#and sorry it's so late i was really trying to get this done before the day ended

[cheshireliam]

"Wrapped in Wicked Romance" Story Event: Epilogue

Ring Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

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Ring: I’m asking you out on a date! 

His date proposal that sounded more like a request to duel left me standing there wide-eyed in shock.  

Nica: … Ring. You’re not challenging her to a fight. Can you try again, but be more relaxed this time? 

Nica shrugged in exasperation, thinking the same thing I was.

Nica: Also, you didn't explain yourself well.

Ring: Oh, uhh… right. My bad. 

Ring: We couldn’t have a proper date with all that happened the other day, so… 

Ring: I want to take you out on a date again. Can… can I?

His voice was shaking as he nervously asked for my response.

I couldn't bear to reject him, seeing that he was trying his best.

Besides… I realised after our last date that I wanted to get to know him better, so there was no reason for me to refuse. 

Kate: I’d love to. 

Ring: R-really!? I’m not dreaming… right? YES…! 

Nica: This is reality. Good grief… look at you getting so excited as if you two are really in a relationship.

Darius: Isn’t that great, Ring?

…

The next day, Ring and I went for our date right away. 

While waiting outside Crown’s castle, I saw Ring sprinting towards me from a distance at full speed. 

Ring: … S-sorry! I’m late…! 

Kate: No, you’re right on time. I’m the one who came early. 

Kate: You arrived first and waited for me the last time, so… I thought I’d be the one to wait this time.

Ring: I-is that so? Then, next time I’ll come early t— 

Ring: Ah… no, nevermind. 

Ring’s words cut off mid-sentence, realising there might not be a next date. 

That kind of made me feel lonely.) 

(... I never realised how badly I wanted to spend more time with him.) 

Whether it was his endearing shyness due to being unaccustomed to interacting with women that made me want to tease him a little, or his kindness for thinking about others, or even the evil side of him that could mercilessly kill under Darius’ orders… I wanted to know even more about him. 

I felt that one date wouldn't be enough, and so…

Kate: Next date, it’ll be your turn to come early.

I picked up where Ring cut himself off, so that we would entirely erase the possibility of future dates happening.

Ring: Y-yeah… that's right!

Ring: Even though I can’t fall asleep the night before our dates… I’ll do my best to wake up early.

Ring nodded so vigorously that I was worried his head might fall. 

I felt relieved and at the same time, my chest was filled with a tingling warm feeling .

Ring: But first of all, let’s make sure today’s date goes smoothly.

Ring: Y-your outfit today… It reminds me of the colour of Bluebells. It looks beautiful. 

Ring: A-and your hairstyle… it’s amazing. It’s braided like chains…

Ring: … I think it suits you and… you look lovely. 

Kate: I discussed with the maids at Crown’s castle before deciding on my clothes and hairstyle! Thank you for the compliments.

Ring: I see… alright, I’ve done the compliments part…

Ring: Next is… uhh… you can hold my arm. 

Ring said and thrust his right arm out at me.

(The last time, he made an excuse saying he was “warming up”.)

The slight improvement made me smile tenderly, and I gently placed my hand on his arm.

Kate: Thank you. Well then, let’s get going!

…

And so, we went to The Scala, which we couldn't do the last time, and watched a play. 

Afterwards, we explored the city while shopping, and I introduced him to a restaurant that was both affordable and served delicious food.

We spent our time to the fullest, enjoying everything London had to offer.

…

Ring: … Everything felt so new to me.

Ring: Thank you for the enjoyable date, Robin.

Kate: I’m glad you had fun! By the way, what was the most impressive experience for you?

Ring: … Definitely Liam’s acting. 

Ring: He’s usually all sparkly and pink, but when he went on stage today, he was more of a glaring black colour. 

It was a unique description, but it was clear as day how moved he was by Liam’s performance.

Kate: Fufu, I’ll make sure to tell Liam that you enjoyed his performance! 

Kate: Also… can I ask you another question?

Ring: What is it? 

Kate: … Was today’s date also Darius’ order? 

Ring: …

Ring: … Looks like you’ve seen right through me.

Seemingly having accepted the situation, Ring began explaining. 

Apparently, Darius suggested the idea of going on a date today because Ring and I weren’t able to interact properly the last time.

Kate: I see…

Ring: … Robin? 

Kate: I had a hunch this was all Darius’ idea, but…

Kate: I also kind of hoped that you asked me out because you wanted to… so I feel a little lonely. 

Ring: ah… 

(I guess I was just selfish for wanting to know the truth… now I feel somewhat embarrassed.) 

Kate: Sorry for making it awkward! Let’s head back.

Ring: W-wait! It’s true that it was Dari’s idea this time…

Ring: But even if he didn't make the suggestion, I think I would’ve still invited you on a date myself. 

