#I WAS GOOD AT ALGEBRA I LIKED ALGEBRA THIS IS A HIT TO MY PRIDE FUCK EVEHEJKEKKFOOF

[bitterpngs]

I FUCKED UP A SIMPLE EQUATION FML

[basketballanonsblog]

I'm a little nervous to post this because this is the first time I've written for Tzuyu. I dedicate this to @dinoooo-w who requested a Tzuyu one-shot (I hope you like it). It's just fluff

Synopsis: What's the best way to confess to your crush ?

Paper Trails

Power forward.

That was your position on the school's basketball team, something you prided yourself on.

It also boosted your popularity amongst your peers but for the past few months, there was only one person whose attention you longed for.

Chou Tzuyu.

She transferred at the beginning of the semester, and the first time you saw her, was painfully memorable.

You dribbled the ball before passing it to your teammate. Swiftly, you ran closer to the hoop, but your attention was stolen by the prettiest girl you had ever seen. Walking to the bleachers had never looked so good.

A minute later, it hit you that you were still playing. Literally hit you. The impact from the basketball knocked you back to reality. You weren't too disoriented, but some gathered to check if you were alright; effectively blocking your view of the person who unknowingly had a role in this commotion. Not that you were mad or anything, just curious.

Since then, it was difficult not to notice her. She sat a few places in front of you in most of your classes, and her presence was so magnetic. You could listen to her talk for hours, even if it was about algebra.

It became a dilemma after a week of losing sleep over her. No one had made you this giddy before.

Class had finished, you were almost out the door when you heard your name.

"Y/n, you dropped your pen." You spun so fast, you swore you got whiplash.

"You know my name?!"

"It's hard to forget the name of the person who got hit with a basketball." Tzuyu said no more and walked away.

Her tone was so dry, you couldn't tell if she was teasing you or not. Either way, that was your first interaction.

-x-

"I don't know man, what if it doesn't work?"

One of your teammates, Jeongyeon, suggested leaving a written compliment in her locker.

"What's the harm? She won't know it's from you, so you can play it cool. Besides, the team has agreed that we're sick of seeing you pining." The joke made you feel a little better.

Right, here goes nothing.

You slipped the paper in and left.

-x-

This went on for a month, and now again, you'd notice when she read the little notes you left her.

One day, in a bold move, you decided to ask her about them.

"A little birdie told me that a secret admirer is leaving you love notes."

Her lips curled up minutely.

"Yeah, they're cute, but honestly, I'm uninterested and throw them away after reading them."

Your heart sunk.

"Oh."

"Yeah...anyway, I'll see in you class y/n."

-x-

You missed again.

"Y/n! What is up with you today? You haven't made a single shot this afternoon!"

"Sorry, coach, I'm just having an off day." 

He sighed but didn't berate you further. With a big game next week, he understood the pressure that comes with it.

"Damn, she really got under your skin, huh?"

"I don't know what I was thinking, she's way out of my league."

"That's true." You didn't regret throwing a basketball at her.

"You know, Jeongyeon, you should really be nice to your captain, or else you'll end up doing extra push-ups."

"Empty threats don't work on me, young one. Anyway, I think you should write one more hand it to her directly, so she knows."

-x-

For some reason, you took her advice again.

You managed to catch her after school. You trembled a bit when you approached her.

"Tzuyu." The words flew out your head when she smiled at you. "This is for you." You practically shoved the paper into her hand before running away.

She opened it, and her smile grew.

I like you, will you go out with me?

Tzuyu knew exactly how to give you her answer.

-x-

"Ten seconds on the clock! Will y/n be able to make the shot in time?"

You were just a bit too far from the hoop, but you took the risk.

9

8

7

6

There was silence as the ball glided through the air.

5

4

3

2

1

"And it's in! What a victory for the last game of the season!"

Your team tackled you in a hug and then lifted you in the air since you scored the winning shot. Amidst the celebration, you locked eyes with Tzuyu, who waved at you.

You met her outside once you had showered and changed.

It was her turn to give you a piece of paper.

Yes.

P.S. I never threw them away, I knew it was you leaving notes in my locker. Your handwriting is distinct.

You looked back up at Tzuyu, who held her gaze on the ground.

How can someone be this adorable?

"I'm meeting the team for some pizza to celebrate. Do you want to join me?"

She reached for your hand and grinned.

"It's a date."

[randomfoggytiger]

15 questions 15 mutuals

*loud gasp* Thank your for including me, @frogsmulder)!!! :DDDD

I am not responsible for any grammar/spelling mistakes because I'm shooting from the hip and leaving the body wherever it drops.

15 questions 15 mutuals

1. Are you named after anyone?

My first name is a feminine version of my dad's name (and one my paternal grandmother wanted to use for a girl), and my middle name Susanne is a derivative of my maternal grandmother's name (I misspelt it as Suzanne for a year? in middle school because... I forgot how it was spelt, I suppose.)

2. When was the last time you cried?

Almost teared up at Craig Ferguson's eulogy for his dad tonight (catching up on his content on YouTube.) But I did tear up at his eulogy for his mom this morning (also on Youtube.)

3. Do you have kids?

No... but one day I will.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

No, surprisingly-- mine is more bemused mockery (very like Mr. Bennett in Pride and Prejudice... but not the 2005 one. Not that Mr. Bennett. Never that Mr. Bennett.)

5. What sports do you play/have played?

...None. I felt that Olympic champion part of my soul wither and die away; so thanks for providing me that experience. (That was mild and playful sarcasm-- guess I do use it sometimes~.)

6. What's the first thing you notice about other people?

Probably how much space they take up-- not in a bad way, just in a way to gauge them as a possible threat? (I dunno-- don't think that 5 foot nothing woman who could have been blown away with an east wind was much of a threat; but maybe my brain thinks so.)

7. What's your eye color?

Brown. Reddish brown. (Bond accent included.)

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

..................HAPPY ENDINGS. But not cheesy ones-- give me Pride and Prejudice over Hallmark any day.

9. Any special talents?

I have an awe-inspiring ability to effortlessly make delicious food; BUT the magic happens when I make desserts that taste pretty good without wheat (even without flour in a pinch), without any granulated sugar (even without ANY sugar but fruit), AND without eggs (use 2-4 Tbsp seltzer water.) ...It was a dark, but necessary time in my life (someone else's health was affected, etc.) Can't make soup, though.

10. Where were you born?

California, US. I was there for... two months? before my fam hit the road. Two years later we left the mainland.

11. What are your hobbies?

Making amazing X-Files fic compilations, meta analyses, and my newest passion: absolutely spectacular AMVs (that I call Musicals.)

12. Do you have any pets?

Not currently-- I had a fish in second grade; then two outdoor rabbits through late elementary to early high school.

13. How tall are you?

5'5" (I'm your height, @frogsmulder! ;)))))

14. Favorite subject in school?

Literature-- loved learning about the technicalities behind writing and composing poetry; and I loved reading most of the required material. Math was great, but I missed a lot of errors. My interests failed once we left algebra and approached geometry/calculus.

15. Dream job?

Writer. I know deep down that I don't have that ...artistry? to create fiction-- which is fine (I do better with poetry-- though it's very untrained and pretty rough around the edges-- and, I think, critical writing.) I did write a "legal" document to my landlord when I was in middle school asking him to buy me a shih tzu puppy and he was impressed that I, a small child, wrote it as professionally as I did (I can't remember a word it said. XDDDD)

Time to tag everyone-- I'm going to tag everyone who's active on Tumblr right now, so this'll be cool to look back at years later as an piece of archived history: @baronessblixen, @suitablyaggrieved, @dd-is-my-guiltypleasure, @demon-fetal-harvest, @mondfuchs, @thebeautifulfantastic, @the-spooky-alien, @dreamingofscully, @annablume, @scullyeffect, @medicaldoctordana, @thatfragilecapricorn30, @starwalker42, @90stvqueen, @mulderscully, @onlyonechoice77, @ghostbustermelanieking, @pianogirlxf, @gabby-msr, @sonictacocat, @kiivitaja, @msmissymd, @tossingmyglossymane, @borogirl, @perpetually-weirdening, @unremarkable-house, @thescullyphile, @hamster-on-fire, @two-microscopes, @agentbluefox, @herdingcats12, @leonardbetts, @mulderwearingglasses, @catsandcoffeeandchemistry, @tiredpeterparker, @mollybecameanengineer, @adrianne68, @enigmaticdrblockhead, @albanyparkavenue, @thetigerisout, @samucabd, @invidiosa, @enigmaticxbee

(I added a few more than necessary; but I want to know people's answers.)

Respond only if you want~

[jupiterjunebug]

Summoned by prevs tags. Was going to put this in tags and then it got long and im too tired to make it shorter. I'm also too tired to proofread or make this exhaustive. But anyway heres my five paragraph essay.

I am not a hockey fan though from what I know of hockey the things I am going to say have overlap.

Consideration A: Sports commisions and also tv sponsor in most countries do not like intergender sport of any kind when it comes to contact stuff especially. Despite being choreographed, pro wrestling is considered a sport in most states of the US and needs to follow the law. That means that, with a few (independent promotions in some states or nontelevised broadcasts, or some promotions not in the US) exceptions, by default pretty much every wrestling match is EITHER between 2 and 10 men or 2 and 10 women, not a mixture of both. Some promotions can come up with an elaborate scenario in which a man and a woman are on the same team, but this involves math by which at the very least the man on one team does not hit the woman on the other team if not the man having to leave the ring entirely when the woman steps in and vice versa.

So, by definition, wrestling on its largest stages MUST be feuds between people of the same gender.

Consideration B: Professional wrestling is a partially scripted (ending and major spots predetermined but depending on the match some sequences called on the fly) combat sport. By definition unarmed combat is a means by which one expresses a strong emotion for another person (rage, hate, or pride in ones own skills) by engaging in hold and strikes meant to fully express that emotion by dominating the other party. You win by either pressing them to the mat, forcing them to submit to a painful hold, or someone getting their shit rocked so hard that they end up unable to stand.

Or, in tumblr terms: intricate rituals to touch the skin of another man.

Consideration C: Wrestling is a constantly involving storyline. If you wrestle for 20 years you are playing the same character for 20 years, and in many cases wrestling the same PEOPLE for 20 years. This means you need to keep Coming Up With More Good Bits. The easiest bit to come up with that will instantly get you drama (and get one party "heat" or hatred from the audience) is betrayal! Also, parting the veil, the easiest person to build a great predetermined fight with is your best friend who you train with and are comfortable physically touching and nonverbally interpreting the boundaries of. If two people are besties for long enough, then forever hanging over their onscreen friendship is the knowledge that pretending you hate each other now will allow you to get months and months of quality entertainment. All your yaoi is doomed by the narrative convenience.

Consideration D: Wrestling has more drama kids in it than other sports, perhaps, but it also courts athletes. It's not uncommon for WWE in particular to draft football/basketball/gymnastics stars straight out of college. Sports have the kind of machismo going on where like............ well, the first man to come out as gay while still signed to WWE is still alive. He is still a wrestler, in fact, because he is only forty years old. I watched him wrestle a few hours ago and he was great! There's gay wrestlers - and wrestlers who are willing to play gay for the bit - out there, but the culture of wrestling is like the culture of all sports in that on the upper levels especially its gonna be a little uh. Yikes!

Let's do algebra: A+B+C+D = Wrestling on the most high-profile levels is a gender segregated sport where guys touch each other repeatedly for between 10 and 60 minutes and then one proves his dominance over the other by holding him down, and the best dominance is exerted over a guy you've known since you were like 16, but also 95% of the time everyone is a little weird about it because they're not actually gay = Wrestling is a series of gay but homophobic doomed relationships.

whatever happened to men shoving each other against the wall out of pure lust, thinly veiled as hatred? we're in need of more homoerotic, yet homophobic doomed romances in media

[magniloquent-raven]

Could a I get trans!Tommy x Billy fic where Billy finds out Tommy is trans and he's freaking out but Billy just reassures him and comforts him until one thing leads to another and they end up having sex?

this ended up 1) a college au for some reason, 2) t4t because i started writing billy as trans without even thinkin about it at first lmao and 3) MUCH longer than i thought it would be, holy shit

i hope all that's okay & i really hope u enjoy ur fic 💕💕💕

~tag list ppl just in case yall are interested even tho its a ship ive never written before? @growup-thatbeautiful @spreckle @prettyboy-like-you ~

[read on ao3]

**

“Carol broke up with me again,” Tommy says, words slurred by the alcohol in his system and muffled by his forearm squished against his cheek. He blinks up at Billy from where he’s half-laying on the peeling cover of his algebra text book. They didn’t bother clearing the homework from his desk before dumping three six-packs and a plastic bag stuffed with snack food on top of the mess. 

He’s usually a fun drunk, Billy wouldn’t have brought beer if he’d known it was gonna go like this. 

But of course it’s because of Carol. It’s always because of Carol. Except that one time it was because of a phonecall with his mother that he refused to talk about, even after the tequila loosened his lips enough to have him waxing poetic about his ex-bff with a wistful look in his eye. 

“Again?” Billy leans back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. He’s got one booted foot propped on the edge of Tommy’s roommate’s bed. “This is the third time in four months, man. Is your dick too small to keep her satisfied, or what.”

He’s supposed to push back. That’s how this works. He’s supposed to bristle and sit up and defend himself, because he has some fucking pride. And before he knows it he’ll be too busy exchanging barbs with Billy to think about how miserable he is about the breakup. 

He’s not supposed to turn his head, hiding his face in his folded arms, and mumble, “Something like that…” all morose and self-pitying. 

Because no one comes to Billy for this shit. To be vulnerable. To talk about feelings and have an honest heart-to-heart and a shoulder to cry on and all that crap people want when they’re going through a real break-up. He can put on a good face when girls come sniffing around for a rebound lay. The girls who got screwed over by their white-bread boyfriends and want to pretend they’re over it by getting fingerbanged in a public bathroom by some bad boy who won’t call them after. But fake sympathy and an uncanny ability to deflect questions about why he doesn’t want his touch reciprocated did not prepare him for…whatever is happening right now.

“Y’know there’s other ways to fuck a girl, right,” Billy says from behind his beer. There’s not much left and it’s still not making this conversation any easier.

Tommy groans, burrowing deeper into his sleeves. “I know.”

“Hm.”

“S’complicated.”

“Not if you know what you’re looking—wait. The break-up. Right. Look, you want my advice? Move on. Live a little. You came halfway across the country to, what, stay leashed to the same pussy you’ve been getting since you were twelve? Who the fuck does that.”

“Dunno.”

Billy blows out a slow breath, then downs the rest of his beer. He drops the empty can on Tommy’s desk and watches it rock, tip, and fall over. It rolls, wobbling through drying condensation rings and chip crumbs ‘til it hits Tommy’s elbow, coming to a stop next to his left ear. He doesn’t move.

The assholes next door are having an obnoxiously loud argument, only slightly muffled through the thin walls. The radio on Tommy’s bedside table warbles through a jingle that keeps cutting in and out. Neither of them speak for a long, awkward moment.   

“...She really did a number on you, huh.”

Tommy sighs. “Nah.” He pauses, then peeks out from the crook of his arm. “Kinda.” He stares at the can nestled up against his arm, looking uncharacteristically contemplative. “Dunno, man, I just want people to stop leaving me.”

Billy’s lungs seize painfully, his whole chest tightening around the jagged edges of a sympathetic twinge, like gripping a shard of glass in his fist, cutting himself open on it. There’s anger dripping from that open wound, familiar and yet foreign in its compassion for Tommy of all people. 

They’ve never been especially close. Billy’s not especially close with anybody, and he always figured hanging around Tommy would make it easy to keep it that way. The guy just gives off a vibe. The small town jock type, only ever wants to talk about tits and booze and whatever stupid, embarrassing gossip he can turn into a joke.

For six months Billy’s been content to do that, to hang out with Tommy drinking beer and pretending to care about the low-cut tanktops their English lit professor favours. It feels good, in a way. Safe. But it was never supposed to be about Tommy himself. He wasn’t supposed to care about him. Caring about people is dangerous. Makes it harder to cut ties if he needs to. Or worse, it means the inevitable rejection if he ever gets outed will actually hurt.

Tommy’s still looking at him, sullen and hazy-eyed. His freckles are just barely visible in the shitty lamplight, his hair is sticking up at odd angles, flattened on one side from laying on his desk. He’s kind of pretty when he’s not being a shithead.

Wait. No. No, no. Absolutely the fuck not. Not going there. 

Billy tries very hard to look like he has no opinions about Tommy’s face. Or his stupid puppy-dog eyes.

He bites his tongue when panic tries to sharpen it. The anxiety bubbling in his gut turns to bile burning his throat, and it’s tempting to lash out, to spit venom like the sour taste in his mouth is anyone’s fault but his, like pushing Tommy away would fix anything. 

He hasn’t seen Max since he moved into his tiny dorm room on campus. Hasn’t spoken to her since his acceptance letter came in months before that. He thought it would make things easier, better for both of them, but now he just gets angry at himself when seeing flashes of red hair makes his heart clench. 

It’s only ever made his life worse, he doesn’t know why he keeps trying it. 

The first time he let a boy fuck him he felt so shitty about it afterwards that he told everyone who would listen that the guy kissed like a dead fish and couldn’t even get his dick hard. It made Billy feel something, when people laughed and said that probably meant he was a fag. Something sickly and awful, but somehow vindicating. 

He caught three meatheads beating the shit out of the boy who took his virginity three weeks after he lied about it never happening. The look on his bloodied face still haunts Billy’s nightmares. 

Billy’s never made anyone’s life better by being in it. He doesn’t know what to say to someone who doesn’t want to be left.

“Yeah, I hear you, amigo,” he says grimly, and regrets it immediately. It’s too personal. Too self-pitying. It’s echoes of when is mom coming home, and a slap ringing in his ears, a phantom ache in his jaw, the taste of salt and iron.   

He keeps his gaze locked on a tiny dent near the top of the unopened beer he reaches for, hoping to occupy his hands, only to be stopped in his tracks when clumsy fingers pat his knuckles. He’s not sure if it’s meant to be a comforting gesture or if Tommy’s just too drunk to keep his hand steady and was trying to grab ahold of him. 

The look on his face is oddly intense, sombre, like stroking the back of Billy’s hand is the most important thing he’s ever done and it’s taking all his concentration to do it. There’s a little pinch between his eyebrows, and a slant to his mouth.

Billy should snatch his hand away, but he lets it happen. Despite his embarrassment it’s kind of nice. 

“I like having you around.”

Well. That might be a bridge too far. Maybe. The tips of his ears feel hot. “Okay, I think you’ve probably had enough to drink tonight, Hagan.”

Tommy scoffs, his nose wrinkling a little.

“Seriously, if you propose to my hand I’m never buying you beer again.” 

“Liar.” 

“Don’t test me.” Billy can’t quite keep the laugh out of his voice.

“Pff.” He pauses, his fingertips coming to rest along the length of Billy’s thumb, pinky finger toying with the ragged edge of his nail. “You like having me around, right?” There’s a desperate edge to the question, a tremble that makes Billy nervous. 

“I—” He chews the inside of his cheek, studying the sad twist pulling at the corner of Tommy’s mouth. “Yeah.” Maybe he’s drunk enough he won’t remember this tomorrow. Maybe that’s why Billy nudges his hand, linking two of their fingers together, a tiny smile tugging at his lips when Tommy gapes at him. “Yeah I do.”

**

Billy’s head pounds when he stirs, rustling unfamiliar sheets, and the light filtering in through crooked blinds makes his eyes ache. At least the cottonmouth isn’t too bad, and his stomach seems to be behaving itself. He’s definitely had worse, much worse. 

There’s a groan across the room. He buries his face into the borrowed pillow tucked under his arm to hide a snicker. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Tommy grumbles. There’s a whoosh of displaced air and a muffled thump. A pillow hitting the carpet. “Shit.”

“Nice aim.”

“Urgh.”

He doesn’t have class today, there’s no rush to be anywhere, but he’s never been good at laying around doing nothing. His first few weeks of adjusting to life free from Neil he tried sleeping in, rebelling against rules he was no longer bound by, but he mostly ended up staring at water-stained ceilings bored out of his mind. He doesn’t bother anymore. The entire life he’s building for himself is a fuck you to Neil, he doesn’t need every little thing to be about him.

He stretches, his shoulder popping loudly in the early-morning quiet, and glances over at the lump of blankets in Tommy’s bed. 

“How’s your head?” Billy asks, not bothering to keep the smirk out of his voice.

Tommy grunts. The outline of his shoulder shifts slightly. 

“That bad, huh.”

Another noncommittal noise. 

