ll call it practice for being a real mom one day. Cold food, cold coffee, hot ice cream.”

“Ew! Hot ice cream!” Lori laughed as you pushed her plate back towards her.

You couldn’t help but join in. Her laugh is tinkly like a fairy, contagious.

“Okay, alright, I won’t say anything else.” He raised his hands in surrender before going back to his food.

The rest of the meal went by quietly, ending with you spooning the girls' shared shake into separate cups.

Once dessert was had, it was bath time, resulting in your cheer camp t-shirt getting soaking wet.

“I am so sorry. Let me get you a shirt.” Gareth was red from embarrassment.

You, however, were still smiling. “Okay, Gare. I’ll get them dried off and changed, then I’ll come find you about the shirt.”

He nodded and left the bathroom.

“Are you my brother’s girlfriend?” Lori asked once she was sure Gareth was gone.

You giggled a bit and shook your head as you pulled her nightgown over her head. “No, baby doll, I’m not. We go to school together. He’s my friend.”

She nodded and her face twisted in thought. “Will you be his girlfriend?”

You gave her a soft smile. “Yeah, I hope so one day.” You winked at her before turning to help Clara into her nightgown. “Why don’t you girls go down stairs to the couch while I go find Gareth and change, hm?”

Lori nodded and took Clara’s hand to lead her away.

You sighed and pushed yourself from the floor.

It didn’t take much to figure out which door belonged to Gareth. He had various band stickers and drawings on the door. You knocked twice.

“Come in!” He called as he snagged his favorite Motley Crue shirt from the hanger. It may or may not have been for a fantasy he had not too long ago.

You opened the door and stepped in. “Hey, I sent the girls downstairs to get settled. Just came to grab the shirt. It’s starting to get a little chilly.” You chuckled at the end, leaning against the wall.

“Okay, great. Um, you can change here if you want. I can go get the movie ready.”

You nodded and stepped further into the room. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll be down in just a second.” You said taking the worn material from his hands. Once the door clicked closed you pulled your shirt over your head and unhooked your bra which was soaked through. You hoped the shirt would be big enough that the lack of bra wouldn’t be noticeable. What you didn’t think about though, was leaving the pile of damp clothes at the foot of the bed before walking out of the room and down stairs.

“Can I sit with you!” Lori yelled as she saw you finally descend the stairs.

“Of course, baby doll.” You smiled, glancing over at Gareth who managed to go a deep shade of red.

Maybe putting you into that shirt was one of his less than stellar ideas. His mind wandered back to the dream he had the other night of you, in the shirt, on top of him- He stopped his thoughts immediately before they became too much.

You settled next to him and let Lori climb into your lap as Gareth hit play on the Care Bears movie. You ran your fingers through the six year olds hair, eventually braiding it into a nice french braid before she fell asleep. You looked over to Clara who was dead asleep in Gareth’s lap.

He looked over at you and then up the stairs. “They won’t wake. They sleep pretty hard. Wanna take them up and get started?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You smiled as you got a better grip on Lori. You followed Gareth up the stairs and pushed open Lori’s bedroom door. You laid her down gently in her princess bed sheets and covered her up before heading back to the hall to meet Gareth.

“You’re really good with them, you know.” He said, leading you back down the stairs and turning the light on.

“If I don’t go into art, I want to teach little ones.” You said, tucking a hair behind your ear.

“You could be the art teacher for the little ones.” Gareth offered. “Best of both worlds.”

“You’re so smart, you know that? That never crossed my mind.” You laughed a little, not believing you’d not thought of it before.

Gareth smiles as he bumped your shoulder. “Thanks. And when you do become an art teacher for little ones, make sure you credit me.” He winked before sitting on the floor at the coffee table.

You sat across from him, rolling your eyes at his joke. “I’ll put your name on the degree.” You said sarcastically as you pulled the questionnaire sheet from the spiral notebook.

