#HUH HOW DARE IGNORE SCIENcE??

[sharkxteeth]

Granny squares will forever be a form of witchcraft to me as someone who does mostly amigarumi and small clothing items.

[earako]

A/N: idea from @goodtimeswithluigi thanks for the flangst fuel ^^

-/-

The thing that sucked about having memories erased and then coming back is that only some of them decided to be polite and slowly trickle in. Waddles, the kids, those memories poured in like the gentle trickle of water from a watering can. More immediate memories like Soos and Wendy slowly flowed in and filled the small pond in Stan's mind that was probably labelled 'family-' not that he'd ever admit it outloud.

Then there were the older memories. The ones that made it feel like Stan had just rammed his head in a brick wall for hours on end. Older memories usually. Stuff like high school, Glass Shard Beach, Ma's perfume, and Pa's suffocating cologne that even the memory of made Stan's head hurt.

Then...then there were the memories that made Stan want to curl up in bed all day. Those...those were usually memories of his grifter days. Or the science fair incident. The combination of having to live through the worst moments of his life, feeling all the hurt and pain and heartache and having to go through the emotional rollercoaster that was his late teens to early 30s over and over and over again. The late nights, the portal, the journals, slapping on a fake smile as Stanlely desperately tried to keep a con going long enough to pay off the house and loans because he'd be damned if his brother didn't have a house to come back to.

This morning was a memories that made Stan want to rot in bed kind of day.

His oh so wonderful brain decided to wake Stan up with the phantom feeling of gaping wounds where wings were supposed to be.

And here Stan had thought he was just born without them. An anomoly type thing, like his brothers fingers.

The searing phantom pain in his back said otherwise.

Stan tried to ignore it. Bit the pillow and tried to will himself back to sleep.

The pain pulsed again.

Stan huffed an irritated sigh and slowly pushed himself up, rolling onto his side with some difficulty and managing to sit up.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow," Stan hissed to himself as he slowly got to his feet. "Sweet Moses, phantom pains a bitch," he murmered, slowly making his way downstairs to either the kitchen or the living room. He'd decide later whether the phantom pain required a t.v distraction or a food distraction.

"Stanley?"

"Ford?" Huh. Guess tonight was gonna be a brother distraction. Stanley ambled his way over to where Ford was hunched over the kitchen table, a mug gripped tightly in his hands.

Stan's back twinged again. He tried to hide it, grit his teeth, hid the pained gasp with a groan as he sat. Ford raised an eyebrow.

"And you're up because?"

"Hey, back at ya, Si- Poindexter," Stan replied, taking mind to avoid using the name the isoceles bastard had tainted- and how dare he, how DARE he! That was Stan's name first, that was the name Stan gave his brother to keep away the bullies and the bad thoughts that thought having one extra finger made someone an unlovable freak- if Stan had another chance to deck the discount dorito he'd do it in a heartbeat.

"You first," Ford grumbled, sipping what better not be coffee cause the last thing Ford needed on top of the stress of everything was more caffiene. Stanely narrowed his eyes at his twin.

"I asked first."

"Respect your elders."

"By fifteen minutes-ack!" Where Stan had been aiming for playful banter, his back decided now would be a good time to remember having muscle and sinew twisted, ripped, cut, then for the hell of it, tied into various knots. All while past Stan's screams were ringing into current Stan's ears.

A chair scraped, a cup clattered onto the table. Six fingered hands settled themselves on Stan's shoulder and were he caught up any further in the flashback Stan would have pushed the hands away.

Thankfully his phantom pain addled brain was in the present enough to recognize the six fingered hand was his brother and brother meant safe.

Stan violently squashed down the part of him that remembered holding up a hand for a high six only to get the curtains closed on him.

"Stan? Stanley?"

"Phantom pains a bitch," Stan mumbled, breath hitching and stifling down another pained groan. Without needing to be asked, cautious hands slowly made their way to where the base of where Stan's wings used to be and pressed down a bit. Stan shuddered.

"Hurts?"

"God no, do that again," Stan sighed as his twin began to chase away the pain and exhaustion radiating out of his back with nimble fingers. He hissed a few times.

Silence. Fabric rustling as Ford rubbed firm circles on Stan's back.

Ticking of the grandfather clock.

The sink dripping, Soos said he's fix it tomorrow.

Stan's exhales as Ford worked the tension out of his muscles.

It would've been nice, plesant even if it weren't for the worry nibbling at the corner of Stan's mind.

Ford was going to ask, wasn't he.

He was going to ask about the wings, moreso Stan's lack of wings, and then Stan was going to have to remember that memory and the spots where his wings seemed to be just would not stop throbbing! Ford's fingers were doing a good job of easing some of the pain the scars still screamed.

"Hey...Stan..." his twin began. Stan internally braced himself. He didn't want to talk about it but if Ford asked...

"Yeah?

"Ah, it's...nothing. I forgot what I was going to say."

Ford was always a shit liar.

And with the silence that followed Stan almost wished his twin had just asked instead of trying to spare his feelings.

-/-

""Ah, it's...nothing. I forgot what I was going to say." Ford clumsily lied, returning his focus to easing some of his twins pain.

He managed to distrsct himself for 5 seconds before his brain finally latched onto the issue bothering him.

His brother didn't have wings.

Ford's brother didn't.

Have.

Wings.

Now, that wasn't to say that being wingless never happened. Similar to his own polydactyly, some people just weren't born with wings.

Stan wasn't one of those people.

Ford remembered feathers brushing up against his own, large, proud wings curled protectively around him as Stanley told Crampelter and his gang to go suck an egg.

He remembered gentle hands going through his feathers, fixing them up and getting rid of old ones.

Ford remembered flapping his wings happily then instructing his twin to turn around, it was Stan's turn for preening.

Ford remembered how big Stanley's wings would puff up when he was angry or defending Ford from bullies.

And Ford remembered Stan's wings wrapping around himself whenever he accidentally caught their father on a bad day.

Stanley had wings, Ford knew Stanley had wings.

When Stanley was kicked out left he still had his his wings, Ford remembered them shaking, then drooping, and then puffing up again in hurt and anger.

And now Stan's wings were gone. He didn't have them anymore.

At first Ford had thought Stan was hiding them, similar to what Ford did with his own wings. He had thought his twin was just keeping his wings tucked away and safe beneath his clothes.

Then the fearymid happened.

And the clothing switch.

If Stan still had his wings Ford should've still been able to see them in his periphery when he reached behind his back to hand Stan his sweater, coat, and gloves. But he didn't.

And Ford had hoped that it was just because his brother was keeping his wings tucked close to him. He hoped he just couldn't see his brothers wings and tried to ignore the persistent voice asking what if Stan didn't have wings anymore? What if something happened to him?

Stan should have been fine, he was the personality, the free spirit.

Stan was supposed to be fine.

He wasn't.

And when Ford had switched clothes back with his now empty of all memories twin he was met with a cold, painful truth he could no longer deny.

Stan no longer had wings.

Ford's baby brother, his younger twin, had no wings.

Long, angry, jagged scars were all that was left of where large, dark brown, thick feathered wings should have been.

Someone or something had taken his brothers wings. And with how the skin looked Ford could only assume whoever or whatever had taken Stanley's wings yanked them out the same way a person would pull out a weed from a garden.

Where he was rubbing circles on Stan's back told an even more horrific story, one that made bile rise up in his throat and forcing Ford to swallow harshly so it wouldn't come out.

He truly did not like the story the raised ridges and bumped on his brothers skin told.

"Ford, ForFordFord ease up!" Stan yelped, squirming under Ford's hands.

"Sorry! Sorry," Ford said, taking his hands off Stan's back as if he had burned him (and he tried not to think of the brand just behind Stanley's right shoulder-)

"I didn't say stop, just ease up," Stan grumbled with no real heat or annoyance. Ford flexed his fingers, tried to ignore the feeling of old nerves and muscle knotted like string, and returned to easing up his twins phantom pain.

He had to ask.

He needed to ask.

But he didn't know how and the silence that started out comfortable was turning oppressive and it would just be awkward at this point, what with Ford starting to say something and then saying he forgot.

Stan wasn't buying it. Out of the two of them Ford never got the hang of lying, at least not as well as Stan.

The questions sat in his throat, but Stan was so vulnerable with Ford at the moment, showing more trust in him now then he in the past weeks since Ford came back. Even while temporarily amnesic Stan was still fairly closed off and guarded, the fact that he hadn't told Ford to leave, that he was even letting Ford try and help with his pain?

Stan was like a wild animal when it came to his pain. He hated showing weakness, even to his own family and it only got worse as they grew older. Ford didn't want to break the delicate trust being placed in him at the moment by asking a boneheaded question or saying something that Stan would take the wrong way and causing him to march back upstairs, phantom pain be damned.

"Ford, I know you want to ask already so just say it." Ford jolted, hands momentarily stopping their movement. Stan leaned back, silently begging Ford to continue.

How much pain was Ford's twin in for him to be actively seeking out help? Stan hated asking for help.

He continued rubbing his twin's back when he felt Stan press up against his hand a second time.

"...How long?"

"You wanna be more specific?"

"I- when you- 30 years ago I thought you were just. Hiding them. Like I was." Stan's shoulders quaked with a low, humourless sounding chuckle.

"Nah, old things were gone long before that, si- poindexter." It was Ford's turn to wince.

That was always Stan's name for him. That name, only Stan was supposed to call him that yet Bill had to go and taint it and he didn't even come up with that nickname to begin with how dare he-

"You stopped again." Stan commented. Ford apologized but Stan just shrugged it off.

"S'fine now." Stan leaned away from Ford's hand's, rolled his shoulder's, then started back towards the stairs,

"Wait," Ford called, quickly grabbing Stan's wrist to stop him. His twin turned around and raised a brow in question.

"Are-whoever- you'd tell me if they were still alive, right?" Ford asked, the hand not holding Stan's wrist hovering over where wings used to be, where strong roots for strong wings were now just planes of ugly, angry, broken and mutilated skin.

Ford had never felt so angry in his life when he saw those scars. Not even with his perpetual motion machine broke.

"Even if they were, they're good at hiding."

"I'm good at seeking."

"Ford, drop it." The command lilted upwards at the end, sounding more like a question instead.

"Stanley. Your wings."

"Ack, they've been gone for more then 40 years now, what can ya do."

"Help with phantom pains apparently, and you will let me help you with in the future." When Stan opened his mouth to protest Ford added, "Either you let me help you with your phantom pains or I dig into your past, find everyone who had ever hurt you, and interrogate them until one of them confesses to taking your wings."

Stan stared at Ford for a solid three seconds before answering. "Jesus, okay, okay, I'll let you know when the phantom pain acts up again."

"I will know if you're hiding it."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Ford." Stan turned around again and went to head up the stairs but paused at the base of the steps for a moment.

"Hey uh..thanks, by the way. Not just for the back rub but for the uh. Memories and stuff, ya'know."

"You're stuck with me, knucklehead," Ford said, stepping closer to his twin and lightly tapping a fist against the younger mans shoulder. "If you get to spend 30 years bringing my stubborn ass back from various different dimensions I get to spend the next 30 years fussing over you."

"You can barely look after yourself."

"I'll learn." He opened his fist and squeezed Stan's shoulder, hoping it would convey what he didn't know how to say in words. Silent I love you's, thank you for not giving up on me, thank you for trusting me, and thank you for not giving up on me, he hoped that Stan got the message because if Ford even tried to say any of that at the moment he'd end up fumbling or choking in his words.

Stan reached up and squeezed Ford's hand back, understanding shining in his eyes.

His brother didn't have wings, and Ford could try to blame himself all he wanted to.

Guilt wouldn't bring Stan's wings back, feeling sorry for Stan wouldn't bring his wings back.

But Stan didn't seem to blame Ford so Ford wouldn't blame himself.

Stan trusted Ford with his pain. Ford would do his best to make sure his twins trust isn't misplaced.

They'd be okay.

[anarchistettin]

"how dare these deplorables find fault with our constant lying and failure, at this critical time in history"

"mm black people are actually a russian psyop, the rest of these leftists are trust fund kids"

"remember this is literally propaganda by foreign powers to get you to let an evil white man be president, a guy who ignored science and caused lots of people to get attacked"

the dem strategy for dealing with trump seems …off, if 'winning' something is the real goal

but I feel like it's actually just about fundraising, which went super well when trump was in office, so maybe, it's possible, that it isn't the minuscule american left who wants trump in office. maaaaaybe it's not an accident that dems made such a strong show of handling everything repubs couldn't get done: strike breaking, using covid for eugenics, funneling 350+billions into the police, strengthening "homeland security".

Whipping up liberals as a defense against antifascist movements wasn't something repubs were ever going to accomplish. I guess it served them really well to have a biden interim, huh?

[roninreverie]

Raph's Paper Powers:

I had this idea like a year ago and am never going to get around to drawing it out properly; plus, seeing yet another review channel doing the Frankenfoot episode has reminded me this has been sitting in my drafts for a lot of months. So ENJOY in the only way I can muster right now!

...

[The boys are standing around, Raph patching up Frankenfoot with the last of the tape. Leo and Mikey are praising his skills. Donnie is in the background, hardly paying attention and texting--probably April.]

Mikey: Wow Raph! You sure have a way with Frankenfoot!

Leo: Yeah. Any other paper ninja would be toast and a half by now, but he still looks great, even after all the sparring and wear n tear he goes through.

Raph: What can I say?  Raph just had the magic touch!

Frankenfoot: Buddy!

*RIP!!!*

Raph: Speaking of… don't worry buddy,  Raph’s got ya covered. 

Leo: Oh, hey, I think there's a spare roll of duct tape in the--

(Magically repairs the tear.) 

Leo (cont.): Whaaaaaa?

Mikey: What the heck was that? 

Donnie: Hold the proverbial phone! Did Raph get a new power? I wasn’t paying attention. I’m taking notes this time. Do it again! Do you need me to cause an accident to do it again?

(Buzzsaw comes out, goggles go down, and notepad is opened.) 

Raph: No! What? This? Nah. Buddy just gets tape-heavy after a while and needs a paper-refresh.

Leo: He said as if that’s just something NORMAL to do with his BARE hands!

Mikey: Ohmigosh! Raph! You totally have Origami ninja powers just like the Foot Clan! What’s next? A flaming head?

Leo: Never really saw our Raphy as the hotheaded sort, but-- 

Raph: Huh? Nah… listen guys! This is just buddy's own paper-magic mojo and the healing powers of friendship at work! Nothing Foot Clan about it! 

Leo: What? No way! 

Donnie: Emotional nonsense aside, this ability explains everything and yet nothing! But why manifest now? How? Hmmm?

Mikey: Admit it! You’ve been holding out on us and getting super secret ex-foot recruit training from Cassandra! No fair!

Raph: Wha---no!!?

Donnie: Aha! Of course! The only logical explanation is that Raph must have absorbed a fraction of the unique mystical ability from ingesting that temporarily sentient salami paper that we confronted on that cargo ship the night we first met the Foot.

Mikey: Raph got a new superpower from eating salami-origami!? Lucky…

Leo: Huh… he “ate” himself a new superpower! GASP! Like Kirby!! 

[Cass walking in overhearing everything, she is here for a sparring session of her own, a gym bag over her shoulder.]

Cass: Raph got a new superpower from eating something!? Well don’t hold out! I want some too! Fork it over!

Raph: Oh, hey Cass. Nah, my brother’s are sayin’ I got Foot Clan paper powers just cause I ate some briefly “ninja-fied” salami a long time ago-- but I’m trying to tell them that ain't it and that they’re jumping to conclusions.

Donnie: HOW DARE YOU SIR! I never jump to conclusions! My theories and hypotheses are always based on facts and science thank you very---oof!

(Cass enters, throwing her heavy bag into Donnie and toppling him over.)

Cass: Yeah, no… All of you have it wrong. Dude… origami manipulation is a sacred ability passed down through generations of worthy Foot Clan warriors. It’s even more rare than the flaming skull and footprint ceremony held with Hatsu the boiling tomato soup cauldron of eternal power. 

Leo: Wait, can we go back to that last par---

Cass (Ignoring Leo): Anyway, after learning that Shredder was your ancestor during the whole "stealing your dad's essence and betraying my clan" situation… I realized that must be why that rogue paper ninja--

Frankenfoot: BUDDIES!

Cass (cont.): --was so drawn to you to begin with.  Based on lineage, you all should have the latent abilities for paper no jutsu. Kind of like how you all have your Ninpo thing. Shredder lost his connection to all that after he became Shredder, cutting off his opportunities at gaining full power but he still could pass along the origami technique used by his clan, which managed to continue to this day like with my old sensei. Raph here is obviously just better at harnessing it than the rest of you. I thought everyone here knew this already? It’s kind of obvious.

Mikey: Uhhhh…. It is?

Raph: Aww, thanks Cass!

Frankenfoot: Buddy! 

Leo: Wait! So does that mean we might also be related to the Foot Brute and/ or Lieutenant?  Man Family get-togethers just keep getting more and more awkward in this house.

Donnie: Not everybody in a clan is related, Nardo--- (under his breath with sinister intent) But yes, we can’t rule out the possibility just yet. We’ll need a blood sample to be sure.

Mikey: Daaaaad! Quick! It’s an emergency! I need all the paper we’ve got in the lair!

Splinter (panicked, off-screen): What!?! Wait! Why?!? 

Donnie (taking notes): This is all incredibly useful information… and coming from Cassandra of all sources. 

Cass: Hey!? (Instant Headlock)

Raph: Huh? An ancient clan power that isn't the same as ninpo. Guess I gotta learn more about origami, huh?

Leo: With those digits?  Pffft! Good luck! 

Raph: *Grumbles*

Frankenfoot: Buddy!

[End on Leo making fun of Raph’s huge hands. Splinter trying to make sure whatever Mikey’s doing doesn’t destroy the lair. Donnie getting beat up by Cassandra. Frankenfoot is just happy to be there. April walking in with pizza like that meme from Community where everything is on fire and chaotic.]

____________________________________________________________

Bonus: Comic draft that never made it out of doodles:

[writingprincessblog]

Hey guys! So, this is the next part of the story "Her Guilty Conscience". I would suggest to read the previous parts before reading this. Also, pls share your opinion about this story. Hope that you all enjoy the story and pls pardon my errors. Happy Reading!

Her Guilty Conscience - Pt 3

The whole hall was filled with grunts and huffs and shouts of instructions. Audrey, drenched in sweat delivered a feeble punch towards her opponent which she easily avoided and instead landed a tough hit to her stomach. Holding her stomach from pain, Audrey motioned a time off as she got off the ring and walked towards her bag while removing her boxing gloves. Joy, her opponent and also her friend followed her.

"What's up with you? You seem distracted."

Audrey sat on the bench and while replied, wiping her sweats , "Nothing. Just thinking about some way to earn money."

Joy plopped herself beside the slouching girl and reached for her own bag.

"What did you think about the idea I gave you? Did you tell Lucas?"

"Rejected it even before I could complete." Audrey, scoffs, " Says that its illegal and won't hear a word against it. He even started giving me a cold shoulder since to stress his point. Well, he is not wrong and moreover I am not even that skilled to take this risk."

Joy laughed, "He has matured over these months, huh? Looking after his elder sister. Well, how about you visit that restaurant? That one whose advertisement we saw. "

"Yes, thats the only option left for me now. Lucas managed to get a part time job as an assistant in a book shop. Its my turn now. I will visit that restaurant tomorrow. I just hope this works.” Packing her bag, she again looked towards Joy with a hesitating eyes and said, "Joy, I have been thinking about something for quite a long time and now I am going to take a big decision......."

"WHAT THE HELL AM I HEARING, AUDREY?"

Lucas barged into the room. Audrey, who was helping Mrs. Thomson in the kitchen flinched and turned towards the fuming boy with a sigh.

"What happened, dear?" inquired the old lady, who was surprised by the outburst of the usually calm boy.

"Its nothing big, aunt-" Audrey began.

"NOTHING BIG?!” Lucas interrupted, glaring at his sister. " Aunt, you won't even believe what she did. Its outrageous. Its not acceptable."

"What is it?" the confused lady asked again, worried from the flickering tension between the siblings.

"She. Dropped. Out. From. Her. College." Lucas said, fuming in anger.

"So what, if I have?" retorted Audrey, ignoring the gasp from Mrs. Thomson. "Look I am older than you. I can well decide what to do and what not to. You better not meddle into my affairs."

Lucas scoffs, "So, after this 'thoughtful' decision, what are you planning to do?" He angrily continued, "Oh, yeah! Join that illegal fight club and then what? Dive into a mafia business? Is this your brilliant plan to earn money, tainting our family’s honour—"

“Don't. You. Dare. Complete. That. Sentence. Lucas Johnson" Audrey roared furiously. Lucas flinched by the sudden shout but held his ground. "I am not that stubborn and narrow minded to ignore your concern and warnings. For your kind information, I have already found a vacancy of a waitress in a restaurant in the other part of the town.I will be going there tomorrow .”

"But dear, isn't the decision of deserting your education too drastic?" Mrs. Thomson asked gently.

"No," Audrey replied with growing impatience. "I’ve thought long and hard about this decision." She looked at Lucas. "Look at you, getting so worked up because I left college, while you—didn’t even tell me you had a study tour and now can’t afford to go, even though you were excited about it months ago. And what about that science program your teacher specifically chose you for?"”

Lucas's anger softened as he slowly understood, "Its different. Those are not that-"

"Important? Oh, save it. I’m your sister and know you better than you think," Audrey said bitterly. "This tour to the research lab would have helped you learn and meet that scientist you’ve always admired. You worry about my education, but do you think I could focus on my studies knowing that the money could help my little brother achieve his dream?”

"Oh, dear, but I heard Michel and Lily taking about you having a dream of being a surgeon." Mrs Thomson intervened.

"Yes, I did say that but.........that was only to get their attention and praise, which were only reserved for their 'perfect' son, not for their daughter who changes her interest every other day. At least, pretending to have a clear aim for a successful profession enabled me to spend time with them, even though I wasn’t interested in those talks about the future. Now, there’s no point in pretending anymore, now that they—now that they—“

Not being able to continue any further, she threw the kitchen towel on the counter and rushed out of the room. Mrs. Thomson and Lucas remained at their places, a brooding silence lingering between them.