Billy rolls his eyes, pushing himself upright and out of bed. His jeans are around here somewhere in the mess, but he doesn’t remember taking them off, and definitely doesn’t remember tossing them…over the half-eaten remains of last night’s pizza. Gross. 

There’s a grease stain on the back of one thigh, but they pass the sniff test.

He’s wiggling them over his hips when Tommy finally sits up. “M’ gonna be sick,” he croaks, and falls out of bed in a tangle of sheets and oversized t-shirt bunched around his midriff. Billy gets a glimpse of soft freckled stomach and a yellowing tanktop before Tommy gives his shirt a hurried tug, smoothing it down with jittery hands. 

He doesn’t look at Billy as he staggers towards the door, steps over discarded gym shorts, catches his toe on the busted folding chair his roommate keeps promising to fix, and finally slips into the hallway, hissing curses under his breath. 

And Billy doesn’t think anything of it. Tommy’s never a ray of sunshine in the morning, and he’s even worse when nursing a hangover. He was focused on getting to the bathroom down the hall before he tossed his cookies all over the floor, he didn’t exactly have time to stop and make small talk. It’s not weird.

But it gets weird. 

Billy waits way too long for him to come back. He tosses back the last of his flat, warm beer. Combs out his curls with his fingers, carefully rearranging them in the mirror propped next to Tommy’s sparse bookshelf. Picks through the crumpled worksheets strewn across the desk. And finally decides to check if Tommy choked on his own vomit. 

Only he’s nowhere to be found.

And, fine, Billy’s not needy or whatever, he can get breakfast on his own. It’s not like they had plans Tommy’s flaking out on, Billy just kinda thought…

It doesn’t matter what he thought. It’s fine.

He goes back to his own dorm. Changes his jeans. Isn’t bothered.

…He’s a little bothered when he sees Tommy later that day and Tommy bugs the fuck out, all but fleeing in the opposite direction. 

Because. Yeah, that’s weird. 

Doubt starts to dig its spindly fingers in, thin and brittle but pointed. 

They both said some shit last night. Which was Tommy’s fucking fault, getting drunk like that when he was in a mood. And he’s the one who kept trying to make it all touchy-feely. 

Christ, he should’ve fucking known Tommy was going to remember, it was stupid to engage with him in the first place. Shit’s awkward now because he’s a fucking sucker and now Tommy knows it. 

Or maybe it’s more than awkward, and Tommy’s straight-up pissed at him. Billy’s stomach curdles at the thought. 

He can’t handle this. Tying himself up in knots because he got the brush-off. Worrying and wondering and chewing his thumbnail ‘til he tastes blood. It’s pathetic. 

Tommy doesn’t have class today either, so Billy checks his dorm first. 

And then he checks the cafeteria. The lot behind the cafeteria where Tommy smokes sometimes. Carol’s dorm—thankfully empty, he doesn’t feel like answering a million questions and then having his answers dissected by her and her friends after he leaves. 

He’s running out of places to look when he spots Tommy next to a payphone in front of the main office. The walkway is empty, it’s just Tommy hunched around the phone, clutching it in both hands and deeply engrossed in his conversation. Enough that he doesn’t seem to notice Billy approaching.

His voice is low, but Billy catches snippets. Carol’s name. “Mamá,” sighed repeatedly, exasperated. He gets more agitated every time he stutters to a halt, apparently cut off. 

“I just thought you should know, okay!” Tommy runs a hand through his hair and rolls his eyes skyward. “No—no, mamá, iba a traerla—yes, I was…”

Billy leans against cold brick, his denim jacket scraping the wall as he crosses his arms, waiting. 

“Ese no es mi problema,” he snaps, glaring at nothing and getting steadily louder. “No. I’m not her precious little neita anymore, she can’t stay in denial forever!”

Oh?

Billy’s ears are ringing. Tommy’s voice is an indistinct buzz.

It could be nothing. A slip of the tongue. Billy’s Spanish getting rusty. It could be Billy reading into things—hoping, like that’s ever gotten him anything but heartbroken—just, seeing things that aren’t there because he wants to be a little less alone. 

But still. He’s never seen Tommy wearing less than two shirts, and he's always been just as averse to the dorm's shared bathroom as Billy is. Sometimes tiny, incidental things will throw him off, but Billy never thought much of it until now. Until he was smacked in the face with the possibility that Tommy could be like him. 

It feels a little unreal, a little like vapor he’s trying to catch with his bare hands, not quite solid but leaving enough droplets of water on his hands that he’s knows there’s something.

Tommy seems to realize he’s shouting, and glances around, worrying his bottom lip. It slips from between his teeth when he locks eyes with Billy and his jaw goes slack. 

Because he’s been trying to avoid Billy all day or because he thinks he might’ve just outed himself?

Either way his posture immediately changes, going rigid, spine straightening, holding himself with enough bravado that it almost hides the way his gaze darts around, nervously scanning the empty sidewalk. Looking for an exit, probably. 

He mumbles a rushed goodbye into the receiver, not waiting for a response before he slams the phone back onto its hook and folds his arms, fists balled in the crooks of his elbows.

“I swear to god, I’ll piss on your pillow if you take off on me again.” Billy pushes away from the building, pointing a threatening finger. 

“I wasn’t—fuckin’—what the hell. Gross.”

“So don’t leave.” The words twinge as they leave his mouth, falling heavier between them than Billy really meant them to. Tommy flinches. Just a little. The tiniest twitch at the corner of his eye. A minute change to the slope of his shoulders. Billy exhales slow through his nose. “What’s the deal, Hagan.”

“Shit,” Tommy mutters, sweeping a hand through his hair and shifting away from Billy with a grimace. “Shit. Look, man, I don’t know what you think you heard, but it’s—I’m not. Y’know what, just forget about it, okay.”

Billy raises an eyebrow. He can feel his heartbeat racing, hammering at the inside of his ribcage. “Forget what exactly,” he says, keeping his voice even. 

He has to know. For sure. He can’t just out himself for a maybe. 

“Don’t play dumb, you’re shitty at it,” Tommy snaps, but there’s a thready quality to it. “I’m not gonna fucking say it. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Do I?”

“I saw the look on your face, man, I’m not stupid. I know what it looks like when someone realizes they’ve been hanging out with a fuckin’ freak.” He jabs a finger at Billy, gesturing in a vague circle around his face. “That. Right before the regret sets in. And you bail. Or worse.” He clenches his teeth, a muscle in his jaw twitching. It’s not quite enough to hide the current of anxiety thrumming through his jerky movements. 

There are things he should say right now. Things he should do. But all he’s getting it static. Fuzz. He’s wildly spinning a dial and getting nothing but snippets of words that he loses in the white noise. 

He’s fucking this up. 

He tongues his cheek. Deliberates. 

“We should take this somewhere else,” he says carefully, pointedly flicking his gaze towards the office building behind them. They might be alone out here, but there’s no guarantee they’ll stay that way. There are people in there. For all he knows there could be someone peeking through the blinds at them right now.

But Tommy just stares at him, incredulous. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“Would you just—” Billy blows out an irritated breath. The back of his neck is prickling, like he’s being watched. He can’t fucking concentrate. “It’s not what you think.” The scoff he gets in response is not encouraging. “I’m not bailing on you, alright, would you just come with me and let me say my piece?”

If their positions were reversed he knows what he’d do. He wouldn’t risk being alone with someone who just found him out, it’s a stupid fucking thing to do. Anyone who asked him to take that risk would get laughed at and left in the dust. And yet here he is asking Tommy to trust him, like he has any right to do that. 

Promising to stick around doesn’t feel like enough but it’s all he can give right now. He wants it to work so badly it hurts, aches like he’s ripped out a part of himself as an offering. 

Tommy narrows his eyes, looks him up and down, and mutters. “Fine.”

All the air punches out of Billy’s lungs. Maybe he can salvage this.

They walk in stiff silence, a careful six inches apart. Billy’s boots scrape against the pavement. He picks at a scab along the edge of his fingernail, watching Tommy out of the corner of his eye, catching the erratic flash of his hands flitting from place to place, pushing through his hair, adjusting the hem of his shirt. 

His dorm is closer, he steers him in that direction, ignoring Tommy’s suspicious side-eye.

It’ll be fine, he can clear shit up when they get there. It’ll be fine.

Still, guilt squeezes at his insides. 

His dorm room door clicks shut behind them. It’s deafening. 

He has no plan. He probably should have come up with a plan. His palms are sweating and his heart feels like it’s trying to crawl out of his mouth and his throat is so dry he’s not sure he could say anything even if he knew what to say, but…fuck, staring at the ripped corner of his Metallica poster isn’t even remotely productive, he needs to think—

Tommy grips his arm, tight enough to hurt, and tugs him around. His lips are pursed, downturned, and his eyes are bright, intense, flicking across Billy’s face. Billy’s half sure he’s about to get punched—Tommy looks to be working himself up to something—but instead he blinks and Tommy’s gone, Tommy’s…on his knees, clumsy fingers plucking at Billy’s belt buckle. 

“Oh—” Billy sucks in a breath, grabbing Tommy’s wrists. 

Dark eyes glare up at him. “Oh come on, this is what you wanted right? You’re not leaving because you want something. And it’s not gay if I’ve got a pussy, right—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for a second?” Billy says all in an exasperated rush, staring at the ceiling, a little lightheaded. He’s not entirely shocked by the heat that seared through him when he realized what Tommy was trying to do, but he wasn’t prepared for how much he wants him to. And now really isn’t the time to be thinking about using Tommy’s mouth to get off. “Look, I…”

His throat closes up. He still can’t say it.

Slowly, he lowers himself to the floor, sitting on the heels of his boots, his knees brushing Tommy’s. It’s easier to look at him from this angle. Or maybe it’s just because the strange intensity in his gaze has been replaced by confusion. There’s a vulnerable helplessness there that Billy didn’t notice before. Guilt grips him tighter. 

“I told you, it’s not what you think,” he says quietly. 

Before he can lose his nerve—an ignoring all the doubts plaguing him, what if he thinks less of me, what if he’s angry I kept it a secret, what if—Billy hooks his fingers under the hem of his shirt and tugs, pulling it over his head. 

Tommy blinks at him. Opens his mouth. Shuts it again.

He doesn’t stare at Billy’s scars. Billy expected him to stare. Showing him the scars was the whole point. He looks at them, sure, but he doesn’t look for very long. His eyes wander, scanning the entire expanse of tanned skin on display. Lingering on the freckles on Billy’s shoulder. The trail of soft blond hair below his belly button. 

If he was less caught up in feeling feelings that made his insides squirm and his fingers itch he might’ve laughed at how dazed Tommy’s looks. But he’s sure his expression isn’t any better. A hot flush prickles up Billy’s chest as he sits there, just letting Tommy ogle. 

“Uh.” Tommy clears his throat. His cheeks are pink. He hasn’t looked up yet. “So…”

“Yeah.”

“You…”

“Yup.”

“Huh.”

A beat. “I mean you can still blow me if you want, I just figured you’d want to know what you were getting into first.”

That does it. Tommy finally makes eye-contact, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead, a startled, slightly hysterical cackle bubbling out of him. The flush on his cheeks is still there but he looks less like he’s been hit over the head. “Asshole,” he says, unable to entirely keep the smile off his face. 

Billy shrugs, a grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, but I have it on good authority that you like having me around.”

The light in Tommy’s eyes dims a bit, and for a horrible second Billy thinks he’s fucked up again. Tommy huffs a quiet laugh, breaking eye-contact. “Sorry about that, by the way.” 

“What?”

“Uh. Last night. Being all…” He grimaces, and wiggles his fingers in the air. 

“...Is that why you took off this morning?”

“I…maybe.”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy groans, and punches his shoulder. “You aren’t the only one who hates being left behind y’know.” 

“Oh.” 

You had me worried.

He bites his tongue. It doesn’t need to be said. Tommy’s expression is soft, despite the fact that he’s rubbing his bicep where Billy hit him. 

“You didn’t scare me off,” Billy mutters instead, and winces at his own plaintive tone. But he can’t seem to stop now that he’s started. “You still haven’t. Still like having you around. Y’know, if—if you’re gonna stay.” 

Tommy lets out a quiet breath. A tiny noise in the back of his throat. And then he sways forward, closing the gap between them, and kisses Billy square on the mouth.

He’s not expecting it, is the thing. People are usually pretty unsubtle when they want him, and he can read the signs. He knows when someone’s going to make a move and he can prepare, put himself in whatever headspace he needs to be in to get through it. 

And it’s not like he wasn’t aware that Tommy had been checking him out, but this is…it’s something else. 

Because he was caught unawares he doesn’t have a goddamn plan, so he just reacts, messy and a little desperate in a way he hasn’t been since his first few times getting physical with someone. It would be embarrassing, except for the way Tommy’s breath hitches, and he leans into it. He can’t seem to get close enough where he is, because he shuffles forward on his knees ‘til they’re on either side of Billy’s thighs. 

He hovers there, straddling Billy’s lap, still pressing sloppy kisses to his lips, but doesn’t sit until Billy grabs him around his waist and tugs. 

Tommy lets out a sharp puff of a gasp as he’s pulled closer, it’s warm where it tickles Billy’s moustache, and he finally breaks their kiss to snicker. 

“Fuck off, you surprised me,” Tommy says, the annoyed act falling flat when the words come out breathy and trembling. 

“Mhm,” Billy hums, grinning at Tommy’s complete inability to keep a straight face while he slips his fingers under the seam of Tommy’s waistband, toying with the elastic of his briefs while his palms rest comfortably on his lower back. 

There’s a heat simmering in his gut, coiled low and tight, but the weight in his lap and hesitant fingertips pressed to his stomach feel just as pleasant. It’s…weird. New. Fragile. He’s not quite sure what this is but he wants to hold on to it. 

“So…we’re good, right?” He bites inside of his cheek to ground himself, and stop any more stupid questions from falling out of his face.

“Yeah, I mean—yeah? Pretty sure I’m, uh. Very good right now.” His eyes flicker down. “I was better a second ago though.”

Billy pushes the tip of his tongue between his teeth, feeling very smug when Tommy zeroes in on it. “You sure you’re not mad about earlier?” he lets his voice drop an octave, leaning in just enough to feel Tommy’s breathing quicken. “‘Cause I’ll work real hard to make it up to you if you are.”

“That cheesy porno shit usually work for you?” His tone is light, teasing, threaded with laughter, but his gaze is still heavy on Billy’s mouth, pupils blown and hazy with lust.

“Oh please, like it isn’t getting you going?” Billy dips his hands lower, fingertips pressed lightly into the soft flesh of Tommy’s asscheeks. He isn’t digging in, isn’t pushing, but Tommy shifts closer anyways, ‘til their chests are nearly flush, and they touch, briefly, with each shallow breath. “I bet your briefs are soaked right now.” 

Like his are any better, really. It’s taking all his self-control not to squirm and rub his hard little cock all through the slick mess under him. 

Tommy’s eyes fall shut, and he shudders. Billy feels him quiver. He slides his hands up Billy’s chest, palms skimming his ribs, briefly pausing to trace his scars, and coming to rest just under his collarbone. 

A pause.

And Tommy shoves him. Hard. 

His back hits the carpet, knocking the air out of him in a rush, a wheezing, incredulous laugh. Sparks dance up his spine. The heat in his belly flares. Tommy’s looking down at him like he wants to devour him, and Billy’s more than willing to let it happen.

This time when Tommy goes for the belt buckle, he doesn’t stop him. 

It jingles against the button on his jeans, flopping to the side as Tommy fumbles with his fly, hooks his fingers into worn belt loops, and tugs. His jeans are as much of a pain to take off as they always are, they both grimace and groan as he wiggles out of them, stopping to pull off his boots when they get in the way.

“How the hell do you sleep around so much in these?” Tommy mutters, finally prying Billy’s legs free and chucking his rumpled jeans across the room with an annoyed huff.

Billy snorts. “They don’t usually come off.”

“...Oh.” He feels, suddenly, like maybe he’s said too much. The way Tommy’s eyeing him makes him feel every inch of his bare skin on display. He’d sit up, make himself a little less vulnerable, but Tommy’s shifted positions, straddling his stomach. “Do you just do over the clothes stuff, then, or…”

“Don’t really get touched at all, actually. Easier to avoid getting hate-crimed that way.” He turns his face away, cheek brushing the carpet. 

Tommy nods, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, yeah. It’s…Carol’s the only girl I’ve ever been with, and sometimes she didn’t even wanna. Y’know.”

“Yeah, guys aren’t much better, trust me.”

“I know,” he says ruefully, smiling small. “I think maybe Carol only kept me around as long as she did because she couldn’t find any other guy willing to go down on her that much.” 

“Damn, and she still dumped you? So ungrateful.” 

“Ha, yeah, well. She found someone with a real dick apparently. Said she missed getting fucked properly, or whatever.” 

Billy scoffs, “Ten bucks says she comes crawling back in two weeks when she gets tired of being some prick’s fucktoy.” 

He tenses, regretting the thought the second he has it. Tommy’s gotten back with her every time she’s asked. She snaps her fingers and he’s there, hers again like nothing happened. As much as Billy hates watching it happen every time, he gets it. His track record when it comes to letting the people he loves hurt him isn’t any better. But this time…

Does he have any right to hope it’ll be different now? Probably not. 

Tommy raises his eyebrows, a guarded sort of curiosity behind his mostly blank expression. 

“Don’t take her back,” Billy says, softly, stupid, vulnerable hope cracking him open. He focuses on the feeling of Tommy’s slacks under his palms, warm thighs bracketing his torso. The rough scratch of carpet against his bare back. The smell of his musty dorm room. Anything but the way his stomach twists into knots while he waits to get shot down. “She’ll just break your heart again, man,” he adds, like he can cover his ass and make it look like this isn’t about what he wants at all. 

“And you won’t?” He’s quiet. Serious. There’s a sad twist to his mouth. 

“I—” The silence in the air between them is stifling, heavy in Billy’s lungs as his chest rises and falls. In some fucked up way that feels like an admission. An acknowledgement of…something. The idea that Billy might have the power to break his heart is fucking terrifying, and the implications make his head spin. He bites his lip. “Not by leaving.”

Tommy huffs out a dry laugh, bowing his head and giving it a tiny shake. “Gee, thanks.” He’s hiding a smile. A small one, but it’s warm, despite his hesitance. 

Billy grabs the front of Tommy’s shirt, tugging him down while he cranes his neck, meeting him halfway to press a brief kiss to his mouth.

It’s less brief than he planned. Tommy’s fingers end up wound in his hair, his firm grip making Billy’s scalp tingle and heat simmer under his skin. He groans, low in his throat, and licks into Tommy’s mouth in retaliation. 

Time starts to blur a little. He’s not thinking about why he kissed Tommy in the first place. He’s not thinking of stopping, god fucking forbid. All that matters is the sharp, biting pressure of fingernails, the gentle glide of warm lips against his, and the sounds he can pull from Tommy with a flick of his tongue. Everything else is sort of fuzzy. 

He tries nipping Tommy’s bottom lip. Lightly. Testing the waters. He inhales sharply, something like a gasp he caught halfway, and more importantly, his hips jerk forward. Just a little. But him pressing down against Billy’s stomach like that sets a fire inside. An immediate needy wanting that rushes through him like an adrenaline spike. 

Billy pulls back an inch, breathing hard, “Do it again,” he demands, clutching Tommy’s waist with guiding hands, “C’mon, c’mon.”

“Jesus—fuck,” Tommy’s nose brushes his cheek as he starts to move, curling into Billy’s space and panting bitten-off curses in puffs of humid air against his jaw. 

The seam of Tommy’s pants chafes a little, rubbing against the taut line of his stomach, catching on the light dusting of hair, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when he can feel Tommy’s legs start to tremble, and he gets to watch the way his face goes slack with pleasure, his eyebrows furrowed as he works his hips back and forth.

It’s not hard to imagine sliding inside him like this. Tommy sitting on his cock, all wet heat and freckled thighs. Riding him ‘til his muscles give out and Billy has to take over, snap his hips over and over, listening to the slap of skin and Tommy’s pleading for more. 

Fuck.

His grip on Tommy’s waist tightens, right as he gives one last jerky thrust, and his whole body tenses. He whimpers right in Billy’s ear before his head drops, hitting his shoulder.

Billy feels like a live wire. He aches. He wants. 

He waits, with bottom lip caught between his teeth, squirming and hoping it’s not too obvious. 

“Sooo,” Tommy drawls, still catching his breath, his nose smushed to Billy’s collarbone. “D’you want me to blow you, or was that—”

“Fuck, yes.”

Tommy snickers. “Alright. Prepare to have your world rocked.”