Both of you took a second to look over the sheet before you spoke again.

“These are bullshit questions.” You said passively as you looked up from the bullet point asking ‘What is your partner’s favorite color.’

“Why do you say that?” He asked, putting his sheet down on the table.

You sighed and tapped your pen on your lip and you thought. “If I’m supposed to make an art piece based on you, what good is knowing your favorite food and color? I mean do I just draw a red cheeseburger? It’s so basic. Art is supposed to make you think. Make you feel something.” You emphasized before laying back on the floor.

Gareth laughed and scooted around to your side of the table to lay next to you. “You have a point, but how do you know my favorite color is red? I never told you.”

You turned your head to look at him rather than the ceiling. “I’ve lived 50 yards from you my whole life, we went to the same daycare, elementary, middle, and high school. Red is one of the few colors in your color palette. People don’t wear colors they don’t like.” You studied his face, taking in every freckle, every developing laugh line, every shade of blue and green in his eyes for the hundredth time, only this time you were much closer. It had much more of an effect on you.

“You’re very observant, you know.” His mouth ticked up into a lopsided smile as his eyes darted around your face.

“Which is you telling me that I’m right.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He laughed this time, making you smile. “You’re not as oblivious as you present yourself as. Why do you do that?” His brows furrowed as he questioned you.

You shrugged, debating your answer for a moment. “I do what I have to in order to make it where I want to go. You present yourself as a dark, twisty guy who doesn’t care about anything, yet you’ve got smile lines and you’re amazingly sweet with your sisters. Why do you do that?” You challenged with a playful smile.

“Self preservation. I’m a weird kid and if I come off as someone who’s easy to mess with, life would be a whole lot worse. So I keep myself far away from the people who don’t deserve to know me.” He explained, his eyes holding a look that you couldn’t quite place.

Before you could stop yourself you asked, “Do I deserve to know you?”

His eyes that held your gaze flickered down to your lips and back up. “Yeah. Do I deserve to know you?”

You nodded, unable to resist the urge to reach over and rest your hand on the side of his face.

The moment was quiet, intimate, and gone far too quickly as his mom and stepdad came into the house.

“Gareth, whose car is in the drive-“ his mothers voice cut off as she walked in on the innocent scene because she could feel the tension between her son and the girl laying on the floor.

You snatched your hand away quickly and looked at the woman in the doorway, praying she wouldn’t berate you for being there.

“Mom. Hey. I told you Y/N was coming by for the art project.” He was red, not from a blush but from panic. His heartbeat was thundering in his ears so loud he thought it must have been audible.

She nodded and smirked. “Alright, well, carry on then.” She turned and walked into the kitchen where her husband was digging around in the pantry. “They’re going to get married. I’m calling it now.”

“Gwen, you can’t be serious. You haven’t even spoken to the girl.” He turned to look at her before glancing through the doorway to see the girl in question gathering her things.

“A mother knows.” She patted his chest and gave him the look. The look that said you-know-I’m-right.

Gareth walked with you out the door and to your car. “I’ll see you on Monday. Be careful.” He opened your door for you and watched you get in.

“If I wreck going three houses down the street, I probably don’t need a license.” You joked as you looked up at him, taking in the way the moonlight bounced off of the high points of his face.

“Be careful.” His tone was a bit more authoritative than before, making your insides turn.

“I will be.” You promised before smirking. “Do you want me to call you when I get there so you know I got in okay?” You teased lightly, making him roll his eyes.

“Just for that, I sure do. If my phone’s not ringing in 5 minutes I’m coming down there.” He was smiling, laughing at the way you scrunched up your nose at him before sticking your tongue out.

“Maybe I won’t call then.”

“Are you testing me?”

“I guess you’ll find out.”

“I guess I will.” He winked and closed the door to your car before walking towards the door. He stood there, watching you back out of the driveway thinking about how easy it was with you. It was easy to be himself. He finally went inside to wait for your call.