Ring: You’re a dangerous person… with a curse that makes my heart race every time. 

Ring: I think… I need to get to know more about you and come up with a strategy to counter it. 

Ring: So… I want to spend more time with you.

(A curse that makes his heart race…?) 

Of course, I wasn't a Cursed One. The reason why Ring’s heart was racing was likely because he isn’t used to being around women. 

(But… regardless of the reason, I’m glad to know he wants to get to know me better.)

Kate: I want to have more time to get to know you too. So… I’ll look forward to that from now on.

Kate: By all means, find out a lot of things about me and figure out your strategy.

Ring: Y-yeah… bring it on!

We’ve only just met not too long ago, so there were still many things about each other that were unknown to us.

Even so, one thing was certain— we both wanted to know more about each other. 

I don't know what kind of relationship we’ll build in the future as I grow more familiar with Ring…

But, right now, I’m just happy that we share the same feelings. 

[brokenlovesong]

The JPC Darrel analysis I promised

Alright guys same deal as the last with just as much chaos. Sorry this took three years

Anyways. JPC DARREL LETS GET INTO IT

So he plays the youngest Darrel, no doubt. He’s tall but much smaller both physically and the way he portrays himself on stage. Using this he really plays into it. He’s a much less angry Darrel, more tied than anything else.

I think runs in the family reprise is where his version of Darrel really shines. He plays it very differently from Brent, Victor, or even Dan. He’s just so tired of it all. He doesn’t even start yelling until the end once pony has pushed him to his brink. When he sits down during the “you don’t tell me when you’re coming home lately” line it’s much less confrontational. He’s trying to stay calm and reason with his brother. It’s not until the “tired of lifting you up” part that he’s finally losing control and breaking. That’s the first time I think I genuinely saw him angry and even then he’s consciously trying to reign himself in but pony keeps pushing. And dude he YELLS “You have no idea what I give up for you” and because he didnt spend the song nearly as angry as like Brent does, that scared me so much because he just snapped.

I wanna talk about the scene between Darrel and dally because that scene was done in a way I’ve never seen it before by both Jpc and Josh Boone. Jpc is a much less physically intimidating Darrel. Especially compared to Josh Boone. That was taken into account by both of them which I have to give so much praise for because they did such a wonderful job. Darrel went in thinking he could push dally into revealing. He clearly had no intent to fight him. He was taunting him. But let me tell you dally knew how to play Darrel like a fiddle. He knew exactly what buttons to push in a way Darrel couldn’t. While he normally yells half that scene, dally didn’t raise his voice ONCE. He was even SMILING at the end because he wanted Darrel to swing at him. Dally loves fights and he knows he could easily win against jpc Darrel. So he played him. Decided to see how far he could push because if Darrel swung he could easily take him. Absolutely fantastic scene and lemme tell you Josh Boone calmly speaking the last bit of the scene with a smile? ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING

Now throwing in the towel. So jpc flubbed the first part and bro I’ve never been more stressed (probably not as stressed as him tho LMAO) but he managed to keep it together which I give him so much credit for. He took his anxiety and stress and used that as a focus for his acting the rest of the scene. Other actors usually play this scene as very defeated. But he was much more anxious about pony and what’s to come next. And tbh this is the most in it I’ve ever seen Jason. Now I love Jason but I have found his acting style to be more passive then I’d like in some scenes (JUST MY OPINION PLEASE DONT ATTACK ME) I think because of what happened to jpc not only was he soda trying to comfort Darrel, I saw Jason trying to comfort jpc and it made the scene so much more beautiful and strong.

Overall, jpc Darrel is wonderful. My only main issue is that I felt like he read too similar in age to Brody as ponyboy and frankly Jason read older than him. Nothing to do with his acting. Jpc is an incredible actor. But I just feel like with the cast the way they are, while he reads as Darrel’s actual age, much of the cast reads older than their characters and so this does affect how he’s seen.

I did see him as soda too, with Dan darry, and I thought he was literally like who I envisioned soda to be when I read the book. Like he gave such soda energy it was incredible

[ghostgirl-22]

stanford era art having a bad day (maybe he failed a test or something, nothing too serious) but he gets really upset (like he’s gonna cry) so when he gets back to his dorm patrick is there (cuz he’s visiting) and patrick wants to take care of art, see what art needs but art is like “please just fuck me” or something along those linessss

Hello my love, thank you for the prompt <3 This got crazy long for some reason. Just needed Art wandering about feeling sorry for himself lol

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

It’s frustrating, he’s never ever failed a test before. Particularly in math. It’s not like he wants to be a math major or an engineer or anything but he’s been in advanced math since he was 14 years old, he should be able to handle this.