Lucas’s anger transformed into sympathy and concern for his sister after their heated exchange. He remembered when his athletic sister suddenly decided to pursue a career as a surgeon. Their parents had been relieved as they gave up hope for her to excel like him. Her smile during discussions about future plans had hidden many emotions he was unaware of. She had endured a lot. Being overshadowed by her brother’s perfectionism and neglected by their parents had driven her to take a drastic decision, forcing herself to love something she had always hated. He had been surprised by her choice but had eventually dismissed it. Now, he felt guilty for not understanding his sister’s struggles. How much had she suffered? How many emotions had she bottled up? He was relieved she made the choice to free herself. Educational pressure is hard enough if you can cope, but it’s even worse if you don’t love what you’re doing. He understands…

He looked at the bed where Audrey lay, or at least pretended to. Her muffled sobs into her pillow were heart-wrenching. His heart ached with each sob. All he wanted was her happiness. Maybe letting her free from this burden was for the best. Their conversation replayed in his mind. She had never used the elder card before. She always treated him as a friend and respected his decisions. This was the first time she asserted her seniority. He glanced out the open window, his eyes growing heavy as sleep eluded him.

"Can we talk?"

Lucas tentatively asked his sister as she served his breakfast. She glanced at him with red puffy eyes and gave a slight nod as she sat across the table.

"Ummm...........sorry for my outburst yesterday. I should have kept in mind that you are elder than me and also know and understand things better than I do. I should n’t have doubted you" He finished and nervously looked at the girl. 

With a deep sigh, she replied,"I am sorry too. I should have informed you earlier before taking this decision."

"No, its ok. I mean, I- " He hesitated. "I thought we shared everything, every secrets, every thoughts?"

"We did. Its just......... Somewhere we just couldn't connect well. I found my comfort in other sports and activities while you were too preoccupied with your studies, exams, exhibitions, olympiads, etc. You did great in all of them, getting prizes here and there. Mom and dad were so proud, so was I. You got the praises and proud looks. And of course who would even glance at the useless girl with no clear future plans, who switches interests day to day?”

"But as time progressed……. I don't know. I kind of craved for their attention suddenly. Remember my first football match? I wanted their presence there but you had to go to that coaching institute. They went with you instead. I don't blame you, its just I.........." She broke off.

Mrs Thomson stumbled into the little kitchen, while coughing. She looked over the table where they two were conversing and reading the serious atmosphere there, she excused herself and walked away.

After sometime, Lucas said, "But - but you hated the idea of being a doctor. You hated the hospital and the stench itself. Why did-"

"Oh! Isn't it obvious? Dad always wanted a surgeon in the family. But you instead opted for research. So, I thought to try it out. At least, he would then fuss about me and try to have those lengthy conversations with me like he had with you."She said, acidly.

Pausing for a moment, she chuckled and said, "You have to admit I succeeded quite a bit. I did get my sweet time with them. But now........I think its better to drop the idea. The ones for whom I initially started are no longer here. So, whats the use? Dropping out from there will save some money. Oh! that reminds me, how much do you need for that tour of yours?" 

Lucas who was staring at his plate, listening to her open up, looked up, "No. I won't be going."

She smiled, "I know how important that trip is and besides, me dropping out of that college will save a lot of money. I can easily afford to send you. Get the necessary information and tell me tonight." 

With that , she stood up and started to walk away when she felt herself being held from behind as soft sobs filled the room.

"Oh my crybaby ! What happened?"

"I am sorry, sis." Lucas chocked between his tears, "I had been so focused on being so perfect that I didn’t even notice you dealing with such problems. I am sorry for doubting you and shouting at you. I promise to be more supportive and understanding."

Audrey turned to face her teary-eyed brother. She gently ruffled his hair and smiled. "It’s not your fault at all. I guess I took the wrong approach to get attention, being too desperate. But I’m really proud to have such a caring and understanding brother."

Lucas managed a shaky smile. "And handsome too," Audrey added with a laugh. "Now, stop crying. You look like a mandrill."

"Audrey!" He whined as he wiped his tears. "Can you stop teasing me for once." After a pause, he spoked again with hopeful eyes , "So, are we okay, now? Lets just promise to share everything with each other instead of keeping mum. Pinky Promise ?” He brought out his little finger.

She laughed and intertwined her own finger with his and said, “Yes, for sure! Now come on, quickly eat your breakfast. You are getting late. Even I have to rush to that restaurant for that job."

With great urgency, Lucas inhaled his breakfast. As picked up his bag, he went over to his sister and gave her a tight hug. 

"All the best! Don't be nervous. You will definitely get that job." He exclaimed, as he ran off down the street.

"Glad that you siblings had patched up" 

Audrey flinched and looked back to see Mrs Thomson standing at the staircase with a tender smile, dancing on her lips. She didn't even notice her coming down.

"Well, we all make mistakes, knowingly and unknowingly. Its just that you should been brave enough to claim it. I am really proud of him. He really grew up."

"That he did. And you too, Audrey. It was really brave and mature of you to take those risky decision. Also, I am really pleased that you both have taken these responsibilities, although you shouldn't-"

"Oh, aunt!" She interrupted "Why shouldn't we take those responsibilities of sustaining this household? You have already done so much for us. Its our turn now. By the way, you should be going to the doctor today. Your coughs are getting worse."

"Yes, yes, I should and I will." She continues, with a playful stern tone "But now, young lady, shouldn't you be running to that restaurant instead of lecturing me?"

"Oh, shoot! I have almost forgotten!"

She dashed into the house, changed her clothes and ran out as the old lady laughed at her antics.

At the dingy eatery in the heart of town, Audrey sat nervously in a small cumbersome office which reeked of cigarettes. A middle-aged woman sat in front of her, scribbling notes, while chewing a gum noisily. The small restaurant, though recently opened, was doing fairly well, attracting a steady flow of customers despite its modest size. The real concern was the area. Audrey had heard numerous disturbing rumours about crimes and other unsavoury activities in the nearby streets. As she looked out at the shabby, dark lanes, those unsettling stories came flooding back. Despite her apprehension, she needed this job desperately. It was only for a month or two, and after that, she planned to leave and start a business of her own with Joy. She was lost in thoughts about her future plans when a sharp voice broke her train of thought.

"So, you a dropout?" the woman asked abruptly, putting away her notes.

"Yes," Audrey replied.

"Then you’ll be working full shifts here?"

"Yes, I’ll do my best."

"Who’s your boss?"

"Sorry?" Audrey asked, confused by the question.

"Aren’t you in a mob?" the woman asked impatiently.

"Umm... no?" Audrey quickly added, "What are you talking about?"

The woman’s expression shifted to one of surprise. She scrutinised Audrey for a moment before asking sharply, "You’re not from around here, are you?"

Audrey hesitated before answering, "No... I live in the outskirts.”

The woman shook her head disapprovingly. Audrey could feel the cold sweat forming on her forehead. Had she said something wrong? Was she going to lose the job opportunity?

After a moment of silence, the woman handed Audrey a register and said, "Fill these details out and start from tomorrow. We’ll see if you can handle it."

Audrey signed the papers, feeling uneasy under the woman’s scrutinising gaze. The woman’s smile as she left the room was anything but reassuring.

Once the door closed behind her, the woman darkly chuckled to herself. Lighting a cigarette, she leaned back in her chair and exhaled a ring of smoke.

"Poor girl. She doesn’t even know what she’s getting into. This place is a breeding ground for trouble, full of rough characters unlike the respectable folk she’s used to. I wonder........"

-Aurora

To Be Continued.........

[strangerhottotties]

Sex Tape - E.M.

Summary: Eddie produced a sex tape of himself as a dare and it's been circling the student body. There was a surprising reaction among the female population gravitating towards your best friend and its got you curious despite the mixed bag reaction he got. When a little cassest tape makes its way to you... you know you shouldn't...

Rating: explicit

Warnings: everyone is above 18 in this fic, no minors. Sex tapes, cream pie, dirty photos, blackmail, kinda? Bratty!Reader, Henderson!Reader. Enemiesish to Lovers. Unprotected sex. Mentions of birth control.

A/N: Because I can't stop listening to the sex tape.

"Hold on, I gotta go find my dice!" Eddie Munson heaves a sigh at the kid who reminded him so much of himself and watches said kid sprint into the tidy home.

The only thing out of place was how quiet it was inside.

"Where's your mom?" Eddie calls out.

"Uh... she went on a cruise with a couple of her friends." Eddie shrugs to himself, content to know there was no mother to yell at him about stepping through the front door and treading on her clean carpet.

He's kind enough to shut the door behind him as he follows the direction the kid went slowly, glancing around. It's a little too tidy to be a normal house he thinks. Not a speck of dust and despite the cat that wanders by his feet with a happy chirp, he spots no cat hair.

What the fuck kind of house- nevermind, he spots an imperfection like he's doing a reality check. There's an obnoxious stack of slutty romance novels over flowing on the coffee table.

"I guess your mom's into fantasy, too, huh?" Dustin pops his head out of a room at the end of the hall.

"What?" He then approaches to see what Eddie's gesturing to. "Oh, no, those are my sister's." He mutters.

It strikes Eddie like a harpoon and he whips to look at the pictures he wasn't paying close enough attention to. Oh yes, he forgot about you. Bitchy, mean, and so very pretty.

"She reads dirty romance?" He questions.

"Uh, yeah, I don't get it either," he shrugs heading off to his room again.

"Is she, uhhh... home?" Eddie picks up your senior photo, letting his eyes wonder over the details of your face.

"Yeah, probably," he turns to a different door and bangs on it. "Hey!"

"Fuck off!" Gets called back.

"Hey, what are you making for dinner tonight?" Dustin shouts through the door. He hears a loud groan and the door gets thrown open. You don't notice Eddie when you begin chewing him out, so he just gets to admire the way your tee shirt and underwear cling to you. He thought the mismatched socks were a nice touch but he tilts his head the longer he starts to stare.

"I was in the middle of something!"

Eddie thinks he agrees with that statement as he takes in your shiny red cheeks and wild hair. He begins to approach.

"So?"

"So, you have to bang on the door like that?"

"You've always got your headphones on listening to that stupid red cassette."

"Red cassette?" Eddie demands, your eyes widen in shock when you see him, and then it melts into utter horror. He's only a few slow steps from you.

There was no way.

Eddie wants to kiss the lucky d20 in his pocket that he just so happened to be here in this exact moment. You can't respond for a few moments, words sputter.

"What are you doing here?" You snap finally, defensively closing your bedroom door behind you. Eddie let's out a malicious laugh. It bubbles up and stretches out with his amusement.

"Oh, my, my, my, Henderson. I never knew you had this side to you, I always thought it was science and studying that got you all riled up." Dustin looks more confused between the two of you.

"What?" He asks only to get ignored.

"Your sister's got a pervy little secret," Eddie sings making your cheeks go redder than he's ever seen anyone go.

"I don't think I want to know," Dustin relents, "I'm just going to look for my dice."

You gulp when your brother disappears and your cornered against your door by Eddie Munson, caught red handed.

"You know, I knew it was out of rotation," he starts, eyes dark like you've never seen. "I kept waiting for the principal to show up because he confiscated it, or for some furious boyfriend to come beat the shit out of me when he found it in his girlfriends radio. And all this time," he simmers, lowering himself down into your ear. "All this time, you had it hidden away. I bet that's what you were just listening to, yeah?"

"It's not the same tape," you squeak out, lying through your teeth.

"Then prove it," he hums, leaning back just so he can grin down at you. "Go grab this red cassette that's definitely not my sex tape and this will all be over." You grasp your door handle tightly when he reaches for it.

"Stay out. I have a right to my privacy," you attempt, flustered about being caught in your lie. It was a futile attempt. He gives another evil laugh.

"I have a right to my property though," he replies, licking his lips. You feel so stupid as you fling the door open and stomp into your room. He's on your heel, crowding your space as he makes his way to your bed with you. And what a sight it is.

You'd obviously been listening to it in your bed. The sheet look as though you'd thrown them off, your Walkman is set to pause but he sees it clear as day, in his very own messy scrawl: Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin proudly presents: His official sex tape.

It's worn down more than he expected.

You fumble as you pick up your Walkman, nudging the eject button and getting frustrated when it sticks. "C'mon, not now," you grunt. You should have burned that stupid tape the moment it landed in front of you.

When you spare a miserable look at Eddie you find his big grin still plastered to his face. Smug as all get out. You thrust the broken machinery at him. "It's stuck," you grunt.

"How convenient. So do you just touch yourself to every night? Are you that mesmerized by my moans?" You flush, knowing he was referring to a particular part of his tape. Hating that you listened in the first time. Instead your just glaring him down in your bedroom.

"I've never- Hey! What are you- uh-" he looks up at your through his eyelashes, smug eyes still twinkling. But two of your fingers were being greeted by his tongue and your head was spinning. He hums around them as your eyes widen and you realize why he was sucking on your fingers.

Eddie was calling every bluff you had in the most unexpected ways. With a final lap to the tip of your finger, he grins. "Then why do your fingers taste like pussy?"

Your eyes dart back to your door, seeing it wide open. There was no recovering from this situation, and Eddie seemed all to pleased. You decide to change how you're handling this and head that way to close your door.

Eddie starts wordlessly stripping out of his jacket when you shut the door, reading you like a book. "Take off your pants," you demand, making him lift his eyebrows.

You'd only been moments away from climax when Dustin rudely interrupted you. You were still incredibly wet, still in need. Why listen to a tape when the real thing what right there.

You peel your top over your head, letting his eyes widen at your breasts. "Oh shit," he breaths and then starts working at his belt furiously. "Okay, get over here," he orders with a jerk of his head. You slip out of your underwear as you agree.

In moments Eddie Munson is pushing you head down into your mattress and pulling your hips higher. "Oh, you could have come to me if you needed me so bad. Promise the real thing is better," he hums, hands rubbing over your ass.

The door rattles under Dustin's fist. "Eddie? Did you guys get it sorted out?"

"Get out!" Your shout is muffled by blankets and Eddie giggles despite the situation.

"Dustin! Go wait in the van! Radio the rest of the party were going to cancel tonight!?"

"What!? Canceled!? But I found my dice!"

"We're a little busy, dude!"

"YOU BETTER KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF!"

"Too late."

You gasp when he mutters that to himself and plunges a middle finger into your cunt. Dustin continues to pound on the door. He draws back slowly and your legs tremble.

Dustin gives up a moment later, wandering off to grumble into his walkie.

"Shit, you got so wet listen to me, huh?" You hear the filthy of it as he let's you rock against his fingers with a whimper.

"Hurry up, already."

"Oh, but you look like a kid with their hand in the cookie jar. Just can't help yourself, can you? You just," he groans eagerly at how your flexing around him, "you're really fucking hot right now, Henderson."

"Then fuck me, please," you whine quietly. He makes a delighted noise and his zipper comes down. You can't see it from here but you freeze your squirming the second the head of his cock presses against you. It's like a balm to your frayed nerves.

"Well, when you ask so nicely-" he starts and then let's out a loud, stuttery groan, "fuuuuuuck-right to the bottom!" He praises when you moan into the mattress below him. You both sink against each other to absorb that first push, soaking it in.

Then your lifting your hips and driving down on top of him. There's a whine from you both when it happens and he readjusts to your dismay. "Hey! I didn't say-UHHH!" You cry when he drives in again, setting a brutal pace, already hitting a deeply satisfying spot.

"Would you stop being such a fuckin' brat?" He grunts, forcing your back into a harder arch, your chest pressed completely into the mattress. You nearly sob as he manhandled you into the position he wanted. It feels so fucking good. "This all it takes, Henderson? A big, fat cock and you go all dumb?" His hips are relentless as he barrels into you, so turned on he knows he's not gonna last long. Especially when he's fucking you raw.

Oh, fuck!

He's got a rule about it. Hell, you've got a rule too. He's never broken it, too afraid to knock some poor, unfortunately soul up when he could barely figure his own shit out.

"Shit, babe," he groans out. "Your pussy feels so good like this," he let's out a little whimper that has you tightening around him.

He can both see and feel you tremble beneath him, so fucking close to cumming. He knows it'll set him off and as desperately as he doesn't want it to be over quite yet, he knows it's too much.

Your mutter breaks him out of his trance but he's not sure he heard you right. "What's that, babe. I can't hear you,"

"I-inside..." you whine, body wanting to tremble like an off-balance washing machine. "Want you to- uhhh, cum inside me."

That'll do it. His fingers tighten on you and he can't help himself this one time. Not when you're so kindly inviting him to do it.

With the bed repeatedly slamming against the wall, you hear him give out a loud laugh. It's insane. Normally, unnerving as whatever energy your words gave him has him fucking you so hard that the floodgates open and your cumming hard enough your screaming into the pillows below. You cum from the sound of his laughter as he gives a final jerk and cums hard.

You feel it as you begin to settle with your orgasm. His cock twitches and you feel the warmth of him spurting inside. "O-o-o-o-oh, fuck." He pants with you, watching as you slump against the mattress. He doesn't miss your whimper when his softening cock pulls out. He glances around the room because he saw it somewhere- there! He stumbles off your bed.

"Where are you-"

"Don't fuckin' move."

"Eddie," you whine, but remain in your spot on the bed as he trots to the otherside of the room and plucks something off your desk. You don't get time to look because he's returning behind you and

Flash!

You gasp, jerking up right. "You did not!" Your jaw drops as you turn to find Eddie grinning down at the Polaroid developing in his hand.

"Ohhhhh, that is quite the site." He commends, voice deepening. You lunge, climbing over him to reach for it. Instead he just holds it away.

It's not like you can even tell who it is. It's just a picture of your ass in the air and your cunt leaking his cream pie. "I didn't say you could take a fucking picture!"

"Mmm, no but I say it's an even trade," he hums, free hand tangling in your hair and jerking you to look at his fucked out face. He's flush, eyes lidded like he's stoned, and he's got a lazy smile etched on his smug face.

"Trade?" You demand.

"You keep my dirty sex tape, I keep the photo of you and your mismatched socks." You blush hard, going slack in his arms, unable to believe the words that just came out of his mouth. He wanted you to keep the sex tape? "Can't wait to show this to our kids one day and tell them about our first date."

"What first date?"

"This first date," he grins.

"Gross, you're not showing that to anyone-"

"No worries, princess. I'm sticking it in my wallet and only taking it out in the event I've gotta rub one out."

"I hate you," you groan, falling back. Your elbow hits the Walkman and the eject button finally seems to work. You groan loudly, then chance down a look at Eddie. He's only appreciating the sight before him. "I'm free Friday."

He cocks an eyebrow at you. "Did you just ask me out?"

"I'm not asking, Munson." Your grumpy face doesn't have the same power it normally holds on him.

"Alright, alright, I'll take you to Dinner..." he laughs, climbing over you. "And then I'm gonna fuck you again, but with a condom."

"I'm not dirty," you snap.

"Oh, you fuckin' are," he hums, grinning. "But I'm more worried about knocking you up."

"Fuck you," you grumble, "'mon the pill." Eddie let's out a sigh of relief.

"Thank fucking God! Look at how fuckin' beautiful that is!" He holds up the photo for you to see, it makes you flush hard. "That pussy is gonna get me in so much trouble." It's Dustin banging on the door again that knocks out the mood.

"Eddie! Get out here! We're fighting outside!"

"Oh, brother," you sigh.

[ladyartemesia]

TEASER: Kim Seokjin and the Mean Omega

Pairing: Nerd Alpha Kim Seokjin x Popular Omega Reader

Genre: A/B/O • Enemies to Lovers • (Sorta) College AU • Best Friend's Brother AU (Who is surprised? No one?)

Teaser Word Count: 3.6K

Teaser Warnings: A/B/O sexual dynamics • suggestive content

Rating: Explicit (18+) (Teaser is PG-13)

Summary: In the modern world, alphas are almost unheard of so why even bother learning about them? After all, as a spoiled (but reasonably kind-hearted) omega who is used to getting whatever she wants, you have better things to do. However, when unexpected circumstances throw you in the path of (extremely) nerdy and (probably?) shy Kim Seokjin, you're shocked to discover that he won't be wrapped around your little finger as easily as all the rest. Bringing that infuriating geek to his knees quickly becomes your personal mission in life... But it turns out that Kim Seokjin is not what he appears to be and the mean omega who eats beta boys for breakfast is about to get way more than she bargained for...

Author’s Note: This story would not be here without the love, support and friendship of my incredible support system. You talk with me, you laugh with me, you listen when I’m crying, and you read my chaotic drafts when I am ready to pull my hair out of my head in frustration. I love you all. @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen @lemonjoonah. ALSO thank you to each and every one of you who encouraged me to post this story. This fic is dedicated to all of you as a token of my love and appreciation. Your support keeps me writing. Never doubt that for a second.

“...due to discriminatory anti-alpha policies in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, alphas were nearly eliminated from the general population…”

You heaved a weary sigh and rolled your shoulders—stretching the buttons of your high-end Oxford shirt to their limit. The beta sophomore to your right whined audibly and you smirked.

“...despite efforts to restore the genetic balance of designations, alphas currently comprise less than one percent of the population…”

Your back arched slightly as you crossed your legs, letting the absurdly short hem of your skirt ride up even higher. The poor boy you were tormenting shifted miserably in his seat.

How was he supposed to focus on a Human Biology and Designation Studies lecture when the living breathing embodiment of every sweaty undergrad’s fantasies was twisting her fingers in her hair and wrapping her pretty pink tongue around a strawberry lollipop right there in the middle of class?

“...unlike betas and omegas, alphas possess enhanced strength and the ability to compel other designations with their voice. Unmated alphas especially were often baselessly feared and distrusted...”

You knew exactly how you affected boys like him. You were a shameless tease who relished their attention and the power it brought you. Who needed drugs when driving a man mad with desire was a rush more potent than any high?

“...and that’s all for today so please read pages 450-466 in the text over break and remember to turn in your essay on scent and consent in intimacy—”

That poor sophomore looked like he had finally worked up the courage to speak to you, but you were already out the door and tearing down the hall toward your beautiful (and entirely platonic) counterpart, Kim Taehyung.

“Do you think Professor Moore is unaware that class is over at 3:25 or is he just torturing us for science?”

Taehyung shrugged, falling into step beside you with practiced ease.

“I mean I would torture you for free so it’s hard to say.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at his characteristic dry humor, but the irritation at being held in that sweltering lecture hall for an extra ten minutes had frayed your temper.

“It’s the last class before spring break, I’m sure he was on some sort of twisted power trip.” You dug around in your purse for some chapstick, ignoring Tae’s amused snorting, “Alphas barely exist anymore and none of us are likely to meet one. Why bother learning what they can do?”

Taehyung tilted his head in amusement.

“You might be surprised.”

The final party before the beginning of spring break was always a laid back affair.

Many people had already caught planes to their various destinations, but your flight was scheduled for early tomorrow morning—leaving you with some time to kill.