[philosophywizzard]

Okay. Snape as a roller-skating breakfast server. I THINK that this would be funny to imagine

|

"Flapjacks & Flashbacks" - a retro-themed breakfast diner. Snape, sporting a bright yellow apron with "Flapjacks & Flashbacks" emblazoned on it, short shorts that are way too short, a teal polo shirt, and roller skates, was meticulously counting a stack of pounds. He was also rocking surprisingly stylish half-up space buns (let me cook).

Snape rolled around, avoiding customers with ease, counting his money with a thumb. He muttered to himself, "Finally...a decent tip. These Muggles...customers…aren't entirely devoid of generosity. Perhaps this shift won't be a complete waste of time after all."

The bell above the front door jingled, and in strolled the Marauders. Some were hangry (cough Remus cough COUGH Sirius cough), others were aching for sugar. Lots of it. Kilos of it. Some were also very observant, so when Snape rolled by, an eyebrow was immediately raised.

James's jaw dropped.

Then, he suddenly remembered the punch Severus gave him just months ago and how long it took to regain his senses. He snapped it closed, but didn't refrain from leaning sideways to whisper to Sirius. "Padfoot," James hissed, smacking the boy's thigh urgently.

"PADF-"

"Oh my God, what?" Sirius groaned, smacking James back harder.

James pouted, rubbing his thigh, and then nodded to Snape. "Doesn't that server look familiar to you?"

Sirius blinked owlishly before twisting his head around like someone trying to spot air molecules. "Is it Marlene? I told her I was vacationing in Canada-"

"No, Mr. Worldwide player. That one over there wearing the shorts." James face-palmed.

"James," Remus sighed, lifting his hand to slide it over his sweaty face, cringing at the dew. "Eugh. Ahem, James, nearly every worker here wears shorts."

James made an 'o' shape with his mouth before shaking his head and pointing aggressively. "Dark hair, pale skin, no waist."

"WHERE?!" Sirius gasped, finally spotting who James was gesturing at. The first thing he looked at? "Nice ass," he nodded, a proud smile on his face. James side-eyed him. "That's a dude."

"Nice ass."

"It's Snivellus."

"Nice - WHAT?'"

So, that took him about a minute to realize. "No way. Moony, pinch me, now. Or better, kiss me, we haven't done that in a while."

Remus tried to maintain composure, but a smile was playing on his lips. "…I wish I had a camera on me."

Peter looked Snape up and down, pondered, looked him up and down again, then physically recoiled. "He looks odd,"

"Is this where he's been? I mean, he left the school early to help his dad with something...I guess that meant earning money," James recounted as he rubbed the back of his neck. Then he began to beam. "Could never be me-" "James." Remus scolded.

Snape, hearing his name, froze. He slowly turned (cue door creaking sound) around, his smile vanishing, to see the four figures standing there. His face must've gone through about five different shades of red in the space of two seconds. Who wouldn't be embarrassed?

With a strained voice, he welcomed the boys while stuffing the cash into his front apron pocket. "Welcome to Flapjacks & Flashbacks. Table for four?"

Oh, that was the funniest thing of the century, actually.

James barely contained his laughter and answered with a wavering voice. "Uh, yeah. We'll SNORT take a booth - eheh- And…uh-HA - ahem… could we get some extra syrup? And maybe…a side of…" he looked at Snape's outfit. Good God. "Surprise?"

Sirius turned around to face the door, his shoulders shaking with every quiet wheeze he released, earning a firm smack on the back of his head from Remus, who was being a complete hypocrite. He found it hilarious..

Snape's eyes narrowed, and he personally wanted the God of the Dead to take their souls, but broke people don't have such luxury. "The "surprise" is whatever the chef feels like creating. But mkay."

And so, he glided (slightly unsteadily) over to a booth, grabbed four menus, and threw them down on the table. He then skated back to the counter, muttering under his breath.