He tries not to cry as the professor goes over the results of their calculus based physics exam and the other students in the class are answering questions, demonstrating their work like it’s easy. Meanwhile he’s struggling to understand it. He talks to the professor after class and the professor is understanding but he explains, “these are the basics, the class is only going to get more difficult. So I suggest you withdraw and retake it after you take a more fundamental calculus course?”

Art nods and forces a smile, his throat burning as his professor pats him on the arm.

“It’s okay, plenty of students go that route and still become architects and engineers. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Art is barely aware as he treks back to his dorm. He’s never flunked out of a class. And yes, math is one of his more challenging subjects but he’s always been able to work hard enough to figure it out. Working hard is his one talent. It’s how he ended up as one of the best students at Mark Reballato, salutatorian. He used to be the one to tutor his classmates. He aced every AP and Honors course. He’d studied so hard and done so well on the SATs and yet these kids at Stanford are actual child prodigies and geniuses…and for some of them it’s like… it’s like they don’t even have to try.

By the time he gets back to his room his eyes are full of tears. Why can’t he fucking excel at anything? Why can’t he be the prodigy for once? Why does he always have to try so fucking hard?

He knows his roommate won't be home until evening and he’s so ready to throw himself on his bed and sob like a loser but as he pushes open the bedroom door he remembers Patrick is visiting. He’s there on Art’s bed watching The View, of all things, and talking on the phone with his sister.

He waves, grinning but pauses when he sees Art’s face. Art can’t even hide it, it’s too late. Tears spill from his eyes and he drops his book bag in his chair.

“Hey Tor I’ll call you back,” Patrick says, into the phone.

Art wipes the tears away quickly, angry that they’re there in the first place.

“Hey! What’s wrong?” Patrick asks.

Art shakes his head. “Nothing.”

”Seriously? You look like a kicked puppy. Come on, tell me what’s wrong. Is it your grandma… or… or tennis?”

”No Patrick, you just… you wouldn’t understand.” He knows Patrick wouldn’t take this seriously. Patrick’s just another prodigy. All their coaches telling him how brilliant he’s been at tennis since they were 11. And Tashi too, a once in a generation talent, that’s what they’re calling her.

“Try me,” Patrick says. Art stares at him. He’s lying across the width of Art’s single bed, back resting up against the wall. He’s in his boxers still, legs open, his muscular thighs spread out. Hands folded inside the Stanford t-shirt he borrowed from Art. His penetrating gaze is resting on Art and he looks concerned. And so fucking hot.

Art rubs his eyes again. He’s frustrated and angry but now he’s feeling… horny. He probably should’ve thought twice before having sex with his best friend. Everything is all silly now. He’s not sure why he did it. Well actually, he was trying to fuck with Patrick, see if he could ruin his relationship with Tashi.

He didn’t even think Patrick would go for it, just mentioned it casually on Patrick’s birthday but he came back a couple days later with all these different kinds of lube and condoms and they spent a long rainy afternoon trying to figure it all out. Exploring different positions, techniques, playing with each other. Now they're doing it all the time and the whole thing backfired because Art’s the one craving it. He walks between Patrick’s legs. “Can you fuck me?”

Patrick raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

Art shrugs.

Patrick sits forward. “Yeah. Sure.” He says, the ghost of a smirk on his mouth. “It’s so early for you. You usually like it when I buy you dinner first.”

Art digs the heels of his palms into his eyes as stupid tears drop down again.

“Art, seriously…are you okay?” Patrick asks, tentatively. “I can help… tell me how to help.”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing,” Art says, and he climbs onto the bed. Straddling him. “Just fuck me.”

Patrick grips him by the waist. “Mmkay, I can do that.” He says, unzipping Arts pants. He tugs Arts jeans down over his thighs and Art steps out of them. Then he’s lifting his t-shirt over his head and climbing back onto Patrick’s lap.

Patrick touches his face, rubs a thumb along the wet space on Arts cheeks. “Did someone hurt you?” He asks softly.

“No, Patrick please, I don’t want to talk about it.” Art whines. His brain is freaking out because of the tenderness and the last thing he needs is to freak out over his feelings for Patrick too.

“Alright,” Patrick says and he kisses Art. And kisses him again. Art licks at his lips and pushes his tongue inside.

He can feel Patrick getting hard underneath him as they make out. It’s so much and it happens so fast, Arts dizzy for it. “That’s a neat trick,” Art whispers. Grinding his hips against the sensation.

“That’s what you do to me,” Patrick sighs against his lips.

Art smiles. Maybe he sucks at math now but at least he’s still good at this.