“Oh, and my pick-up line was cheesy porno shit?”

“Yeah.”

“Dick.”

His shoulders shake with barely suppressed laughter, and Billy can feel his smile widen. He’d almost be content to bask in the moment like a cat in a sunbeam, except—

Tommy shifts, sliding a thigh between his legs and pressing, and yeah, that’s much better, nevermind. He lets out a slow, shaky breath, staring hazily at the water-stained ceiling. 

“You liked seeing me get off, huh.” Tommy kisses his chest, lips still curved into a smile. Billy swallows hard, and folds his lips between his teeth. “You soaked right through your underwear. I can feel it.” 

He’s making his way down way too slowly. On purpose, the little shit. But Billy refuses to crack. He can wait. It’s fine. He only feels a little bit like he’s going to explode.

Tommy replaces his thigh with his hand as he crawls backward, trailing a light finger over the growing wet spot and not doing nearly enough to ease the throbbing ache between Billy’s legs, his lips trail down, inch by agonizing inch as he goes. He’s got nice lips. Billy wouldn’t mind kissing him for hours. Being kissed. 

Being kissed somewhere very specific right fucking now.

Billy’s legs spread a little further apart, without really meaning to, he arches his back, wriggles, trying to subtly get Tommy where he needs to be a little faster. 

Except he fucking pauses. Kisses Billy’s hipbone. Flashes an absolutely shit-eating grin. 

“Would you hurry the fuck up,” Billy groans.

Which cracks Tommy up. A laugh he’d obviously been holding back bursts out of him, muffled a little as he leans into Billy’s stomach, his shoulders shaking. 

“I hate you so much.”

Tommy looks up at him, eyes shining. “Nah. You don’t.”

“Fine, but I’d like you a lot more if you stopped being a tease.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles, and finally, finally, settles between Billy’s legs, flashing a grin before he pushes Billy’s briefs aside and drags his tongue through the wetness underneath. 

“Jesusfuckingchrist—” Billy inhales sharply, his whole body arching into the sweet pressure of Tommy’s mouth, somehow ending up with one leg hooked around him, trying to pull him closer. “Oh fuck.”

A whine catches in his throat when Tommy huffs a laugh, warm air somehow feeling cool against his flushed skin. He’s beyond caring about looking desperate, he just needs more. More of this. He rocks against the steady stroke of Tommy’s tongue, his breath hitching every time he brushes his cock and a concentrated bolt of pleasure lances through him.

Then Tommy wraps his lips around it, and sucks, and Billy’s vision whites out. It feels so good it fucking hurts. He cries out, wordlessly, grasping for something to hold on to.

“Holy shit, dude,” Tommy breathes, pulling back, pulling away, what the fuck, no—

“Hng,” Billy grunts, his hands waving uselessly, trying to reach Tommy to put him back where he was. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, a little breathless, a lot delighted. “Just…” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Billy’s underwear and starts tugging them off. “You’re so loud, man.”

The part of his brain that’s still working—the part that isn’t floating on a cloud of horny thoughts, mostly about how fucking pornographic Tommy’s mouth looks right now, pink, flushed, and slick from nose to chin—is smart enough to know that if he’s too loud they might get caught. But he’s having a hard time making himself care. And he’s sure he’ll care even less when Tommy puts his lips back where they fucking belong.

Then Tommy’s leaning over him, damp grey briefs folded up in one hand, easing Billy’s mouth open with the other.

He’s slow about it. Deliberate. Telegraphing his movements so Billy and the three brain cells he’s got left understand what he’a about to do. Billy could clench his jaw against his prodding at any time. He could turn his head to escape Tommy’s hold. 

But he doesn’t. 

The taste of his own sex isn’t unfamiliar, but it’s oddly thrilling in this context. It feels dirty in the best kind of way. Cotton sticking to his tongue, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth, Tommy’s gaze heavy on his parted lips. Billy wonders if he’s thinking about other things he could stuff Billy’s mouth with to shut him up. 

Biting down on creased fabric is odd, but it definitely muffles his whimpering. 

Which is, admittedly, handy when Tommy dives back in with no warning.

He doesn’t hold back at all, pressing in close, his hands gripping Billy’s hips to keep him in place. His tongue curls around Billy’s cock, over and over in firm swipes.

And Billy sees stars. He can hear his own stifled moaning through the makeshift gag, but he barely recognizes is own voice. Every pitched, breathy noise that comes out of him is a shock he doesn’t have time to linger on, and he doesn’t fucking care to, not when he can barely process how good he feels right now, let alone feel anything but Tommy’s mouth and the heat building under his skin. His whole body is taut with it, muscles tensing as he tries to hold onto the sparks dancing through him. 

It doesn’t take long for him to come with a hoarse shout and an embarrassing gush of wetness all over Tommy’s chin, white-knuckled and curled around Tommy’s sloped shoulders.

He flops back, breathing hard and staring, unseeing, at the ceiling.

“Holy shit,” Tommy says again, with something resembling awe. 

Billy closes his eyes, trying to measure the rise and fall of his chest. His whole body is tingling. And a little sore.

He feels a little tug, Tommy picking at the briefs stuffed into his mouth. He loosens his jaw and lets him remove them. There’s spit trickling down his cheek. Tommy wipes it up, carefully patting the side of his face. 

“You good?”

“Mhm,” Billy hums.

“...Been a while?”

He cracks an eye open and glances over at Tommy. His eyebrows are near his hairline, but it doesn’t look judgemental. A little amused, maybe. Billy sighs. “You could say that.”

“Oh?”

It’s been thirteen months since anyone’s touched him below the belt. He doesn’t remember who it was, but he remembers tequila and lime, hearing shitty dance music in another room while he let someone stick their hand in his pants, half-expecting it to retreat immediately. 

No one’s ever touched him like this, though. 

He runs his tongue across his bottom lip, unsure how to respond. He lands on, “Never been blown before.” 

Tommy blinks at him. “No shit?” His hand makes a weird aborted movement, then lands on the carpet next to him. Billy has the weird urge to hold it. Or to be held, maybe. As the sweat on his skin cools he starts to itch, an unfamiliar ache blooming in his chest.

“No shit,” he echoes.

“That’s…” Tommy scratches his eyebrow. “Kinda hot actually. I popped your cherry.”

“I’ve had sex.”

“Yeah, but not that kind.”

“...Whatever,” Billy mutters, his cheeks flushing.

“I’m serious, dude.” Tommy’s smiling now, his lips still shiny and pink and distracting. “That was, uh. Kind of awesome. All of it. Plus the cherry on top.”

He can’t help but snort, and smacks Tommy’s knee. “Fuck you, Hagan.”

“Maybe next time.”

That catches Billy’s attention. Whether it’s the promise of a next time or the thought of fucking him, he doesn’t know, but either way he’s suddenly unable to look anywhere but at Tommy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tommy lifts his chin a little, like a challenge, but his eyes are warm. “You said you weren’t goin’ anywhere, so…”

“I meant it.”

He’s caught off guard by the almost bashful way Tommy ducks his head suddenly, the tips of his ears going red, hiding a widening smile. “Good.” He shuffles a little closer. “Though I get why you’d stick around. Y’know. After I rocked your world.”

Billy groans, and rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Nah, nah, I wanna hear you say it.”

“No.”

“Come ooon.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And good with my tongue.”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy mutters, “Okay, fine, you rocked my world. Congrats.”

Tommy preens, supremely pleased with himself, and pokes Billy’s shoulder. “Told you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Billy tries his hardest to look annoyed at the prodding, but fails to do anything but grin at the ceiling.

“Now, I seem to remember you promising to put some work in, and so far you’ve just been layin’ there.” The smug look on his face is absolutely out of control. Billy swats at him, but Tommy just catches his hand and kisses his palm, grinning like a fucking maniac. “Gotta do better than that, Hargrove.”

Billy tackles him, rolls them over, and pins Tommy’s hands above his head. 

And he puts some work in.

[muffindaddystyles]

okay but imagine waking up next to soft!dom harry in the middle of the night and snuggling closer to him because you had a nightmare or you just couldn’t get to sleep well and he just kisses you, whispers sweet nothings and holds your hand as he helps you back to sleep

SCAREDY KITTEN Y/N, CLINGY AND MELTING OVER HARRY ALWAYS GONNA BE MY FAVE

Wednesday’s are most tiring for Harry. Shit tons of paperwork, shipping and unloading and then being a visible leader at the workplace to make sure the gang runs efficiently.

Weary and knotty in his muscles Harry dragged himself all the way to the threshold of his house to his room, his comfort space for many reasons— it smells incredibly sweet of his lovie, it’s cosy and the blankets are always toasty with her warmth and the room temperatures's the perfect chilly against your skin, akin to whole house.

“Hi Mushy,” He greets her coarsely, ducking down and a bit to the left of her gaze when she busily mumbles a ‘hi!’ Back with her head stuffed into her books, crossed legs on the chunky silken duvet and blankets.

“No kisses, pretty?” He asks, patting her head gently and she looks up at him. Equally tuckered out and bushed, she’s been trying to solve this stupid stupid algebra and it seems like algebra solved her and kicked her in arse telling her to do this nonsense with someone other.

“Sorry.” She sighs, scurrying to her knees and lifts her bum to plant a soft kiss to his lips instead ends up smashing a sloppy peck to his chin making both of them giggle.

She really thought she was about to get a good sleep, after having a tummy full dinner, doing her night routine with Harry and cleaning the little mess around her room because it keeps on irking her the whole night of otherwise --- she really hoped.

Her hopes were crushed brutally with a bulldozer when Harry knocked out the moment his floppy head hit the pillows, his embrace's homey and his breath melting into her skin makes her wants to learn the pattern mentally and sleep to it— she did.

She almost lulled herself into a light slumber when their whole house shook, the windows squeaked and their bedhead banged against the wall ever loudly from the force of her jolt due to the peal of unexpected thunder.

Y/N hates thunderstorms. It hyperventilates her badly and she’s never able to sleep during them, she might ends up crying or trying to make a clever run god knows where. She’s a science student still her silly and scared brain convinces her that the lightening will fall on them and burn them to ashes.

For a moment it didn’t happen again, replaced with calming patter patter of rain and she was glad she hasn’t woken Harry up. Who’s snoring softly into his pillow, his arms lax around her body and his facial features placid and soft.

There’s an ominous roar again in the sky and this time it fucks her up properly. She whimpers like a puppy shrinking into Harry’s side, eyes bolted shut as she feels her heart pumping in her ears – thumping eerily against Harry’s chest and she gasps, her knees knocking against Harry’s lower abdomen when there’s furious amount of non-stop thundering. Quite funnily he only mutters something incoherent and tucks her further into him.

Y/N’s sleepy, loggy and her scary surroundings doesn’t makes any sense to her and she doesn’t want to wake up Harry.

She’s feeling awfully, small and little and skimpy.

Terrified her eyes blows away when she sees the light-flashing outside scarily bright, “Daddy!” She cries out, latching her elbows around Harry’s neck and her thighs around his waist -- practically haggling the dude into a bendy doll.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy. . .” She mumbles unremittingly into his throat, her tears soaking the crew neck of his shirt -- tummy jolting against him and it stirs Harry, trying to take in his wear-bouts— knuckling the blurriness away from his eyes, he looks down at his lovie in haziness worried something bad happened because last he remembers she was good and about to drool over him. His warm palm gliding up her back, the fabric of her pyjama top bunching in his hold.

It doesn’t took him long to realize why his lovie’s so rucked up, clinging onto him like she depends on him for dear life when another wave of thunder-clapped and she was shoving herself into him with a frightened sob.

“Hey, hey . . Poppy. Daddy’s here. Not g'na let anything happen t’ya, sweet girl.” He whispers, cupping her face with both of his hands and tilts it up gently to look into her scared eyes, he sandwiches her shaky hands in-between his thighs and brings her impossibly closer to him – stroking his thumb over her wobbling wet bottom lip.

“We're gonna die!” She stutters a whiny sniffle hating that this awful thundering wouldn’t stop. Her outburst quirks Harry’s lips into a small smile, his heart oozing with overloaded infatuation for his love who’s just too innocent and cute for her own sake.

He gives her an eskimo kiss, pecking the corner of her salty lips then kissing her mouth tenderly and lovingly, “Said the same thing last time baby.” He calms her down. Rubbing her back, halting at the dip of her hip to massage the soft spot gently.

“Shh, shh, ‘s okay . . . I know it scares my darling so much, hate tha’, wouldn’t want my little’s poor heart to suffer this much would I?” He says groggily, tone coy and affectionate. He brushes the frays falling over her eyes out of shakiness, behind her ear and smooches a kiss to the side of her temple.

A surreal quietness blanketed them, her timid voice breaking through it and Harry smiles foppishly and lazily down at her hands still covering her ears. He tuts caringly when she blinks and glistening moisture collects under her eyebags.

“Sorry, didn’t wanna wake you,” She skootches impossibly closer into him, nuzzling her face in his strong healthy rising chest and he shakes his head petting her hair, “Would’ve been bummed if you didn’t,” He hugs her securely, and she relaxes taking a nourishing breather. Something so protective, safe and warm his huggies makes her feel.

Harry himself is the definition of tenderness, for her.

“Good?” He inquires, pressing his lips to where her neck and shoulder meet—- rubbing his hands up and down her arms smiling assuringly when Y/N hums in meekness.

His head perks up, brows shooting up nonchalantly when Y/N groans again upon all of it starting again and he coos, tightening his hug more compassionately screwing his mind too think of any idea to distract her.

“Would my baby like to keep me inside her, keep daddy warm?” He cuddles her chuckling softly when she buries her face in his neck, fisting the waistband of his joggers out of shyness and quick to bob her head timidly as Harry showers her in tiny sloppy wet fond kisses.

“Hmm. My soft little one.” He murmurs, hooking her panties away and spitting in his palm to squeeze it around his girth and gives himself few pumps before lubricating her with his own precum and eases carefully inside, not to hurt her.

Their temples falls against eachother, whimpers mingling as Harry bottoms out inside her. Balls snug against her bum, his eyes glassy as he nudges her playfully, “Now if we get stoned to death . . atleast it’d be with me cock inside ye',” His belly does a loopy loop upon earning a shy giggle from her (he takes pride in making his lovie laugh) and she moans breathily when he squishes her bum cheek grumbling disgruntled.

“Not letting them see yer bum thou,” She hiccups a giggle, feeling ticklish from all the raspberries he’s blowing at her skin and lapping the sensitive spot then, teasing it dry.

“You’re s’nice to me, I love you.”

“I love you too, my little one.”

Harry’s forever and always gonna be her comfort person.

[flannels-and-fannypacks]

Will They Won’t They | Part 1/4 [Reggie Peters]

Pairing: Reggie Peters x fem!reader

Words: 7000

Summary: Reggie and reader were the best of friends up until middle school where they drifted apart and decided never to speak to each other again. What happens when a shared algebra class and a resulting detention force them to spend and increasing amount of time together. Will it be enough to overcome the mutual hate? Or was the relationship doomed from the start.

WARNINGS: swears, spicy dancing, ANGST

A/N: Okay this is the first of hopefully many collabs between Drea and I! We’re both so excited to share out very long baby with you and hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it! - mimi <3

A/N (2): hi babes it’s drea taking over HAHAHA to repeat what mimi said, we are SO EXCITED to collab and work together to create this SUPER ANGSTY but also SUPER FLUFFY AND FUN fic! your feedback is highly appreciated! and if you like our writing, please like, comment, and reblog! we’d love to hear what you have to say! sending my love! - drea :)

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The night was young in your eyes. All the lights in the (L/N) household were off, aside from the nightlight in your bedroom. Despite it being nearly eleven at night, you and your best friend, Reggie Peters, were far from tired.

The soft humming from the radio was all that could be heard from your room, along with the occasional giggle from you or joke cracked by Reggie. You laid on your bed next to him, your legs tangled in the bedsheets. As much as you loved sleepovers with your best friend, you had to admit that Reggie’s growth spurt did not help your cramped situation.

“Your elbow is jabbing my ribs,” you grumbled, kicking Reggie towards the edge of your bed.

The boy only shoved you back, a playful smirk on his face. “You’re just jealous I’m taller than you now, Cookie,” he said triumphantly.

“I’m jealous you’re taking up all the space on my bed, dork,” you shot back, kicking hard enough to push him over the edge. Reggie let out a yelp before hitting the ground, groaning upon the impact. You fell into a fit of giggles as you peeked over the edge of your bed to see a pair of narrowed blue-green eyes and a scowl. “Sorry, Flicka,” you squeaked.

Reggie glared at you jokingly, rubbing his elbow in pain. “No you’re not,” he whispered back.

“Yeah, I’m not.”

You swung your legs over the edge of your bed, standing up to reach -well almost- Reggie’s height. You frowned at his arm, gingerly taking it into your hands. The boy winced upon first touch, but relaxed in your grasp. “Does it hurt a lot?” you asked in a concerned voice.

Reggie shrugged his shoulders. “It’s whatever,” he responded nonchalantly, but the pain in his voice was visible.

You raised an eyebrow at your best friend. “You don’t have to pretend to be all strong and tough,” you reminded him.

The taller boy sighed, a pout adorning his lips. “I know,” he murmured. “But we’re starting middle school soon. I should be ‘all strong and tough.’”

Snorting, you shook your head. “Who cares about that nonsense?” you exclaimed in a hushed voice. “We all feel pain, that’s not a bad thing. Besides, it’s just me, Flicka. You don’t need to put up an act.”

Reggie’s lips turned upwards as he looked into your eyes. Everything just felt right at the moment. The smile on your face. The redness in his cheeks. The moonlight reached the window and illuminated the room. It was perfect.

The radio, forgotten by the two of you, started to play a new song. Your song.

“You got a fast car

I want a ticket to anywhere”

Glancing up at Reggie, you could both tell you were thinking the exact same thing.

“Dance with me, Flicka?” you asked, giving his hands a squeeze.

Reggie’s face burned in embarrassment as you moved his hand to your waist. “I’m not any good at this, you know that, Cookie,” he muttered, resting his chin on top of your head.

You scoffed, starting to sway along to the music. “Just follow my lead, Reggie. I promise I won’t leave you hanging.”

There, the two of you swayed silently to the music. The moon shined bright from your window, making the blue and green in his eyes shine brighter than usual. Reggie watched as you moved your head so that it laid against his chest. You could hear his heart practically beating out of his chest, making you giggle softly.

“Flicka? you spoke up in a hushed tone. Reggie only hummed in reply. You took a deep breath. “Promise me you’ll never leave me?”

Reggie looked out the window, seeing a glimpse of both of your reflections through the glass. “I’d never leave you, Cookie.”

“You promise?” you whispered.

“I promise.”

That was your first broken promise. The first broken promise upon millions. Reggie told you he’d never leave you, that he’d always be your friend.

Funny how fragile promises can be.

That was nearly seven years ago. The late nights spent doing who knows what, listening to the radio seemed like a distant memory from a past life.

Now your days were spent alone in the library, bent over textbooks determined to ace your classes to get a scholarship and go to a good college. You wouldn’t make your parents pay for that. That was asking too much of them.

You weren’t sure where Reggie was, or what he was doing. Once you both were in middle school, he found himself new friends, and apparently a band, too. Even though you weren’t on speaking terms, you had listened to his music every once in a while. You knew he was destined for big things. Those big things just didn’t include you.

But that was fine. Your entire life wasn’t centred around some boy from your childhood. You had school and your family. So, for you, that meant signing up for all the most challenging classes and studying your ass off for all of them.

You didn’t want to admit it but this class was killing you. Your pride always got in the way. Most of the time, you believed you were capable of passing every class with flying colours. But, there was no denying this class was more difficult than the others. How were you supposed to know what effects the Great Depression had on farmers of that era? You weren’t them and they were all dead.

Your tired eyes drifted over to the clock and you sighed as you realized what time it was. Packing your things, you left the library and dragged your feet to your algebra class.

Sitting patiently in the front row while your teacher explained the lesson plan you barely even registered the faint knock on the door frame, but when you turned your head up your expression changed from one neutral to a scowl.

He hadn’t changed a bit. Aside from the whole outfit -he definitely switched his old sports sweatshirts for leather jackets sometime in freshman year- he was the same old Reggie Peters. The same dark hair, piercing blue-green eyes, and rosy red cheeks.

“Um, sorry I’m supposed to be in algebra with Mr. Milenika, I just got transferred.” the dark hair teen said, running a hand through his hair and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, Mr. Peters correct?”

Reggie nodded wordlessly. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Not from nerves, but is pure hatred for the boy. He couldn’t be in this class. He just couldn’t. Why would the universe do that to you?

“Very well, take a seat.”