Taehyung pressed his newest experimental concoction into your hand within minutes of entering the house (a surprisingly neat bachelor pad owned by two seniors, Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi) and then darted back to the kitchen to craft more questionable alcohol potions like a deranged party warlock.

You had just found a comfortable place on the couch and were contemplating whether sampling your best friend’s mad scientist elixir would be worth the probable damage to your body when—

“H-Hello...”

It was that sophomore from your Designations Studies class. What was his name again? Jungwoo? Jinwook?

“Jungkook,” you smiled, delighted to have remembered before it became awkward. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You motioned to the empty cushion next to you and the man in question scrambled over like he’d won the lottery.

“I—I know we don’t know each other well, but I noticed you were absent during Professor Moore’s lecture on intimacy and scent consent so I—” he blushed deeply, “I wrote the essay for you—and I brought a copy on my flash drive if-if you want it.”

Your heart melted immediately.

“Oh my gosh Jungkook, that is so sweet of you!”

Your gaze darted over his muscular form and thick brown curls.

Sweet indeed.

“I don’t want to miss out on the learning though,” you pouted, placing a hand on his tattooed bicep. “Can you explain it to me?”

Jungkook nodded vigorously even as his wide eyes fell to where your fingers were sliding slowly over his chest.

Scent consent was a pretty basic and universally known concept, but you really were touched by the handsome sophomore's consideration.

Why not give him (and yourself) a little reward?

“Um so basically if two people are involved in...intimate activities—”

You leaned forward to nip his ear lightly and he whimpered.

“Like this?” you asked innocently.

“Y-Yes. Like that.” He gulped. “In an intimate situation consent or refusal can be smelled. The scent of refusal or reluctance in intimacy is strong, unmistakable, and has a high chemical potency.”

“Is that so?” you drawled, sliding over onto his lap. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back into his head and you bit back a grin.

He was adorable.

“Uh-huh—it—oh my gawd,” (you were nibbling on his ear again) “it can immediately block sexual arousal and performance in the other partner. Meaning, if consent is not present, then it becomes difficult or—ahh” (his voice began to waver under your continued attention) “—or even impossible to continue with intimate acts.”

Your hand slid up to his cheek, bringing him closer till your lips were almost touching.

“Then what does it mean if I’m still so turned on right now?”

“It means,” Jungkook shuddered—nearly delirious with your scent, “that I really really want you.”

Across the room, Park Jimin chuckled as he watched you seduce his enthusiastic friend.

Jeon Jungkook was such a sweet kid.

Hopefully he wouldn’t get too attached.

“Wow... Some people are genuinely born blessed I suppose.”

Jimin turned to see Jung Hoseok eyeing the dimly lit corner where you and the eager young sophomore were exploring each other.

It was a rather...provocative spectacle. Not quite raunchy (you weren’t truly an exhibitionist)—just insanely sexy.

Jimin’s gaze lingered on the smooth curve of your thigh where Jeon Jungkook was currently holding on for dear life.

Lucky bastard.

“Ah you know how she is,” he sighed. “That boy isn’t going to get any farther than anyone else.”

It was relatively common knowledge that you liked to mess around but rarely—if ever— fully hooked up with anyone.

Jimin asked you about it once during a drunken game of truth or dare and you had just shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of avoiding STDs (which—to be fair—was at least part of your motivation), but the truth was a little more complicated than that.

In terms of experience, you weren’t a virgin, but... you hadn’t actually had sex in years.

You loved the chase, the foreplay, the build-up—the game of cat-and-mouse between two people who were attracted to one another.

But the final consummation was always so…

Wildly unfulfilling.

Every encounter left you frustrated. Empty.

Grumpy—even.

So you stopped bothering with it all together. (That was what sex toys were for after all.)

At the end of the day you were perfectly content being labeled a tease—it meant that people tended to know what they were (or rather weren’t) getting into when they rolled the dice with you.

Besides…it hadn’t even put a dent in your throng of admirers.

You were sunny, spoiled, indulgent, almost universally adored—

And you loved every minute of it.

“You know…” Hoseok took a long sip of his drink. “I always thought she would end up with Taehyung, but it’s been three years.”

Like you, Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat and it was only natural that two beautiful and absurdly privileged people would gravitate to one another. You met at a freshman pledge party and had been an inseparable (and formidable) dynamic duo ever since.

The undisputed king and queen of campus.

Yes—maybe the two of you were a little self-absorbed at times, but it was hardly your fault that people tended to instinctively cater to the force of your combined looks, wealth, and charisma.

And it didn’t hurt that neither of you were ever intentionally cruel or unkind.

Just... habitually thoughtless.

(Though not when it came to each other. If anything your friendship was one area where you were both a little more human.)

Jimin shook his head.

“Nah that’s never gonna happen.” He tapped his nose. “They’re scent-crossed.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

Scent-crossed pairs didn’t smell sexually attractive to each other.

Like. At all.

No matter how physically or visually appealing an individual might be, it would be near impossible to form a sexual or romantic attachment to them if you were scent-crossed. Alphas, betas, and omegas were all subject to their noses first and foremost in the realm of attraction.

You and Taehyung smelled like comfort and home to one another...

But you were more turned on by a crisp cup of apple juice than you were his scent and the feeling was quite mutual.

He might as well have been your actual brother.

“That explains so much.” Hoseok snorted as he watched a drunken Taehyung do a flying leap on top of both you and Jungkook.

“Why is sunlight so offensive?” you croaked, dragging yourself and your luggage toward the boarding ramp next to an equally miserable Taehyung.

“The next time I book a flight before 9 AM, please shoot me,” he grunted.

Your parents were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a month-long European cruise so your best friend had graciously invited you to spend two glorious weeks of spring vacation at his family estate.

The invitation had actually come as somewhat of a surprise because—for all your closeness—Taehyung was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about his family.

Not that he was deliberately withholding information per se… It was just that he never really brought them up beyond an occasional passing comment.

The one time you did ask him about them directly he sighed and said—

“We’re very close, but… I suppose we’ve just gotten used to being very private.”

There was clearly more to the story, but you were confident that Tae would share it if and when he was ready.

“My parents are in Seoul opening a new branch of the company. They took my little sister with them and my older brother has his own house so it will be just us.” He snuggled deeper into the first class seat directly next to yours. “We’ll hang out by the pool and chill during the day, then hit up some of the new clubs or whatever at night.”

“So… No one from your family will be there?”

Perhaps the invitation was not so surprising after all.

“Nope. Just you and me and thirty acres of ocean front property.”

You grinned.

“Perfect.”

“Whose room is that?”

The two of you were lugging your bags down the main hall of Taehyung’s expansive mansion when a strange hint of...something caught you right by the nose.

Your friend turned to find you frozen and staring curiously at a familiar door near the balcony.

His eyes widened, but you were too preoccupied to notice his momentary concern.

“That’s just Jin’s room.”

A firm hand wrapped around your wrist and dragged you away, but your eyes stayed glued to the source of the mysterious scent until you were around the corner and out of sight.

Your suite for the next two weeks was right across the hall from Taehyung’s. There was a whirlpool, a full bath, a balcony, and an ocean view that would rival the cover spread of any travel magazine.

Tae headed for the shower (to ‘wash the airplane off’) immediately after showing you the room and you were thinking of doing the same except…

Your mind kept going back to that door and the hint of scent you detected.

There was something… different about it.

It was faint—and far from fresh (which made sense considering that one of the few things you did know about Kim Seokjin was that he hadn’t lived in this house for years).

But still…

The need to smell it again pressed insistently at the back of your mind.

Suddenly the sound of Taehyung singing raunchy lyrics in the shower carried over through the walls and you found your feet moving almost of their own accord.

What Tae doesn’t know won’t hurt him, you rationalized, making your way down the hall toward Jin’s door. Besides—it’s not as if I’m going to steal anything…

You just needed to find that scent again.

By the time your fingers closed over the knob every one of your nerves was strangely—acutely—alert but nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting behind the door.

Oh. My. Gosh.

“What a colossal nerd.”

The room was covered floor to ceiling in Nintendo memorabilia.

Bright primary colors assaulted your eyes from all directions in the form of action figures, posters, pillows, and every other conceivable merch variety known to man.

In the center of the suite stood a large king-sized bed covered in a custom black couture toile-style Mario-verse bed set (that looked every bit as expensive as it was geeky) and a mountain of high quality Nintendo character plush toys.

Everything was simultaneously luxe and nostalgic—a rare combination of sophisticated aesthetic balance and childlike indulgence.

And the scent was there.

It was faint and covered under layers of cleaner and air fresheners, but still lingering just below the surface—too weak for you to get a really good whiff, yet potent enough to torment you.

You moved forward unconsciously toward the strongest source of the hypnotic smell—the strangely inviting expanse of Kim Seokjin’s mattress.

Suddenly the urge to climb—no crawl—across the bed itself and roll around in it like a kitten in catnip gripped you out of nowhere.

“What the hell?” you muttered, rubbing absently over the mating gland at the base of your neck.

Something very odd was going on with your body.

Your restless gaze zeroed in on one of the stuffed toys piled atop his pillows. It was a cute little mushroom man your brain recognized as a Mario character named ‘Toad’.

Take it.

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

You need it.

“Am I going insane?” you wondered aloud.

You have to take it.

Muscles in your hand began to twitch involuntarily. You bit your lip.

Bring it back with you.

Several minutes later a freshly washed Taehyung wandered over to your room and found you sitting perfectly still on your bed while staring off into space.

His head tilted in curious concern.

“Everything ok?”

You started a bit at the sound of his voice, but recovered quickly.

“Never better!” you chirped—almost too brightly. “Let’s go get some dinner, I’m starving.”

Then you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall toward the kitchen—shutting the door before he could catch a glimpse of his brother’s stuffed Toad doll stashed underneath your pillow

“...a critical water main rupture in the city’s New Market district early this morning has forced several residents out of their homes as flood water swelled up to nearly two feet. The governor declared a state of emergency and ordered hotels around the city to accommodate the displaced citizens. Crews are still clearing the water and assessing damages. We expect—

“Hey!” you shouted through a mouthful of cereal, after Your best friend switched off the television, “I was watching that!”

“And what you should be doing is getting ready for the pool.” Tae snatched your cereal bowl and dragged you by your shirt collar toward the stairs. “It is the first morning of our vacation. I’m not trying to waste any time. Now go.” He shoved you forward, smacking your ass for good measure.

You swatted back at him half-heartedly as jogged back up to the room where you enjoyed a surprisingly restful sleep last night.

Kim Seokjin’s door glared at you accusingly as you shuffled past—unable to let you forget that you had kidnapped it’s little mushroom man in an unexplained fit of kleptomania, but that was a problem for your future self.

The you of right now was going to zen out in the Kim family's premium glass-enclosed indoor pool (it was still a little chilly for the outdoor pool) with her best friend and bask in the simple joys of good company and no responsibility.

...Or not.

A few minutes later you bounced into the living room wearing a simple black tankini with a cute floral cover only to find Taehyung on the phone with his head in his hands.

“Yes, sir. I understand… I...I know this is my responsibility...”

That didn’t sound good.

After a few more tense moments, Tae hung up and collapsed backward into the couch with a heavy sigh.

“That water main break you heard about on TV this morning was the last straw between the province and its current contractor. They called an emergency meeting for new bids.”

Your heart dropped as you sank down beside him.

“Your dad wants you to go...doesn’t he.”

Taehyung nodded miserably.

“He can’t leave the Seoul opening on such short notice and managing government construction contracts is part of what I’ve been training for. This could be huge for our company.”

“Well...why doesn’t your brother go?”

“Jin is the brains behind most of our patented gaming and tech innovations. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with this sort of thing. Besides,” his lips quirked up in a rueful grin, “my brother doesn’t have the patience to stroke entitled geriatric egos for hours on end—which is likely what I’m going to have to do.”

The two of you headed back to Taehyung’s room where you helped him pack some suits and toiletries for his trip.

Naturally you were disappointed but...this was a great opportunity for your best friend to prove himself in his chosen field and you both knew it. In fact, he was already starting to brighten a bit.

“The meeting is about a hundred miles north of here. My dad’s secretary already handled the flight and hotel room.” His eyes darted around the suite to see if he was forgetting anything.

It was clear he was nervous, though you were sure he didn’t need to be. Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat, but he was also talented and deeply passionate about his family’s company.

Someday this would be the norm. The two of you were stealing time in college, determined to live a little before the expectations of your powerful families transferred fully onto your shoulders.

It was becoming more and more clear, however, that your carefree time was slowly running out.

Mother had already spoken to you about potential marriage alliances and your father expected you to intern with his Vice President this summer just as your elder sister had...

Taehyung’s voice suddenly interrupted your bittersweet introspection and you couldn’t help but smile at how grown-up he looked in his suit and briefcase ensemble.

Everything was going to change, but not quite yet.

“They estimate negotiations should take around a week or so…” He walked over and pulled you into a tight hug. “There should still be some vacation left for us when I get back.”

“Hurry back then,” you mumbled grumpily into his chest and he chuckled.

“I will.”

Taehyung had been gone for less than twenty minutes when you decided that the best use of your time would be to eat more snacks.

The last thing you expected when you skipped merrily into the kitchen was to find it occupied by a shaggy-haired homeless man in glasses.

Your first instinct was to scream which caused the homeless man to drop the apple he was biting right onto the floor where it rolled around for a small eternity before coming to rest at his ankles.

Your second instinct was to grab a butcher’s cleaver from the nearby knife block and wave it chaotically at the intruder while shouting something along the lines of—

“You’ve made a huge mistake! My boyfriend is the biggest, meanest mafia boss in Seoul! Leave now and he might let you live!”

The homeless man continued to stare at you with a mixture of confusion and shock, but made no move to run away in terror like you were hoping.

So you tried again.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! The last man who touched me drinks his steak through a straw now! Do the smart thing and leave before my boyfriend comes down those stairs and it’s too late!”

Infuriatingly, the homeless man was still not fleeing for his life and frankly you were starting to get frustrated. You drew in a deep cleansing breath and were prepared to issue another grandiose threat when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, miss. I... think there’s been some sort of mistake. Who is your boyfriend?”

There was no rational explanation for what came out of your mouth next, but it rolled off your tongue so smoothly and you didn’t even flinch.

“Kim Seokjin.”

For the first time in your entire exchange, the intruder looked truly alarmed.

Now that’s more like it.

“You’ve heard of him I see. He’s a dangerous man and my body belongs to him.” You slammed the cleaver down onto the countertop with a (hopefully) menacing slash. “Kim Seokjin doesn’t like when other men put their hands on what belongs to him.”

There was a long, unpardonably tense moment of silence…Then the stranger slowly reached forward and picked up a mobile phone from the table in front of him.

His eyes remained locked with yours as he pressed a quick series of buttons, brought the phone to his ear, waited a few seconds and said—

“Taehyung… Would you mind telling me why there is a half-naked, knife-wielding omega in our kitchen claiming to be my girlfriend?”

Hello! Please comment on this post if you would like to be added to the taglist!

You guys were all so wonderful, and encouraging, and excited that I literally got this teaser out in three days! If you like what you read so far, please let me know! I cannot put into words how meaningful and valuable feedback is to me. I truly treasure it! It fuels my creativity and keeps me writing. I would love to hear from you!

[binniesthighs]

ANON THIS WAS SO FUN.  Oh my gosh thank you so much for requesting this 😭

bites like bittersweet | reader x minho | 

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x lee minho 

Genre: that good good smut 

Tags: aphrodisiac au, switch!minho, switch!reader, mentions of food, oral (m recieving), unprotected sex (stay safe!), degredation, pet names, dirty talk, accidental exhibitionism 

Word count: 2.4k

“are you kidding me? I can’t believe that you actually spent money on this!! aren’t you just a tiny bit embarrassed?” 

“what? I thought that it would be fun to try!” 

“if this is your way of seducing me, I hate to tell you, but it isn’t going to work.” 

minho threw the chocolate bars back down on the coffee table. he was right;  they looked fake and you knew it. the giant logo on the front stared up at you and your skeptical friend. it was an obscenely large kiss mark with different icons of couples fucking for each flavor. you really should have had better judgement. right in front of you was $36 dollars that you would never be getting back. 

“and you had to get all the flavors?” 

your defeated arms rang themselves above your head. “what?? I wasn’t going to pass up mint, salted caramel and...what’s this called...yeah, cherri amore!” 

“and why is it again that you’re asking me to try these--” minho snatched up the flavor Salted Caramelicious in Milk Chocolate to read the label.  “--proven aphrodisiac and libido boosters?” 

“I dunno!! you were the only one around I guess...?” 

minho flicked up one of his eyebrows in his suspicion. “really? that’s why? I don’t believe you. you’re trying to get in my pants aren’t you?!” 

“no! Why the hell would I want to get in your pants?” 

“hmmm...dare I bring up the locker room incident from a couple summers ago?” sly as ever, minho punched your arm lightly. “i bet that you’ve been dreaming about it ever since then.” 

“-have not!! you’re ridiculous.” you gifted him a punch back, but this one wasn’t nearly as joking. 

minho rubbed at his arm with a dramatic little “ow” on his lips. 

“I’m bored, you don’t have anything else to do, it’s probably a scam and I don’t feel like wasting my $36.” 

for a moment, minho pondered in silence as you dished him out your best puppy-dog eyes. in all your years of friendship, there was nothing that did him in better than the way you could make your eyes glisten. “that should be illegal” he would gripe. 

“Pleeeese?? ~I know that you like mint chocolate~” you waved the bar gratuitously in front of his nose. 

“fine.” he clawed it from your grasp. “i’m sure that it’s gonna be shitty chocolate anyway.” minho’s fingers hastily tore at the little foil edges and wrappings then cracked it in his hand. 

you teased him, “should I get us some wine to go with this chocolate?” 

minho scoffed and popped a couple chunks in his mouth. “fuck, this is so waxy. I hate you for this.” 

~💋~ 

to your right, your wall clock ticked on as late as it was into the night. you hadn’t expected yourself to get so sleepy, but you and minho had made up the couch into your usual mess of pillows and blankets that would often accompany movie nights. after a while, the two of you had decided to just let netflix autoplay each episode, not really caring that you weren’t quite watching anymore. 

“--you feeling anything?” you asked minho for the hundredth time. 

“...no; its same answer from the last fifty times that you asked me. like I said, it’s a scam. you were swindled. just admit it.” 

“...I don’t think I’m feeling anything either.” 

“we ate the shitty chocolate, and that was that.” minho huffed. “god, you owe me big time.” 

“isn’t it supposed to take a second to kick in...? isn’t that how these things work?” 

“hell if I know.” 

your friend sighed out the same unimpressed sigh he had been repeating for the last 45 minutes or so. he sat up a little straighter upon his realization. 

“wait...so you’re saying that you want me to get turned on???” 

“ah-no!!! don’t misunderstand!! it’s not that I want you to get turned on, i just want to know if it’s a scam or not. you know...for science?” 

“for science? since when was science a part of all this?” 

“i-it always was!” 

“let’s just...finish watching this episode or two and then you’re leaving, got it?

you nodded, “got it!” 

around your shoulder, minho snaked his arm to rest it gently, leaning you into him just a little. this place had always been your favorite spot. nuzzled into him like this, you could nearly hear his heartbeat in his chest. with the tv droning and the muffled “boom-boom” of his heart, you were drawn to sleep with ease, however, as you drifted, there was something different about the pace in which his heart would usually beat close to you. 

~💋~

at first, you were woken by the sound of explosions. in the time that minho had promised, “this episode or two,” netflix had already made it’s way to playing a movie. strangely enough, minho hadn’t bothered changing it; it was his least favorite kind: the kind with car chases and missiles and the end of the world. 

secondly, you were awoken by his voice, urgent and shallow. 

“hey. hey. get up. y/n, get your heavy-ass head off me.” 

“wha-what is it? what time is it? what is this?” you rubbed your blurry vision away with your palms. 

“I...” minho choked down a thick gulp. “I-I think that I’m feeling...something...” 

“what?!” your head snapped to look him in his terrified widened eyes. normally he would make fun of the rat’s nest on your head, but this time, his eyes remained unmoving. 

mortified, minho uttered out again, “I feel...something...” 

“something what? spit it out!!” 

“don’t you dare look but...oh god...” your friend choked in an inhale. 

he didn’t need to finish his sentence before your eyes had drifted down to where the spiderman themed blanket covered his lap. sure enough, he tented the fabric in the most obvious way. 

“shit-this is so embarrassing.” minho steadied his breaths then winced “it kinda...hurts.” 

this time, your eyes widened. “hurts?” 

“yeah it does, okay???? don’t fucking rub it in.” 

you found yourself getting defensive, “well what the hell do we do now???” 

“I don’t know!!!” minho yelled into the dark room incredulously. 

“can’t you just...I don’t know...jerk it away??? ” 

“right here???” 

“NO like in the bathroom or something I mean!!!” 

“greaaat, you broke my dick!! and you’re being of no help at all!” 

“well what would you have be do then huh? suck it off for ya right here and now?? would that be sooooo helpful to you??”

in your frustration, you tore spiderman off of his lap, then there it was: in its full glory. 

yes, the locker room incident had lingered on your mind from time to time but.. you certainly didn’t remember it looking like that. 

in your whole life, you never would have guessed that the thought, “thank-you-god for-blessing-us-with-the-invention of-grey-sweatpants” would grace your stream of consciousness but...here you were. 

“m-minho...I-I think that it’s effecting me too.” your eyes ogled his member: lusciously thick and long, practically fighting the pants that kept it in. it bulged in his pants gorgeously and he had even wet himself a little from his leaking pre-cum.

“Huh!?” 

“wow.” you marveled. 

you really don’t know why you had done it, but suddenly the entire room felt much hotter, and taking off your shirt made much more sense so, you did.

“what the hell are you doing?!” minho attempted to pull up a blanket to cover your chest. 

“does it really hurt?” something must have possessed you: your voice had dropped several octaves and you felt yourself breathing out the words with air. 

as soon as he had heard your voice change, it was like he was enchanted. “A-a little. ‘feels really...trapped.” minho ate up the way that your eyes raked over his hard-on. 

“oooh does it?” you used your index and ring finger to walk your hand over to his thigh where you then grabbed at him in starving handfuls. his muscles felt so beautiful in your hands. 

minho whimpered out the whiniest, most desperate little sound that he could manage as his closed eyelids fluttered. there was no way in this world that you could ever imagine him making such a noise, especially from your touch. 

yeah, you might have dreamt about it a couple times or more. 

your hand tranced the outline of his dick on his pants. 

“oh-shit--” minho keened under your touch, jerking his body viciously. 