I'd rather be sniffing toxic fumes right now. I swear to God, I'm going to rip these shit-buns off my head. Where's my wand? WHERE is my wand? Why didn't I bring it with me-

He grabbed a notepad and pen, his hand shaking slightly. He skated back to the booth, trying to project an air of nonchalance that he absolutely didn't feel.

Snape had to force a smile. It physically hurt to do. "Alright, what can I get for you…" pocket lint eaters "gentlemen?"

Sirius, ever the generous client, leaned back in his seat beside Remus, ready to order. "Well, Severus or should I say…Sunshine?" Definitely not aimed at the name tag or anything. "I think I'll have the "Marauder's Special." Extra bacon, extra sausages, extra everything. And...could you maybe add a little potion to it? Just to give it a little kick?"

Remus elbowed Sirius in the ribs.

He apologetically nodded at Snape. "He means ketchup. Lots of ketchup with the "Sunny's Special"."

Snape gritted his teeth, held back a retort, and cleared his throat. "Of course. Ketchup."

He scribbled down the order, his pen nearly snapping in his hand.

James gave Snape a Cheshire cat smirk before pointing lazily at the top of the menu without glancing down at what he was motioning to. "And I'll have the "Lily's Delight." Extra whipped cream and a cherry on toP." He requested, popping his 'p' with audacity.

That wasn't even what the ice cream was called. It was "Barny's Summer Day". Arse.

Peter didn't like the idea of getting on Snape's nerves at the moment. He sank further in his seat until only the top part of his face showed. "I'll just have the…uh…the toast."

That didn't work to soothe a thing. Snape snapped his notepad shut, his gaze blazing. "Excellent. Toast. And…delights.

He skated back to the kitchen, leaving the Marauders in a fit of laughter. As he pushed through the swinging doors, he could be heard yelling:

KITCHEN! I NEED FOUR "FLAPJACKS OF DOOM" AND A PLATE OF…FUCKING TOAST! AND SOMEONE HIDE THESE SHORTS AND GIVE ME PANTS BEFORE I BURN THEM!

The Marauders erupted in even louder laughter.

[utilitycaster]

I listened to the WBN Fireside on my way to work and there were two things Brennan said, one of which stood out to me as something I really agree with and one of which I really disagree with so I figured I'd make this post (the disagreement one) first and then the agreement one.

The latest episode of WBN had a scene that the characters were not present for nor viewing in any way. It was recorded without their knowledge, though they did listen to it when the episode came out, and on the Fireside Brennan said that such scenes should be used quite sparingly, given the nature of actual play, but (and I apologize, I haven't relistened and the transcripts aren't out) because the antagonists aren't present where the PCs are, it's useful at times to have a scene to keep them in the narrative for the audience.

I firmly disagree. I think that while it's true that actual play has a limited POV (if the characters don't see it, you don't see it), I have, in a lot of actual play fandom, never once seen a situation when it added to the story. Granted, WBN is ongoing, so I may eat my words here, but I am doubtful for a number of reasons.

Speaking as one small fraction of the audience, I am in possession of narrative object permanence. I do not in fact assume that when the PCs are in one part of the world, the rest of it grinds to a halt. In fact, something that skilled GMs do (including, frankly, Brennan himself most of the time) is quietly advance the plans of people who are offscreen. This is also not abnormal for the genre. Lord of the Rings has multiple POVs at different times, but never that of an antagonist; we learn of this through rumors, espionage, and Gandalf's retellings. Sprawling epics like A Song of Ice and Fire or the Stormlight Archives or the Wheel of Time make use of a wide range of third person limited viewpoints as well, not all aligned, but we don't see every move by every faction (and frankly, as a fan of that kind of book...I still think most of them could leave a bit more on the cutting room floor). Limited third person POV is not a weakness of Actual Play; I'd argue it is both a strength and a requirement. The story is driven by the player characters, and they cannot act on something they do not see.*

I'd also add that in this very specific situation, the audience saw the subject of the cutscene, The Man in Black, literally three episodes ago, which was a day ago in-game. He was brought up extensively in the discussion two episodes ago. If someone forgot? That's on them. We have not gone months and months without him making an appearance. I do think it's possible for villains to be poorly developed because they do not cross the paths of the characters enough (this is, as many of the people reading this likely know, a blog that loves to dunk on the cardboard-like nature of Otohan Thull's virtually nonexistent personality and motivations) but The Man in Black is sufficiently a banger of an antagonist as to not be so easily forgotten.