Reggie walked into the class, eyeing where to take a seat when he noticed the only open spot was next to you.

His features hardened and he threw his bag down next to the empty desk, pulling out the chair and sitting in it with a loud thump.

“Flicka,” you spat.

“Cookie,” he nodded with a hiss in return.

“Great, I take it you two know each other?” Mr. Milenika asked, unaware of the drama that was associated with whatever relationship you and Reggie had. It was a stretch to say you even had one.

You and Reggie gave him a bitter “Yes.”

Mr. Milenika, never one who was ever good at differentiating bitterness and normal answers, beamed at the two.

“Good, because even though this is a math class, I will make you work with your partner quite often. So I suggest you get to know whoever is sitting next to you.” Your body stiffened. As if it couldn’t get any worse, Mr. Milenka never failed to disappoint.

Mr. Milenika continued on, explaining the rest of the plan for the class, but you seemed unable to concentrate, entirely focused on the boy who was now sitting next to you. With his stupid face and stupidly strong cologne, you couldn’t focus at all on whatever was on the board. It was as though you were in a haze, and all you could think about was him.

It had been years since you’d last spoken, not to mention you barely saw him in the halls anymore. He was notorious for skipping class to go rehearse with his so-called band while you were quite the opposite. Never missing a day, no matter what it took.

“Never thought you were one for staring,” he whispered under his breath and you scoffed.

“Oh so we don’t talk for seven years and you think now’s a good time to start?”

“Yeah, I do, cause then I could tell you how stupid those shoes look,”

“I’m literally just wearing converse, you are too Reginald,” you spat.

“Shut up!” he said, raising his voice slightly.

“You first!” you said, voice becoming louder. Was it a childish comeback? Perhaps, but you weren’t one to back down, no matter how stupid your comebacks were.

Now the whole class was listening, even Mr. Milenika had stopped teaching to observe what was going on with his students and just as he was about to intervene it seemed the debate had gotten worse.

“Me? shut up? You’re the one who was always bossing me around and telling me what to do! I could never get in a word with you!” Reggie snapped back.

“That’s because you were too thick-skulled to listen to anything I had to say!” you hissed, not realizing the audience you had. “Who knows Flicka maybe if you had you wouldn’t have failed this class last term!”

“That was uncalled for!” Reggie exclaimed, now standing from his chair. “And it’s not my fault the tutor bailed on me because it was a conflict of interest. This isn’t Judge Judy (Y/N)! If anything it’s your fault!”

“You manipulative little asshole!”

“Suck up!”

“Motherf-,”

“That’s enough!” Mr. Milenika yelled over both of you, causing you to shrink and turn to look at the very angry teacher. “Never in my years of teaching have I seen such barbaric behaviour! That’s two months' detention. Both of you! Now go to Mrs. Hillside’s office, immediately.”

Reggie angrily grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, kicking a stray chair on his way out while you followed close behind in a much quieter fashion.

You had no words as you entered the principal’s office, sitting across from her desk while Reggie took the seat next to yours.

It was your first day back from the holiday. Your first day back and you finally had a conversation with your childhood best friend in seven years and got two months of detention with said childhood best friend. Your heart ached at the thought of the big flaw printed on your record. You only had Reggie to blame.

Purposefully, you shuffled away from him and he rolled his eyes as Mrs. Hillside finished her phone conversation with Mr. Milenika.

“Disrupting a class?” The woman exclaimed. “Foul language? Damaging school property?” Your face burned at each accusation.

Mrs. Hillside glared at you. “Ms.(L/N),” she addressed with a frown. “I did not expect such reckless and irresponsible behaviour from a promising student like you. I’m greatly disappointed.”

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “Please don’t make it go on my record,” you whimpered, your voice cracking.

The woman pressed her lips together. “You’re lucky this is your first detention, Ms.(L/N).” You released the breath you had no idea you were holding.

“Kiss ass,” Reggie muttered.

You narrowed your eyes at the boy, prepared to shoot back another comeback when your principal had something far better.

“I find that rich from you, Mr. Peters,” she laughed humorlessly. “Remind me, how many detentions did you have last term?” The boy’s cheek flushed, instantly shutting his mouth. You held back a laugh as to not get a snapback of your own from the teacher. “Now as much as this is infuriating, you both do have a class that I believe would be in your best interest not to miss. So we’ll draw up a schedule for these two months of detention and then you can return to your class in an orderly fashion. You understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” you nodded and Reggie just shrugged, if he blew this for you, well let’s just say there wouldn’t be any evidence of the crime.

“So let’s make this three days a week for two months. Thursday, Friday and Saturday and the hours will vary from time to time depending on the tasks you need to complete.”

“Three times a week?” Reggie exclaimed. “Mrs. Hillside, I have band practice-”

“And I’m losing my patience,” she cut him off. “Now go back to class before I make it four detentions a week.”

You squeaked a quiet “Thank you” before picking up your things and leaving the principal’s office. Speeding down the hallways, you didn’t hear Reggie catching up close behind you. When you saw a blur of black and red in the corner of your eye, you fought the urge to turn your head.

“Stupid Reggie Peters,” you muttered under your breath. “Stupid algebra class. Stupid Mr. Milenka and his stupid detention. Stupid-”

“Are you talking to me, Cookie?” Reggie spoke up, making you jump in surprise. By that time, you were already at the door of your algebra class.

You pressed your binder close to your chest, shooting the boy a pointed glare. “I hate you,” you said, opening the door just enough for you to slip through and slam in Reggie’s face.

You didn’t dare speak when you returned back to class, not wanting to try your luck and possibly extend your already long detention.

Reggie seemed to be thinking the same thing, possibly except he didn’t have his record on the line it was that stupid band practice of his. If he had spent as much time studying as he did practicing maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation because he would have passed the class in the first place.

You knew that you’d need to spend time catching up tonight so you didn’t even bother paying attention to the lesson. Anger bubbled in your chest as you mindlessly wrote notes for the class, not processing anything at all. Occasionally, you would notice a pair of blue-green eyes staring at you, only for them to turn back to the board each time you would look back.

You couldn’t even look each other in the eye. How were you supposed to last two months of detention with him?

Finally, the bell rang and allowed you to escape the confinement that was the loud stares of your classmates as you headed to your first assigned detention. Cleaning up the backroom of the library.

Reaching the library, you were met with the librarian, Mr. Mallard. The old man was hunched over a box filled with books, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. It seemed as though he didn’t realize you were right behind him, so you awkwardly cleared your throat.

Mr. Mallard jumped, turned around to see you nervously waving at him. “Oh, Ms. (L/N), I didn’t see you there.” You waved his comment off.

“Not a problem,” you said with a kind smile. You mentally let out a sigh of relief. Good thing Mr. Mallard was nicer than the rest of the teachers here.

“I was just listening to music,” he explained, nodding at the radio playing soft music. He looked back at you. “You know I used to be a dancer back in my day? Now, I got this bad back, so I’m stuck here with you rascals.” You laughed at the man as he tried to snap his fingers and sway his hips to the music. “Ah, I got too carried away, sorry, dear. Now I must be getting old because I could have sworn there were supposed to be two of you here with me.”

You nodded, looking around for the boy in a leather jacket and red flannel, but came up empty. “He must be running late,” you told him.

Mr. Mallard frowned. “Well, I guess we can wait for him,” he settled, sitting down on his desk chair. “Feel free to take a seat over there until he comes in.”

Reggie came in a few minutes later, tossing his bag onto one of the chairs and placing his bass guitar on the table.

“The usual Mr. Mallard?” Reggie asked and the older man gave him a nod. It seemed Reggie had become familiar with the library as you had, just in a different way. “Well what are you waiting for?” he looked at you unimpressed. “The faster we start the faster we leave.”

You didn’t say a word, only followed him into the back room where you’d be organizing some old books, boxes and trophies

You stepped into the room, squinting at the shadows of assorted boxes. It was completely dark.

“Well, come on, Cookie,” Reggie said, giving you a shove. “We don’t have all day.”

You took in a shaky breath. “It’s dark,” you pointed out.

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I think we’ve established that,” he said. “Let’s just find the light switch and start cleaning.”

You nodded, blindly searching along the walls for that damn switch. Not noticing the small box on the floor, you kicked it aside, spilling all sorts of books onto the floor. You squeaked in fear, grabbing the first thing in sight. Of course, that had to be Reggie’s hand.

You whipped your head around, face red in embarrassment. Lucky for you the darkness of the room prevented him from seeing that. “Sorry,” you muttered.

Reggie scoffed at you. “Still scared of the dark?” he asked in a teasing voice.

“Still sleep with that horse plushie of yours?” you shot back.

Reggie glared at you but didn’t say anything else. Without letting go of your hand he flicked on the switch and the room filled with a dim orange hue.

“You can let go now,” you said, trying to shimmy your hand away from his, only prompting him to grip harder.

“What are you scared of me now?” he asked with a smirk and you scowled, ripping your hand away from his.

“Let’s just clean, like you said, the faster we get this done the faster we can go home.”

The room was silent aside from the noises of books falling against the floor, making a quiet thud. You made a small area of your own in the back of the room, a stack of boxes hiding your view of Reggie. But from the lack of noises made in his part of the room, you could tell he wasn’t doing anything productive.

You poked your head out of your small space, frowning at the boy. He was sitting on the floor, slouching as he scribbled on a dusty piece of paper.

“Hey!” you called out, throwing an old yearbook in his direction.

Reggie barely ducked in time, sitting up and turning in your area. “What the hell?” he yelled.

“We’re supposed to be working on cleaning this room!” you snapped. “You aren’t doing shit, Flicka.”

“I did clean,” he muttered. “I just had an idea for the band-”

“That stupid band! Why can’t you just stop for once in your life and focus on what’s in front of you,” you scowled, frustrated that even now you were the one stuck doing all the work. Seemed like maybe things hadn’t changed much from seven years ago.

“Maybe if you loosened a screw or two we wouldn’t need to have this conversation,”

“Just shut up Reginald, you have no idea what it means to take responsibility for something. You haven’t changed and you never will.”

Reggie was about to come back with a retort when the door to the backroom swung open and Mr. Mallard came in with a smile on his face.

“Could I get you kids some snacks?” he asked kindly.

“Always, you’re the man Mr. M.” Reggie grinned, completely ignoring you and giving the librarian a high five from where he sat on the ground.

“I’m good Mr. Mallard,” you shook your head and he left you both with a nod of his head and promised to be back with some assortment of fruits and such.

After your first detention, it was safe to say that all hope of fixing your friendship with Reggie went down the drain. It seemed as though every hour you spent with him gave you all the more reasons to throttle him and be glad he stopped talking to you back in middle school.

—

Detentions became just another regular part of your week, integrated with your studying and your part-time job at the cafe. So you were more than happy to take a minute and walk back home where you could take a minute to rest.

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.

“Reggie!” a voice yelled. You took a deep breath as you tried to make yourself invisible. It was his friends, Luke, Alex, and Bobby. The friends he left you for.

Reggie’s face lit up as he walked past you, running over to his friends. “Hey guys!” he said with a toothy grin. “What are you doing here?”

Luke shrugged his shoulders. “We thought we might as well give you a ride to practice since we were already around here for lunch,” he explained nonchalantly.

Bobby sent his friend a glare. “You mean I gave you a ride,” he corrected, gesturing to the keys in his hand.”

Luke waved his comment off. “Details. Oh, who’s that?” Luke asked pointing over to you and you tried to pick up your pace before he eventually made his way to you.

“That’s just (Y/N),” Reggie shrugged. “We have detention together.” Luke approached you with an overexcited pep in his step. You tried to back away as subtly as possible, but you were stopped by a wall.

“You’re adorable!” he grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulder while you looked at him in a sort of odd confusion. “Your face is so cute and pink, kind of like a bunny! You know, growing up I had this bunny for a pet named Carrot. We’re adopting you, right boys?”

You ducked under his arm, trying to stay as polite as possible. “Oh, I’d love to be your friend and all,” you began nervously. “But um...I just have things to do and-”

“We’re. Adopting. You,” Luke said in a sickly sweet but firm voice. “Right boys?”

As you tried to slip out of his grasp and walk away, Alex, who was also coincidentally your lab partner, called out from the van.

“Hey (N/N), you need a ride?”

“No thanks! I’m fine walking,” you called back, but Luke didn’t want to take no for an answer. He ran up in front of you and scooped you in his arms, throwing you over his shoulder causing you to shriek in surprise.

“We’re taking you with us! Who knows what kind of dangerous types are wandering around LA.”

“At the moment I would think you’re one of them!” you exclaimed, squirming to have him put you down, before finally giving up when he tossed you in the van. “Could this constitute a kidnapping? I feel like it’s a kidnapping. Can I call the police?”

Reggie followed close behind the two of you, clearly not liking this at all. He had already spent enough time with you in detention. Now you’re with his friends? He took the backseat, right behind you. “Dude, come on,” Reggie said as Luke fastened your seatbelt before patting the top of your head. You shot the guitarist a glare. “I really don’t want to be arrested for kidnapping. Especially since it’s her. Lord knows she’ll manage to pin the charges on me.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Nonsense,” he said. “We’re not kidnapping her. We’re making friends!”

“That’s not how making friends works, Patterson!” you yelled as he slid the van door closed.

While they were making their way to your house Luke seemed to glance at the time on the dash and gasped.

“Shit! Guys turn around we’re gonna be late for practice!”

“Practice, you said you were taking me home!” you exclaimed. “This is actually a kidnapping now! Flicka your friends suck!”

“Sorry Lady Bunny,” Luke shrugged and you whined.

Reggie groaned and banged his head on the seat in front of him while Bobby took a definitely illegal u-turn to go where they normally had their rehearsals.

The car stopped in front of a fairly nice house with a big studio. The boys filed out, leaving you grumbling in the back seat. Luke opened the door, bowing dramatically.

“Lady Bunny,” Luke said, reaching his hand out to you.

You scowled at the boy, crossing your arms on your chest. “I want to go home,” you muttered.

“No can do, Lady Bunny,” Luke said with a shrug of his shoulders. “We have practice to do.”

“Then I’ll walk home,” you whined.

Luke laughed at your frustrated face. “Can’t let you do that either,” he told you. “Besides, you’re too little and innocent to brave the world on your own.” Luke reached for your cheek, patting it softly until you turned your head and bit his finger. “Ouch!”

“Yeah, bunnies bite, dick head. This is holding an innocent party against their will and you will do jail time,”

“(N/N), just stick around this once, I’ll make sure you get home later,” Alex offered and you slouched in your seat and mumbled a “Fine,”

Alex patted your back and led you into the large studio where there was a girl with frizzy brown curly hair, sitting on a couch.

“Finally! What took you guys so long!” she sighed and stood up.

“We adopted a bunny, Rose!” Luke grinned and hugged you from behind tucking your chin in his shoulder. You rolled your eyes and mouthed help me, to the girl and she scrunched her nose as if to say, ‘sorry honey there isn’t anything I can do.’

Luke pulled you to the couch and sat you down. “Now you stay there while we practice, okay bunny?” he said, patting your head.

“If you’re good we might give you snacks,” Bobby added from behind Luke, snickering under his breath.

Rose shot both boys a pointed look. “Cut that out, you two,” she ordered. Rose sat next to you, patting your knee. “Can I get you anything? Water? A snack? You don’t have to do a flip for treats or whatever.”

You laughed in response, nervously playing with the hem of your sweater. “I’m fine, thank you,” you responded politely. “If anything I just want a ride home.”

Rose frowned, leaning against the pillow cushions. “I’d give you a ride but my sister took the car for today,” she explained apologetically. Rose could sense the awkward tension, and wanted to break the ice. “So which one of them is your boyfriend?”

You choked on air, not expecting her question. For once, you were thankful the band was blasting music. “I’m sorry?” you coughed, causing Rose to reach over to grab a water bottle from the table and offer it to you. You took a big gulp, sighing. “What made you think that?”

Rose hummed as she thought of her answer. “Well, you’re way too nervous around me,” she began. “And the boys all keep on looking at you. Alex is not your boyfriend because he’s currently talking to this guy in my English class. Bobby...definitely isn’t your type, now that I look at you. I considered Luke for a moment but he’s way too dedicated to music to date anyone but his six-string, you also just seemed way too annoyed by him, but what’s new. And now that leaves Reggie.” she looked over at the boy playing the bass. Reggie, who apparently was watching the two of you talk, quickly ducked his head, his cheeks visibly red. “You two have history, don’t you?”

You froze, eyes widening. “How did you-”

“I think you forgot we were in the same homeroom since fourth grade,” she laughed. “You and Reggie, you guys were glued at the hip. Don’t you have nicknames for each other or something?”

“I-I guess,” you shrugged, it wasn’t really something you used as a term of endearment anymore, but it was still there. “He was Flicka and I was Cookie,”

“Did you date?” she asked curiously, leaning in closer.

“No,” you shook your head. “Just friends. Used to be.” you corrected and Rose frowned, but before she could ask another question you stopped her. “If I have to sit here and wait for Alex to take me home you think we could talk about something else?”

“Sure,” Rose nodded, “Well in that case I think you should come around here more often,”

“What do you mean?” you nervously chuckled.

“I don’t know, I just think we’d be pretty good friends,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, smiling at the warm feeling bubbling inside you. “Yeah,” you agreed in a quiet voice. “I’m starting to think so, too.”

—

“And then he told me I was annoying!” you hissed, angrily scribbling the data of your experiment onto your notebook. “Can you believe that? Him!”

Alex anxiously watched you as you reached for a pipette, squeezing the poor thing like it stole your money. “Really?” Alex only said in a shaky voice.

You nodded furiously, taking the indicator, not even caring to count out your drops and just pouring the purple liquid haphazardly into the Erlenmeyer flask.

“He’s-He’s just a… argh! I can’t stand him!” you waved your hands almost knocking over the whole buret and ring stand with a very strong molarity composition of hydrochloric acid in it causing Alex to let out a strangled yelp from the back of his throat.

“C-can you please at least stay ten feet away from the table?” he requested. “You’re going to either break something or send me to the hospital with an acid burn and I really would prefer if that didn’t happen.”

You placed your materials down, glaring at the blond boy. “What are you talking about?” you snapped, not meaning to take your anger out on your friend (and chemistry experiment, at that).

Alex placed his hands up in the air in defence. “Just-” he swallowed loudly, trying to think of the right words. “Maybe take a deep breath? I know Reggie gets you all angry and stuff, but please don’t put our lives and chemistry grade on the line.”

“Makes me mad is a fucking understatement,” you grumbled.

“Okay, we can start there,” Alex began, slowly moving the materials far away from you. “I think it’s reasonable and incredibly understandable that you dislike him. But do you really hate him?”

You scowled. “Yes, Alexander,” you said in a scarily calm voice. “As a matter of fact, I do. He’s a fucking pain in my ass and can go fuck himself for all I care. He’s rude, inconsiderate, and selfish beyond belief.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Alex, you’re not my therapist, stop acting like you have every right to be in my business when you don’t know a single thing about me!”

Alex didn’t respond to that comment, fearing what you might say next. You paused, noticing Alex’s uneasiness. “I’m sorry,” you only mumbled.

He nodded wordlessly, gently placing his hand over yours. “Don’t worry about it, (N/N),” he reassured you.

Silence followed, aside from the quiet mumbling of instructions for the experiment. Minutes in, you finally decided to break the silence.

“Because he left me,” you whispered in a broken voice.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?” he said, genuinely not hearing you.

You sighed, placing your pencil and notebook down. “He left me for your stupid band. He got friends and I got nothing,” you explained further. You removed your glasses, wiping away a stray tear. “I probably shouldn’t even be mad at him, at this point. He’s moved on...and got popular and actually has something going on for himself. And me?” You laughed humorlessly at yourself. “I work a job to help mom and dad pay the bills and work my ass off so I can go to school and make a life for myself. No one told me trying for success would be so lonely.”

“(Y/N),” Alex said, frowning slightly.

You shook your head. “But he’s happy, isn’t he?” you asked. “Reggie. He’s smiling wider than I’ve ever seen before. Singing and playing the bass, dancing his heart out on stage. He never used to do those things with me.” You looked away from Alex, unable to take his pitiful gaze. “He’s changed while I’ve stayed the same. I’m stuck here, still moping about my past. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he is better off without me.”

“He’s not,” Alex said without even thinking.

“How could you say that? He’s clearly happier. It’s not like you can pretend you don’t see that,”

“But he’s not. He just replaced what he had, his friendship with you, with music. I might not know him as well as you, but it’s his coping mechanism. It hides all the bad things in life that he chooses not to deal with,”

“Reggie’s not like that,” you shook your head, refusing to believe what Alex was saying.