“god, you’re fucking gorgeous when you’re hard.” the words left your lips unapologetically and by seeing the way that minho practically melted from the compliment, you felt your whole body swell with that same aching pain. 

“--tou-touch--” 

your hand gave minho’s cock one good hard squeeze and he grunted out so loudly that you were fearful it could have been heard from the next apartment over. shaky breaths trembled from his lips and he rutted into your hand. 

“‘hurts so, so bad.” 

you almost missed it, but single tears fell from both of his eyes. 

“what do you want me to do about it?” 

exasperated, minho threw his head into the crook of your neck, panting, “an-anything. but--I-want your mouth. please...” 

“of course.” you cooed, then snuck your hand under the elastic of his pants, getting another squeeze in. his eyes had glared at your lips long enough, so you decided to grant them their wish. you practically threw your whole weight into him, knocking both of your balances away as you rushed your lips into his. both of your mouths were hot and insatiable: your sloppy kisses were an utter mess: and you had never used so much tongue before in your life. wet kissing sounds filled the space between you both and tangled up with your shameless moans. 

in your own pants, the situation wasn’t much different, but your desire to utterly destroy your needy friend was overwhelming and you could ignore it for a couple seconds more. 

minho rose his hips for you pull his briefs and pants off, then sat back down to display his cock, red, veiny and dripping. your mouth salivated just thinking about how amazing it would feel in your mouth. 

your friend didn’t give you much time to think before he had pulled your head nearer to him, then tapped his tip on your lips. 

“shouldn’t I tease you first? whatever happened to foreplay?” you licked his length up and down. 

“just--I don't care about that, I’m ready now,--fucking--please, please, I’m begging you to take me in your mouth. 

“~ahhhh~ you’re so cute when you beg.” 

minho’s full length was nearly too much for you to handle, but regardless, you swallowed him down using every ounce of your skill. the way that he moaned for you sounded so pathetic and needy, but he only pushed your head down farther. 

“my little cockslut” minho gasped, “taking me in so good with that pretty mouth of yours...you’re so amazing, it’s so...mmph...just like...I always dreamed it would be...” 

he threw his head back to guffaw at himself. “I can’t believe that this is happening.”

“quit talking and let me hear more of those pretty moans of yours.” you demanded of him, switching to jerk him up and down with your hand. your own saliva coated each and every one of your fingers.  

“gonna...make me cum!” minho’s fingers dug into the edge of the sofa. “can-can I?” 

“no.” you answered with a devilish smile. “you’re not gonna let me have any fun?” 

“sorry, sorry...what do you want from me now?” 

you continued jerking him once you had crept your lips up his body, kissing up his chest and stomach. your thumb played with his slit, eliciting even more pre-cum to come dripping out of his adorable tip. you reached his mouth where you let him get a taste. 

just as before, the sofa started feeling too stuffy and warm for you, so your frazzled brain searched the room for the next best place, and there really was only one other. 

“come with me,” you circled minho in your arms, pulling you both down to carpeted floor, taking a couple blankets with you as they tied in your limbs. “fuck me into the ground minho.” 

a fire lit behind minho’s soft brown eyes that you had never seen, and soon he had ridded you of all of your own clothes. 

“oh kitten, there's nothing that I would love to do to you more.” 

for mere moments, yours and minho’s bodies lingered, pressed flush against each other as both of your hips grinded together seeking some kind of relief and your mouths searched for hungry answers. 

“be a good boy for me minho,” you whispered into him, “fuck me so hard I’m dizzy, hmm?” 

“if you insist...” minho buried his head into your neck to bite into the skin, no doubt leaving marks for you later. 

everything reached a certain symphonic climax once he guided himself into your entrance which was nearly twitching to be filled by him. his length and girth stretched you out perfectly, and soon you knew it wouldn’t take too much for him to show you all the stars in the galaxy behind your eyelids. 

he thrust into you with feral sounding grunts, and your back burned a little against the carpet under you. 

“don’t-don’t stop...mmm--” 

body ablaze, the beginnings of your orgasm start to build in your core, begging for more and more. deep inside you, minho grazed your euphoric spot and you moaned out his name with reckless abandon. 

“say it louder for me baby.” your friend would greedily command, adoring the way that his name would bounce off the walls. 

“I’m close, god, minho--” 

ding-ding-ding! 

had you not been cumming with a searing white heat with minho jerking himself wildly over your stomach, you would have seen chan open the door, pretending to sneak his way in. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?” chan threw his arms over his eyes. “...AND IN THE OPEN LIVING ROOM???” 

“ch-chan?” minho threw the blankets over both of your gasping bodies, still recovering from your orgasms of seconds ago. 

“ I...oh my god.” chan shielded his eyes the whole walk to his room. 

“I’m sorry!!” Minho called after him, eyes then falling to his white painting on your stomach. “hmm. that looks kinda nice.” 

~💋~

later, when you would be cleaning up, chan would discover your litter of half eaten bars of chocolate, then would turn them over to laugh in your face: 

“uhhhh guys...you know that those are a placebo right?” 

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part II

[ previous ] 

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 10.2k

Warnings: specific character attributes (not appearance, mentioned favorite color, movie, etc.), oral, rough sex, multiple orgasms, Erwin is kind of annoying, semi-exhibitionism, too much testosterone  A/N: And, here we go again. Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part and told me about it. This one’s for y’all~

Mike immediately notices when you start to avoid him. You had already been doing it, but now it's to the point of ducking into buildings you have no business being in and walking a little too briskly when you catch sight of him somewhere on campus. You also won't get anywhere near the Pi Kappa Alpha house.

 And, he gets it. He fucked up that night. Or, he didn't fuck up, but he opened up. Too much. Showed that he was willing to be vulnerable, and you obviously had not liked that. 

 The first week of watching you duck and cover from afar isn't so bad. He's a little bummed, yeah, but he figures you'll come around, if not for him then at least for his dick. 

 But, one week turns to two, and Mike gets irritated, a little angry even. Because it's not like he did anything wrong. It's not like you haven't wanted it every time. 

 He doesn't know your class schedule exactly, but he does know when you get out of your 11 AM and have to cross the courtyard to your dorm. It's where Mike caught you last time when he was playing frisbee with Nile, and it's where he catches you now. 

 Your speed walking is no match for his normal stride, and he easily closes the distance between you two and grabs your wrist to tug you toward a more private area by the library. 

 "What the fu—what are you doing?" You spit, pulling yourself free. 

 "What are you doing?"

 "Trying to get to my fucking room to nap! Is that okay?" 

 Mike ignores it, glances over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching, then asks, "Why are you avoiding me?" 

 Scoffing, you mumble an unconvincing, "I haven't been avoiding you."

 "Bullshit."

 "I've just been busy, okay? Midterms are coming up, and I'm falling behind…" He can tell you're lying by the way you can't meet his eyes. "I need to focus."

 "Am I that big of a distraction?" 

 You don't miss a beat—"Yes," and your eyes widen at your own answer like you're surprised by it. 

 Mike raises his eyebrows, taken off guard, and you try to cover your tracks. "I mean, like, I don't have time to be fucking frat boys. And, I know you have the pick of the litter, so it's not like you'll go without." 

 He has to bite his tongue, a confession right on the tip of it—I pick you—but knows that's the last thing you want to hear. It's too early for thoughts like that anyway. You're too closed off, and he's too transparent. It's not like anything serious could work out anyway, and even if it could, he shouldn't tie himself down. 

 "I mean, yeah, but—"

 You hold a hand up, take a deep breath. "Look, I'll be honest with you. You seem like an okay guy, but you should find some other girl to do this with. I don't wanna be another notch on your bedpost—"

 "Then, don't be. We can just hang out."

 "Yeah, we tried that at the party and still ended up sleeping together."

 "We can make it a rule then." He's trying too hard, he knows, but he can't help it. "No fucking. I won't come onto you, and you won't come onto me."

 You snort and pick at the hem of your shirt, obviously not buying any of this. "Why do you wanna be friends so bad anyway? Is it the hard-to-get thing? Is it that I'm making it difficult?"

 "Maybe but not entirely."

 Why does he want to be your friend so badly? You haven't given him any real reason to. You can bond over nerd shit here and there, but other than that, you don't have a lot in common. 

 You just seem… Cool. Aloof. Like you don't give a shit about anyone or anything, and Mike never thought he'd find that attractive in a girl, but apparently he does. 

 "Just come over one more time. We can watch something again or—"

 "I'm not going into your room again!"

 "You don't have to," Mike says, speaking with his hands to emphasize his point. "We can stay in the living room. Totally public. Any of the guys could walk in."

 "Has that ever stopped any of you before?"

 Not a hundred percent of the time. Mike has definitely seen more of Erwin and Gelgar than he'd like, but he can tell a little white lie.

 "Yes." 

 You stare up at him, a skeptical look on your face, and then, "I'll see if I can pencil you in." 

 "Fuck yeah, I promise I'll show you a good time without, like, showing you a good time." 

 "Yeah, whatever." 

 You're unimpressed, turn to walk away, but Mike is feeling a little too triumphant, a little too bold, and catches you before you can get too far. 

 He premises, "Just to get it out of my system," then bends down and kisses you. Palms covering your cheeks, fingers curling around the back of your head kisses you. He uses both of his thumbs, just under your mouth, to part your lips so that he can slide his tongue past them, and you push at his chest half-heartedly, no real force to it as you let him lick into your mouth. 

 The first whimper that escapes you is what makes you break away, your hands stronger against him to shove him back, and Mike smirks when you glare at him. 

 "You're on thin fucking ice, Zacharias. Thin ice."

 "I'll keep it in mind."

 With that, you leave the little alcove the two of you were in, grumbling and cursing the whole way. Mike just watches the sway of your hips and licks his lips. 

 *

 You come over on a Saturday afternoon. Mike can tell you've tried to make yourself look not cute in loose, ripped jeans and a t-shirt, but it doesn't work. Mike still smiles, and you still roll your eyes at him before kicking your shoes off by the door. 

 "Okay, so what are we doing?" You ask, sitting two cushions away from him on the couch. 

 "I brought my Switch in here, so we have that…"

 "Oh, do you have the SNES games downloaded?" 

 "Dumb question. Of course I do."

 "Rude. Open that shit up."

 He does, and you demand to play Donkey Kong, which Mike has no problem with, but, "A please would be nice."

 You click your tongue, holding your hand out for the second tiny controller and tell him, "You don't get to hear me beg anymore."

 Mike feels his shorts tighten, but all he does is kick a foot over his thigh and warn you, "Best not test my self-control like that."

 "Is that a threat?" You laugh, toggling down to 'Two Player' on the screen and clicking it. 

 "Not a threat." He bobs his head to the theme music. "Just lettin’ you know."

 You get as far as Mine Cart Carnage together, but Mike ends up getting tossed from the cart, leaving you to take over as Diddy. He watches the way you move with your character, sitting up straighter, raising the controller to your chest, swaying one way then the next as if your body is tied directly to the game. 

 Erwin walks in a little while later when you're focused on Stop & Go Station. He sits down in a plush chair, phone in his hand that he ignores in favor of asking, "What are you guys doing out here? Shouldn't you be in Mike's room?"

 Mike glances at him, gives him a look and shakes his head, but you're much less subtle when you snap, "Can it, Smith," eyes never leaving the screen. 

 "Don't count on that," Mike snorts. "I think it’s physically impossible for him to keep his mouth shut for longer than four seconds." 

 "Wooow," Erwin drawls, thick eyebrows high in offense. "I'm supposed to be able to trust you, and now you're just talking shit right in front of me."

 "For some reason, I get the feeling your ego can't get bruised that easily," you muse out loud. 

 "I'll have you know I can be very sensitive," Erwin informs you matter-of-factly. "I have a heart. I have feelings. And, I've been told on multiple occasions that I'm more considerate than most men, so there."

 You laugh, a silly sound that gets stuck in your throat. "Oh, really? And how many of those women—'cause that's what they are, I'm sure—were left behind after they built you up like that, hm?"

 Biting both of his lips, Erwin sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. "I plead the fifth on that one."

 "Uh huh, that's what I thought."

 While you're fixated on the screen, Mike glances over at his friend, sees blue eyes shining as Erwin stares at you, a tell-tale smirk on his face. He's amused by you. Interested, even. 

 You stay for about an hour longer before going back to the dorms. As soon as the front door shuts, Mike swivels around and points a finger at Erwin, uttering a low, "Don't you dare," that makes the blond chuckle. 

 "Wouldn't dream of it."

 *

 You mostly hang out on weekends and only in small bursts. Alternating between movies and video games, it's a little hard to speak to one another, but Mike is still able to pry some information out of you and share more about himself. 

 You're majoring in geological and earth sciences while Mike is working toward a degree in environmental science— "Kinda weird we haven't run into each other before." 

 You played basketball for a year in high school before getting annoyed by the other girls. Mike, on the other hand, made some of his best friends on his old soccer team. 

 You had a ferret growing up and now you'll "Never get another pet again 'cause when he died, I died a little with him." (It's the first time Mike has ever seen tears in your eyes, but you blink them away at record speed). He tells you about the dogs his family has had and how the one at home with his parents now is actually his. (Her name's Scout, and I would take a bullet for her.") 

 Hitch is your best friend even though she irritates the shit out of you, and Mike says something similar about Erwin. "He's a good guy. He's just… Passionate about so many things. He gets obsessive. Drives me insane."

 "Obsessed with that pussyyy," you joke in a deep, stupid voice. 

 Mike snorts, "Perv," and keeps watching the movie that's playing. 

 And, speaking of movies, your favorite Disney film is The Fox and The Hound— "Good taste," while his is Lion King— "Classic." As far as other movies, though, the two of you spend half an hour arguing over which Mel Brooks is the best, end up having to agree to disagree (Young Frankenstein vs. High Anxiety).

 Your favorite color is green. Your favorite food is pizza (“What are you, twelve?”). Your favorite animal is the pangolin. They’re all little facts that Mike stores away, and by the end of the semester, he actually feels like he kind of knows you, and somehow, against all odds, you've managed to not hookup through it all. 

 That's not to say it hasn't been hard (that he hasn't been hard). Sometimes you come over in skin tight jeans or crop tops, outfits that accentuate your body in all the right ways, and Mike is pretty sure that you do it on purpose. 

 You're both careful not to drink too much at parties, aware of the likely consequences, but you hang around him enough to gain people's attention—jealous girls watching in disappointment, curious guys sizing you up. 

 Questions inevitably arise. You complain about Hitch pestering you for details that you will not give her, and he tells you how he has to keep brushing off his brothers. 

 "She doesn't, like, know we've had sex—would never fucking leave me alone if she did. But she and all her other little friends are so annoying about it."

 You're on the steps outside of the frat house, jackets zipped up, nursing steaming cups of cocoa you got from the nearby shop. 

 "So, what do you tell them?" Mike asks. 

 You shrug your shoulders. "That we're not fucking. Just friends. They don't believe me, but that's my story, and I'm sticking to it, dammit."

 Mike laughs through his nose and takes another drink. "I mean, it's not a lie since we're not fucking and we are friends."

 You make a high pitched noise, doubtful, challenging. "Friends is a strong word."

 "Whatever." 

 He's used to you doing that now, denying him every chance you get even in a joking way. You've never once admitted to any type of feelings out loud, and he isn't sure why, some kind of avoidance behavior, but he won't complain because he knows you're at least a little fond of him. You wouldn't keep spending time with him if you weren't. 

 Deciding to change the subject, Mike prompts, "So, Erwin's party over the break," and you glance at him over your cup with interest. "You're coming, right?" 

 "I don't know. Isn't it at, like, his ranch house in bum fuck nowhere?" 

 "Kinda. It's only about a two hour drive from here, but it's definitely off the beaten path."

 "I'll have to see. Need to spend time with my mom while I can." 

 Understandable. He's looking forward to seeing his own parents (and Scout, of course). 

 The last game of the season is played and won, then finals pass after too many all-nighters and too much Red Bull. Mike actually sighs in relief when he slides into his white Wrangler, all packed up and ready to make the drive back to his house. 

 He sends one text before pulling out onto the main road—Be safe—and hopes he won't have to wait an entire month to see you again. 

*

 Staying with your mom is nice but always slightly depressing. The house is empty with just her in it, less lived in than ever before. You can tell exactly which spots she spends most of her time in—her office to work and the couch in front of the TV to wind down. 

 You sleep in your old bedroom, spend most evenings texting Hitch after your mom goes to bed, but a few conversations with Mike slip in too. He sends you several pictures of Scout—beautiful but always wearing one of those perpetual Boxer frowns—and in return, you send him pictures of the pretty betta your mother has in her office. It's the best you can do. 

 After a week of being in your hometown, you're ready to leave it again. It's not terrible or in a bad part of town. It's just… lacking. You'd never tell your mother this, but you have a feeling she knows. It's probably why she doesn't put up a fight when you tell her you're gonna run off for a couple days to attend Erwin's party. 

 "I promise I'll be back. It's just one night and then the drive back."

 Her tone is very serious when she tells you to stay out of trouble, but then she walks you out to your car and hugs you, watching and waving as you drive away. 

 You text Erwin on the way there to ask if it's okay to arrive early—like a few hours early cause I needed to get out of my house—and he replies enthusiastically.

 Absolutely! Mike and Levi are already here 😃

 You have no idea who this Levi is outside of hearing Erwin mention him a few times, but you very quickly find out when you get to the large but secluded house. You see Erwin's stupid (gorgeous) vintage Mustang parked in the gravel driveway as well as Mike's white Jeep and an unfamiliar, black Prius. 

 All three of them are on the porch occupying outdoor chairs that probably cost more than your fucking dorm expenses, but Mike and Erwin both stand when you make your way up the sidewalk. Staying seated, or really sprawled out with his hands behind his head, is a fairly small man (boy, maybe) with inky hair and sunglasses covering his eyes. He’s dressed much differently than the other two, ripped jeans, Doc Martens, and a striped long sleeved shirt under a short sleeved band tee. 

 “What in the e-boy fuck…” You mutter to yourself, nodding at the blonds and letting Mike take your backpack—not that you really have a choice considering your grip on it is no match for his. 

 “Was the drive okay?” He asks, swinging the bag over his shoulder and making it look incredibly small. 

 “Yeah. Once I hit the backroads I could start going, like, eighty-five, so that shaved some time off.”

 Mike snorts. “You sound like Erwin. Dude’s always speeding.”

 “Don’t fucking start with me. I was in the car with you when you almost hit a pedestrian on a crosswalk.”

 “We don’t talk about that.”

 Everyone follows Erwin inside the house. It’s just as nice as you thought it’d be, sprawling and open with wood floors, plush furniture, and rustic decorations. There are moose antlers mounted in one room and a god damned bear head in another. It makes you roll your eyes, but to say you’re unimpressed would be a flat out lie. 

 “Not everyone is staying the night, but I know you have to, so just pick an upstairs room,” Erwin tells you after the grand tour. “I can take you around on the golf cart once you settle in.”

 You see Mike roll his green eyes and amend, “We can take you around.” 

 “Yeah,” Erwin nods. “That’s what I meant.”

 Levi is making a face up at Erwin, furrowed brow, squinty eyes, and a little grimace. He hasn’t said more than two words to you since you’ve arrived (“I’m Levi.”), but he doesn’t seem like the chatterbox type, a little more standoffish, and you can’t blame him for that. 

 “Just in case you’re wondering, I’m in the middle room,” Mike tells you with a grin.

 “And why, pray tell, would I be wondering that?”

 He basically sings in his deep voice, “No reason,” then walks back downstairs with Erwin and Levi, leaving you to make yourself comfortable. 

 You take the bedroom at the far end of the hallway out of spite more than anything, but you figure the farther away you can be from Mike the better. After setting your things down and organizing deodorant, perfume, and every day jewelry on the dresser, you join the guys downstairs to find them huddling over the kitchen island talking about plans for the night. 

 “Should we get a keg? It won’t be that many people, but it might be easier to just pour from one,” Erwin thinks out loud. 

 “Don’t bother getting a keg if it’s gonna be the same shitty beer you guys have at Pike parties,” you chime in, hip checking Mike so that he’ll scoot over and allow you join their little meeting. 

 Levi lets out a little laugh, the most expressive you’ve seen him so far, while the other two pout at your criticism. 

 “Why don’t you pick the beer then?” Erwin prompts. “Since you have such refined tastes.” 

 Eyebrows lifting, you laugh. “Oh, we’ve got a smartass in the house tonight.” The blond smirks and dusts off his shoulders, making Mike groan in either annoyance or embarrassment. You can’t be sure which one. 

 “Fuck, is this what it’s always like between you three?” Levi asks, looking between all of you. “Just constant bickering?”

 “More or less.”

 “That seems exhausting.”

 “It is,” you confirm. “‘S’why I can only hang out with them in small doses.”

 “Ouch.”

 “Wounded.”

 “Anyway,” you let your head hang so that all they can see is your shoulders shaking as you giggle, and when you look back up, you make sure that the smile is mostly wiped from your face. “I’m not saying I’m some kind of beer expert, but I at least know that the shit you serve at parties is rancid.”

 “And yet, you always seem to forget,” Mike teases. “I always end up having to finish yours.”

 “You don’t have to. You choose to, you fucking alkie.”

 It’s hard to come to any sort of decision with the non-stop push and pull of the conversation, and eventually Levi just walks away to let the three of you work it out. Erwin orders a keg of Rolling Rock, says something about, “Dad won’t mind me splurging a little since I downsized this whole thing for him,” and you scoff at him. 

 He’s well aware of his privilege, talks about it in an ironic manner that’s both maddening and hilarious— “Father is going to let me take the yacht out this weekend,” and, “Oh, that’s not country club appropriate.” It makes you laugh every fucking time, but it also usually earns him a smack or two. 

 The next few hours are spent gathering party supplies and getting the house ready (as in moving some furniture around and hiding valuables). Erwin leaves to pick up the keg after assuring the vendor on the phone that he can drive to them and pay extra for the short notice. You don’t know how he manages it, but you assume his confidence has a lot to do with it.

 Only about twenty people are supposed to come, “An Erwin Smith exclusive,” Mike jokes with you as you stash a couple of vases in the kitchen cabinets. 

 “Oh, does that mean I’m special?” You play.

 “Absolutely.”

 There’s something churning in your gut as you move around downstairs with Mike and Levi, an omniscient feeling, like you know how the night will end, but you’re going to fight it every step of the way. You’ve made it this long without a slip-up, and you’re determined to make it one more night. 

 Erwin gets back with about three hours to spare. He and Mike disappear to change into what you assume to be their usual douche-y attire, and you and Levi sit alone in the large living room waiting quietly. 