Finally, and this might just be me, but because I know how Actual Play and D&D work, I must admit the second I realized this was a no-PC cut scene I found it pretty hard to pay attention. In fact, it did the opposite of what was intended. Instead of eagerly awaiting news of how The Man in Black was waging war, filtered through whatever information Suvi, Eursulon, and Ame could obtain, I was zoning out while he talked. I think part of why I like Actual Play is that it usually leaves me, even with 4 hour episodes, wanting more. Cut scenes leave me wishing the cut scene hadn't happened.

*brief tangent: this doesn't, in my opinion, apply to the scenes in Downfall that the viewer sees but which weren't captured in the Occultus Thalamus. The story of Downfall is ultimately a story about the gods - they are the PCs - and the dramatic irony enhances the story-within-a-story aspect. It's important to the audience understanding of the gods to see the whole thing, and it's a valid choice that Bells Hells only see what occurred while the avatars were physically in Aeor. It does, however, apply to contemporaneous happenings in Worlds Beyond Number.

**This also doesn't apply to long DM monologues in the presence of players. The C3 solstice scene has been compared to a cut scene, but actually it's important that Bells Hells sees it. If one of the Wizard, Witch, or Wild One had managed to find a way to, even at a low level, scry or similarly learn of the Man in Black's doings? I wouldn't have minded it. I adore the Hakea vision scene. It's specifically that I'm in fact here to see what the characters see.

[flieslikeamoron]

Hi! For the first sentence game:

"You want to try that again?" he asks.

Sorry this took a while, but it turned into a whole thing. This is like 2.5K. Not really explicit, but there are some boners and stuff of that nature.

---

“You want to try that again?” he asks.

“I don’t need your pity,” Steve says sourly. “I’ll take my stupid three.”

“It’s not pity.” Eddie laughs and waves a hand, generous as a king. “You have advantage.” 

“You get to roll twice,” Dustin says. “And take the highest.”

“I know what advantage is, dipshit.” Steve rolls his eyes as the number comes up.  “A whole seven.” He makes a whoop-di-doo motion with his finger.

“Your persuasion check fails.” Eddie leans forward threateningly over the screen in front of him. “The guard rings the alarm bell.” A chorus of groans rise around the table. Eddie grins, shifting into the growling scream of a wrestling announcer. “Rrrrolll for initiative.”

___

Steve comes out of the kitchen with a garbage bag in his hand after the kids have all gone. The little shits leave a disaster area of junk everywhere they go: half eaten pizza crusts, scribbled notes, mysterious piles of crumbs that don’t look like anything Eddie actually saw them eat. Steve reaches across the table to pick up a paper plate. He ditched his sweater halfway through the game, a bit of chest hair peeking out of the V of his polo. Eddie blinks and looks away. He sweeps all the miniatures off the table into his old ammo box with a clatter. 

Steve sets the garbage bag down and snatches the box from Eddie’s hand. He glares at Eddie and starts organizing the haphazard jumble. “Come on, man. There’s a system.”

“I have my own system. It’s called not having OCD.”

“It’s called not being able to find the ones you need next week.”

“What are you, alphabetizing them?”

“Like I know their names,” Steve scoffs, holding up a furry, long-fanged monster. 

“Bugbear,” Eddie says.