Alex, starting to get frustrated, slammed his hands on the edge of the table. “Dammit, (Y/N) can you just realize for one second that you don’t hate Reggie and that Reggie doesn’t hate you?” Your mouth remained closed, so Alex took it as an opportunity to push further. “You two talk my ears off about each other more than you realize. It’s always “Reggie did this” or “(Y/N) did that” can’t you two get your heads out of your asses and see that?”

“C-Can you take care of this, I’m just going to run to the washroom,” you murmured, not waiting for a response. You took off your goggles, gloves and lab coat, making your way to the courtyard, contrary to where you said you were going. Pulling your MP3 player out of your pocket you threw on a pair of battered headphones and turned the volume all the way up clicking on the familiar track of Fast Car maybe you couldn’t run away physically, but right now, your heart sure needed a break.

—

“You two will be with Mrs. Leona today in the dance room,”

“What does she need?” you asked with much confusion. Normally Saturdays were used for either sitting in silence or cleaning up some area of the school.

“She needs help choreographing the dance she’s going to use for the sophomore class next semester,” Mrs. Hillside explained. “Now go on, get dressed and meet her in the dance room.”

You and Reggie walked away to the locker rooms. A scowl was plastered on the boy’s face. “These detentions are getting more and more ridiculous each day,” he muttered.

Scoffing, you crossed your arms on your chest. “Well, that’s something we both can agree on.”

You parted ways for a short time to get changed before meeting back up again in the dance room where Mrs. Leona was already setting up and waiting for you both.

“Perfect! So glad you guys could make it,” she grinned.

“We have detention,” Reggie noted. “Not really much of a choice,” You shot the boy a glare, elbowing him roughly in the ribs.

“Right,” she chuckled. “Well, I’m working on a routine for my sophomores. Apparently, they think we’re doing the same thing over and over again so I’m going to give them something new for a change. I was thinking a partner assignment would work best.”

You and Reggie nodded as Mrs. Leona walked over to the stereo, popping in a CD and playing All That She Wants in the background on repeat while she would lead the stretches.

“Isn’t this song a little inappropriate to have sophomores dancing to? Or like even just to play in school?” you asked as you followed along.

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Of course that’s what you ask,” he muttered.

Mrs. Leona waved off your comment. “It’s fine,” she insisted. “It’s an upbeat song, and it’s “in,” so might as well give the kids a fun assignment.”

“Mrs. Leona, what kind of dance moves are you thinking?” Reggie asked curiously. “Because I’m not that good of a dancer and (Y/N) is practically so old she could break her hip by breathing.”

“I’m not old,” you snapped, crossing your arms on your chest.

“You sure act like it,” he shot back.

“You bit-”

“Enough talking!” Mrs. Leona cut you both off. “More dancing. Now I have a couple of ideas for you two, so make sure you’re really stretched out so you don’t pull something.”

You groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “What did I get myself into?”

—

“It’s a simple concept!” Mrs. Leona insisted after the millionth attempt. “You two are just so awkward with each other.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Can you just explain it again, please?” you requested.

Mrs. Leona sighed, standing up to show you the dance sequence. “Reggie, take her hand and bring it to your lips. Step away, and (Y/N) you pull him back. Then Reggie turn so that you and (Y/N) are facing each other. At that point, you grab him by the shirt while he takes your waist, then he twirls you and goes in to dip you. Simple enough!”

Simple to maybe a Rockette, but not to a bassist and an awkward bookworm.

“Let’s take it from there, okay guys?”

You grumbled to yourself, positioning yourself in front of the boy. “This is way too much,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

“Just shut up and do what she says,” Reggie hissed. “I don’t want to be any closer to you than I have to.”

When the music started playing, you felt Reggie’s fingertips trace down your arm to your hand, unknowingly creating a trail of goosebumps. Weaving his fingers with yours, he brought your intertwined hands up to his face, his lips ever so gently grazing your hand.

On beat, Reggie started to walk away from you, only for you to pull him back. His eyes met yours as you brought your other hand to his chest, balling the fabric of his shirt in your fist. You watched as he dropped his hand to your waist before pulling away to twirl you. The moment he pulled you back into his chest, you saw his cheeks redden. You were so close, close enough to smell that stupidly distracting cologne of his. You knew Reggie was just as flustered. His hand was getting clammy in yours. Before you could even process it, he dipped you down, making you gasp in surprise.

You didn’t even notice the music had stopped. All that was on your mind at that moment was Reggie. His eyes flicked down to yours, and you could have sworn you saw a hint of a smile on his lips.

The loud clapping coming from Mrs. Leona had snapped you out of your trance. Immediately regaining his composure, Reggie loosened his grip on you. You fell to the ground, hitting your elbow upon impact.

“Ass,” you muttered, rubbing your elbow in pain.

“If you’re saying I’ve got a good one then I agree,” he smirked and you scoffed loudly.

Mrs. Leona walked up to the two of you. “That was probably the best dancing I’ve seen from the two of you all morning,” she applauded. “And for that, you can take a five-minute break,”

“Oh thank God,” you whispered and flopped onto the ground, trying to relax your muscles. You tried to pull one leg over the other, stretching it out, but unable to turn properly in order to pull the tension out of your muscle.

Your eyes were closed so you didn’t notice Reggie coming closer and kneeling toward you, placing a hand on your thigh and pushing it down for you, causing you to open your eyes and see him practically leaning over top of you.

“Ow! Fuck! Too much,” you hissed and he loosened his grip. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Helping you stretch, you’re ancient so I thought I might be able to lend a hand,”

“Get your hand off me,” you said seriously.

“What,” he grinned, lifting his hand higher and causing your breath to hitch and slap his hand away and sit up, scooching back.

“Fuck off Flicka,” you said, the words barely able to leave your mouth, throat turning dry.

“Only trying to help, Cookie,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He looked over at your arm, seeing as you winced with every movement. “Does it hurt a lot?”

You cradled your elbow. “It’s whatever,” you mumbled in response, unconsciously mimicking his answer.

Reggie scoffed, leaning back on his hands. “Say what you want, Cookie, but I know when you’re lying. You can’t pretend around me.” You paused, vaguely remembering that night with the radio.

“I said I’m fine, Reggie,” you insisted firmly.

“Just let me see it,” he asked, crawling over to you, prompting you to scoot all the way back until you hit the mirror. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he frowned.

“That’s what you said seven years ago but I’ve learnt the hard way to take promises from you with a grain of salt,” you said venomously.

Reggie paused, moving back to his spot, far away from you. “Fine,” he simply said. “But don’t act like you were the only victim. I got hurt, too.”

You opened your mouth to respond when Mrs. Leona walked back into the room with three water bottles. “Well, I’m back. Are you two rested enough to continue?”

You shook your head. “Mrs. Leona, um I think it’s probably time we head back to Mrs. Hillside’s office,” you suggested. “It’s erm, late and I hurt my elbow, so…”

Mrs. Leona nodded understandingly. “Yes, of course, I forgot how much time had passed. You two work so well together, I might as well keep you guys in my class!” You laughed nervously before grabbing your things and waving goodbye. You didn’t bother looking back at Reggie. There was nothing left to say.

[sleeperswakewriting]

After Class

For @himebee-5's prompt!

Summary: Petra is Professor Ackerman's star student and yet, she keeps meeting him for office hours every Monday afternoon.

Rated: E

CWs: teacher/student relationship, age gap, praise kink

Word count: 3.2k

Surprise! I queued up another fic for smutty Saturday since I'll be out for most of the day--enjoy! 😉

She was distracting.

Levi prided himself in his stellar concentration, his perfunctory work, and despite his cold and callous demeanor, he was an excellent professor. Always receiving high remarks from his students and colleagues, and managing to churn out at least two research papers a year, there was little that compromised his neat routine.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he faced the chalkboard, clearing his throat. Levi Ackerman didn’t make mistakes, but after one look at her, his mind went elsewhere as he absently completed the calculus equation and one student shakily raised his hand and said, “E-excuse me sir, but I think you forgot to take the derivative in the fifth step.”

Taking a step back, realizing that his glasses slipped from its usual position since he took a double take at her, he merely nodded and erased the step in which he made the error and redid the equation. He thanked the student and a flurry of pencils hit paper as they recorded the problem, and Levi glanced at his watch, giving them a few minutes before he moved on.

It’s wasn’t just the plaid mini skirt and thigh high stockings that did it--he knew he was enough of a perverted old man that he at least acknowledged that turned him on, but the way she sat in the front row, prim and studious as she eyed him for the hour and a half lecture made him feel stupidly special. Most students’ eyes glazed over, and he didn’t give a shit if they were on their phones, it was their time and money after all, but the way her amber orbs never left him was almost damn unsettling if she didn’t have such a coquettish look.

Her short ginger hair was pulled back with a red head band today, and as he was giving back the first test of the semester, he paused at her seat and said, “Good work, Ms. Ral,” while sliding the test face down onto her desk. She beamed, looking at the paper, and her face fell at the grade. Levi frowned slightly, wondering what she could possibly be upset about since she received an 88, the third highest in the class. Calculus wasn’t an easy subject, and it was usually the class where students on the science and math track chose to drop out and choose a different major.

After passing out the tests, he returned to the desk at the front of the classroom to collect his things and head back to his office for his office hours for the day. As most of the students filtered out of the classroom, Petra sat stark still at her desk, eyes running over her exam, and eyebrows contorted in confusion.

“Is something wrong, Ms. Ral?” he asked, slinging his messenger bag over his grey dress shirt, adjusting his tie, and she looked up, eyes aglow. Levi pretended not to notice the way her tight long sleeved shirt hugged her curves, and the v-neck emphasized her breasts when she brought her arms together in anguish.

“I’m trying to figure out where I went wrong, Professor. I’m really disappointed in myself, I thought I aced this test.”

Levi cocked his head. “You should be proud of yourself, you have one of the highest marks in the class.”

Petra shook her head in disbelief. “Even so, I think I made far too many silly mistakes.” She sighed, shoulders slumping in clear disappointment. “I guess I’ll try harder next time. Sorry professor, you probably have to go--”

“My office hours are now,” he said, the words leaving his lips without even thinking. His glasses shone from the ceiling lights of the high lecture hall, and he swallowed. “We can go over the test if you’d like.”

And she smiled brilliantly at him again, collecting her things and swinging her fashionable book bag over her shoulder as she followed him to the math building. Levi kept at least three feet ahead of her, not wanting to give her the impression they had to make small talk since the math building was on the opposite side of the quad, and he breathed a sigh of relief when they entered his office. It was at the end of the hall of the third floor, a quiet place since it was around lunch time and most students were at the dining hall.

Levi closed the old wooden door and gestured for her to sit at the front of his desk while he deposited his bag and thumbed through the manila folder for the answer key. Petra set her things down and unfurled her own test, using his desk as she tapped her pencil at the corner of her lips.

“So which problems were giving you trouble?” He asked, loose leaf paper at the ready, and Petra motioned to problem number three.

“I get tripped up when there’s a double integral, I think.” She was already making the amendments in her head and she asked him for a piece of paper as well. Levi withdrew another from his desk cadenza and his breath hitched as their fingers touched. Stop acting like a teenage boy, he scolded himself, wondering when the last time he went on a date or had gotten laid because this was ridiculous. She was at least ten years his junior, his student no less, and she was just asking her math professor for help, even though she clearly didn’t need it.

She crossed her legs cutely, emphasizing her thighs between the space between her skirt and socks, and Levi averted his gaze as he forced himself to concentrate on her bright tone, going over her process as she circled and made the adjustments from her previous attempt.

“Yes, that’s correct. You want to integrate x and treat y as the constant. It’s like in the partial example, which you completed correctly in problem one.”

Petra smiled, nodding as understanding entered her field of vision and she completed the problem with ease. “Thank you Professor! Can you give me a harder problem just to make sure I understood the concept?”

And as Levi did his best to not pay attention to the way she said harder, he opened up the math textbook and selected an exercise, scratching it onto the paper between them and slid it towards her.

The mahogany desk was slightly too tall for Petra to comfortably lean against from the chair, so she sat up and leaned over to solve the problem, orange hair falling from her tucked ears. This time, Levi didn’t even bother looking away since Petra was fully invested in solving the equation, and he felt his pants tighten as he noted the white lace bra she had on underneath, and her round mounds spilling from her top.

“Is this right?” She asked, finally finishing, sitting back down in her seat and Levi coughed as he fought down the flush on his face.

He stared at the problem, willing himself to concentrate on the numbers in her neat handwriting, but he was finding it difficult to focus as he noticed her licking her lips after reapplying some chapstick. He took it line by line until he finally nodded and said, “Good work.”

Petra returned the paper to her folder and touched his hand gently from across the desk. “Thank you Professor Ackerman, it really means a lot to me that you went out of your way to help me. I guess the reviews were right after all.” His eyebrows rose since he didn’t usually make a habit to read his class reviews but relied on the report that the school gave him at the end of each term.

“Oh really? What do the reviews say?”

Petra giggled, and Levi felt his heart stop at the beautiful sound. “Well for one, they say you’re the sexiest teacher on campus, but more importantly, students who take your class are set up for success for linear algebra, which is my goal. I’m an astronomy major.”

He didn’t know why he found that to be a turn on since he worked at a university where there were literally hundreds of majors, but before he had a chance to think, Petra had collected her things and waved as she made for the brass knob of his office door.

“See you next week, Professor!”

And the door clicked shut. Levi’s head was spinning, and if he didn’t know any better, Petra was outright flirting with him, and he was having a difficult time processing that. He moved to lock the office door and he double checked to make sure that he didn’t have any upcoming meetings. Sinfully, he laid back in his chair and closed his eyes while he unbuckled his pants.

She’s your student, you filthy fuck. But her shiny lips, her sweet voice, and her intellect…

He stroked himself, thinking of her, and he came quickly, her name on his lips as he imagined himself taking her between her plaid skirt and thigh high socks.

---

Monday afternoons became a ritual for them, and while Levi attempted to muster up every ounce of professional courage, he found himself unable to say no to her. Every day, after class, she would sweetly ask if she could go over the day’s lecture, and he would say yes and they would wordlessly walk to his office and repeat the same routine.

It was always strictly professional, but he could have sworn that she was intentionally taking off her jacket or sweatshirt in front of him, sometimes leaving her in only a crop top. He decided then that she was purposely trying to kill him because the blood rushed faster to his groin than he could will himself to stop. He had to keep himself firmly behind his desk, not wanting to scare her from his raging hard-on as she pattered on about her misunderstandings for the day, and he would mutely nod, watching her the entire time.

She stopped the week during finals, only visiting him after his final lecture and he missed her presence during the two week absence. He eagerly awaited the day of the final exam, just to pathetically see her again, and there she was, front and center, pencil at the ready.

“This is my last test,” she whispered to him excitedly as he handed her the exam and he gave a thin smile and muttered a ‘good luck’ to her row, but looked at her the entire time.

She was the last to leave, and she heaved a sigh of relief as she handed him her packet, looking joyful.

“How did you find the test, Ms. Ral?” he asked, sparing her a last glance before she left his classroom for the final time. His heart ached at that, but he supposed it was for the best since dreams and visions of her had plagued him since the beginning of the semester.

“I think I aced it, thanks to my excellent teacher.” And she gave him a dazzling smile as she walked away and Levi trailed her form until she disappeared.

--

It was a routine message that Levi sent out to all of his students, that if they wanted to go over their final exam that they could set up office hours. He didn’t allow for debating for points--he had no time for that, and his grading procedure was precise and calculated, but he set up time slots for ease of the students.

So when he saw Petra Ral in his email, requesting for the last time slot before the last day of the grading period, he hurriedly clicked accept even though she received a perfect score on her test.

It was spring, and the promise of a new future hung in the air when Petra entered his office, wearing a similar ensemble to when she first came in, a red plaid skirt, thigh high stockings, and this time, a white knit t-shirt that unbuttoned just at her cleavage. She poked her head in, and he noticed that she didn’t carry a book bag, but opted for a small purse that slung over one shoulder.

“Hi Professor!” she chirped happily, hands clasped behind her back. Levi allowed himself a smile as he took her in.

“What can I do for you Ms. Ral? Surely you don’t have any complaints about this test--congratulations on ruining the curve, by the way. Your classmates are furious.”

Petra laughed, feeling satisfied with herself as she gazed at him--sleeves rolled up to his forearms and he opted for a vest and tie set that complimented his eyes nicely. “I wanted to let you know that I’m taking Professor Hange’s class next semester for linear algebra.”

His heart fell; he was also teaching that class, but maybe it didn’t fit into her schedule. He didn’t meet her eyes as he said, “She’s a tough teacher, but she’s good at what she does. Don’t expect to be let go early, the woman can and will go on for hours.”

Petra smiled. “I’ll be sure to make a note of it.” And she shuffled between her feet as a light blush came to her cheeks. “I wanted to give you a thank you gift, for all the office hours you’ve given to me the past semester.”

Levi raised a thin eyebrow between his glasses. “You don’t have to do that, Ms. Ral. It’s part of my job. You’re an excellent student, you made my job very easy.”

She batted her eyelashes as she stepped closer to him. He was seated in his leather office chair, arms crossed and she took a deep breath as she stood a foot apart from him, hands still playing with each other behind her back. “It’s nothing expensive. And you can call me Petra, Professor, the semester is over.”

And before Levi could question her words, she leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek. Levi’s heart pounded in his chest, noticing that Petra was visibly shy despite the bold gesture she had just committed and he stared at her, slack jawed.

“Thank you, Professor.”

Levi’s eyes widened, and the hungry need he had for her over the past three months took over. Before he knew it, he was tugging at her wrist and she was straddling his lap, skirt pooling between them as he devoured her into a kiss, lips furiously nipping and biting as she let out an animated moan. Her hands went for his tie, pulling it from his vest and then around his neck where she buried her fingers into his undercut. A shiver of pleasure went down Levi’s spine as he settled his hands at her waist, then her back, and then at the fabric at the end of her shirt.

Panting, Petra raised her arms, signalling for him to take it off, and Levi let out a groan and a fucking hell at her lacy push up bra. Arms wrapped around each other again, Petra leaned into his chest, pressing her tits against him while she grinded against his lap, smiling as she devilishly noticed his hard-on between their clothing. Her breath was hot against his as she moved to unbutton his vest, and he raised himself to take it off, but let out a hiss as their centers made contact.

Not being able to help himself, Levi trailed his fingers up and down her legs, groaning that he was finally able to touch her, and the way the spandex hugged her skin was driving him crazy. He dove between her skirt, reaching for her panties and he played at her apex, noticing that she was incredibly wet, which only turned him on more.

Petra keened and threw her head back in pleasure as he began lavishing her neck with kisses and suckled at her jawline, happy that she tasted as beautiful as she looked. A light floral perfume danced across her flesh, and he inhaled her as he undid the headband from her hair, freeing the locks so he could bury his nose between them.

“Professor, ah, can you please touch me?” She asked weakly, eyes clenched shut from Levi’s ministrations and he chuckled.

“Only because you’ve been such a good student,” he whispered into her ear, and she nodded as he slipped a finger in, and pleasured sighs escaped both of their lips.

“God, you’re so fucking wet. Were you planning on this before you came in?” Levi asked, using his other hand to unbuckle his pants and slid down his zipper.

Petra was finding it harder and harder to think as Levi pumped into her, alternating between two and three fingers, teasing her clit and taking his hands away before she could go any higher. Vision going blurry, she reached for the back of her bra and undid the hook, letting it fall between them and Levi ripped it off, freeing her breasts.

He took a nipple between his teeth and bit down hard, earning a cry from Petra as she begged him to keep touching her while he buried his face into her chest. Petra moved to play with both of her nipples, all while riding against his hand and she felt like her heart was about to explode from Levi’s touch.

She slid her tongue against his lips, drinking him in as she asked him to help slide her panties down, and he obliged, but not before pocketing them into his pants. She shot him a questioning look, and he smirked, “This is my thank-you gift.”

Bashfully, Petra smiled and pawed him between his underwear, stroking his length up and down with her hand and she pulled his waist down just far enough to free his member. She gasped at his size, and Levi let out a hum of satisfaction while she took a moment to gaze at it, providing him with light touches.

“Levi, can I ride you?” She asked demurely, eyes fixated on his dick and he gripped her by the ass to guide her close.

Leaning over, he whispered into her ear, “That’s Professor Ackerman to you.”

Petra keened at his husky voice, and lowered herself onto him, moaning loudly as he breached her, dick hot against her tight entrance.

“That’s a good girl,” he encouraged, holding her close as she steadily bobbed up and down, her wetness providing enough slickness between them. His balls smacked against his legs, and her tits bounced each time she reached his hilt and she cried out.