 You’re surprised when he speaks first, stating, “You don’t seem the sorority type.”

 Turning, you try to make sense of it, respond, “Well, I’m not.” You’re almost offended that he’d even consider you were.

 “Then what are you doing hanging around with those frat boy fucks?”

 “Oh, that.” You sigh. “Uhh, my friend made me go to one of their parties, and I just… Made an impression, I guess.”

 “You fucked one of ‘em, didn’t you?” Levi is smirking, so sure of himself that you don’t really see the point in denying it.

 “Yeah.”

 “Rich boy or the giant?”

 You look over at him, defenses rising like they did your first night in the Pi Kappa Alpha house. “The fuck is it to you?”

 Holding his hands up, Levi chuckles, “Alright, alright, forget I asked.”

 You cross your arms over your chest, stare off as you wonder if it’s actually that hard to tell. You figured it would be obvious that you’re more comfortable with Mike than with Erwin, but you have been getting more used to the other brazen blond over the last few months, just like you’ve been getting a little more used to Nile and all the other brothers. You haven’t sucked any of their dicks, though. 

 “How’d you meet Erwin?” You try.

 You’re not surprised when Levi snarks, “The fuck is it to you?” 

 You can’t tell if the two of you are going to leave this ranch house as mortal enemies or as friends, but it’ll definitely be one of them. 

 “‘Cause you don’t seem the type to hang out with them either,” you tell him.

 It's definitely odd. He and Erwin have to go back some time to have been able to stick together through their college years and all of their superficial differences. 

 Levi admires the black polish on his nails then informs you in a bored tone, “We’ve been friends since we were kids, but it’s no big deal. Just can’t get rid of him.”

 The corner of his mouth turns upward, so he can’t be too heartbroken over it. You understand that, haven’t quite been able to shake your puppy-dog of a friend since the beginning of the semester, but you’re not as annoyed about it as you pretend to be. 

 “They certainly do get attached,” you hum.

 The two men in question join you once again, looking much more palatable in jeans and v-necks. Erwin has a button-down hanging open and rolled up to his elbows while Mike is wearing a black and white flannel in similar fashion. It’s the most casual they’ve been at a party, and you can’t help but joke, “Wow, look at you two. More human, less lizard people for once.”

 Erwin rolls his eyes while Mike mumbles a Doctor Who reference that makes you suck on the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning. 

 He’s got his charm turned on tonight, the kind that appeals to you, which will definitely pose a problem.

 People start arriving at around eight, some you recognize from the college, some you don’t who you assume to be some of Erwin’s older friends. Gelgar taps the keg within minutes of walking in then plays the role of bartender for the next ten minutes as everyone lines up for a drink. There’s liquor and mixers set up on the counter, and you consider just making your usual, but you figure you should have at least a little of the beer since you’re the one who fought for the more expensive brand. 

 When you get your cup, foam nearly overflowing past the rim, you take one sip only to cough it back up when Mike shows off his usual party trick—appearing out of thin air—and asks, “You gonna finish it this time?”

 You splutter as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand then glare up at him. “I’m gonna try, but it’s gonna be pretty fuckin’ difficult if you keep making me spit up like a god damn baby.”

 He’s amused, light eyes dancing mischievously, and you know you’re in for a long night. 

 Erwin has a playlist filtering through the house’s sound system, a nice balance of several different genres playing at a bearable volume for the first time. Games start up in the kitchen, rage cage around the island, beer pong at the table, and while you’re content to just wallflower in the corner, Mike drags you into it. 

 “You’re just as bad as Hitch," you complain, but he isn't fazed, just plants you in an open spot at the island and stands right beside you. He's gonna regret doing that; rage cage is one of the only competitive games you're actually good at, but he'll find that out. 

 It's fast-paced, full of screaming and laughing, jumping and shoving. You get to slam your cup into Mike's on several occasions, drawing curses from him every time. 

 "Honestly, it's a little embarrassing," you ridicule with a smile. 

 He downs the small amount of beer in the cup he pulls, adds it to the stack, then challenges, "I'll show you embarrassing. Just wait." 

 You've had maybe two beers altogether, but it still sends a jolt down your spine. 

 The two of you play another couple of rounds, and Mike does seem to catch on a little more, but he eventually bows out and pulls you away with him. 

 More beer. Meandering around the party. It's pretty tame in comparison to all the Pike events you've attended, but the later it gets, the rowdier everyone becomes. Music gets turned up to dance. The keg stops being used for pouring and starts being used for stands. You have the absolute pleasure of watching Erwin hold Levi upside down as the smaller man chugs as much as he can. He beats Nile's record, raises his arms in victory as Erwin shakes him by the shoulders in excitement. 

 "They're pretty close, yeah?" 

 Mike looks down at you as you stand on your tip-toes to get closer to his ear as you speak. 

 He nods. "I don't really understand them, but yeah. They've been friends since, like, elementary school, I think."

 "No shit?"

 "No shit."

 You play beer pong against Gelgar and Nile, end up losing by quite a lot, and by the time you finish the remaining cups and another full drink, you're feeling good. Warm, happy, dangerously giggly. 

 Mike stands too close as you make your rounds to talk to people, many of them asking how the lacrosse season went. He puffs his chest a little, tries and fails to act modest, but instead of getting irritated like you usually do, you find yourself resting your cheek against his arm as you shake your head. You don't know if the action is to disagree with him or to get closer, but it makes Mike chuckle and shift so that he can wrap that arm around you and pull you to his chest instead. 

 He smells nice—woodsy with a sweet little bite. It makes your mouth water. You try to call back your determination from before, that readiness to fight and deny, but Mike's body is firm and massive and hot against yours, and he's also drunk and smiling sideways. His eyes are hazy and gorgeous when he peers down at you. His stubble has grown into that perfect length, the kind that feels incredible between your legs, and you can already see your hands tugging at his shaggy hair as he flips it from his face. 

 "You okay?" He rumbles, tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

 He knows. You know he knows. And, he knows that you know that— 

 Fuck. Stop. Just…

 "What do you think?" You're aware of what you're saying. The words make perfect sense. You just can't stop them from falling from your mouth is all. 

 "I don't know," Mike says, a playful lilt to his voice. "Why don't you tell me?" 

 You're not sure if he's asking for your consent or if he just wants to humiliate you by making you spell it out for him. 

 "I mean…" Your gaze travels from his face to his neck to his pecs and downward. "The semester is over."

 "It is," he agrees, hand moving from your waist to your hip. 

 "Don't really need to be, uh… What's the word…" You squeeze your eyes shut, splaying your fingers on his stomach. "Studious," you snap. "Don't need to be so studious on vacation."

 Mike very slowly starts walking backwards toward the staircase, holding you at arms length by both your hips now. 

 "No, you really don't." 

 Voice of reason fading away, you step around him but grab his hand, taking the stairs two by two until you're on the balcony that wraps above the living room. Once you slip into the closer room, yours, you lock the door. 

 Mike's mouth is familiar in its desperation—tastes like beer and want and him. He pulls his flannel off behind him by the sleeves just in time for you to start pushing his shirt up over his abs, in awe all over again at the muscle group. 

 It's really not fair. 

 You pause between kisses to strip, smiling and groaning whenever your lips meet again. You've missed it on some level—the heat, the fucking attraction you just can't shake. All the times you hung out with him, purposely keeping distance, avoiding flirting and touching and staring—you figured it would come to a head. You even guessed there was a good chance that it would be at this party. 

 But, that doesn't mean you're prepared when he throws you onto the bed, doesn't prepare you for the way he bites your lip and sucks on your neck and pinches your nipples until you moan his name and grind against him, and it certainly doesn't prepare you for the way he spreads your legs, runs his nose up the inside of your thigh, then drags his tongue over your slit. 

 "Fuck, Mike." 

 He groans, quick to slide the muscle into your pulsing cunt to taste you. His fingertips are digging into the fat of your thighs, keeping you still save for your trembling which makes the feeling of his mouth even more intense. You want to buck against his face, want to put out the fire raging inside of you by moving somehow, letting some of the energy out, but you can't. All you can do is lay there as Mike licks around your hole and nibbles at your clit and laps up your juices. 

 "Missed this fuckin' pussy," he breathes, sucking on one of your lips and then the other, pulling blood to the surface and making them puffy and sensitive. 

 You card fingers through his hair before fisting your hand in it and shoving his face further into your cunt, trying as hard as you fucking can to ride any part of him you can manage—his tongue, his nose, anything that will give you friction. 

 The sound he makes at your pathetic attempt is bestial, a low, throaty grunt as he rubs his chin up and down your slit, drenching himself in your slick and quickly overstimulating your swollen clit with his stubble. 

 "Oh fuck, oh fuck—"

 "You wanted it," he grits. "You pushed your sloppy little cunt right in my face, so now you've gotta take everything I give you." 

 You cry as he continues the motion, pussy drooling as the little bud starts to grow raw. "Mike, please, please…"

 "Gonna make sure you feel this tomorrow." He stops only to lean back down and suck your clit into his mouth. The tip of his tongue is soft in comparison to the coarse hair, but it still makes your hips twitch, and when he grazes his teeth over it, you squeal and kick. 

 It's so close to hurting, right on the edge, but it's that helplessness that has you steadily leaking on the bed. It's what makes it easy for Mike to push a finger into your clenching hole, pump a couple times, then slide another one in beside it. 

 Your climax is coiling in your gut, compressed like a spring and only getting tighter with every thrust of long, thick fingers and every measured flick of his tongue. 

 Gripping his hair again, you ride it out. Mike loosens his grip just enough to allow you to undulate in time with the waves that wash over you, and you moan loudly as he moves to flatten his tongue over your entrance so that you come on and against it. 

 He gives you some time to settle down, but you know he isn't done yet, and since you're not quite ready to take his cock in your sensitive pussy, you pull your legs from the sides of his head and crawl to lay with your head off the side of the bed. 

 Mike gets the picture immediately, and you hear a huff of air leave him all at once before he clambers off the mattress to position himself at the edge. You're a little too low, so he grabs all four pillows to shove under you, and as he does, you lavish his bobbing cock with kitten licks, going as far as sucking on his balls when he leans over you. 

 "Jesus fucking—" 

 You can feel the way they tighten, his cockhead dripping pre that lands just below the notch of your sternum. It isn't until he's thoroughly coated in spit that you stop and let him straighten, then open your mouth and relax your shoulders. 

 Mike is careful as he slides his tip past your lips, letting you adjust to the weight of his cock in your mouth before he pushes in a little further. Your eyes start watering as soon as he passes between your molars, making you stretch your jaw and drool from the corners of your mouth. 

 He pulls out then, taps his cockhead on your cheek, leaving a mix of precum and spit on your skin before lining himself up again and sliding back in. 

 He repeats the process a few times as if it'll actually get you used to his size, but it's just not possible. You gag and gurgle, slurp back drool when you're given the chance, and your entire body throbs when Mike tells you, "I'm gonna give you more now, okay? Wanna see your throat bulge with my cock."

 You moan around him, try to make the passage of your mouth and esophagus as straight as possible then let your eyes roll back as he slips into the tighter sleeve for a few seconds. Your toes dig into the bedspread, fingers clawing at the material as you fight back the panic that comes with not being able to breathe. 

 Mike pulls out panting, and you wish you could see his face, the look in his eyes, but you can't. All you can do is lap at his cock until he pushes it into your mouth again. 

 This time when he slips into your throat, he reaches down to press a hand to your neck, letting out a deep, disbelieving laugh as he feels the way his length moves in it. "Holy shit. I could—" he just barely gives you more, and your responding whine is completely muffled by him, "—Could come like this."

 The thought makes you tingle. Or maybe that's the lack of oxygen. You are feeling a little lightheaded. But the idea of him coming down your throat, right into your stomach, fuck, it makes your cunt pulse again. 

 Mike pulls out, and you suck in deep breaths, a little sob making your chest heave. Tears are streaming from your eyes, getting caught in your hair, and you have to wipe other various fluids from your face. 

 He helps you sit back up, rubs your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck as your heart rate returns to normal. As soon as he sees you relax, though, he's tugging you from the bed and bending you over it. 

 The scream that's pushed from you is hoarse as you're split open on his cock. Mike holds you by the hair, pulling your head back as he snaps his hips forward and back relentlessly. He slides in and out of you easily, but that doesn't mean he isn't stretching you to your breaking point. 

 You shake on the bed, thankful when he lets go of your head so that you can fall back to the mattress, crying and moaning all you want. 

 "Feel so good, baby," Mike groans. "So good."

 He punctuates it with a slap to your ass that causes you to squeeze him, and that only encourages him to repeat the action until both your cheeks are radiating heat and stinging from his hands. 

 He flips you like a doll, and you're finally able to see his face clearly as he stares down at you with a dropped jaw and heavy lids. You know you're a mess, fucked out and sloppy, but as he abuses your g-spot with the ridge of his cock, all you can do is grin drunkenly and let your eyes roll. 

 "So pretty when you smile," he praises. Fingers grip your chin, and when you're able to focus your gaze again you find Mike leaning over you, face level with yours. "Open your mouth for me." His tone is soft yet demanding, and you don't hesitate for a second as you do what you're told. 

 Mike pushes spit through his lips, letting it drip and stretch until it lands on your tongue. It makes you feel cheap and disgusting, but it doesn't stop you from squirting around him. 

 Devolving into nothing more than grunts and groans, Mike continues to fuck into you but straightens so that he can reach your clit better. He flicks it back and forth until your true orgasm hits you, and then he keeps going. 

 You cry out, squirm wildly beneath him, but all it results in is two fingers being shoved in your mouth. Stroking over the back of your tongue, more saliva pours from your mouth just like the slick that pours from your pussy while he toys with your clit. 

 You come again. And again. When Mike finally removes his hand from between your legs, you're nothing more than a puddle, moaning and crying for him. 

 Every orgasm has made your walls swell around him, his cock feeling longer and thicker than ever as he kisses your cervix with every thrust. That lightheaded sensation is back, white dots dancing around your eyes, and you just barely manage out his name, tapping in his forearm. 

 "Need… need…"

 "What do you need, babe?"

 Your arms curl up by your head, fingers moving and spasming as every one of your senses is overwhelmed.

  "Need you to—t-to—to come. Need you to c-come." 

 You've never had to tap out before, but you can't take him anymore. His size. His expression. His lack of fucking mercy.

 "Yeah?" He coos, but his cock is still dragging in and out of you. You nod, but Mike draws it out, asking, "Where do you want me to come?"

 "Don't… Care…"

 "You don't care?" He's still moving, fucking you absolutely stupid as he lists out, "Your face? Your tits?" He gropes your chest, pinching both nipples, and the fact that you don't even whimper must clue him into the fact that he's about to lose you. 

 Your mind is swimming, fading every time he pulls out only to be brought back online when he pushes back in. 

 "What about your pussy? Want me to come all over your pussy?" 

 You moan, the simplest part of your brain apparently finding that appealing, so after a few more thrusts, Mike pulls out entirely and jerks himself off until he covers your folds in hot cum. He gets some on your thighs, some on your pelvis, soaks your peaking clit so that you take in a stuttering breath. 

 His hand is between your legs again, fingertips spreading the viscous fluid around and dipping into your slit.

 Your eyes shoot open for the first time in God knows how long, a panicked, "M-Mike," tumbling from your lips, but he hushes you.

 "I'm not pushing it inside or anything. Just having fun."

 And, fuck, tonight is the night you learn how filthy he is. Mike spends a few solid minutes rubbing his seed over your puffy lips, fingers the raw tissue around your hole so that you leak for him, then uses it to massage your clit slowly and softly, pulling one last orgasm from you that makes fresh tears spring in your eyes. 

 You're going to be in a world of pain tomorrow, but you can't regret it—not when your legs continue to shake long after your climax, not when you can already feel that satisfying ache deep inside of you, not when Mike crawls to sit on the bed and lifts you into his arms. 

 "You okay?" He asks into your hair. 

 He's rubbing soothing circles on your stomach as you drift in and out. You know you need to shower, but you're so tired and so wrecked, you doubt you'll be able to stand for long enough to clean yourself. 

 "Did I hurt you?" 

 "Mm, little bit," you tell him honestly. You can actually feel his heart start to beat harder in his chest, so you reassure him, "Liked it, though."

 You think something like twenty minutes pass, but you can't be sure as you keep dozing. It's hard not to with Mike rubbing your stomach, his body rising and falling in rhythm with every breath he takes. 

 When your eyes open more than halfway, you begin to move, grimacing at the soreness between your legs as well as the mess. 

 "'m gonna hop in the shower," you announce. 

 Mike sits up too, stretches his arms and asks through a groan, "Want me to come with?"

 "You've done enough coming tonight," you snort. "But nah, I can clean myself on my own."

 His eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't say anything, just lets you get up and walk to the bathroom on shaky legs. 

 The hot water almost puts you back to sleep. You manage to rinse off where you need to, step back into the room fully expecting to see Mike passed out in your bed, but he's nowhere to be found. 

 As you crawl under the covers, you try to swallow the feeling of disappointment that's stuck in your throat. 

 *

Mike is up before almost everyone in the house the next morning, so he spends most of it trying to clean up alongside Levi, though he apparently isn't doing a very good job of it according to the smaller man. 

 "Jesus, have you ever mopped a floor in your life?" 

 "Oh, so we're just throwing everything in the same trash bag? No recycling? Your future kids will thank you for that, I'm sure."

 "No, there's no way I’m letting you wipe down the counters. Just move." 

 Levi is lucky Mike is as laid back as he is otherwise he would have thrown the little fuck into the koi pond behind the house a long time ago. 

 Erwin wakes up around nine and walks down looking a little rough, but Mike has definitely seen him in worse states. 

 "Thanks for cleaning up," he says, bent over the island and holding his head in his hands. "Pretty sure I would have thrown up if I'd tried. Several times."

 He tells the other two that pretty much everyone else started heading out at around three and that he has a list of party-goers he needs to text to make sure they made it home in one piece, "When I can actually fucking see straight."

 Naturally, the conversation turns to Mike. Erwin, with his cheek now pressed against the cool, granite countertop, smirks up at him and asks in a sly voice, "So, how was your night?' 

 Mike bites his lip to hide a smile, leans out of the kitchen to make sure you aren't stumbling down the stairs or traipsing about the house, then looks back to his friend and laughs, "Fucking mind-blowing, dude." He doesn't go into explicit detail—that's never been his style—but he does whisper about you taking him better than any other girl and that he's, "Addicted, dude. I genuinely think I am addicted to her pussy." 

 "Don't be fucking dramatic, Zacharias," you pop out behind him, slapping his back as you pass him to get to the fridge. He can see the ghost of a smile turning your lips up, but it's hard to feel satisfied at that when his own face is beet red. 

 Looking at Erwin, Mike throws his hands out by his side, mutters an incredulous, "Dude," that makes the other blond chuckle. 

 You grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, making Levi grumble, "Are none of you guys concerned about the planet? God damn."

 Standing between Mike and Erwin, you take a few gulps, all eyes on you until you swallow and question, "Can I help you?" Now that you're right next to him, Mike can hear a scratchiness to your voice, almost as if you're getting sick, but he knows better, knows exactly where it came from, and fuck if it doesn't make him twitch in his sweats. 

 "Have a good time at the party?" Erwin pries once again. 

 You look at him with a deadpan expression, then answer, "Seems like you already got the deets, so sure. I had a grand time."

 Mike isn't sure if you're being sarcastic about it just like you are everything else. You had just kind of left him hanging when you'd gone to shower. He hadn't thought too much into it even if he'd been a little bummed, but he thinks he understands. You just need more space than he does. 

 Or, it could have been that you hadn't enjoyed yourself. Oh god, what if you'd just been faking? What if you'd lied to him when he asked if he hurt you? What if you're in pain right now and just hiding it? 

 Mike zones out while you talk with Erwin and Levi about plans for the day, works himself into a nice little panic but is still able to hear you tell them you're just gonna head back to your mom's. 

 "You sure?" Erwin asks. "I know you only planned to stay one night, but you're more than welcome to hang out for longer. We’ll be here for at least another few days."

 Levi adds an, "Unfortunately," that earns him a hair ruffle he swats away. 

 "No, it's cool. I can't leave mom alone for the holiday or she'll start to think I don't like staying at the house."

 "You don't, though."

 "Yeah, but she doesn't have to know that."

 Mike stares after you as you take your water bottle and return upstairs, and it doesn't escape the notice of the other two men. 

 "You're so fuckin' whipped, man," Erwin teases. 

 Mike doesn't deny it, just holds up a middle finger. 

 Erwin isn't entirely wrong, though. Mike has been trying to deny it or play it off as nothing more than lust, but there's more to his feelings at this point. He tries not to be obvious around you, to keep his cards close to his chest because he knows you just want to keep things casual—barely even want that if he's being honest. 

 So he can hide it. He can pretend it isn't happening. In fact, Mike should be thankful that you only want sex (sometimes) because it leaves him to do whatever he wants. He could fuck other chicks left and right, and you wouldn't even bat an eyelash. That's a good thing, right? 

 That worry about last night still has him on edge, though, so before you can leave, Mike catches you in your room as you're packing up and closes the door. 

 He expects you to make some kind of comment about not being able to go again, but all you do is tilt your head to the side in a dangerously cute way. 

 "Hey, I, uh… I just wanted to make sure you felt okay after last night." 

 You blink at him, pause in folding your clothes, then show a wide, real grin. 

 "Yeah, I'm fine. Sore in various places—like, super sore—but I'm fine."

 Mike's mouth twists to hide his smirk, and he mumbles a low, "Sorry."

 "Don't ever apologize for your monster cock," you tell him, setting your shirt down on the mattress before pacing over to him. "Like, unless there's tearing of some sort, which there really shouldn't be since you're good at preparation, whoever you fuck should be okay. Sore but okay."

 His eyes go a little wide when you stop in front of him, looking up with an expression he's really never seen before—or maybe that you've never allowed him to see before—and the longer he stares, the more he realizes that you're god damn glowing. 

 Taking a chance, he finds your waist with his hands, inches just a little closer, then leans down when you stand on your toes and tug him by the shirt. 

 You taste like peppermint and already smell like the perfume you wear every day, the scent that has made Mike dizzy for the past few months. He moves a hand to your back to press your body into his, and when you take his bottom lip into your mouth, biting and sucking, he groans and pulls back before he can get too hard. 

 "What's all this? Why are you so perky this morning?" 

 "I get giddy after good sex," you say with a shrug. "Sue me."

 "That why you run away every time I fuck you?" He questions.

 You nod. "Couldn't run away this time, though."