“Nerd,” Steve says fondly. Like he didn’t spend four hours at the table tonight. Lately Steve has become, if not a weekly player, at least a recurring guest star. He likes to gripe and act like it’s such a chore. Like he’s doing Dustin a favor. Or humoring Eddie. Being supportive of his nerdy-ass hobbies. Giving up his oh so busy Friday night.

Eddie knows better. If he really hated it, he wouldn’t play. If he really hated it, he wouldn’t keep his character sheet updated. Wouldn’t cover the back with careful notes of the names of each NPC the party meets, bits of lore. 

No, Eddie is onto him. Steve gets pushy about his XP in that competitive jock way he has about him. Just as excited about beating one of Eddie’s traps or monsters as the kids. That lit up glint in his eye every time he reminds Eddie he’s immune to charm or poison, like he’s getting one over on him. He’s having fun. And Eddie-

Well.

Eddie came to terms with the fact that he’s horny for his straight roommate long ago. That maybe he even has a fucked up little crush on the guy. But the really fucked up thing is Steve spends a pretty significant amount of time sweaty and shirtless around Eddie, and watching him total up his damage, not forgetting to add his bonuses, is somehow hotter. 

Steve glances up from the minis. Whatever’s on Eddie’s face must be a doozy because his eyebrows knit together briefly. But then he smiles. God. The way a smile looks on him. He starts talking about the stat boost he’s going to get when he levels up. He talks about it like he’s been borrowing Eddie’s Player’s Manual on the sly. Hair drooping down over his forehead and that smile on his face and that polo tight against his chest. Eddie wants to jump his bones so bad, it feels like someone punching him in the dick. But in a good way.

“I could put it into strength or charisma,” Steve is saying. “I was thinking charisma, so I could get that plus two.”

“That’d almost catch you up to real life.”

“You think I have a plus three to charisma?” Steve cocks his head, half smiling, half curious. Like he’s trying to figure out if that was a joke or an actual compliment. This is where things get dangerous. Being around him makes Eddie feel almost feverish: too hot, fuzzy headed, all wound up with wanting shit he can’t have. And he’s around him all the time. 

The problem with Steve is he doesn’t act like any straight guy Eddie’s ever known. Most straight guys treat Eddie kind of like he’s contagious. Not making a big deal, just… Leaving space. It’s fine that you’re gay, but don’t touch me. It’s fine, but don’t put it in my face. Don’t make it too real. It’s fine, but- It’s the kind of thing that makes Eddie want to push. Get up in a guy’s space, press right against that uncomfortable but. It’s almost a game. Pretty dangerous game, he knows that. Poking at the violence most guys have in them. But Eddie likes the fuck you of it, the little bit of fear in that step they take back when he gets too close. 

Steve though- Steve doesn’t back down from anything. Not monsters, not an argument, not even a guy hitting on him. No matter how hard Eddie pushes, he hasn’t found anything that can make Steve blink, take a step back. When Eddie leans into his space, expecting him to flinch, he just slings an arm around Eddie to pull him in even closer. If he touches Steve, Steve touches him back. And Eddie can say the most insane shit. Flirty shit, blatant shit. Steve just plays along. Like it’s all good fun. 

Is it really Eddie’s fault if he forgets himself sometimes? Starts running his mouth way too close to the truth? What is Eddie supposed to do when Steve takes all Eddie’s big boys and sweethearts with a pleased smile? What is Eddie supposed to do with the way Steve sprawls out on the couch after a date? Lays his head in Eddie’s lap and plays with Eddie’s rings while he talks about whether this girl gave good head or why he doesn’t think that girl will work out. 

This is the kind of shit he’s dealing with, okay? Just the other day Steve came out of the bathroom, nothing but a towel around his waist. And Eddie leaned in to smell him. Look, he’s very aware of how weird that was. But he’d been half asleep, and he’d just- He hadn’t been thinking. It happens kind of a lot with Eddie, actually. He doesn’t think. Maybe that’s why Steve didn’t step back, or give him a well deserved push. Didn’t even look at him funny for doing something objectively weird. Objectively fucked up. He laughed and yanked Eddie in until his nose was squashed into the warm curve of Steve’s armpit. Steve’s hand wide on the back of Eddie’s head as he pushed Eddie’s face in there, tight. 