Wild with lust, Levi toyed with her clit as she continued to ride him, fingers dancing and shaking as she paused to catch her breath. Their eyes met, and with equal fervor, they kissed as Petra braced her hands against his shoulders, pace increasing and then reaching her climax in a frenzy as she bobbed up and down.

“Professor,” she whined, releasing her hands and crying into his collar as she rode out her orgasm.

Levi’s eyes were clenched shut as her walls fluttered around him, her tightness becoming too much for him as he also met his own pleasure, and he pumped into her in short pulses. Breaths panting, he looked up to meet Petra, who was smiling between breaths.

Still sitting comfortably inside her, Levi laughed warily, unsure of where to go from here. Petra, still wrapping her body around his, licked the lobe of his ear as she said sultrily into his ear, “Did that count as extra credit?”

[gh0sture]

Under the Sea

Trafalgar Law x gn!reader

Part 2, Meet the gang

You've never been particularly good at meeting new people or making good first impressions for that matter but this, by far, has to be your worst one yet. Your clothes are soaked still, your hair a sticky mess from the saltwater and your mouth is opening and closing lika a fish gasping for air as it flaps around on a bridge after being caught. It's not one of your best looks you'll admit but it is all you can offer at the moment given the circumstances.

You try to form coherent thoughts, you really do, but this is just way too much for you to take in. He reaches a hand out and you flinch before grabbing it to make an awkward shake.

This isn't just insane. This is completely knock-your-socks-off bonkers.

You feel as if you were looking at the golden gates of heaven themselves, not daring to look him in the eyes out of fear that you might go blind from the sheer radiance of his aura meanwhile the man in question just looked at you blankly. Possibly with a hint of disgust. Definitely a bit of disgust.

"The name's Trafalgar Law, captain of Polar tang" his handshake is firm and he looks at you expectantly while retrieving his hand and crossing his arms over his chest.

Neither of you say anything. He clears his throat but you give no reaction. Still staring at him like a five year old looking at a blackboard of university level algebra equations. He grimaces slightly at your behavior.

"Are you ok? I don't remember finding any trauma to your head, you should be fine" he grabs your chin and tilts your head around to inspect it disapprovingly in search of an injury. Although, he is an expert doctor so he would never miss any injuries, his pride wouldn't let him. This does nothing to soothe your symptoms though and doesn't exactly help with calming your heartbeat at all.

"I wouldn't have missed anything what's wrong with you" he mutters to himself when you finally managed to collect yourself enough to remove his hands.

"uhh no! no, i'm ok! thank you for ,uh, saving me by the way" this is the best and worst thing that have ever happened to you.

"it wasn't my choice" he deadpanned and turn back into the room to get a den-den mushi with a familiar penguin hat on it. Its so strange seeing on in real life. Although, you don't know if this is real life (is it just fantasy?). He proceeds to make a phone call (mushi-call? den-den call?) into it while you shift awkwardly on your feet in the hallway. Your feet ache from walking on the metal grid barefoot you had barely noticed until now. After exchanging a few words he walk over to the desk where he'd previously  been sitting and open a journal, presumably to continue doing whatever he did before.

"One of my crew members will be here shortly to get you settled for now and give you some necessities. We reach a port in nine days where you can leave." his voice was calm and composed, like pouring molten chocolate into your ears even though the words themselves were less than pleasant. When he spoke you could feel your knees get weak and you feel tempted to ask him a question for the sole purpose of hearing him speak more. God this man was hot. You nodded at his statement at first, not really paying attention to what he had actually said until you realized that nothing he said had been actually registered in your head.

"Wait, what?" you asked. He doesn't look up from his writing but you can hear the mild annoyance in his voice when he answers.

"Looking at you, you are rather ill equipped for staying here until we reach a populated island. Since you don't have any money or anything valuable, my crew will provide for you until we reach the port where you can find another ship to go back wherever you came from...Whatever weird country that's supposed to be...Now go down the hallway, He should be there already to help you so leave me alone" you get the feeling that you'll loose a limb if you stick around longer so you turn to head down the hallway and find "Him" who you hoped would be more polite.

"Not that way" you hear from the study and you turn around to head down the other way, somewhat (very) embarrassed.

You really wished that your first time meeting a celebrity would've gone better, but then again they do say that you should never meet your heroes. Was he always this rude in the series and book? Sure he came across as a bit of a tsundere but he seemed at least approachable in the series. You don't have the charisma or extroverted superpowers that Luffy have so that is probably an important thing to consider. As you head down the hallway you come across a man walking in your direction pretty soon. He seem far more ok with your existence and even appear to lit up a bit when he sees you and give you a friendly wave. This is already going a lot better than last time.

"Yo! You're the one we found floating around yesterday! Nice to meet you, people around here call me Penguin" He gives you a wide yet genuine smile as he grab your hand and shake it enthusiastically before you even have the chance to reach out.

"thought you were a goner when we found you haha!So it's good to see that you're up n' about, c'mon let me show you a round!" he turn around to walk from where he had just come from while you follow behind him silently.

Penguin makes it his personal responsibility to keep a conversation going even if it's pretty one-sided but it's nice. Comforting even, as he went on about how nice the other crewmembers are with the exception of the captain but you shouldn't take what he says too personal as he's a bit misunderstood. He  ask you different questions like your name, where you came from, complimenting you on your weird clothes, although it feels like that was mostly him being polite and you didn't have heart or energy to tell him that you're wearing PJ's. He doesn't mind your short answers and seems satisfied with the information he's able to divulge. To be fair you aren't sure how to answer since you don't know how you ended up here but also out of fear of ripping the space-time continuum open by telling him forbidden knowledge about his universe. It would be rather awkward explaining to him that you know a lot about them and what they've done/are about to do. You've technically stalked them through tv and books and if someone told you that they've been watching you, you would freak out. Rightfully so too. They might even think that you're a navy spy sent to gather information action for their arrest and they could kill you. Yeah, this is a mess and a half but you'll burn this bridge when you get to it. You did tell him your name though and he doesn't seem to suspect you working for some nefarious organization so all is well.

He showed you where the important places in the submarine was such as the kitchen, living quarters, rec area and bathrooms. You still have trouble telling up from down will undoubtedly get lost but he assures you that after a while you'll know this maze like the back of your hand. After leaving the living quarters he guides you to the top deck to find someone else he says will help you so that he can get back to work.

The yellow ship had surfaced at a deserted summer island and everyone was outside enjoying the sun after spending several days in the dark of the ocean. You hadn't been down in the submarine for that long , at least not while being conscious, and was already getting a bit unnerved over how cold and cramped it was. As soon as the warm rays of light hit you both the cold and your worries melt away.

"Hey Ikkaku! You have to help the drifter get some clothes!" He yelled at a woman laying in a sun-chair on the deck with her eyes closed. The familiar heart pirates uniform was open to reveal a green tank top and an orange and yellow striped hat was laying beside her.

"Haah!? Why do I have to do it?" She sat up to glare at Penguin and was about to protest when she spotted you behind him. One second you were hiding behind Penguin and the next you're face to face with a very pretty woman with very poofy hair. Her glorious lion name bounces a bit as she hold up both your hands in hers and lean over a bit to stare into your eyes. Everyone is so tall here why is everyone so ridiculously tall. Anime proportions are wild.

"Oh my god!! We were so worried about you, we thought you were dead when we found you!" You felt uncomfortable with her being so close to your face and politely thanked her for saving you while doing your best to avoid eye contact.

"Oi! Where's your manners! They've been through a lot being stranded in the ocean have some respect!" He bops her on the head and she lets you go to tell him off (and/or punch him back) but she remembers the shiny new toy in front of her and settles for staring daggers at him instead.

"Oh shut yer trap" She stares at you intensely as if to make sure you wouldn't run away or vanish into thin air. It's kind of nice being fawned over like this, and clearly the crew enjoy having a visitor.

"It's so nice having a fresh face around, It's been years since Captain let anyone new stay onboard  and being stuck with all the same jerks weeks on end gets a bit tiring you know. Now come on and let's go find you some proper clothes!" She grab your hand to drag you along back into the dark,dark depths of the submarine.

Oh joy. more cold, feet grating and claustrophobia.

"You're a bit smaller than everyone so we should probably ask Uni to sow it in for you if it's way too big" She says more to herself rather than you while handing you the classical white uniform with the heart pirates logo on the chest over your heart.

The woman who's name you had learned to be Ikkaku turn around and continued rummaging around the small closet in front of her in search of more clothes for you while you change into the white uniform when she isn't looking. It feels incredible to finally get out of those damp and sticky clothes and into something soft and warm instead. You are also the proud owner of a pair of fuzzy socks and black boots. Your poor abused feet are overjoyed that they no longer have to walk the metal grid of a thousand needles. Life is good.

"Once we get to the port of Pellar island you can probably trade your way to some more clothes but this should be fine for now"

In the little time you had spent with her you had learned quite the few things about the crew on the ship. For starters there were 21 members in the crew (including the captain), You were lucky number 22 according to Ikkaku, even though you aren't a part of the crew it's apparently better to have an even number of people aboard the ship. And hearing the stories of what they've been through it seems like you're their new rabbits foot. Since you're considered baggage or fancy cargo rather than someone useful she gives you some times on how to stay out the way, especially out if the captains way which you feel is probably a wise decision but you offer your help should she need it in the kitchen which she greatly appreciates. You hate feeling useless.

You can't help but wonder where you are in the Once Piece timeline as you rolled up the long sleeves of the uniform on your arms and legs for comfort. Had Luffy and Law already formed the alliance? Were you before the timeskip and the incident at Marine Ford? Maybe you were even ahead of the manga and anime itself in a future arc even. You were snapped out of your thoughts when Ikkaku pushed a bundle of toiletries into your arms involving a towel, a toothbrush, and a bar of soap.

"We haven't figured out where you'll sleep for the moment but it'll work out soon enough. Otherwise you can just sleep in a spare bed in the infirmary but come help me gather food from the island! We don't want to get scurvy while we're submerged!" She drag you away towards the deck after leaving your things in her room for safe keeping for now.

This woman is going to pull your arm off.

She seemed very sweet but all the touching and stereotypical anime arm-pulling is weird since you have literally just met. The way she smiles while asking you about your favourite foods and how she excitedly plan different recipes out loud make you almost forgive her though. Almost.

You move sluggishly towards Ikkaku's room to get the only material items you currently own in this world. Foraging for fruits and herb until nightfall was tiring but at least you didn't have to carry that much stuff, a guy with a black pompadour haircut had come along to help carry the crates of stuff you and Ikkaku gathered. He seemed very nice too, somewhat cocky though. You had asked Ikkaku for information on a certain Straw-hat pirate while making small talk and have come to the conclusion that he probably hasn't even started his adventure towards becoming the Pirate King yet. She didn't know who you were referring to and was even showed some seagull newspaper from their library but no info of the gummy monkey man could be found whatsoever. Since you recall him making news very early on in his "career" it's fair to assume that he hasn't gotten up to his mischief yet.

It feels a bit weird to be honest. To be in the prologue of the story like this and you have no idea what kind of things anyone other than the Strawhats and Luffy had been up to since the story followed them, maybe some vague details about Law's past and fragments from some characters backstories but this is all uncharted territory. Your thoughts are interrupted as you suddenly bump into someone and fell backwards. You reach your arms out like a bad imitation of a seagull in attempt to grab the wall but someone grabs you before you manage to take hold of anything. Your grab their shoulders to steady yourself and let go once you're back on your feet but they don't remove their hands from you. You look up to thank them for catching you when all the colour drains from your face and you realize who you're standing prom-slow-dance proximity to. It is but the one and only person you'd least want to embarrass yourself in front of. Again.

"Do you have a death wish or are you just plain stupid 22-ya" He looked down at you with what you assume to be the ghost of an amused smile or slight disgust. Probably disgust. Again. while you're distracted by his closeness and the humiliating event that is currently taking place. It could be much worse though, right? you can salvage this situation probably.

"Crap, sorry I was just zoned out.." You tried looking anywhere but his oh-so-handsome face to avoid you making this anymore awkward than it already was. You are not immune against handsome people after all. You tried moving away from him slightly but his hands stayed firm on your shoulders and could feel his gaze on you like needle pricks on your skin. you definitely do not dare looking him in the eye.

"You have to look where you're going or you might get seriously hurt next time" He mused. He may be attractive but he's definitely a jerk.

"It's impossible to see down here it's so dark..." you mutter under your breath and quickly move to side to walk past him, he let's go this time rejoice that your attempt to escape the harassing captain is successful, desperate to get away from this weird atmosphere you have created. Unfortunately for you, the universe have other plans  as he start walking behind you in the same direction you are and boy, is it awkward.

After a bit of walking you start to get a bit suspicious though. Was he following you around, waiting for you to get lost so that he could make a smartass comment about it? He is the kind of person who would find great amusement in petty bullshit like that for sure but then again you do have a tendency of assuming the worst in every situation. You decide to test this theory out by steeping to the side and make as much room as you could in the hallway and drop down to pretend fixing your shoelace. Instead of trying to walk past you he stops completely right behind you. You move as slow as you can without arising suspicion but he so kindly wait patiently behind you. When you're done "tying your shoelace" and stand up to continue your journey he follows close behind.

Oh hell no.

You can handle rudeness but this is some psychological warfare or foul play that you want no part of. No matter how handsome the guy is you will not stand for this kind of fuckery. You make a sudden halt and quickly turn around to kindly tell him to fuck off.

"Do you need something from me?" you ask with as much calm you can currently muster, irritation building up behind your customer service smile but he doesn't say anything and only look at you with the same dumb face as before. Almost like he's sizing you up before a fight. Possibly with even more disgust this time.

This Motherfucker.

When he still doesn't say anything for several seconds you just decide to be the bigger person and turn around to start walking again. Of course, with him still following you. It's better to just ignore him and he'll go away, you know where you're going. You finally reached Ikkaku's room and gather up the few items that belong to you when he finally speak up.

"You don't have a room assigned yet right?" You gave him a somewhat puzzled look. That's what he needed to know? That is why he followed you?? To ask you this???

"No? why?" You admit cautiously, almost preparing for him to start fighting you or using his power to "confiscate" one of your organs. For a brief second you could've sworn you saw a mischievous glint in his eyes you know that something bad is brewing. The cogs of evil are turning in his mind and you know that whatever comes out of his mouth next will undoubtedly mean bad news for you.

"I have an idea"

[hortensemitchell]

Love Science: Chapter Four

Logan believed that he could solve anything through the power of science, even something as complicated as love. James is set on teaching him that love can't be summed up in experiments and charts.

The two of them might just learn that there is more to love than they realize.

Rating: T

Paring: Logan Mitchell/James Diamond

Words: 1852

It’s almost fall, James realized as he makes the familiar trek to Logan’s house. The air was crisp as the afternoon sun started lowering in the sky. It made him wish that he’d brought a jacket with him, but he rarely thought that far ahead.

Logan would have reminded him to bring one.

He was good at stuff like that, always prepared for anything. It was one of the things James loved about him. But the words Logan and Love in the same sentence felt very confusing to him at the moment.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, one moment he was listening to Logan drone on about his algebra assignment and the next he almost asked him out. He had never been more thankful for Kendall and Carlos’ interruptions in his life.

Getting dates for the dance was a good save, and he didn’t have any doubts on the other boys being able to follow through. Kendall, while not exceptionally girl crazy, seemed to do alright with them. And James had no doubt that Carlos would have a good yet danger filled night with Jenny. 

Logan however looked a little panicked at the idea of having to find a date for himself, and had all but ran out the door before James even noticed. That’s why James was heading over in the first place. He had to make sure the other boy was okay.

James stood at the edge of the Mitchell’s driveway taking in the brick exterior and slightly overgrown bushes. His mother had made plenty of comments about the unmanicured lawn before as she dropped him off, but James had always felt it made the place feel more like a home.

If he was honest, all of his friend’s houses felt more like a home than his own ever did. He was hardly ever in his, not that there was ever anyone there to notice. His mother worked long hours running her makeup empire, and his father? Well last he heard his father was on vacation in the Keys with his secretary. 

James quietly made his way up the driveway, careful not to be seen through the living room window. If he approached the front step he’s sure Mama Mitchell would let him in, offering a warm cup of cider and a snack. He couldn’t take that risk though. One moment she’ll have you in the kitchen enjoying her excellent baking and the next you’re in the living room looking through a photo album titled ‘Hortense- Potty Training’. 

Logan was horrified when he found them that day, and had James swear to take it to the grave. And of course he would. Secretly though, James found it sweet how much she loved her son, even if she embarrassed him on the regular. 

He could stop in for a visit later, for now he had to make sure Logan was okay. He approached the gate leading to the backyard and lifted up on it to avoid the loud croaking noise it was prone to make. When he rounded the corner to the back of the house, he was pleased to see the soft lamp light filtering through Logan’s bedroom window. 

Now came the more difficult part, scaling the building to the second floor. James pulled his body weight onto the trashcan leaning against the side of the house, using it as a stepping stool to reach the slanted roof. 

He privately thanked all the afternoons he had spent working out in the gym after class because the maneuver wasn’t the easiest.  But he finally got his footing on top of the roof and carefully edged his way to Logan’s window.

Inside the room was an extremely familiar sight. Logan sat slumped over his desk, quickly scanning between two different text books, strone all around the floor of his desk were balls of crumpled paper. Illuminated by the blue light of his laptop in the corner of his desk, Logan wore an expression of intense focus as he studied.

As he scribbled away in his notebook, he bit down slightly on his lip showcasing his dimple. His hair was sort of ruffled like he had been running his fingers through it out of frustration, and his clothes were a little rumpled. It was entirely unlike the poised and proper boy James would see in school. There was something kind of charming about the way Logan lost sight of everything around him when he studied, absorbed in his own little world.

But James quickly backtracked on those thoughts, realizing how creepy he must seem peering in his friends bedroom window like a pervert. He tapped on the window in front of him and laughed when the boy inside startled at the sound.

When he glanced over to see that it wasn’t an axe murder, but James sitting at his bedroom window, he quickly crossed the room to let him in. As soon as the window opened, James rushed inside along with the cool breeze of the evening air. 

Logan instantly shivered, hastily shutting his window again. “Where’s your jacket? You must be freezing.”

“A body this hot,” James gestured to his abdomen. “Never get cold.”

Logan rolled his eyes, before he tossed a throw blanket from his closet in James direction. “Uh huh, use this before you get sick.” He then made his way back to his desk chair before spinning to face James. “Anyways, what are you even doing here?”

James took a seat on the edge of Logan’s bed beside the desk, and wrapped the throw blanket around his shoulders. “You left Kendall’s pretty fast, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He leaned forward to peer at the books on the desk. “And also to see what you’re working on.” 

Logan’s cheeks flushed red, a response that instantly caught James’ attention. “It’s just some work for my AP World History class, real boring stuff.” He rolled his chair so he was blocking James' view of the desk. “Honestly, you’d probably have more fun going to Carlos’ tonight, I’ll be working for a while.”

There was absolutely no way Logan was working on a school assignment. James knows how Logan gets about his school work. He can’t help himself but ramble on about the new knowledge he learned to anyone who would listen. No, whatever this was, Logan didn’t want him to find out. 

“Yeah you’re probably right. My head still hurts from all that algebra we did at Kendall’s anyways.” James stretched out his arms, and turned his body toward the window as if he was going to leave. 

Logan let out a soft sigh, a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Once James left, he could carry on with his work. At the last second though, James turned back toward the desk and lunged for one of the textbooks laid across it. Logan had made an attempt to stop him, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“Give it back James, I have work to do!”

James ignored his pleas and walked away from the desk, the prized textbook held high above his head far from Logan’s reach. There was no way the other boy could grab it without jumping, and James knew for certain Logan’s pride wouldn’t let him do that no matter how badly he wanted his book back.

“Not until you tell me what you’re really studying. We’re best friends, we don’t keep secrets from each other, remember?” James paused for a moment, before a sinister grin appeared on his face. “Unless you’re studying something dirty?”

Logan’s face flushed bright red as he scoffed at Jame��s teasing. “What? No!”

“Then why can’t you tell me about it?”

Logan leaned forward in his chair, and hid his face in his hands. For a moment James felt worried, he might have pushed things too far. Logan sat like this for a moment before he looked up making eye contact with James across the room. “I’m researching love, okay?”

James made his way back over to Logan’s bed and sat down, placing the textbook beside him. “This is about the dance isn’t it?” While Logan didn’t reply, James knew he hit the nail on the head. He laid his hand on Logan’s shoulder before he continued in a soft voice. “Love isn’t something you can learn about in a textbook Logan.”