 "I'm sure it's really bruising your pride, letting me see you all warm and gooey." 

 "I am not warm and gooey," you protest. "I was last night, but—"

 "Aw, gross, why'd you have to say it like that?" 

 You giggle—giggle—then remind him, "You're the one who felt the need to fucking fingerpaint."

 Mike vividly remembers the way your pussy looked covered in his cum, the way it felt to smear it and play with your swollen entrance and clit, and now… Now he is definitely hard again. 

 "Better stop before you end up on that bed again."

 Your eyes are dancing, tone mischievous when you respond, "Only if you're gentle."

 "Christ—"

 He's got you naked and spread on the mattress in less than thirty seconds, tongue buried in your cunt as he soothes every part of you he can reach. 

 It would be cruel to actually fuck you again. He knows you're probably a little more tender than you're letting on, so Mike settles for licking into you and flicking your clit, never using teeth as it swells in his mouth so that you pant and moan, and promise, "I can handle it, Mike, I can…"

 "I don't care if you can or can't. Just lemme do this."

 And, it's not like he hasn't pulled his cock from his pants, pumping it and coating his length in the pre-cum he drips at the mere sight of you.

 He can tell you're getting close when your thighs start to tense. You alternate between shifting your hips and going slack. It's the latter that you leak the most, pussy opening around his tongue only to clench a few seconds later. 

 "Just one finger, Mike, please, I want—I need something inside me, please, please," you moan. 

 Mike turns his face to kiss your thigh, sighing but giving in easily when he acquiesces, "Only one."

 The noise you make as he slides his middle finger into you is like music, high pitched and drawn out, with an awe one would sing hymns with. 

 "Yes, yes, yes, thank you, fuck, tha—"

 He understands why you wanted it so badly when he pulls it out and sees his finger coated in white, considers fucking you with it to the point of tears, but before he can, the door to the bedroom swings open and fucking Erwin walks in to ask, "Levi and I are going to the store—"

 “Jesus fuck, Erwin!" Mike swears. "A little busy here!"

 His friend is unfazed, but more importantly, you are too, arching your back, pulling Mike's hair to get him back where you want him, then moaning his name like you never have before as you come. 

 You tremble and take in stuttering breaths, and Mike does his best to hide your exposed pussy from prying eyes as he looks at Erwin and barks out a furious, "No, I don't need anything from the store. Get out."

 The blond shrugs and turns, walking out without shutting the door, and Mike swears he's gonna kill him. He's too bold and too entitled and now he's seen far too much of your body, and Mike doesn't like that. 

 "Did you come?" You ask in an airy voice. Mike guesses you could feel the rhythm of his hand on his cock, probably pushing his face harder against you with every pass. 

 "Uh, no. I don't know if you noticed, but Erwin walked in."

 "I noticed," you snort, sitting up on your elbows. "Why do you think I moaned your name like that?"

 "What?" It had seemed a little odd. Mike knows he's pretty good at oral, but you've never made a sound like that before. 

 "Fucker wanted to see what we were up to, I decided to show him. Now he knows how good you are."

 Mike stands, peers down at you skeptically and says, "You're being too nice to me today. It's freakin' me out a little."

 He doesn't think it's necessary to add that Erwin is already aware of his sexual prowess considering they definitely had a threesome with a rather adventurous girl back in freshman year. It's just not pertinent information. 

 "Soak it up, Zacharias. I'm sure the good mood will be gone by tomorrow."

 "Why, cause I won't be at your mom's to fuck you stupid every night?" His voice comes out cocky, but it's stifled by the way you squeal when he slaps a hand over your wet pussy.

 "I'm sensitive, you asshole!" You're smiling even as you whine. "And, here I was about to give you head to get you off."

 "I mean, you can still do that."

 You glare up at him the whole time you slide off the bed to your knees, warn, "Better hope I don't bite."

 *

 After you leave (and after making out against Mike’s Wrangler for a little too long), he goes back inside to find Erwin and Levi lounging in the den with a movie playing. He wastes no time in snapping his fingers at Erwin and commanding, "We're gonna talk."

 "Oh, are we?" Erwin doesn't even look away until Mike grabs the back of his shirt, and only then does he move from his spot. "Okay, okay, watch the wrinkles, bro."

 He follows Mike into the kitchen, out of earshot unless either of them raise their voices which… Could happen. 

 "What the fuck was that?" Mike hisses. 

 Erwin looks at him with big blue eyes and plays dumb, "What the fuck was what?" 

 Taking a deep breath through his nose, Mike makes sure his voice comes out low and steady, "Smith, I swear to God, it's been a long time since I've punched you, but you're fuckin' testing me, dude."

 Erwin smiles, face lighting up with what looks like excitement but could also be fury. 

 "Mike," he starts. "Don't tell me you're getting violent over a girl." His tone is patronizing, his eyebrows are high, and his grin is downright menacing. 

 "I haven't gotten violent yet," Mike grits. 

 "Hey, how was I to know what you two were doing up there?" 

 "It's not about you walking in, dude! It's about you just fucking standing there!"

 Erwin chuckles and blows him off, "Mike, I've seen your dick before. You've got nothing to worry about."

 "That's not what I'm worried about. You just, like, came in when she was in a vulnerable position, and that's fucked up."

 "She didn't seem to mind."

 Mike sucks his teeth, takes another grounding breath, then asks again, "Why? Why did you wait to leave?" 

 "You want me to be honest?" Erwin rolls his neck then his shoulders. Mike has seen him do that many times before lacrosse games to loosen up—to get ready for a fight. 

 Mike's fist clenches at his side. "Yeah, I do."

 "You've been making yourself crazy over this girl since the start of the semester, and I want to know why."

 "What do you mean?" Mike doesn't know why he asks, has a pretty good idea of what Erwin is alluding to. 

 The blond still dodges the question but in about the worst way possible. "It's not like you two are exclusive or anything."

 Mike feels the way his lungs fill to the point of burning, how his jaw clenches until his molars begin to ache under the pressure, and before he really knows what's happening, he's bowing up to his best friend. 

 Erwin matches him, only a couple inches shorter, chin tilted, that maddening light in his eyes. 

 "Walk away, Mike," he warns. "And, we can forget this little spat even happened."

 Mike peers down his nose at him, trying to rein in his emotions because Erwin is right. You two aren't exclusive. You don't want to be. You told him it was because you need to focus on school, but it could be that you want other options. 

 But fuck, Mike doesn't want Erwin to be one of them. He's stolen more than a few girls right from under Mike's nose with his stupid charm and stupid face and stupid money. He doesn't want you to fall prey to all of it too. 

 Mike doesn't even register the quiet footsteps padding into the kitchen, but Levi's smartass, "You guys about to kiss or somethin'?" definitely snaps him out of his head. 

 Stepping back, Mike resists the urge to punch the counter and break his fucking hand, then turns and strides out. 

 He's supposed to stay at the ranch house for a couple more days, but Mike needs to distance himself before he does something stupid. 

 When he comes back downstairs with his bag on his shoulder and his keys in his hand, Erwin seems to realize his error on at least some level and stands from his place on the couch. 

 "Mike, come on, I'm sor—"

 "Let me cool off, dude,” Mike snaps.

 Erwin shuts his mouth and sits back down, smart enough not to follow Mike outside.

[ next ]

[sunjaesol]

THE MANY CRUSHES OF LUKE PATTERSON... AND THE ONE THAT STUCK

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

1982

Luke Patterson's first crush ever was Haley Martin. He adored the colour of her hair — like the clementines his mom bought — and the way she finger-painted, enough for his four year old eyes to stare at her in awe.

He watched her make mud pies in the sandbox from the monkey bars, only to ruin them to get a rise out of her. He couldn't understand why she didn't like him the way he did, so he nagged his mom to explain.

"Teasing girls should be fun for them too, sweetheart," she soothed. "This Haley clearly didn't like it."

He blinked. "Huh?"

Her smile stayed warm, similar to hot chocolate and whenever grandpa conjured candies from behind his ear. "Why don't you share your grapes with her tomorrow? I'm sure she'll like that."

His nose scrunched up. "Why?"

"Because it's sweet, Luke."

"I don't get that," he shrugged. "But I'll try."

The next day, he sat beside her during storybook time and that seemed to help a little already. By the time it was lunch, her mood was lifted, which excited him too, and urged him to offer the grapes.

It earned him a featherlight kiss on the cheek.

Luke squeaked in surprise, flushing a firetruck red, to which she giggled and plopped another grape in her mouth.

Three days later, his crush was gone from his mind and he began sharing his grapes with his new friend Reginald instead.

1986

"Can you ask Jessica what she thinks of me?" Luke hurriedly whispered, eyes flickering between Reggie and the girl from across the courtyard.

Normally, Luke Patterson exuded confidence. The resident class clown, always opening his jaw to react to the teacher without raising his hand, catching fights with stupid classmates, sneaking into dad's stationwagon to create mixtapes.

Fearlessness was his freaking middle name. (It was actually Beck, but whatever. He wished it was something cool like Duran Duran though.)

But when it came to girls... he got so nervous. Because they were girls! He didn't understand them! They hated rambunctious boys and only listened to stupid pop music and blabbered about how they stole makeup from their sisters.

Jessica, however, somehow made his heart flutter and his stomach twist up. She just looked cool in her dungarees and she had a pretty smile and she didn't wear that overwhelming, sugary perfume that was now popular.

Reggie snickered, in the way only eight year old boys could. "You liiiiiiike her!"

"No!" He scowled. "I–I'm just curious."

"Sure," he drawled, but then shrugged in agreement, the oversized leather jacket rustling on his shoulders. He stole it from his older brother after he saw him kissing (!!!) some girl and figured it held some magic to impress the ladies with.

"Just do it!"

With a dramatic flourish, the boy left their hiding spot, Luke lurking around the corner of the alcove to watch. Jessica looked up from her hard work of creating friendship bracelets and smiled at Reggie.

Oh, gosh. She was pretty.

A minute later, a sheepish Reg slowly crawled back to him, cheeks red and fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.

Luke grabbed his shoulders, urgent. "What did she say?"

"Uh... well..."

"C'mon, dude!"

Reggie sighed. "She... likes me, buddy. Sorry."

His hopeful face crashed into one of devestation, quickly covering it up with a laugh and a squeeze of the shoulder. Oh, man, what would Steven Tyler do?

"That– that's dope!"

In the end, Reggie and Jessica were boyfriend and girlfriend for a week while he wrote an angry poem about how stupid dungarees were.

Huh... it was surprisingly good.

1988

"Hey, Luke," Gwenn greeted, shy, tucking her hands in her Camp Wacky Rocka hoodie. "I really liked that song you made about your guitar."

Jumping from the tree branch to the ground, Luke dazzled her with an appreciative smile. From above, Reggie and their new friend Alex watched on curiously.

"Thanks!"

Who would've thought that summer camp would be the first time he made a real, girl friend! Gwenn was super cool and she played the saxophone and she liked Joan Jett and her hair was all curly and big and it reminded him of pretty clouds.

Looking over her shoulder, he noticed a gaggle of girls staring at them. Like they were waiting.

Gwenn stared at him. "Can you close your eyes?"

He frowned. "Why?"

"Just 'cause."

Whatever. Maybe she wanted to show him something cool and would stick it in his hand. Complying, he closed his eyes and impatiently waited, bouncing on his heels.

"So?"

Suddenly, he felt a light, warm touch on his mouth and — oh! She was kissing him!

Luke staggered back in surprise, gawking at a blushing Gwenn as she squeaked a sorry and ran back to the now giggling and screeching girls. They ran away like a flock of birds.

It was a dare! His first kiss, stolen by a dare!

His boys jumped down beside him, awed.

Reggie hollered. "You kissed Gwenn!"

"I don't get it," Alex muttered.

Luke's face twisted up in a sour expression. Camp Wacky Rocka should be all about the music and becoming legends and Gwenn ruined it!

He stuck his tongue out. "Whatever. Let's go to the mess hall!"

1989

When Luke turned eleven, he kissed someone for real.

His birthday party was at the arcade, loud chatter and robotic sounds clashing together in an amazing cacophony. His parents hated the place, which is why Luke loved it.

Of the twenty guests, Yasmine clapped the loudest after he finished his song with the boys — Math Is For Losers! — and grabbed his hand as they walked to a duel game.

Luke felt fuckin' giddy the entire time. (Freakin' in front of his parents, fuckin' with friends.) The swoop in his stomach, his cheeks stretched into a wide beam.

Freshly eleven and the king of the arcade, he boldly asked if he could kiss her.

She smiled, her purple headband glittering in the neon lights, and nodded.

It was short and warm and her lips tasted like pink lemonade and sour gummies and it gave him an entirely new buzz. It was exciting.

He kissed her a couple more times the days after, eager and curious, until she claimed she was now only interested in twelve year old boys.

Since Luke now held the record of most kisses between him, Alex and Reggie, he wasn't too bothered by it. They shook hands, complimented each other on the kissing, and that was that.

1992

"Are you or are you not my boyfriend?" Olivia bit, crossing her arms.

Luke sighed, lazy gaze drifting from her to his band waiting by their bikes. Damn, he thought having a girlfriend would be way easier. Why was she so tense?

"I am," he said. "Why do you think I'm not?"

"Because you ignore me, like, all the time!" Pouting, she fiddled with the hem of her tartan skirt. "And now you're going to be with your band!"

He shrugged. "You can come with us and listen, if you want."

Luke met Olivia this year as deskmates in French class. Her raven hair was long and thick and her lips were all shiny from lip gloss and maybe he got a little cocky, thinking he could be dating the hottest girl of freshman year, so he naturally asked her out.

Maybe he should've considered beforehand whether they had anything in common, but he'd always been the overzealous type. And besides... she was a good kisser.

She scoffed. "That's not any better. Whatever. I'll just hang with Tina and Priscilla then. Laters!"

Plopping a kiss on his lips, she turned around and stalked to her whispering friends. Luke puffed, adjusted the beanie and made his way to the boys.

Girls were confusing.

"I bet dating boys is easier," Alex mused. "Like, equally terrifying, but also... easier. I think. Maybe."

Bobby laughed. "How's the girlfriend, Luke?"

"Ha ha," he deadpanned. "Let's go. I got this new song, Crooked Teeth, and it's a fucking banger!"

Olivia broke up with him after Sunset Curve's first, official gig at the arcade with the explanation that he loved music more than her. He never loved her to begin with, so maybe that was the problem.

She made out with Bobby that same night.

Holy shit, man. He supposed that bitter feeling at the sight of them tasted like rock 'n roll, the one thing he actually craved.

What a funny, funny feeling. (He wrote a hell of a lot of songs about it after. He never quite looked at Bobby the same way either.)

1995

"Hey, Maisie." Leaning against the locker beside the girl, he shot her a million dollar smile. "You comin' to our gig tonight? It's at The Orpheum."

Maisie was fucking awesome. Always in short, flowery dresses and fishnet tights and thick eyeliner like a rockstar, always listening to something new on her walkman. She came from a rich family, but that didn't hinder them from becoming friends.

Her jaw fell slack in awe, him instantly gaining more confidence. Ducking his head to meet her eye, he leaned a little closer. He knew damn well what he was doing, and he got a thrill every time it worked.

"Really?" She gasped. "That's awesome! I'll so be there!"

"Sweet," he grinned. "And stay after too."

A brow quirked up, intrigued. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Just 'cause."

"Right," she drawled. "Nothing is 'just because' with you, Luke."

"And that's why you gotta stay," he teased, nudging her shoe with his. "To find out."

If they rocked that gig and he felt like a fucking legend, he hoped it would end with the two of them hooking up. He wasn't interested in dating — having learned his lesson after Olivia — and he knew she wasn't either, but she was fun.

And that was the most important to him: to have fucking fun. Luke Patterson was here for a good time, not a long time.

And if nothing happened between him and Maisie, then he'd still feel like a legend. In a couple of hours, he was going to play at The Orpheum! How gnarly was that?!

2022

Twenty-seven years later, Luke was still seventeen years old. While he preferred to not question the science behind ghostly activities — he flunked physics anyway — he was happy that he froze at this age.

Because Julie was seventeen, too.

And, man. He was madly in love with her.

He loved everything, from the babyhairs curling around her ears, to her voice and compassionate soul, to her beautiful smile, all the way to her cute, doodled sneakers.

Her epic music taste, her snark, the way she always found his gaze, the way she finished his lyrics, the way she always knew what to say to make him feel better.

His heart melted to a flickering candle whenever she hugged him, a raging wildfire erupting between every kiss. He was a fool for her.

"Stop moving," she giggled, one hand coming up to hold his chin.

He grinned, "Sorry, Jules."

Shifting closer, she dabbled more glitter on his cheeks. They were playing at a black-light club tonight, so Julie and Flynn bought all the glow in the dark makeup available at the store for the occasion.

They looked ridiculous in daylight, Julie's weirdly pink lipstick claiming all his attention, but he knew they'd look fucking cool once the lights went down.

"You want to watch a movie after the gig?" she whispered.

Luke rolled his eyes, playful. "You're gonna fall asleep."

"Yeah." With a bashful tilt of the shoulder, she leaned in closer. "But then you'll be with me."

"Julie! How scandalous," he teased, though his chest swelled at the thought of having some alone time, some cuddle time, with Julie.

"So?"

Murmuring a yes, he closed the little distance to kiss her, sealing the deal, only for her to chase after him — an attempt to wipe the lipstick stain off his lips.

"Nah, keep it." A smirk grew. "So the people know."

She tsked. "Idiot."

"You like it."

"I'm still taking it off though, seeing as you're supposed to be a hologram," she pointed out. "But... you can kiss my lipstick away after the show."

He sighed, dreamy. "I love you."

Finishing his glitter and removing the stain, she dazzled him with a satisfied smile. "Love you too."

She rose up from the couch and went to search for Reggie, the boy likely with Carlos. For a moment, Luke was alone in the studio, allowing himself to sink into that warm, fuzzy feeling.

No matter how many blunders he went through with girls — Haley, Jessica, Gwenn, Yasmine, Olivia, Maisie — they all prepared him, in one way or the other, for Julie.

To not only recognise when an awesome girl was standing right in front of him, but also how to treat her — because Julie Molina deserved the fucking world.

Even if that world now included the supernatural.

Whatever. They were all a little crazy.

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

@bluefirewrites @blush-and-books @pink-flame @ourstarscollided @constantly-singing @unsaid-emily @willexx

[jamestrmtx]

Wish Upon a Night Sky - [Beastars | Various x Reader]

[Female, Sheep Reader | Slow Burn]

Act Three | Age-old Conflict

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

"I knew I'd find you here!"

At the sound of that voice -- familiar and friendly -- you look up from your book and form a smile when you recognize the person behind it. 

"Are you busy right now?" Jack asks, sitting in the empty chair next to yours. "I'd like you to meet someone, if you're not too busy!"

You bookmark where you're at, glance up to face his eyes, and catch a glimpse of excitement behind them. Him looking so cheerful as he waits for your response makes it almost impossible not to be persuaded into agreeing right off the bat. Still, you give the offer some thought and take your school schedule into account, against letting your responsibilities pile up right from the beginning.

"Sure," you reply, setting the book aside. "I'm just doing some self-study, at the moment." You furrow your gaze and add, "Who am I meeting, by the way?" While having time was one thing, taking into consideration who you would befriend was another. You look around and frown when you see there's no one present nearby, not only from the risk of you being all alone at a school like this one, but at the curiosity over getting to meet another student -- and potential, eventual friend, hopefully.

Jack calls the person over as a response. 

The one mentioned doesn't take too long to appear, as he shows up by the door frame in less than it takes for you to organize the pile of books on the table; he even manages a sheepish wave when he catches you staring at him, yet he keeps quiet and still after that, in spite of neither of you knowing each other's names.

It's another wolf, though he's nowhere similar to Juno. The only remotely close aspect you can find between them is his height, but even then, it's not the same. If Jack had to crouch a bit to talk to you, the wolf would no doubt have to do that, too -- if not more than that. Jack introduces him as Legoshi, a name you'd often heard slip from Juno's mouth since the past week spent as her roommate. You reciprocate his wave from earlier and direct a quick smile at him, one he returns with a reserved, almost hesitant nature -- completely different from your expectations, given his species.

At the thought of him being the one Juno often rambled on about, you bite back a grin and introduce yourself in return. The image she'd painted you of the wolf is barely needed when you take notice of just how cautious and awkward he is in greeting you. It's like he's not so sure as to how to approach you, and each movement he makes is just as wary as the next. 

When you shake hands with him, you see his gaze wander over to the book and a pile of them left on the table.

His face lights up in recognition, and it doesn't take long before he asks, "Are you the homeschool student from last week?"

You chuckle, let go of his hand, and walk off back to the table to pick up the book, smile growing when you read the title again. "Is it that obvious?" You hold it up in your hands and bite back another laugh. "I'm, well... I'm trying to be less… ignorant -- now that I'm going to be studying at a place like this! Homeschool didn't really teach me stuff beyond math, science, and languages, so I need to make up for that as much as I can." 'Of Wolves and Sheep: A Fundamental Guide to Carnivores, Herbivores, and those in between', reads the book's cover; the sheer irony of your meeting deems you incapable of wiping away your smile. "But, this is probably basic knowledge to everyone here though, huh?"

His eyes glance over the book once more, while his gaze softens as he shakes his head, returning your playful nature. "Not really," he replies, sitting down across from you and Jack when you offer him to. "I'm still learning, too," he adds. "Maybe it looks like everyone here knows about that topic, but... If you know about what happened to one of the students, you'd think differently." A somber expression reaches his face as he huffs and passes a hand against the back of his neck; a more mournful look then glints in his visage -- almost a second after, yet it's shaken off when he continues with, "In the end, it feels more like everyone's just trying their best to understand each other despite everything going on."

You toy with the book in your possession and stay quiet as your mind debates whether or not it would be okay to ask more about the incident. So far, you'd only heard rumours about it, these hard to hold on to with how frail and inconsistent their sources and information were. When you see sadness return to the wolf's gaze, you fight against it. Whatever went on at the drama club with one of its students was clearly still affecting him to this day, so you try not to make him feel worse by adding any unneeded comments to the mix. Whether he knew the person didn't matter; asking anything else would kill the mood entirely.

"I thought you'd wait for me, Legoshi. How rude of you!"

Hearing another voice blend into the calm of the library, you glance back towards the door to see a peafowl standing by it, a smile on his face despite the accusation in his words. He has his arms firmly crossed, faking anger through an equally firm glare. "Were you that desperate to meet the new girl? You disappeared the second we left the drama club!" While part of your questions are fulfilled with the person's entrance, you still don't dare ask Legoshi about the incident. Rather, you keep quiet and greet the peafowl with a wave and a smile -- just like you'd done with the wolf next to you. "You all look so cute together! Should I take a picture?"