“Take a big whiff,” he said, like he didn’t care that Eddie was pressed up against his bare skin, body to body with Eddie’s hand curving around his waist, brushing against his back. Like he didn’t care that Eddie’s hard dick was obvious against his thigh. 

When he let Eddie go, his gaze flicked down to Eddie’s boner. Just as obvious. Making sure Eddie knew he’d noticed it. A teasing lilt to his voice as he said, “Bathroom’s all yours.” Practically inviting Eddie to jerk off. Practically inviting Eddie to think about him while he did it. And Eddie did. Not for the first time, or the last. 

What is he supposed to do with any of that except want Steve even more? Sometimes he wishes Steve was just a little less- Cool with it. Not that he wants Steve to look at him with that “It’s fine, but-” on his face. It would be easier though, in a way. If Steve didn’t let him get so close. Didn’t let him press his grubby face up against the glass, so close to what he wants it’s hard to remember he can’t have it. 

Steve turns to Eddie with his fist propped under his chin. “Tell me about my charms,” he says. “What is it about me exactly that makes me so damn charismatic?” Voice playful, flirty. Dangerous. 

If there’s one thing Eddie knows how to do, it’s bluff. Hey, just joking. You can take a joke, right? “That face, mostly,” he says, putting a palm right into it, pushing Steve away with his cheek turned. Steve lets Eddie move him with an easy laugh. “And your modesty, obviously.”

“Fuck off,” Steve says, still laughing. He moves farther down the table to dump another plate in the garbage bag. He reaches over to gather up a few dice, pausing over the blue one he used during the game. He holds it up, turning it between his thumb and forefinger. He looks over at Eddie, his dark eyes catching Eddie’s. Catching Eddie staring. Eddie quickly busies himself with rolling up his battle map. 

“I don’t think I had a single roll over ten all night.” Steve gives the die a toss down the length of the table, flailing a hand as it comes up a four. “I think it’s weighted.” 

Eddie snorts. “It isn’t.”

“You gave me a weighted die. You’re a goddamn cheater.” He hides a grin behind the accusation, but Eddie plays along as if he’s serious. Who’s Eddie kidding? Half the fights they’ve had, Eddie picked on purpose just because it was fun. Riling each other up for the hell of it.  

“I’m not,” he says. “I’ll prove it.” He plucks the die off the table and shakes it in his hand. “If I roll above a ten, you have to clean up this mess.”

Steve glares, flapping the garbage bag in his hands around in front of him like a matador cape. Annoyance is his second hottest look, in Eddie’s expert opinion. Indignant color on his cheeks, eyes bright. Eddie wants to bite the petulance on his lip. “I’m already cleaning it up.”

“Yeah, but I’m helping you,” Eddie says. “You have to do it by yourself if I win.”

“Doesn’t sound like I have much to lose.”

“Shut up, I’m helping.” Eddie performatively drops a plastic cup in Steve’s bag with a bow.

“That cup wasn’t empty,” Steve huffs. “How many times do I have to tell you to dump it in the sink first. Now it’s going to leak probably and I’ll have to…” Eddie tunes the rest out. Steve’s right, he has heard it before. He rolls the die down the table with a flourish, holding up a finger in Steve’s direction like “wait a sec” and watching as it lands on a fifteen.

“Not a cheater,” he said triumphantly. “And not helping anymore.”

“One good roll doesn’t prove if it’s weighted or not. It’s about the patterns.” Steve rolls again. A two. He motions to it with attitude in the sweep of his hand.

“Fine,” Eddie says. “I’ll go again. How about I roll above a ten two more times, or hey, let’s make it three, if you really want a pattern. If I win, you have to do my laundry.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Like you’ll follow through if I win.” 