“You can learn anything through science. And love is just a series of chemicals anyways all the experts say so, if I study hard enough I can break it down to simple components.”

Now it was James' turn to roll his eyes. “Who are you going to listen to? A bunch of science nerds or your best bud who just so happens to be the leading casanova at Richview High?”

Logan let out a sigh, before meeting Jame’s eyes. “I’ll listen to you, but without science there’s no way I’ll get a date in time.”

“I’ll tutor you!” 

James was kind of surprised as the words came out of his mouth. Since he could remember he’d been going to Logan for extra help in his studies. The idea that it was finally his turn to pay his friend back left him feeling a little bit giddy. 

“You’re not unfortunate looking, dude, plus I think you have adorable dimples and kind eyes.” James noticed Logan looking at him with an expression he couldn’t place.

“You think my dimples are adorable?”

“Well I-, I mean girls will think they’re adorable.” James quickly recovered. “Plus you have that smart guy thing and girls go wild for that. I’ll teach you some of my go-to moves, and you’ll have a date in no time.” 

Logan leaned back in his chair, and pondered James' offer for a moment. He really had nothing to lose. He’d seen James in action before, and if even half of that charm rubbed off on Logan, he was sure to have a date for the dance. He really didn’t want to run the risk of playing third wheel for his friends on a Saturday night. 

“Okay, I’ll let you tutor me.”

James felt himself grin widely, glad that he could finally help his friend who had already helped him so much. He stood abruptly from the bed and rushed toward the window, making his way out into the cool evening. 

Logan was slightly puzzled at the other boy's actions, “Where are you going?”

“Home, I have to create a study plan. If we are gonna get you ready by Saturday, I need a plan of action.” He slipped out of the window leaning his head back into the room. “I’ll come over after school tomorrow, and we can start training then.”

James turned around and climbed his way back down to the safety of Logan’s backyard. He heard the sound of the window shutting above his head and carefully snuck out the way he came. 

The evening air was chilly, but James didn’t really notice. His mind was elsewhere, thinking about the fun afternoon he had planned, showing Logan what love was really all about.

[toziers]

wife can u do a fic or smth with reddie and napping please

hands down, no questions about it, the hammock was the best feature of the entire bunker.

bev liked bean bag chairs ben had added. she and ben could sit in the corner listening to his tapes through shared headphones for hours, cycling through new kids on the block and madonna and prince until the batteries wore out.

ben also liked the bean bag chairs.

the bookcase was stan’s favorite, mostly because it gave him a great swell of pride whenever one of the losers borrowed a book he’d stocked it with. it was still pretty empty, and three of the ten books were specialty handbooks for bird spotting, but it was there.

eddie contributed a polaroid camera he’d gotten for christmas because he had the artistic eye of seaweed and every photo he took came out blurry and half-developed, for whatever reason. bev had taken to snapping pictures of the losers in various unexplainable situations, and now there was a nice string of pictures hanging near the entryway, so eddie felt good about it.

mike and bill had brought in a game table and spent most of their time mutually sucking at scrabble (though mike usually won — stan liked to stand behind him pretending to read his book but subtly hint at different combinations mike could make, leaving bill to lean back in his chair and huff out a “wh-why do i even bother?”)

but fuck all of that: the hammock reigned supreme. when it had been installed, it was clear every one of the losers had been excited to take a turn — to the point they’d needed to come up with a schedule for usage or there was going to be hands thrown. at some point, though, the rest of them had taken note that fighting richie for time on the hammock just wasn’t worth it.

except eddie.

it was always:

“how come richie’s always the first one on the hammock?”

“because i’m the first one down here.”

“yeah, ‘cause you pushed me!”

richie adjusted his glasses on his nose. “your mom likes it when i’m pushy with her.”

or:

“richie, you can’t hog the hammock the whole time.”

“i can’t hear you, i’m sleeping.”

“you’re literally talking to me right now, fuckface.”

“i’m probably sleep-talking, and you know they say you’re not supposed to disrupt sleep-talkers.”

“that’s sleep-walkers, richie,” mike chimed in, and bill groaned “r-really? zoology on a tr-riple letter square?”

“STOP FAKE SNORING, DICKHEAD, I KNOW YOU’RE AWAKE.”

or:

“it’s my turn on the hammock, richie.”

“richie tozier isn’t here right now,” richie said, not looking up from his comic. “if you’d like to leave your name and number at the tone, he’ll get back to you after he’s done fucking your mother.”

eddie never dropped it, though. at some point he’d decided that there was no forcing richie out, so he’d just have to get in. so he did, mumbling expletives and shoving at richie’s too-long limbs the whole time he adjusted to sharing the swing of the hammock.

it was, like, the biggest win of richie’s life.

for the most part, they sat at opposite ends, limbs tangling together as they read the latest editions of spiderman or she-hulk. eddie spent a lot of time playfully kicking richie or knocking his glasses off with his toes, and richie spent a lot of time letting him. when they hit high-school, though, and richie shot up like a knobby-kneed corn stalk, sharing the hammock became less and less feasible. at least, the way they’d been doing it before.

“c’mon richie, get the fuck up,” eddie whined. “i wanna’ take a nap.”

he and stan had spent the whole afternoon studying for an algebra test tomorrow while richie played his game-boy ‘for moral support’. stan already left, though, mumbling something about not being able to handle ‘this repressed shit’ anymore, whatever that meant, and eddie was in that post-study cranky mood.

“hop on in, chap,” richie offered, patting his chest like it was some sort of enticing pillow.

“oh, fuck you, i just wanna’—“

“i’m serious,” richie argues, letting his legs splay over the sides of the fabric and making an eddie sized space. “or you can go home. i’m sure sonia would love to have her eddie-bear cuddle up for a nap.” the look in eddie’s eyes was downright feral and richie was worried he’d legitimately pissed him off but then eddie’s shoulders just kind of dropped and a yawn overpowered any fight left in him.

“fine.” so he’d crawled in and collapsed on richie’s body (after elbowing him sharply in the stomach and making a pleased humming sound at richie’s pained oof).

and. it’s not like they’d never been curled up like this, but they were usually accompanied by the other losers, and it was never quite this close. richie could feel eddie’s heartbeat getting slower and slower against his ribs, could feel eddie’s soft breaths on the bit of exposed skin above richie’s shirt collar.

“shut up, richie.”

“i’m not — i didn’t say anything!”

eddie just huffs in response, and after a few moments, everything is quiet. so richie picks up his comic, wishes his pulse into some semblance of a steady beat, and pretends he’s not focusing on every rise and fall of eddie’s shoulders.

after that, it’s almost tradition: they argue, richie makes room, and eddie crawls in like he was made to fit between richies legs. sometimes richie stays awake and reads, sometimes he falls asleep too, counting the freckles on the bridge of eddie’s nose. sometimes richie wakes up before eddie and finds their hands interlocked, and sometimes eddie wakes up before richie and slips his fingers between richie’s before falling back asleep.

they never, ever nap together in front of the other losers.

which is why, when the roof-top door swings open as richie’s just about to take off his glasses and join eddie in dreamland, his heart stops.

it’s bev, and ben, and richie lets out a little sigh of relief because bill enters rooms with all the finesse of an elephant on roller skates and eddie would’ve woken up immediately.

as it is, eddie gives a little shift when bev laughs quietly at whatever ben had said, so by the time she and ben turn around, richie’s shaking his head as violently as he can without disturbing the sleeping boy atop him.

bev’s hand flies up to contain her gleeful laugh, and ben just stands there looking about as shocked as he had when he’d discovered bill and mike were fooling around; which is to say, not that shocked. ben just puts his hands up and smiles before crawling back up the ladder, and bev looks like she’s about to follow, but something on the bookshelf catches her eye. richie knows what it is before she’s even grabbed it, and his cheeks flush bright red when she pulls the polaroid from the shelf. there’s no feasible way to get out of this without waking up eddie, defeating the entire purpose, so richie just lays back and accepts his fate with a sigh and a middle finger to the lens.

—

later, after eddie’s forced him to buy them both ice cream before he split off to go home, richie tacks up the stolen polaroid beside his bed.

there’d be plenty of opportunities for bev to snap another.

[lilikags]

Maybe Homework Isn’t So Bad After All (Hinata Shoyo x reader)

Contrary to popular opinion, homework can actually have a positive effect. Sometimes. 

Pairing: Hinata Shoyo x Kageyama’s sister reader Type: fluff Before you read notes: ... can I just say fried rice? 

"Woah! Kageyama, your house's so cool!" Hinata's eyes beamed, seeing the Kageyama's front door. It was a bit more modern, though smaller than his own.

"It's a normal house...." Tobio looked at Hinata, feeling done with him and his energetic energy. You heard the noise and peeked through the door.

"Oh, you brought home a friend? You should tell me these things; the house's a mess. I guess the least I could do is put together some snacks." You looked at Hinata. "Oh, you're the Hinata Tobio keeps talking about, right? Sorry about the house, it's a mess."

"It's awesome!" Hinata jumped and hit his head, apparently trying to express how cool the house was.

"Oh, you okay? I'll get some ice if you need-"

"He's fine." Tobio answered. "He's hit his head before, no big deal."

"What if it's-"

"I'm okay!" Hinata flashed a bright smile. You guided them to the living room- that was the part of the house you would lead guests to whenever they came over. You sat down, next to your brother.

"Uh, so you're here to hang out? Study?" you tried to start a conversation.

"Kageyama and I don't have good grades... and we need to pass all of our classes to go to the training camp..." Hinata's smile dropped.

"Well, I'm sure you can figure it out! If you need help, you can ask me, but don't expect me to be as good as your teacher. Good luck! Call me if you need any help." you waved to them and went back to your room. You had some homework left to do, so you decided that you would finish that before playing some games.

You have always loved video games. Tobio has always loved volleyball. It seemed like he inherited all of the physical talent while you inherited all of  smarts. You weren't that smart, but you were somewhat at the top of your class. You were also in advanced math, meaning that you were taking Algebra 2 in 10th grade. It wasn't that hard, since you had time to study and actually paid attention in class, unlike your brother. Though, you couldn't really blame him. He always, in your opinion, got back too late at night and was exhausted from practice. Of course, he would be tired the next day as well.

You set to work, putting all of your focus on your homework so that you could play some games. You did have a test next week, but you could totally study tomorrow. It's not like it's hard anyways; you could probably take a couple of  hours to study for it and you'd be just fine. You knew you were procrastinating, and you did believe you were too good at it, but you saw no reason to stop. After all, if everything ended up okay, it's all good.

The homework was surprisingly easy; you got through it in half an hour and you set on to your games. You unplugged your phone, which was now at full battery. You put in the password and opened up (favorite game). You were getting into it, remembering all of your plans and strategies you had in mind. After all, a strategy is absolutely necessary to climb the ranks.

You decided to start off with some pvp, to get your adrenaline up. Pvp was always exciting for you; real-time strategy and the randomness of debuff landings (that sometimes did not land) always made it more fun. Real-Time Arena was your favorite; countdowns limited the amount of time you could think about your next move and that was exhilarating.

Unfortunately, you were interrupted by the two boys knocking on your bedroom door. "(f/n)-san!" You turned around and opened the door, "You need help?" They both nodded and you asked what they needed help with.

"(f/n)-san, we don't understand how commas work." Ah, commas. You were always good at English grammar, and it actually came as easily to you as Japanese. Maybe learning languages was what you were good at.

So, you sat down between them so that they could more easily see what you were writing, and you answered their questions as you explained it. You even stayed around to make sure they would remember it for the test.

By the time you were done, it was close to midnight. Since today was a Friday, there was no school the next day. That meant you could play games. You stood up to stretch, pulling your arms over your head and touching your toes.

"(f/n)-san, thanks a lot!" Hinata flashed a bright smile. You never really smiled like that anymore. You used to, as a young child, but nothing could ever make you smile like that these days. You softly smiled back and quietly closed the door, returning to your room.

You started to decide what game you were going to play, but you were interrupted by the doorbell. You wondered who it was; who would ring the doorbell so late at night? You looked through the window, and found your best friend, (b/f/n), standing in front of the door and holding a bag of your favorite snack, [favorite snack].

"What's up?" you greeted (b/f/n).

"Let's play [favorite mobile game] together." (b/f/n) explained, and you understood what was happening immediately. (b/f/n)'s parents always went out on a romantic vacation around this time, and she would always come over to play mobile games when that happened.

You welcomed her into the house, and the two of you headed towards your room. You passed by the living room, where Tobio and Hinata were. You checked on them, making sure they were okay, and they were talking about the practice match they recently had against Aoba Johsai.

Suddenly, as you were about to leave them along, (b/f/n) blurted out, "Do you guys wanna play [favorite mobile game together]?"

"Huh? But (b/f/n), they don't play games like that-" She cut you off, "The more the merrier, right? It doesn't hurt to play!" You looked at your brother and Hinata.

"Sure! I'd love to play!" Hinata pulled out his phone. Tobio tried to object, but he gave in and soon enough, everyone was playing [favorite mobile game] in the living room. Hinata somehow was good at it, and it surprised you how much he was progressing in just a few hours. Tobio was the slowest out of the two of them, and you giggled at that.

You didn't think teaching the two boys how to play would be fun, but it was plenty enjoyable. The four of you played all night, not a single one of you regretting hanging out all night one bit. All of you were exhausted, and Tobio and (b/f/n) had fallen asleep earlier, and it was just you and Hinata. The both of you were tired from staying up all night, and you finally gave in to fatigue and closed your eyes.

♡~ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱᴋɪᴘ ʙʀᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʙʏ ɴᴏʏᴀ~♡

Your eyes fluttered open to a sunset. You looked at the clock, and it read "1:23 PM". You lifted your head, which had been resting on something, something warm. You looked to your right, and you saw Hinata there. Upon realizing you had slept on Hinata's shoulder, you blushed.

"Oh my god, I just slept on his shoulder, (b/f/n)'s gonna make fun of me when she wakes up, Tobio's going to yell at both of us, accuse him of doing something, oh my god, there's going to be chaos..." you freaked out, your thoughts going wild. You attempted to reorganize yourself, "Okay, calm down. You're getting nowhere with this. Let's just get up and make some food. I'm sure everyone's hungry."

You got up, and you heard Hinata stir. You hoped you didn't bother him and walked to the kitchen, grabbing an apron and getting some ingredients for the fried rice you were going to cook. You were never great at cooking, but you've always loved fried rice.

Fried rice was the first dish you ever learned how to make. After years of perfecting your own recipe, it was what you considered part of your pride. You always poured your heart into this dish when making it, and this time was no exception.

You hummed while cooking, enjoying it. Whenever Tobio wasn't home and you had the house all to yourself, you would sometimes cook, especially when you were stressed. You were lost in your own thoughts, when you heard someone move a chair. You turned around, surprised.

"Oh, Hinata-kun! Good morning, or I guess it's afternoon now. Are you hungry?" you asked, transferring the fried rice from a pan to a large bowl.

"Yeah, a bit. Actually, that fried rice smells great! Do you mind if I have some?" Hinata asked, excitement showing on his expression.

"Uh, sure. I made it for everyone anyways; I figured we'd all be hungry when I woke up," you replied, scooping a portion into a bowl and handing it to him. You hand him some chopsticks and you hear him thank you for the meal. You smiled as you saw him eat the fried rice; it looked like he was enjoying it.

"(f/n)-san! This is really good!" Hinata exclaimed. "I could eat this every day! How do you make it?" You were taken by surprise. You never thought someone outside of your own family would compliment you. "Oh, thanks. Well, uh-" You were cut off by your brother, who had just woken up. "Oi, Hinata! Why are you yelling so loud in the morning?!"

"It's already the afternoon! Anyways, (f/n)-san's fried rice is really good!" Hinata yelled back.

"Ah, so that's what the smell was. Did you make any for me?" he turned to you. You nodded and handed him a bowl and his chopsticks.

Soon enough, (b/f/n) woke up and you gave her the last bowl of fried rice you had prepared. When you were all done, you washed the plates, and Hinata offered to help. You declined at first, but he insisted. You gave up and let him help you. (b/f/n) and Tobio went to continue playing that game; they were both really into it.

"Ring ring ring" Hinata's phone rang. He picked it up, and you could hear a woman from the other side. You assumed it was his mom; no one thought to call his family that he was staying here. You could hear Hinata apologizing, and you handed over the phone to you.

"Uh, hello? I'm Kageyama (f/n). Sorry for not letting you know Hinata-kun was staying over here; I should have called to make sure it was okay with you-" Hinata's mom cut you off, "No, no, it's okay. I'm sorry you had to put up with Shoyo, he must have been troublesome to take care of."

"No, no! We all played games last night; it was more fun with him around." you spoke with his mom a bit longer, and when you hung up, you handed his phone back to him.

"My mom didn't scold you, did she?" he asked.

"No, no. She's really nice!" you shook your head. His mom had asked him to go home, so he left soon later.

"Hey, (f/n)-chan, you like Hinata-kun, don't you?" (b/f/n) sneaked up from behind you.

"Ah!" you turned around. "No, I don't!"

"Then, why fried rice taste so good?"

"I must have improved."

"No way! Not that much in such little time! It has to be love!"

"No, it's not..." you looked down in embarrassment.

♡~𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒑 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒚 𝑯𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒂'𝒔 𝒃𝒊𝒌𝒆~♡

Hinata ended coming to your house to play [favorite mobile game] with you, Tobio, and sometimes (b/f/n) pretty often. The four of you became pretty close, especially you and Hinata.

You and Hinata, who you now called Shoyo, were the last ones awake. The four of you had played games all night, and of course, (b/f/n) and Tobio fell asleep first. After all, they were prone to that.

"Hey, (f/n)." Shoyo turned to you.

"Hm?" you turned to him.

"Maybe homework isn't so bad after all. It's what brought the four of us together..."

~END~

2015 words! I didn't imagine it would be this long. Anyways, how'd you like it? I'm thinking of making a part 2, should I? Thanks for reading! Love, Lili Kags♡♡♡

Edited: 10/13/20

Credits: header image is from unsplash

[forlornmelody]

Kord Center Mall: Curiosity

Rating: T (no smut, just lots of angst)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: Rose Wilson/Cassie Sandsmark, Rose Wilson/Jason Todd

Linkage: Ao3

Summary:  After her fight with Jason, Rose is willing to move on to anything or anyone who can get her mind off of him. And Cassie seems good enough. What could go wrong?

Note: This is a cross over, mall-verse AU concocted by @scifi-ginger and myself. You’ve been warned. Also, I have a lot of disclaimers for this one. Cause. Firstly,  Cassie doesn't get a good look in this one. Turn back now if that puts you off. Also, Rose has some not-nice thoughts about sexual identity labels, and they do not reflect my views on labels, kay? She's kind of in denial at this point. *cough* It's called a character arc, Susan.

–>–>

Rose hasn’t slept well in a week. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees the hurt on Jason’s face, and it makes her heart pound. He’s better off--You’re better off, this way. This way no one gets hurt. Except he’s hurt already. The times when she does fall asleep, she dreams of holding hands at the Wayne Estate, nursing him back to health when he’s sick, crying on his shoulder when her dad doesn’t show again. Each time Rose wakes up in a sweat, and then her brain won’t shut the fuck off. 

Thank the Great Whatever for punching bags. Let Joey meditate and mouth his mantras--sometimes punching is the only thing that calms her mind. With each hit--the synapses connect, her blood flows where it’s supposed to, and her muscles relax. Rose hits and hits and hits, sometimes throwing in a kick for good measure, until she’s too gassed to stand. Then she sits on a bench and stares out the window as the world starts to make sense again. Maybe the endorphins make it easier. Maybe her body’s too exhausted to let her brain overthink, but Rose realizes something after her second round of cardio. 

Rose wants more. 

Before, and maybe now still, Rose figured romance, real, true, love, was something ashamed people made up to feel better about what and who they did in bed. Joey, in his typical Marches-In-The-Pride-Parade-And-Has-Fucked-Every-Color-Of-The-Rainbow fashion, labeled her aromantic, or maybe demiromantic. Rose shrugged off the label and continued fucking whomever she pleased--let others worry about what to call her. She was Rose Fucking Wilson and she did what she wanted. Ugh. Her older brother probably has a label for whatever this is, too. 

So, what does Rose Wilson want, exactly?

Well. 

Jason Todd, obviously, as usual. But Rose wants Jason in more than Just-The-Guy-I-Fuck-Around-With-Sometimes way. She wants to hold his hand when they’re out in public, wants to make him chicken soup from scratch, she wants to be held--not just when he’s thrusting in and out of her and making her scream. And Rose already fucked that up. 