You tense up and observe those around you. Embarrassment falls on you when you notice just how popular you seem to be currently, being surrounded by two canines and an avian. Your first few days as a new student appear gone now, and -- to any outsider -- it would come off as if you're the center of attention, with all gazes on you. "It… It's fine!" you reply, words almost stuttered. On instinct, you hide behind your book and try to control the shake of your hands. As kind as the offer is, you're far too jittery to even consider the idea of having your picture taken -- and even less with other people.

Still, you're against being rude, so you add a 'thank you, though' after your words.

"A shy one, aren't you?" he comments, covering a giggle with his hand. "You must be (Y/N), right? Juno wouldn't stop talking about the new girl, and when I heard Legoshi was meeting you today, I just had to join!" He stands by the only empty chair left at your table and extends a hand out to you before sitting down. "My name's Dom. It's nice to meet you!"

Safe to say, his energy is infectious.

You take his hand, palm feeling just as warm as his voice and smile. "Nice to meet you, too." 

Then, you let go and move your gaze back to your book. The pile at the center of the table is the next thing to be the source of attention when Dom comments over it, mischief replacing his previous, friendly tone. He reaches out for the pile, drags it over to his side, and picks the odd one out -- one you'd tried to hide by slipping it in the very middle of the rest. "It seems our new girl already has her eyes on someone here, huh? And here I thought Juno was only teasing you about it!"

To be blunt, he's holding a romance book -- its cover risqué. The image features a forbidden love between a carnivore and a herbivore, and while the publishing year dates back to almost a century ago, it retains plenty of relevance today. At a time when tension between the two sides was still fresh and bleeding, books like these existed, though you didn't exactly want to be found out with it currently. "Is it this guy, perhaps?" Dom asks, pointing at Jack, who straightens his posture as fast as the accusation comes. A hint of red shows on his face, but he tries to hide it by looking elsewhere. "You sure act quick, (Y/N)! I'm impressed."

Not wanting for further assumptions to be made, you suspend yourself over the table, focus on your target, and try to reach out for the book. Too easy to be true, you almost fall over when Dom pulls back, hiding it behind him. "It- It's not like that, really!" you exclaim, words coming out about as flustered as your face likely is now. "I'm just curious about the book -- It reminds me of a fairytale I read when I was little!"

At that, Dom stops evading your attempts at grabbing the book back from him. Interest crosses his gaze and a moment of silence takes over the room, one you're not feeling too confident about. "Oh, really?" he asks, cooing. "Hopeless romantic? Or curious about what your parents never told you?"

You sit back down on your seat and look at your lap, face burning. "A... A bit of both, actually."

The peafowl laughs, a sound honest and bright. When you stare back at him, he's holding out the book, waiting for you to take it. "Lend it to me when you're finished, alright?" he says, winking. "I'm a bit curious myself."

You allow yourself a few minutes for your face to cool down some more and huff out a long, deep breath when you're done. Truth be told, it nearly seems as if you've spent all the energy left in you by agreeing to meet new people, yet you don't exactly dislike the experience. Rather, you smile again when you recover and find your cheeks and chest hurt from how happy you are right now.

Nodding, you take the book and place it under your current read.

Your shoulders tense when you feel everyone's eyes on you, though you push through with an "alright".

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

[quarantinevibes2020]

LoveDrug

Summary:  That trope where someone's eyes dilate when they see someone they love. That's it. That's the whole fic. OR Virgil and his accomplice play matchmakers for some literal star-crossed lovers.

Word count: 2198

Pairing: Romantic Roman/ Logan (college AU)

Warnings: drinking (not underage), other drugs mentioned but no one uses any

Yes this happened to me. Hush and let me project

AO3 Link

Roman was going to murder his roommate. Or at least shave an eyebrow off in his sleep.

He had been trying to navigate a small apartment decorated in polaroids and newspaper paintings, crowded with people he didn’t know. He had done his best flitting around from group to group: parties weren’t exactly a foreign entity to him and usually he would relish in the chance to make new friends. However, he had been looking for a particularly stormy visage among the sea of people.

He locked eyes with his target: Virgil Kross, aforementioned roommate who had dragged him here in the beginning of the night and told him to stay close before uncharacteristically darting off.

The get together was for everyone in Virgil’s physics class and when Roman found him, Virgil was propped up against a wall and sitting on some steps, swirling around a cider and talking to someone in square glasses and an almost comically over-formal button down.

Virgil caught his eye and lifted an eyebrow. Roman shook his head in a restrained don’t you dare Virgil I swear sort of way. Virgil either didn’t see it or outright ignored him. He waved Roman over, made some sort of excuse that Roman didn’t hear, and left the two alone.

Roman was going to fill Virgil’s pillowcase with popcorn kernels. He was going to tape his toothbrush to the ceiling. He was going to hide his socks in the freezer. He was going to-

“Roman?”

Roman sucked in a breath, litany of threats against his horrible, no good roommate suddenly coming to a halt.

In front of him sat Logan Nova, Virgil’s study partner from when he had taken astronomy a semester ago and also, less important, the person Roman had been pining for ever since Virgil had dragged them on their fieldtrip in September. The class was supposed to map out the stars they saw, identify them, and measure their distances or something. Roman didn’t really keep track of the details. He wasn’t even too interested in looking at the stars, coming from a city where they were mostly blocked out by the light pollution.

And sure, they were pretty in the open sky, but not prettier than the wide eyes that drank them in, than the elated expression that same face had when Roman asked him a question about the class since Virgil was off probably shotgunning a beer with their professor and Roman was bored out of his mind. Logan had shown Roman his star maps and pulled out a worn out textbook with tenderly placed bookmarks of his favorite constellations. Roman had been fascinated by the stories behind them and the two spent the night going through the book, cover to cover.

By the end, Roman was sure he never thought the stars were beautiful until he saw them reflected in Logan’s eyes.

Virgil continued to bring Logan over, even after their astronomy classes had ended, sometimes completely unannounced, before flouncing off to run some errands with his art major friends (how Virgil managed to double major never ceased to amaze Roman, especially given that both those majors were so hard). And for the past six months, Roman had gone from crushing to something close to besotted. It wasn’t something very easy to hide so the next time Roman caught that spider he was going to put ice down his back and-

“Um, there aren’t anymore seats. I can move if you’d like?”

Logan’s voice brought Roman back to the present. He took an extra swig of his drink, hoping that Logan wouldn’t notice how he almost downed it for the courage, and shook his head.

“Scooch on over, Specs, we can share,” Roman said, the burn behind his sternum fueling his words.

Logan laughed, a little bubbly and Roman guessed that his cup was full of something with a similar texture, and moved for Roman to balance on half the seat.

Roman took another sip, looking out over the room of people.

“So this is what you physics people do on a Friday night, huh?” Roman asked, a little teasingly, “not bad.”

Logan bumped him and Roman barely kept his heart from fluttering out of his chest like a frantic dove.

“Did you see how drunk half the class got at the Meteor Fields?”

Roman snorted, “Fair. We almost had to carry Virgil back to the room.”

“You almost had to carry him. I did carry him.”

Roman made a noise of offense, “Excuse me! I am a knight in shining armor! Not a carriage!”

Logan laughed and Roman finally turned to look at him, startling when his face was much closer than he had anticipated.

“I don’t appreciate that I am the carriage in this metaphor,” Logan said with a faux-pout. Roman wanted to quip something back, but he had something of an elephant-sized lump in his throat. Logan tilted his head before leaning in. Roman just barely managed not to squeak.

“Goodness,” Logan said, “your eyes are so dilated!”

Roman blinked, taking another sip of his drink and trying to will a blush down.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah!” Logan exclaimed back, leaning in even more and woo-boy was he close.

Roman looked to his drink slightly, not able to hold Logan’s wide eyes for a second without turning cherry-red.

“It’s pretty bright in here, they shouldn’t be,” Roman said, trying to ‘science it out’ like Logan loved to do. Logan, mercifully to Roman’s thundering pulse, sat back a bit: considering.

“Well. Quite a few things can cause one’s pupils to dilate. Lack of light. Opiate withdrawal. Looking at someone you’re attracted to. Love. Parasympathetic activat-”

“Coke,” Roman nearly choked out. Logan paused in the list he was rattling off and blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Coke. I did coke. Just- whole line of cocaine all in one gulp.”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t drink cocaine, Roman. Furthermore-”

Roman didn’t hear the rest of Logan’s sentence. He pushed off the wire seating, sputtering out something about refilling his drink, and made a beeline for the back exit.

When he got to the balcony, he nearly slammed his head into the corner of the railing.

Well Roman thought miserably better for him to think you’re on drugs than hopelessly in love with him. Really dodged a bullet there.

The thought didn’t help. Roman let out a groan and let himself slump. He poked his legs between the columns of the balcony and swung his feet. Above him, the sky was hazy. The moon was barely visible as it peeked through a curtain of clouds. Not a star in the sky. A part of Roman thought that was rather fitting given how royally he had just messed up.

A door opened and closed behind him. For a moment, Roman thought it was Virgil from how quiet the footsteps were and was about to get up and tell him he was heading out when he turned around.

Logan Nova, adorable wavy black hair and now slightly-crumpled but still endearing button down, was staring back at him. Clutching his drink a little as he moved to sit next to Roman. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then-

“Whoever your dealer is, I don’t think they gave you cocaine,” he finally said.

Roman swiveled around to meet his eyes. Logan’s eyebrows furrowed even further.

“Your eyes are dilated again. And while that is a symptom of its ingestion, your behavior otherwise does not indicate its use.”

Something bubbled out of Roman’s throat. For a horrifying moment, Roman thought it was his drink trying to take revenge, but no- it was laughter. Croaky at first, but rapidly devolving into full-bellied howling.

“Perhaps I misjudged?” Logan said after Roman’s guffaws continued, Roman shook his head, trying to stop the shake in his shoulders as Logan, obviously more than a little concerned at Roman’s ‘illicit drug use’, got more and more worried by the minute.

“I didn’t do any drugs, Logan,” Roman finally got out between heaving breaths. Logan stuck out his bottom lip a little.

“But you said..?”

Roman waved at him, he must have misjudged the distance because his hand caught Logan’s shoulder but Roman didn’t feel like moving it.

“I know what I said,” Roman said, laughter trickling, “I know, it was stupid, I promise though. I haven’t had anything besides this crappy beer and,” Roman took in a breath, now or never he guessed, “maybe a little love,” he finished quietly, not sure whether he should thank the alcohol or curse it for letting him say it.

Logan’s eyebrows shot up, “Lovedrug? Like ecstacy?!”

“What?!” Roman shot back, looking incredulous before rubbing his face, “NO, not- not lovedrug you-UGH- how are you smart but so dense??”

Logan only blinked in return. Roman supposed he deserved that.

“Lo,” Roman said, taking his legs out of the balcony and setting them in a lazy kneel, “what were the things you listed off for making someone’s eyes dilate?”

Logan’s nose scrunched, “Em. Parasympathetic activation?”

“Keep going,” Roman said, exasperated but woefully fond.

“Ecstasy would certainly be on the list.”

“Logan.”

Logan huffed, “Ah. I believe I also said looking at someone you’re attract-”

Logan stopped. His expression almost sent Roman into hysterics again but he didn’t give in because if he did he might have ended up crying.

“Oh,” Logan said in a small voice.

“Yeah, oh” Roman echoed softly, “sorry I lied, I kind of just. Panicked. A little.”

“So you led me to believe you had taken a bad strain of cocaine?” Logan replied, voice strained but still shocked out of emotion.

Roman squirmed. “Yee. My bad, you don’t- you know. Have to say anything though. I know you don’t- I just wanted you to know since you seemed a little freaked that I was having a bad drug reaction.”

“You know I don’t what?” Logan asked suddenly as he spun to face Roman. Roman looked down and scratched his nose.

“You don’t-ugh. Don’t make me say it dude, you know what I mean.”

“Roman, look at me.”

Boy, Logan was not making it easy. But he supposed if he was going to get rejected, he should look at him straight in the eyes. At least he’d retain some of his dignity then. Roman lifted his chin.

“What color are my eyes?”

Roman blinked, a little caught off-guard from the question. Was it that obvious that Roman had been waxing poetic about Logan’s eyes in his own mind from the moment he had met him? How they caught the light and sucked it in, like two galaxies swirling in his irises. How his lashes curled naturally, almost touching his brow bone when they were alight with wonder. How it didn’t even matter now that he couldn’t see a star in the sky because they were all caught in Logan’s eyes. They were a force of gravity pulling him in and everything else with them.

“…black?” Roman said, tamping down on his raging thoughts. Logan cocked his head.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked.

Roman almost would have been offended if Logan hadn’t chosen that moment to tug Roman’s chin towards him.

“Look closer,” Logan said.

Breathe, dumbass Roman’s brain said. He listened to both as he squinted.

There were still the swirling galaxies in the middle. The soft gaze did nothing to curb that, but there- Roman tilted his head as he saw something else. Like the sun brimming over the earth, a honey brown at the very edges. Logan must have seen Roman’s expression as he realized it.

“My eyes are amber, Roman.”

There was something in Logan’s voice, it was the same one he used when he was helping Roman with his GenEd calc class. Like he was trying to lead him somewhere. If Logan’s eyes were amber, then his pupils must have been massive because they took up the majority of the…oh.

“But-I-I don’t,” Roman stuttered.

“What were the reasons for someone’s eyes to dilate?” Logan pushed.

“Didn’t take you for a coke guy,” Roman said, trying for cool but bordering on watery. Logan huffed, his face was so close that Roman could feel the breath.

Then, Logan’s lips were on his own and suddenly Roman could care less about eyes.

“Logan,” Roman breathed, smiling when he pulled him forward into another kiss. He turned to pepper more along his jaw bone. Logan giggled. Roman tried to stamp the sound into his brain.

“You’re amazing, you know. Amazing, smart, beautiful, so beautiful,” Roman whispered, half out of his mind as he tugged on the hair at the nape of Logan’s neck.

“Are you sure that’s not the alcohol talking?” Logan managed, though it came out a bit garbled.

“Nothing can addle my brain more than your beauty already has,” Roman replied instantly, pulling Logan in again.

-

Behind the window of the balcony, a blue sweater clad boy adjusted his round glasses and gleefully took a five dollar bill from a pouting spider.

“I told you all they needed was a little push,” whispered the glasses boy.

“Fucking finally,” replied the spider, not missing his five dollars all that much.

[headheartbellarke]

JEALOUS | Luke Patterson

Requested by anon: “5 times Luke gets jealous and one time he doesn’t have too. Luke x reader?”

PAIRING(s): Mercer!fem reader x Luke Patterson WARNING(s): angst, fluff WORDS: 2.3k SUMMARY: Five times Luke Patterson gets jealous and one time he doesn’t have to.

A/N: hi! sorry this took so long, lol. school sucks. :/ i promise im gonna be posting more frequently from now onwards! anyway, decided to make y/n alex’ sister, bc i’ve been wanting to try it for a while. hope u like it!! <3 also, song used is carry me by kygo ft. julia michaels.

1.

The first time that Luke Patterson feels that scorching, smoldering rage in the pit of his stomach is when he notices Y/N Mercer stare at his bandmate, Bobby Wilson, for the entirety of their hour-long Literature class.

At first, he doesn’t understand why he feels this way: Y/N’s just as much Bobby’s friend as she is his. Well, not really – Luke likes to believe that he is the one that she is closest to in the band, other than her brother, Alex, of course. Sure, Bobby and Y/N are friends – they say ‘hi’ when they pass by each other in the hallway, she helps him out with his Physics homework when he asks, and he asks her how her day’s been – that sort of friends. They’ve never really interacted more than it was required, and Luke knows that if Bobby wasn’t a part of their band, Sunset Curve, or if Y/N wasn’t their drummer’s sister, those two wouldn’t be friends.

Anyway, he thinks that maybe it’s because they are supposed to be partners, working on their assignment together – and instead, she is choosing to abandon him and stare at one of his best mates, instead. He thinks that maybe he’s mad because she promised him that she would help him out with this assignment, which is particularly hard, and now, it feels like he’s ditching her.

Instead of thinking about why he is so bothered at the fact that Y/N is staring at Bobby, Luke chooses to elbow her instead.

“What?” She whispers, a blush covering her cheeks.

“Can you focus?” He snaps as she rolls her eyes and opens their textbook.

“You’re annoying.”

2.

“Alex, Alex, Alex!”

“Luke, I’m sitting right beside you – you don’t need to yell.”

“There’s something that you should know.” Luke whispers, conspiratorially. Alex, who’s sitting beside him on the couch in the garage where they rehearse, leans forward, intrigued. “What?”

He points at Y/N, who’s sitting in front of Reggie in the opposite side of the room, strumming a guitar – Reggie’s teaching her how to play. Unlike her twin brother, she’s not naturally gifted in music, which is pretty evident from her occasional frustrated huffs, and the obviously off-key tune. Rather, science is her talent, and has always been. The top spot in their class has been permanently occupied by her ever since their first exam as freshmen.

“She!” Luke whispers. Alex furrows his brows. “Yes, I know that she has no musical talent whatsoever –”

“No, no, no. I mean, yes, she doesn’t have that – but you wanna know what she does?”

“I have a feeling that you’re gonna tell me even if I don’t wanna know.” Alex mutters.

“She has a crush on Bobby!” Luke scrunches his face, a disgusted look taking over.

The drummer raises his brows and bursts out laughing. “Really, dude?”

“No, no, no, I’m not lying, okay! I’ve seen her stare at him!”

He raises his brows. “So? She stares at a lot of people.”  

“It wasn’t that way, okay? Last week, in class, she was ignoring me and staring at him. Plus, yesterday, when you were god knows where, she and Bobby were having a conversation. An actual conversation! I’ve never seen them talk that much. They were nerding out over Star Wars!”

“Dude, are you…” Alex pauses, looking around, “… jealous?” A smile spreads over his features.

Luke’s eyes widen, and he looks horrified. “What? Me? Jealous? Huh? Me? How?”

Inside, he is panicking. He hadn’t considered this possibility. Is he jealous? No, that can’t be. Y/N – he’s known her forever, and he is supposed to think of her as his sister. He does think so. He’s sure. He can’t – he doesn’t like her. She’s just… Y/N. Sure, he’s always thought that she’s beautiful. And smart. And so, so kind. He’s always admired her. OK, he might have had a little crush on her. But, in a totally harmless, admiring way! (In the way everyone seems to like Winona Ryder these days. Nothing more than that. Absolutely.)

She’s just Y/N.

Y/N, who’s always there for him after he has a bad day. Y/N, who’s the first person he hugs after playing an intense show. Y/N, who’s the only person who can understand his silence. Y/N, who makes sure that he knows that she appreciates him. Y/N, who he knows like the back of his hand.

Before Luke can panic any further, Bobby enters the garage, and Luke notices her attention immediately shift toward him. They exchange a smile, and Luke feels that rage, yet again.

He falls back on the couch, locking eyes with Alex, who is silently watching with a soft smile on his face.

“I’m not jealous.” He says weakly, and Alex nods – but he knows that it doesn’t convince either of them. His friend lays a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “It’s okay.”

3.

By the time the next month rolls around, Luke is positive that he’s jealous: so, he’s resorted to not thinking about it, her or even interacting with her – which is hard considering that she’s always around.

Now, he feels like shit. For their junior year, they are supposed to do a report on a Victorian era novel of their choice, with a partner. He and Y/N were supposed to partners – they had decided months ago and have also done previous assignments together. But now, since he hasn’t even dared to look at her in a month, she’s now doing the report with Bobby, of all people.

As he watches Bobby and Y/N sit next to each other with their arms brushing, he feels that rage again, and curses himself. Could he not have behaved like a normal person? He knows that she is confused as to why he’s suddenly ignoring and avoiding her – she has even asked her brother about it. But Luke had threatened Alex that he would tell everyone about his crush on Reggie if he even said a single syllable.

(Although Luke knows that he would never.)

He sighs, dramatically, and searches for someone else to pair up with, ignoring the way his heart clenches at the realization that he may be losing her.

4.

“Luke?”

He looks up and feels a rush in his veins.

“Are you… mad at me?” Y/N asks tentatively, standing at the door to his bedroom. Her eyes keep flitting between his face and around his bedroom, and he hates the fact that there seems to be an ocean between them.

“Uh…” He scratches the back of his neck, not knowing what to respond. She looks down at her feet, biting her lip and Luke feels a tug on his heartstrings at that. It’s been so, so long and he has so, so much to tell her, but he doesn’t know how to bridge the gap that he created.

He builds up his courage and says, “Yeah. I was kinda mad at you.”

Her eyebrows furrow, and panic flows into her e/c eyes. “What – what’d I do?”

Luke inhales sharply and wonders what he’s gonna say. It’s not like he can say that he was jealous of the fact that she liked Bobby, nor could he say that in the past month he has realized the fact that he may have a tiny, little crush on her and had to avoid her at all costs because she will never like him back and it’s too embarrassing?

He clears his throat. “Uh. It’s because you promised that you would do the English project with me but you’re doing it with Bobby.”

“But I’m only doing it with him because you won’t even look at me! Why won’t you?”

“I… You also ignored me for Bobby the other day?”

She throws her hands up. “What other day?”

“When we were working on the Shakespeare thingy!”

“I was not – now you’re making –”

“Forget it. Just go home, Y/N.”

A look of hurt flashes over her eyes, but she quickly clenches her jaw, and stands straighter, masking her emotions. “Asshole.”

She walks out his door, slamming the door shut behind her.

For the rest of the day, Luke lies on his bed and stares at his ceiling, and when Reggie comes over, he tells him that he’s ruined everything. Reggie lies beside him and asks softly, “You okay?”

“I think I like Y/N.” He whispers.

“We know.”

His lips part and he says in disbelief, “Alex told you?!”

Reggie shrugs. “He didn’t need to. Everyone can see the way that you look at her.”

Luke sighs, too tired to argue.

“Hey. It’s just a date, alright? It’s not like they’re getting married.”

Luke props himself on his elbow. “What?”

“Y’know, Y/N’s really picky –”

“What date?”

Reggie’s eyes widen. “Y-You didn’t know?”

Luke raises his brows, urging his friend to continue. He purses his lips and says, “Y/N and Bobby are on a date right now.”

Instantly, Luke feels as if his world has drained of every colour. Reggie looks uncomfortable, and whispers, “I thought you knew.”