Eddie places a dramatic hand on his heart, his voice going shocked. “You’ve besmirched my honor.” 

Steve breaks, a laugh cutting through his frown. He gives Eddie a skeptical “go ahead then” tilt of his chin. Eddie rolls. An eleven. He walks backward from one end of the table to the other, to pick up the die where it landed. Makes sure to bump into Steve as he passes. “Pardon me, big boy,” he says sweetly. Steve pushes him into a stumble, but he turns sharply like a flamenco dancer. Arm coming up above his head as he slings the die back down the table. Seventeen. A shit eating grin. Another walk down to the end of the table. Another bump. He can feel the daggers Steve is glaring at him itching hot between his shoulder blades. He tosses the last roll over his shoulder without looking. 

“Blow me,” Steve mutters. Eddie turns to see the thirteen on the die. Steve’s delicious, disgruntled face. Grumpy is such a good look on him.

“If you roll under a ten again, I will.” 

Steve’s eyebrows rise. 

Jesus Christ, Eddie needs to wire his goddamn jaw shut. Steve hesitates on the edge of a laugh. It was a joke. Obviously. Whether it started out there or not, Eddie will make it a joke. But there’s something about the way Steve is caught on the edge of not sure if Eddie was kidding.

Eddie can’t resist a little push. He flashes his teeth. “Scared of a blowjob?”

“You’re serious?” Steve says cautiously.

“Why not?” Eddie shrugs. “It’s just sucking dick. I like dick.”

“Yeah…” Steve says. “But it’s… My dick.” 

Like Eddie hasn’t lovingly built a shrine to Steve’s dick in his mind. Like he doesn’t prostrate himself before it basically every time he jerks off. Eddie’s hard as shit right now, his whole body tight with wanting, his blood fizzing, just because Steve hasn’t shut him down yet. Can’t he feel how desperate Eddie is for him? It feels like it’s pouring off him in waves, like ripples of heat off asphalt in the summer. 

“Or it’s your mouth.” Eddie’s smile goes sharp. Just a little push. “If you lose.” 

Steve flushes, his eyes huge. “You would want that?” 

Jesus. Why hasn’t Steve shut him down? Why is he still playing along? It isn’t too late. Eddie can still play it off as a joke. But the way Steve’s looking at him- Steve doesn’t back down. Not from monsters, not from a dare. Would he really… Maybe he would actually let Eddie do it. “And then what?” the small rational part of him that tries to keep him from fucking himself over asks. He pays just as much attention to it now as he ever does.

“I’ll make it easy on you,” Eddie says. “You roll low, just like you have every roll tonight. You can have advantage, even. Triple advantage. Three chances. Get one roll ten or lower. I’ll give you the best blowjob you’ve ever had.” It’s not so much a bet anymore, as an offer. Eddie begging behind the thinnest pretense. Please, please let me suck your dick.

Steve still hasn’t said no. He stands there with the die in his hand instead of telling Eddie to fuck off. Looking at Eddie so close, this heavy, searching gaze that makes Eddie feel like he’s one snarled knot of heat from his throat to his balls. Steve notices Eddie’s hard-on, that heavy gaze lingering for a long second. He’s still looking at Eddie as he throws the die. Eddie can’t quite bring himself to look away, listening to the rattle of it until it stops. 

Eddie has to look. Has to know. 

A nineteen. 

Fuck. He looks back at Steve. “You want to try that again?”

Steve is bright red as he shakes his head no, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. There’s no hesitation in him now. He keeps his eyes on Eddie, as he sinks down to his knees. 

---

These have been helping me get back into a writing habit, so I’ll keep it open if anyone else wants to play. The original rules of the game are you leave an ask with the first sentence of a fic, and I’ll write the next five sentences. But the rules I made up are I just write as much as I want. Five sentences minimum though.