So, what is Rose to do?

Well. 

There’s Cassie Sandsmark--the girl Rose has fucked more than once. More than usual, recently. To the point where her friends keep asking Rose what’s going on--and her usual shrugs and suggestive eyebrow waggles don’t seem to cut it. Maybe Cassie is still real fucking annoying, but she’s also kind of...charming? Fun to look at, at least. What the hell. Rose has no idea how this love thing is supposed to work, so maybe Cassie will work. 

At least, that’s what Rose keeps repeating to herself as she waits for Cassie to show up for their shift. 

“Someone pee in your coffee?” The sound of Cassie’s voice makes Rose jump in her seat. 

“No,” Rose says shortly. All those lines she rehearsed in the last ten minutes? Gone. 

“No really. What’s up?” Cass plops down in the seat next to hers, bumping their knees together. 

“You look nice.” Well, she did. But why did Rose just say that out loud?

“Okay. Who are you and what have you done with my…?” Girlfriend? “...desk mate?”

Rose shakes it off. “You busy later?”

“Mm. Depends. Why?” Cassie does that thing where she twists her pencil into her hair, and now it makes Rose melt instead of cringe.

What the actual fuck is happening? To me? “I was thinking I could make you dinner. Or something.” Smoooth.  “Your place?”

Cassie’s eyebrows rise to the ceiling. “Sounds...different.” She pulls out her phone, thumbing through her text messages. “Yeah. Sure. Mom’s still out of town on a dig.”

Rose probably looks too eager, but she can’t help it. “Sweet. I’ll be there at 6.” There’s only one problem--she has to act casual for the rest of her shift. The hours drag on, as Rose sits, completely aware of how close Cassie’s chair sits next to hers, how she can just reach over and touch her hair, pull her close, and kiss her until she’s a writhing mess. She plans the menu in her head--starting with drinks and working backward. Cassie probably likes wine more than beer, right? Or is she more into the cheap shit the older kids keep smuggling into her parties? 

“Uh, excuse me?” Rose looks up, meeting the eyes of a disgruntled soccer mom in overpriced yoga pants and a matching crop top. She holds a mat in one hand and a designer thermos in the other. “Where’s the hot yoga?”

“Down the hall, second door on your left.” Rose says automatically, heat rising to her cheeks. Shit. Could she tell? Could she smell the want radiating off her body? Soccer Mom moves on, and Rose steals a glance at the girl who’s stolen her heart. She’s halfway through her inbox, labeling and responding to emails in triaged fashion, seemingly unaware of Rose’s gaze. 

Stir fry would work. Everyone loves stir fry, right? 

->->->

Hours later, Rose stands in Cassie’s kitchen, making her dinner and daydreaming about making her dessert. The peanut sauce simmers on the backburner, and the curves of Cassie’s thighs boil in front of Rose’s mind. She rehearses her speech over and over.

Hey, I think I really like

You’re really awesome and

What do you think about being girlfriends?

Cassie wraps an arm around her, and Rose jumps out of her skin. “You’re really jumpy today.”

Rose swallows, hoping the heat of the stove excuses the redness in cheeks. “I have a lot on my mind.”

Leaning closer, Cassie chews her grin. “Oh, like what?” Close enough to kiss. 

“Heh, yeah. Something like that.” Their noses brush, and Rose swears she can taste her already. 

Just as Rose’s lips brush Cassie’s, she jerks back. “Is something burning?”

Rose’s eyes widen, shoving Cass out of the way. “Jesus fucking Christ.” 

->->->

Cassie has devoured half her plate before Rose finally blurts it out. Rose tries taking a bite, but it tastes like wet papier-mâché and goes down her throat like gravel. 

“Cassie?”

She looks up at Rose, and Rose drops her fork. “Yeah?”

“Want to be my girlfriend?”

“Huh?” Cassie shoves another bite in her mouth, narrowing her eyes. 

Shit. Fuck. Rose takes a breath, trying to slow the hammering in her ears. “I think...I know. We’ve. Fu--slept together a few times. And you’re actually really nice so…” Waving her hands in vague gestures, Rose watches for Cassie’s reaction. 

She smiles. Then she laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Rose.”

Rose holds her breath, and every tick of Cassie’s grandfather clock takes an eternity to strike. 

Cassie shakes her head, chuckling a little. “This...I mean. I’m not really interested in girls that way.”

What little Rose managed to eat churns in her stomach. 

The girl across from her softens, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “Don’t get me wrong. The sex is great.” She smiles. “Girls are hot. But I only form emotional connections with men.” Her forefinger taps Rose’s knuckles. “Did you still want to? Y’know?”

Don’t. Don’t you dare. “Sure.” The word slips so easily out of Rose’s mouth. 

They fall into bed together easily too. It’s easy to pretend this is all she wants right now. Making Cassie squirm comes as readily as doing algebra. And it feels nice to be touched by her. And if she doesn’t like her, then it doesn’t matter if Jason’s the one she’s thinking about, right? 

Rose doesn’t stay the night. 

[duraxxor]

stressed the fuck out — muse a, (Dura) failing half their classes due to their inability to pay attention, seeks out the help of muse b, a straight a student. (Mala)

Another droll day at school passed by like any other day of the week. Three class periods and it was always lunch time. Every ten minute interval always hustling and bustline with the cacophonous chatter of gossip while the halls were a plethora of pubescent aromas that sometimes made the weak stomach want to gag. Aren’t hormones just grand? 

This day was no different for Sorceress. . . Sorceress-brand wearing girl that was who chose the name Malakortana as her nickname, that is. The hooded gothic girl swung her locker open with motivated swiftness. She placed her history textbook in the neat stack and in trade pulled out her Algebra II book whilst calculating within her mind. “ If X and Y is the variable in the hypotenuse. Then that means Z is the missing link for in the parenthesis. Ah, I see now. For god’s sake why couldn’t Mr. Themar just say it like that! “ Malakortana pried a black tome out before she began to shut the locker with a thrust of her entire arm and palm. However, her train of thought was interrupted by a single word.

BOO . . . 

There he was, right on queue. Every single day, Alphus Daevara made a note to always visit Malakortana between third and fifth period during each break. However, due to her being lost to her mathematics, the curly blonde couldn’t help but jump of her skin as the taller male had snuck upon her in her absent-minded state. To which, the grinning fool was met with a punch in the ribs.

“ Ow! Hey. . . what was that for? “ Despite what little pain he felt, Al entertained the idea that she had hit him by holding onto his ribs while holding back a snicker.

“ For interrupting my inner monologues, of course! “ The corner of her onyx lips curled upward, hinting at her own amusement. “ You know how father feels about you distracting me from my studies! “ 

Alphus rolled his eyes and smirked if only for a single moment. “ Yeah, yeah. I know, your dad hates me. . . Listen, I’ve got a problem. “ The jovial grin had faded and turned completely opposite as he couldn’t believe what he was about to tell her. 

Mala looked from beneath her hooded scalp, staring up at him with those pure blue eyes of her that were almost oceanic in their hues, contrasting heavily with not only her attire but her pale complexion and black make-up. “ Well, spit it out, Dura. What did you do this time? “

As they made eye contact, the Dura couldn’t help but flush a red pigment in his cheeks before he brought a balled fist and attempted to clear his throat and swallow his pride. “ I’m slipping up in Chemistry and Economics. . . I hate asking you for it but can you seriously help me? “ 

Malakortana managed to release a laugh in such a soft manner before she gave her response. “ If I don’t, your Nana would never let you out of the house and take your guitar away. You shouldn’t be afraid to ask me for anything. You know I’m good for it. “ She reached over and lightly swatted at his back. 

“. . . I know but it just feels strange to ask when I was always taught to always help the lady in question. “ Once again, the anxious side revealed itself as he rubbed the back of his head with his left hand, blushing even deeper while averting eye contact. 

Laughter instantly bubbled from the girl who was typically a quiet human-being as she saw his behavior in many positive ways. “ You’re cute. It’s a shame most of the boys lack your chivalry. “ The freed hand reached forth and squeezed his arm in reassurance that all was well. “ C’mon, let’s get to class. We’ll talk more about it after school, M’kay? “ 

Alphus blinked twice before bringing his own hand to brush through the strains of white blonde in an attempt to regain not only his composure but to groom himself to be more presentable. “ As always, M’lady. “ 

[ Thank you @sanguinesorceress as well for the opportunity, but the first to give this a chance. If anyone would like to see a continuation or more, feel free to like and share! ]

[thesweetestofsweetpeas-blog]

Destress

Summary: You’ve been looking after your little brother for years and the stress has been getting to you. So Toni and Fangs decide to babysit so Sweet Pea can give you a night of destressing.

Requested:  Hi! I’d like to request a sweet pea x reader imagine where she has to look after her little brother maybe 4 or something cause her parents left (you can make a storyline) and she is really stressed so Toni or fangs babysits him for a night so she can relax with pea and he helps her( smut or not ). I just feel like sweet pea would be really supportive and so proud and love her little brother and want to help her relax/show her how much she means to him.❤️ thanks!💕

Warnings: Smut

Your mom passed away giving birth to your little brother, Henry, just over five years ago. Her death left you and your dad to look after and raise the baby all on your own. However, your dad’s jobs limited his time at home. He worked 3 jobs, trying to provide for his family, thus leaving you to raise and look after Henry. You’ve been solely looking after him for the last 2 years, your father never being home except for late nights and the occasional weekends.

The stress of junior year and Henry’s constant needs were starting to get to you. He refused to go to bed and only wanted to eat chicken nuggets and candy. In all honesty you didn’t mind because it was an easy meal, but he’s a growing boy who needs other sources of protein and vegetables. Getting Henry to eat anything else though, almost seemed impossible. You’d have to sit on him, amidst all the screaming just to get once piece of broccoli in his stomach.

Not only that but, your teachers were piling on the homework. You had at least 4 Chemistry worksheets a night, 2 chapters of The Scarlet Letter a night, and usually 30 Algebra 2 problems. You were so overwhelmed and stressed out. And to top it all off, you haven’t had a night with just you and your boyfriend, Sweet Pea, in months. Granted he was over almost every night “helping” with Henry. His help usually consisted of winding him up and challenging Henry to the oddest competitions, such as who’s wind-up toy would win the race.

---

You smiled remembering the first time Henry met Sweet Pea. It was at Henry’s 4th birthday party. The Serpents helped plan it, FP agreeing to host it at his place. Henry adored FP and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was early on in your relationship and Henry’s approval of your boyfriend meant the world to you. You figured his birthday would be the best time for the two to meet. As soon as introductions were made, the two boys hit it off. “Guess what!” Henry exclaimed, excited to share some news with his new found best friend.

Sweets bent down, attempting to be eye level with the young boy, “What, little man?”

Henry struggled, but held four fingers out, “I’m four!”

Sweet Pea’s eyes lit up as his face contorted to one of surprise, “No way! Wow you’re getting so big!”

“Want to see my muscles?”

“Yeah dude, show me.” Henry flexed showing off his nonexistent muscles. “Whoa due, you better put those away.” He leaned in closer, bringing his voice down to a whisper, “Some of these older guys might get scared.”

“Oh.” He stopped flexing and ran off, jumping in the kiddie pool splashing his friends from both the trailer park and his day care.

You looked on in both humor and amazement. “Did you get scared Sweets?”

---

“Seriously babe, let me babysit tonight. You need to destress.” Toni urged. Biting your lip, you looked on at Henry as he wiped a bugger on the couch. Your nose scrunched in disgust, if Toni wanted to deal with the farts and buggers for the night then so be it.

“Hey Hankie, how do you feel about Toni hanging out with you tonight?”  

“Fangs!”

Toni faked hurt and tickled Henry, “Fangs! You want Fangs and not me?”

Henry burst out in giggles and squirmed about, “YES!”

“What does Fangs have that I don’t?” Toni asked, picking him up and throwing him over her shoulder. He pounded his fist on her back, begging her to let him down. She tossed him a few inches in the air and dropped him on the couch, “Well little dude, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Fangs has” he let out another fit of giggles and lowered his voice, “candy and soda!” at this point he couldn’t contain his laughter as Toni pouted.

The door to your trailer opened as Sweet Pea and Fangs sauntered in, “Did you convince y/n/n to take a break?” Sweets asked, wrapping his arms around you.

Toni sent Henry a glare and crossed her arms, “Depends, Fangs do you want to babysit with me?”

“I can’t I have…” he stopped midsentence as three pair of eyes burned holes into him. “Um, yeah of course, who wouldn’t want to hang out with this monster of a little guy?” Fangs said as he pounced at Henry. Henry screamed and scrambled away, pretending to bite at Fangs with a stuffed shark.

---

You sat on Sweet’s bed as he climbed on, handing you a glass of wine. You swirled it around before taking a sip. He stretched out and placed his hand on your thigh, releasing a sigh of content, “I’ve missed this.”

“Me too Sweets.” You smiled and leaned your back on Sweet Pea’s chest.

“I’m really proud of you baby. You’re so strong and good. So so good.” He said kissing the top of your head with each word.

“Mhmm thank you.”

“This is the part where you say I am too.”

“Now why would I lie?”

“Oh haha, you’re so funny.”

You giggled while he tasered your sides, “Wait, wait, wait!” you laughed, trying to avoid spilling the red wine all over the place. Sweet Pea stopped, allowing you to place the glass on the bed side table. Once the glass was safely out of your hands, he resumed his attack on your sensitive skin. You grabbed his hands, forcing his fingers to stop, “I’d rather you do something else with those hands of yours.”

Sweet Pea’s fingers danced along your sides, setting your skin on fire. He leaned in closer until your noses touched. “You really shouldn’t say things like that.”

Breathlessly, you responded, “Oh yeah, and why is that?”

“Because then I might actually do it.,” he growled smashing his lips on yours. He wrapped one arm around your waist, laying you flat on your back. You tugged at his shirt, trailing your hands up his back as he removed the pesky piece of clothing. You could feel the muscles in his back contract with your touch leaving you with a sense of pride. You moaned as he trailed his lips down your jaw and found their place on your neck. He sucked on the spot before sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin. He removed his lips and blew on the bruise that began to form.

“Please, Sweets.” He let out a growl and reached behind you, unclasping your bra. You pushed him off of you and straddled him as he laid back. You removed your shirt, throwing it on the ground. You ran your cold hands up and down his chest, reading the goosebumps that formed as if they were braille written on his skin, spelling out how much he wanted you.

His hands gripped your waist following along with the movement of your hips. Your clothed core graced over the zipper on his pants causing you to hiss. You arched your back as you trailed your hands up your body, palming your breast. Sweet Pea’s eyes darkened as lust washed over him. The little moans that graced your lips as you grinded down on Sweets made him lose his mind. He quickly switched positions with you and placed hot kisses on your stomach. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you brought his lips back up to meet yours. He began to twist your nipple between his fingers, causing you to gasp in pleasure. He slipped his tongue in your mouth claiming dominance.

One hand was tangled in your hair as the other slipped inside your shorts. You bit his bottom lip, sucking it in your mouth as his fingers did wonders to your clit. You gasped and moaned out his name releasing not only your pleasure, but the stress that’s been plaguing you for the past few months. “That’s right baby, let it out” Sweet Pea whispered before removing your shorts and underwear and replacing his fingers with his mouth, continuing your night of destressing.

[fortheloveofholland]

inspired by the wonderful @flwrpotts. i love your some things posts and i hope i do you justice with this one. 

sweet pea. high school. some things.

freshman year.  cries in the school bathroom on the first day. wipes his tears and tells no one. wears his fathers dog tags. wishes he never walked out on them. knows every word to every red hot chili peppers song. discovers he’s really good at math. tallest kid in the freshmen class. meets fangs fogarty for the first time. hits him with a dodge ball. mom finds out she has lung cancer. pretends he doesn’t care but inside he’s screaming for help. gets black out drunk for the first time. fronts like he’s a womanizer, but in reality he’s never kissed a girl in his life. at least until toni rolls her eyes and plants one on him. holds his moms hand when they find out they can’t afford surgery or chemo. kicks a trash can over and cries on the side of the road. thinks the entire worlds out to get him. needs some sort of escape. pledges the serpents. likes the confidence the leather jacket gives him. feels like he’s on top of the world for a second or two. gets the serpent tattoo on his neck because he knows it’ll draw attention. tells his mom he loves her every chance he gets. drinks vanilla milkshakes at pops with her every tuesday. hates the north side with everything he’s got in him. walks to school everyday. talks back to teachers. watches his mom take her final breath and never forgets that moment. doesn’t sleep at all the few days after. gets put into the system. says fuck the system and starts to make his own way in the world. thinks emotions make you weak. becomes best friends with fogarty and topaz. looks at fp jones as some sort of father figure. won’t admit to his anger issues. hates his life. 

sophomore year.  finally buys his own harley. becomes a whole new kind of cocky. likes the fact that girls stop and stare. needs reading glasses but refuses to get them. swollen lips from all the girls he’s kissed. every one of them leaving him feeling some sort of empty. starts running errands for the serpents. sets the high score on mortal kombat. watches fp jones go to jail and the world around him fall to shit. made out with the principals daughter in spite of him. only responds in insults and sarcastic comments. highest grade in his algebra class. meets jughead jones for the first time. tells him he’s a pussy. steals from the grocery store sometimes. eats dinner with the fogarty family every sunday. thinks the red circle is the stupidest thing he’s ever seen. challenges archie andrews to a fight. leaves with a black eye and a smirk. just wants the world to be on his side for once. has a picture of him and his mom on his nightstand. spends 8 hours in jail. rarely smiles and when he does, it’s not genuine. feels some sort of satisfaction when he punches the shit out of jughead during the gauntlet. will back the serpents like no other. thrilled to get a decent education when he’s forced to transfer to riverdale high. doesn’t mind the uniforms. makes co-captain of the basketball team, despite reggie mantles protest. helps stand up for the south side at the hands of the lodge family. has a group chat with toni and fangs called “america’s favorite assholes.” secretly ships toni with the witch of a redhead. spends a lot of time in the very back booth at pops. read to kill a mockingbird and loved it. sneaks into concerts. skips school and sits by his moms grave on her one year. blames himself a lot more then he should.

junior year. finds an unlikely friend in veronica lodge. sings his favorite songs at full volume every chance he gets. thinks of himself as a modern danny zuko. has a screaming match with fangs little sister. she won. gets another tattoo. it’s his moms birthday in roman numerals. thinks maybe if he tried hard enough he could get into college. ditches the idea soon after. steals a stop sign for the hell of it. hangs it right above his bed. gets invited to church by the girl who sits next to him in us history. rolls his eyes but goes anyway. makes a jacking off hand motion anytime principal weatherbee walks by. doesn’t understand relationships and wonders why the fuck church girl has a pretty smile and why he wants to spend all his time with her. flips off archie andrews every chance he gets. prefers whiskey over anything. still runs serpent errands. made out with a river vixen, wished it was church girl. owns too many flannels to count. scares the shit out of freshmen with fangs because they think it’s hilarious. wears his serpent jacket with pride. bursts into a fit of rage and sadness when he see’s his dad in walmart in greendale. makes a vow to be a better man than his old man ever was. thinks he’s not good enough for church girl. she insists he is as she traces patterns into his naked back. works part time at a motorcycle shop. smiles for the first time in a while and means it. always keeps a watchful eye over toni even though he knows she’s perfectly capable of handling her own. still can’t shake the feeling that the worlds against him. 

senior year. throws his dads dog tags into sweet water river. finally feels at peace with it. has the most kick ass work ethic anyone has ever seen. still hold the highest mortal kombat score. teaches church girl how to play pool. smirks when jughead refers to him as a wildcard. finally sees the chili peppers live. is his best friends biggest fan. fights hard, loves harder. still wears all black. runs into the wyrm as fast as he could when he finds out he got accepted into college. thanks cheryl for making his best friend happy. comes up with the senior prank. smells like cigarettes and mint. slow dances in church girls living room to put your head on my shoulder by paul anka. finally seeks help for his anger issues. makes time for the original three. has this warm kind of feeling inside of him. like the weight he’s been carrying on his shoulders is slowly but surely being lifted off of him. smacks the shit out of nick st. clair when he shows up at a town event. gets glasses. tells church girl he loves her. wholeheartedly thinks he could make something of himself. still carries a switch blade with him everywhere he goes. walks into pops with a newfound and completely genuine confidence. starts to live up to his nickname. leans against the pool table at the wyrm and nods his head along to the familiar rock songs. sits and talks to his moms grave at least once a month. wants to join the military. looks at church girl and sees his future. thanks the serpents for everything. carves his initials into the wall of the wyrm. looks in the mirror and sees someone he’s proud of. tells life to bring it on.