“I, uh, I didn’t. Obviously.” He whispers, falling back on the bed again. His heart physically hurts, and he can feel tears prick at the back of his eyes. Mostly, he feels anger – at himself, and regret.

As jealousy claws its way to the surface, Luke mutters, “I hate Bobby.”

5.

Luke sits cross legged on the floor of the garage, with a Spanish guitar perched on his lap. His hands dance over the strings, trying to find the perfect melody for the song he just wrote.

Writing songs has always been his way of dealing with his emotions, especially when they got too intense. Right now, the situation with Y/N is exactly that.

His eyes dance over the notebook in front of him, and he closes his eyes, trying to forget everything that’s happened in the past couple of days.

“Cause I don't know how we How we got so far, you and me Almost like there's oceans between us, us So I need to know Could you carry me? Back into your heart again Could you carry me? Right into your distant hands Could you carry me? Right back to where we started from Could you carry me?”

“That’s beautiful.”

Luke’s head turns sharply to the side, and of course, it’s her. He clenches his jaws, and says, “What are you doing here?” He hates the fact that she looks so pretty, wearing a beautiful red sundress.

She bites her lower lip, and says, “We should talk, Luke.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

She giggles. “You’ve always been the jealous type.”

He raises his brows, opening his mouth to deny whatever she was about to say next, but she raises a hand to stop him. “Alex and Reg told me. They said that they’re tired of seeing you mope every day.”

“I –”

“Hold on. So, for the past month, you’ve been mad at me because you thought I like Bobby?”

Luke lowers his head, choosing to stare at his open palm instead.

“You ignored one of your best friends for more than a month because you were jealous, and you were too much of an idiot to tell her the truth?”

“Well, you don’t gotta be so mean about it.”

She laughs. “Luke. Bobby and I – we’re just friends, okay? I was staring at him because I really liked his hair. And you have to admit it – it’s nice. I actually asked him for his shampoo, too. But, well, you and him both thought that I liked him. That’s why he asked me out to the movies last day. But... uh, well, it didn’t work out.”

His heart races at the last sentence. “Why?”

“Because I like you, Luke. I always have. I thought I could like Bobby, I really did – but all I could think about last night was you.” She shrugs, and Luke feels like he’s falling. He thinks that the universe is playing a prank on him, but when he sees her crimson tinged face, the vulnerability in her eyes and her fiddling with her hands, he allows himself to feel the slightest amount of hope.

She looks down, continuing, “I, uh, I always thought that you only saw me as your best friend’s little sister. I didn’t ever think that, you know, that there could be something more. So, I kept it to myself and only Alex knew. But, last night, Reg came over and they were screaming for a while, about you and me, so I went to find out what happened, and they told me that you, uh, liked me too.”

Reggie. He must have told Alex that Luke was ugly crying on his shoulder.

“Please say something, Luke.”

He releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I – I feel like you’re pranking me.”

She grins. “No. No, definitely not.”

“Y/N, god, you have no idea how difficult this past month has been for me. I mean, I never realized that I liked you that much until I saw you with him, you know? I always thought that I had a tiny, little crush on you but I never… and I thought that Alex would kill me if I did anything, but he’s been oddly… nice about all this.”

“He’s just tired of hearing me talk about you.”

“Probably. But yeah. I think you’re brilliant, Mercer. And I really, really, really like you.”

She jumps a little, and whispers, “I really, really, really like you too.”

“Do you maybe wanna go to the movies with me?” His wide grin matches hers.

“Only if we watch part two of Father of The Bride.”

“Deal.”

+1.

Luke watches Bobby smile at Y/N, looking at her as if she’s put the moon in the sky. Although, this time, he doesn’t feel the rage. He doesn’t need to, really, with Y/N’s hand wrapped in his, and the ghost of her lips still lingering on his.

 requests open! as always, feedback is highly appreciated <33

[randomshenaniganery]

If I got placed in Obey Me! Shall We Date

Me: I always knew I was going to hell

M: To all the fuckers that said I’m going to hell I’m already here and I’m coming back bitches * puts on mammon’s shades * 

M: That’s hella nuts

M: I’d say thank God but I don’t think this can apply to this situation

M: I was going to say I’m going to hell for this but what do you know

M: Do my sins count if I’m already in hell?

M: Not today Satan! * throws down a bottle of holy water and runs * 

M: What are you going to do kill me? I already died once try me bitch

M: Hey man don’t piss off lucifer we don’t want another Satan

M: I mean if humans knew that you guys are demons and you exist there’s going to be an overpopulation problem in here just saying

M: I’m not saying Diavolo is a DILF BUT-

M: Barbatos tell me the truth is your torture chamber for u or not because the fandom can’t decide if you are a sadist or a masochist but also WHY DO YOU LIKE BEING IGNORED?????

M: Polygamy is dating lucifer who’s dating Diavolo

M: * every time I receive a gift from Diavolo * Daddy who? 

M: I’m already in hell I have nothing to lose come at me bitch

M: ohhh teaaaa-no Barbatos I did not mean actual tea-

M: HOW DARE YOU LEVI MONIKA IS BEST GIRL-

M: I want Lotan 

M: Beel is my emotional support huggable bear

M: Beel no matter what anyone tells you, you are an angel

M: Look me in the eyes and tell me Asmo and Solomon haven’t fucked. LOOK ME IN THE EYES-

M: I’m going to kill god and chop him up to little pieces and feed him to my starving child *gestures to Beel * (this is a line from starkid) 

M: Simeon how do I make a formal complaint to God about human existence?

M: Belphie you literally chose a dumbass reason to hate humanity, there are so many good ones to choose from

M: I’m not saying humanity is worse than demons but like ya know * gestures vaguely that humanity is definitely worse than demons *

M: Lucifer please cosplay for me and Levi

M: Mammon I choose you! 

M: If a demon tries to attack me I have the right to shove bleach down their throat right? It won’t KILL them but it would definitely be painful. But also can I keep their skull-

M: Dear Daddy Lord Diavolo the next time you get an exchange student please send a letter because I would have come here willingly anyway

M: Solomon you have to reenact this Greatest Showman scene with me or I will feel utterly betrayed

M: Jesus FUckinG Christ-stop making that face Luke

M: I like how you guys summoned me it’s like I’m the demon and yes I am I’m here to make six months of your eternal lives miserable

M: Top, bottom, bottom, top, switch, switch, switch 

M: The only reason why I’m mad at you Belphie is because you killed me for a stupid reason like come on man kill me because you ACTUALLY hate me ya know??

M: I totally would dissect demons if given the opportunity ya know for science

M: Levi you’re not ugly or misshapen it’s just that your brothers have given you impossibly high standards

M: Mammon u fucking sub

M: technically that’s not your brother that’s your nephew

M: Asmo are you sure you’re not the avatar of pride because that’s a hella lot of vanity you have there

M: who the fuck named Devildom 

M: so... theoretically how would one go about to wake up the demon king-what?? I said theoretically!

M: Purgatory was created by Dante because of his fanfiction 

M: God’s existence is the validation of millions of people’s pain and suffering just sayin’

M: Well fuck man I’m atheist I don’t know how to react to being summoned by demons 

M: Solomon if you don’t have a spell that helps me get rid of mosquitoes that goes near then what’s the fucking point

M: Hell is dark like my soul

M: You guys just went with the fucking aesthetic with these buildings huh

M: So wanna bet who’s the top with Diavolo and Lucifer-oh fuck pleasenohavemercy

M: Hi Beel I’m going to jump down please catch me 

M: Beel is the only one that I give permission to eat me but eating me out is an entirely different conversation just sayin’

M: Belphie I challenge you to a lazy contest

M: Levi please buy a Rimuru plushie for me onegaishimasu

M: I’m trying to out weeb Levi but he’s such a gatekeeper

M: I hope to God that none of you will ever discover my reddit and youtube history

M: Simeon did you write the future or were you writing fanfiction about the brothers-

M: Luke hating demons is racist

M: God saw the demon race and decided to be creative in the weirdest ways Levi just what even are you wearing

M: Asmo I hate to say this but Mammon out sluts you in his demon form 

M: The only thing I’d marry is a dragon-Dia no

M: Beel I love you like a mother because none of you have ever had a motherly figure and I doubt your emotional maturity sometimes.

M: I’m not in the anti-lucifer group I’m in the anti-everybody

M: Sebastian michaelis nooooooooo

[matthewtkachuk]

problem - jj maybank

being friends with pope heyward unfortunately means suffering through more interactions with jj maybank than you’d ever ask for. except, what was that phrase about the line between love and hate?

warnings: none

pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: 1.5k

a/n: i said i was done with the boat show, but @outerbankslut​ deserves the best secret santa gift i can offer her. happy late christmas and i hope you like it honey!

JJ Maybank is annoying. He talks a lot, never really knows when to shut up. Usually, the things he says have little value and yet somehow even less substance. More times than not, his words are careless insults, things said purely to pick at you and drive you mad. You’re usually the better person, can usually let things like that roll right off your back.

And yet, it gets under your skin so badly it has you spitting words of vitriol at him yourself, turns you into some kind of monster whose only goal in life is to bring JJ down. This is not entirely against your neutral persona; however, it makes you seem more high strung than you really are.

You’re Pope’s friend, first and foremost. More a lover than a fighter, more akin to Pope’s natural, bookish tendencies than his reckless side that you only see coming out when he’s around his other best friends. Come summertime, you see a lot more of the other side, as most of your hangouts with Pope take place with the pogues in the background.

You have no problem with the rest of Pope’s friends; they all try their best to make you feel welcome. Kie gets you a job at her family’s restaurant, and the two of you bond while dishing out food and dealing with the complaints of entitled kooks and touron parents alike. John B offers you his couch when you’re too tired to bike home, and Sarah turns out to be a stronger confidant than you had initially assumed based on her family’s socioeconomic status.

JJ remains elusive.

You don’t really remember a time where you ever found JJ Maybank to be anything but childish and stupid. From the earliest days you were aware of who he was - even back in the second grade, he couldn’t help but run his mouth in a way that you found highly insulting - you couldn’t stand the boy. He didn’t grow out of it the way that Pope and your other friends did. To you, JJ was the same immature little boy who once shoved your face in mud and ate worms.

He shows it again when you show hesitance about joining them on the boat for the afternoon. There’s a lot you could be doing at home, or you could pick up a shift at your second job, or you could get a head start on your summer reading - if you were going to get out of this dead-end town, you needed to work really hard to secure a full ride.

“What’s the matter, Bookworm can’t hang?” comes from JJ’s mouth as you’re preparing to turn them down. It causes anger to flash across your face, and Pope’s stepping forward to try and get between the two of you.

You just shrug them both off and get on the boat, using Pope for leverage. “Never said that.” You’re not sure what point you’re trying to prove or who you’re trying to prove it to, but you feel the need to all the same. 

There’s an awkward silence as you sit between Pope and Kie, one that she tries to fill as she offers you a drink. Again, you’re hesitant, and again JJ picks up on it, scoffing before you even have a chance to respond. You turn on him with a glare, “spit it out, Maybank.”

“Nothing, I was just thinking that it was stupid to offer. We all know you’re going to turn it down.” And, well, he’s not wrong, but the way he thinks he knows you or something is so annoying you almost grab a beer just to spite him. But, despite your need to prove him wrong, you’re not going to do something you don’t feel comfortable doing just because some idiot says you won’t.

“Sorry, we don’t all need alcohol in order to have a fun time,” you roll your eyes and grab a bottle of water instead, chugging the contents and ignoring the way JJ is looking at you while you do.

He laughs, but you ignore him in favor of turning to Kie and striking up a conversation with her about water conservation. JJ doesn’t like being ignored, and you know that choosing to not engage with him further will frustrate him more than any barbed insult you could ever throw his way. When John B finds a suitable place to drop anchor, you and Kie lie side by side on the bow of the boat, chatting quietly while the boys mess around in the water. That is until you’re both doused in water by one not at all sorry-looking JJ Maybank. 

Kie just screams and laughs, shouting his name as she leans over the boat to splash him back. You’re pissed, though. For some reason, this is the final straw for you.

“What’s your problem with me?” you snap finally, voice cracking with all the emotions laden in it.

He avoids your gaze, shrugging and speaking, “I don’t have a problem with you.”

It’s evasive, and it’s annoying. “Bullshit,” you snap again, “you’ve had a problem with me forever, so what is it?”

He just scratches at the back of his neck, gaze roaming the waves rather than meet your eyes. You roll your eyes again, so frustrated and tired with this old song and dance as you repeat yourself, “What’s your problem?”

“Guys-” Kie tries to mediate between you as John B and Pope scramble back on the boat. 

“Not now, Kie!” you shout from your place on the boat. 

She just sighs a little, clearly as fed up with your behavior as the other two boys on the boat. “You asked for this,” she warns before suddenly you find yourself in the water beside JJ. 

Sputtering, you flail your arms and legs to keep yourself afloat. The truth is, you’re not the strongest swimmer. It’s not like you’re going to drown out here or anything, but it’s going to take a lot of effort to keep from doing so. “What the hell, you guys?” 

JJ seems to have caught on more quickly than you have, as he yells up at them, “Don’t do this!”

You spin in the water to glare at him, “do what? What the heck is going on?”

“It worked for us!” Sarah shouts as you hear the boat engine turn over. Suddenly you’re furious.

“Don’t you dare!” you yell out, head snapping to Pope, “you’re dead to me if you don’t let us back on that boat this instant.” He just kind of shrugs and half-heartedly waves to you as the boat begins to pull away. 

“Now look at what you’ve done! You just couldn’t leave me be for one stupid afternoon, huh?” You’re pissed at JJ, pissed at Pope and the other pogues. You’re also pissed at yourself for how good JJ looks as he effortlessly floats beside you. 

“Hey, this wasn’t just me, Bookworm. You didn’t have to start yelling at me.” JJ is so calm it’s infuriating, and it makes you want to drown him. You don’t, of course, they don’t offer full-ride scholarships to felons after all.

“You pick at me literally every second of every day, and you’re going to blame me for yelling at you?” you ask incredulously. “Seriously, how self-unaware are you?” He doesn’t answer you again, and the frustration just explodes out of you like the volcano you’d won the fourth-grade science fair with despite JJ’s sabotage attempt with half a bottle of mountain dew. “I’m not going to ask again. I will swim all the way back to shore if I need to. What. Is. Your. Problem. With. Me?”

It’s like a switch flipped on JJ then, some sort of fuse just lit, or some circuit just broke. “You’re my problem, Bookworm! You’re too pretty, and funny, and smart; it drives me crazy. I just want to make you feel as crazy as you make me feel!” 

Your jaw drops, and the seconds tick by as his words enter your consciousness. Suddenly, you laugh - harder than you ever have before, head tilted back, eyes closed, entire body shaking with laughter, laugh. “You don’t think you drive me crazy? Surely you know what you look like? And you’re always so happy and carefree. I wish I wasn’t so hung up on everything and could just enjoy the moment like you do.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he says immediately after you’re done speaking, never one for silences or quiet. 

You shake your head in disbelief before something occurs to you. “Did you just call me pretty? Do you have a big crush on me, JJ?”

“What? No,” he sputters loudly.

“You wanna kiss me so bad, don’t you?” you taunt a little, more flirtatious than malicious, and he picks up on it right away.

Perking up, he says, “maybe I do?” 

As he’s kissing the life out of you in the middle of the water, you think to yourself maybe you wanted to kiss him, too.

[feen-feet]

Compounds

This is a fanfic based on Sleepless Domain, a magical girl webcomic by Mary Cagle. More Benzine fluff.

------

Steffi’s worst subject was Free Study. 

It isn’t really a subject. Just blocks of time spent in the library, assigned for catching up on classwork you’re behind on. She had no shortage of that. The problem was, just… she was unsupervised! No one checked attendance! How was she supposed to concentrate when goofing off was such an easy option? How dare these teachers place so much… trust in her?

She sighed, cheek in hand, noticing she’d been doodling in the margins of her exercise book for a good five minutes now. She looked across the table to Benzine. She was head down, pen scratching away. A model student. Dork.

So bored. “Hey Benz, how did you do on that Outer Science paper?”

No reaction. Benzine’s head remained down. She scowled, scratching something out.

Steffi’s eyes narrowed. She brought her pen up, judged the distance and weight, then flicked it at Benzine’s head.

The gentle clonk got a sharp reaction as Benzine straightened. “Waugh! What? Nothing!” She seemed… embarrassed?

Further suspicion reduced Steffi’s eyes to slits. She glanced at Benzine’s exercise book. She had her calculus textbook out, but that didn’t look like calculus…

She returned her gaze to Benzine. “Behind you.”

“Huh?” Benzine turned. Steffi snatched Benzine’s exercise book away. Yeesh, she’s really off her game.

“HEY!” Benzine grabbed the book, yanking at it, but not before Steffi got a look at its content.

JULIE

RACHEL

LISA

MARY

SALLY

BERNADETTE. This one was crossed out.

Steffi met Benzine’s eyes. The yanking had stopped. Benzine's face was aflame. She dropped her hands, and face, to the table. A muffled explanation. “I need a new name.”

Steffi sat there, holding the book. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Was wondering about that. Are these… candidates?”

Benzine sat up, only to slump back in her chair, sighing. “Kinda? No… I dunno. I’ve been making lists for a while, but nothing feels right. It’s one thing being assigned a name by someone. Actually picking one out…” She trailed off.

Steffi cocked her head a little. “Have you been tryna' think of one from scratch?”

"No, I... hang on." Benzine dug around in her bag, then stood a dog-eared book on the table. 1,001 Names For A Bouncing Baby Girl.

Benzine stared at Steffi, dead-eyed. "Please ignore the name."

Steffi stared back, blinking. "Well, this is ridiculous." She pushed her chair out, standing up. "Wait here."

Benzine looked nervous. "Wait, where are you..." Steffi was already gone. She returned quickly, dumping thick textbooks on the table. One book faced Benzine. Bennett's Chemical Compound Guide.

"Wh... why are you looking in there?"

Steffi plonked into her seat, cracking one of the textbooks. "Because, Benzine, you've accepted you're a girl, but you are yet to accept you're also a huge nerd."

Benzine wanted to argue. She really, really wanted to argue. But as she scanned the, uh... passionate graphic design on the cover, listing off names like Leucine, Thiazine, Ornithine, Simazine... the way they sounded. She had to admit Steffi had a point.

She really was a huge nerd. ------

Steffi drew her finger down the page. “Ooh, what about Chloe?”

Benzine's eyes narrowed. “Short for…?”

Steffi smirked. “Chlorine.”

The narrowing was followed by a roll. Benzine returned to her textbook. “What about penicillin? Could do Penny…”

“Bit mouldy, isn’t it?”

Benzine scowled. “I’m never sure which bits of science class you’ve paid attention to.”

Steffi stuck her tongue out in response. “How about Boron then? Short for boring moron.”

As Benzine snorted, the bell sounded. She sighed. “Maybe we need some second opinions.” ------

“What about Alkaline?” Techno asked. “You could shorten it to Allie.”

Benzine, in her Rock Blitz getup, sat on the park bench as the rest of Team Blitz perched on the fountain, poring over Bennett’s Guide.

Benzine pondered a moment before writing that down. “Yeah, that’s not bad.”

“Oooh!” Chandra cooed. “What about Strychnine? That sounds cool!”

Benzine smirked. “Keep reading the description, Swing.”

Chandra kept reading. “Oh. Yeh, maybe not.”

Steffi looked up. “What about Beryllium?”

Benzine’s face soured. “Isn’t Beryl kinda an old woman name?”

“You are an old woman.”

“Wh- I’m two months older than you!”

“Exactly, you need a walker.” Steffi went back to the book.

Chandra smirked. “Lookit this one! Asparagine. You could switch teams and be Outrageous Asparagus.”

“PFFFFFF” Benzine’s giggle was drowned out by the 10pm announcement. A mauve and orange barrier settled over the city. “Guys, the barrier’s up.”

The rest of Team Blitz remained focussed on the book. "Shush, Benzine," Techno said. "We’re busy." ------

There are diners and little cafes that stay open until 10pm, then open up again at 2am for a few hours. Some girls liked to wind down a little before going home, and the owners showed their appreciation for the City's defenders by keeping the lights on for them.

Tonight, Steffi decided to take advantage. Benzine was happy to call it a night, but Steffi insisted they spend a little more time poring over the guides.

Steam rose from Benzine’s mug, recently refilled. She had to stop sipping from it or she’d never sleep. “Hydrazine?”

Steffi grunted, face buried in Chemistry 201. That probably meant no.

Benzine yawned, scanning the index. Tryptamine. Auxin. Cysteine. Ferredoxin. Estradiol. OK, that one was definitely too on the nose.

She grimaced. She liked this idea. Hell, she’d been walking around named for a chemical all her life, thanks to her dork parents. But now that she was picking one out for herself… was it too much? Was this too ‘extra’ for her personality? Would people laugh?

Her worries were interrupted by an extended snort. She looked up. Steffi had crumpled over her book, overtaken by high-pitched giggles.

Benzine raised an eyebrow. “What? What’s so funny?”

Still giggling, face stuck on the table, she pushed her book over to Benzine. A finger stuck next to a chemical definition.

Arsenite.

Steffi could barely speak. “…ass… ass night…”

Benzine joined Steffi in her collapse into hysterics, the sort that only come at 3am. The two idiots called it quits soon after. ------

Benzine sat at a table outside Future’s Promise, resenting the morning. Yet more coffee cooled in a takeaway cup. She flipped through the baby name book idly, not really paying attention to it.

She sighed. The chemical thing was a nice idea, but after a day of searching, nothing had clicked. Ah well. She could keep going by Benzine for now-

WHOMP. Bennett’s Guide landed in front of her, open on a page. Benzine looked up.

A Steffi-shaped being loomed over her, bent and crooked, staring. Her face drooped, dark bags under her eyes. She did not speak.

Benzine eyes widened. “Were you up all night?”

Still silent, Steffi tapped the page insistently. Benzine looked where directed. A definition had been underlined, along with a few details.

ANILINE

...an electron-rich benzene derivative...

…primary component in the production of synthetic indigo (blue) dye.

Next to these details, scrawled in wobbly handwriting, was a nickname. ANNIE.

Benzine stared at it for a while. Aniline. Annie. She rolled them around in her head.

That was it. It fit. It felt right.

She looked up. “Steffi, I-“

Steffi held a hand up as she chugged a can of Raging Kiwi energy drink. A four pack had appeared on the table from somewhere.

With a pffhaugh, Steffi dropped the can on the table. “No talk. Thank me later.” She cracked another can, gulping it down.