“Need you lubed up,” Patrick hums. Art gets up and crawls over to his bedside table. He can feel Patrick’s large palm rubbing on the swell of his bottom as he’s bent over. Art’s got all this stuff he has to hide when his parents are in town now. He pulls lubricant out and while Patrick’s putting it on his cock Art lingers on the bed, playing with his waistband, watching while the ladies on The View are arguing about something.

“You can turn it off, my sister wanted me to watch Phil Collins perform or something,” Patrick says, distractedly.

“Okay fuck me while he performs or something.” Art says.

Patrick smirks. “Fuck, you really need to cry don’t you?”

Art takes a breath.

“Okay sorry,” Patrick says gently, “Can you lay down?”

Art settles onto his back. Keeps his legs open as Patrick crawls between and takes his boxers down. “Mm, what time does your roommate get back?”

“Later,” Art says.

“I don’t have to keep you quiet then,” Patrick smiles.

Art chews on his thumb as Patrick lines himself up to press it inside. He’s all lubed up but Art is just used to the fact that it’s always going to feel like a lot at first. He breathes through the stretch and watches amused as Patrick rubs his at Art’s pelvis. He always does that, trying to feel his own cock penetrating from the outside. “You’re always so fucking tight for me baby. Feels like I didn’t even take your virginity.” Patrick says. It’s all for his ego. He moves down to rub Art’s cock and Art moans. Wraps his legs around Patrick’s waist, wiggling his hips.

“I know, relax, I’m gonna fuck you,” Patrick breathes. He starts sliding it in and out and out and in. Patrick’s had him in so many positions but this is Art’s favorite, he can feel Patrick sinking so much deeper inside him this way. Sees stars on every other thrust and his head empties out quickly. Once he came so hard he swears he had a second orgasm two minutes later. Patrick says he just wasn’t done.

This time it feels blindingly good. He’s feeling so good, he bites down on Patrick’s shoulder to relieve some of the tension. He wonders if Tashi ever notices his marks, the way he notices hers. Sometimes when he’s really turned on he bites where she scratches.

After a few minutes he thinks he’s listening to Patrick moan but realizes belatedly that it’s him. His mouth is watering so much that he’s drooling. Patrick is grunting as his hips slam into Art at a ridiculous pace. Art feels so fucking full, he loves the feeling of Patrick warm and solid inside of him, breaching him. His body lit up like a raw nerve as Patrick hits that delicious tender spot over and over and over. He’s gonna pass out. It sounds so fucking obscene over the sound of the bed springs squeaking and Phil Collins in the background.

Art loses it first, sticky ropes of pearly white shooting out of his cock, covering Patrick’s stomach, dripping back down onto Art’s body. And then it’s too much, Art can feel everything and he’s squirming trying to get away as Patrick picks up the pace.

“No, no don’t run away… two fucking seconds stay here,” Patrick groans, gripping him tightly. It feels insane. It feels so fucking good but it’s too much and his eyes are watering again. Art swears he can honestly feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness. He’s coming again, he knows he’s coming again as Patrick finishes inside him, filling him with wet, heated, sticky cum. Art clenching on him. Keeping him inside.

Patrick’s shivering. “Fuck,” he whispers, collapsing on top of Art like a warm heavy sticky blanket.

“Mm,” Art sighs, rubbing Patrick’s back gently, to calm him down. Patrick groans and rolls off of Art onto his side right next to him. He curls his fingers into Art’s hair.

“You feel better?” Patrick asks, softly.

“Yeah,” Art says quietly. He didn’t really do anything but put it out of his mind for 30 minutes. And now he’s coming back to the reality that he’s only in his second semester of college and he already has to drop a class.

“Feel like telling me what’s wrong?”

Art rolls his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s stupid. I failed an exam. I studied so fucking hard and I just— everything on the test looked like it might as well have been written in a foreign language. I thought the whole class would have done poorly but it was just me.”

”What class?” Patrick asks.

“Calculus for physics,” Art sighs.

“Sounds really fucking hard,” Patrick says. “You should tell them to fuck off and come with me on the road.”

“I knew you wouldn’t get it,” Art mutters. “You don’t take any of this seriously. I’m not as good at tennis as you are. I’m not fucking good at anything. Like the one thing I thought wouldn’t be difficult which is school work and I can’t even fucking do that properly. I’m gonna have to drop and I’m not even done with my first fucking year.”

Patrick doesnt say anything for a minute, he’s still fingering Art’s curls. Then he takes a breath. “You’re good at a lot of things, Art. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up. I mean… I get it. You were top of your class in high school but all these dorks at Stanford were the best in their high schools too. I was one of the best players but now I’m on tour facing off with the best players in the world and a lot of them are fucking kicking my ass. Just… you know… Tashi always says to have a little perspective. You’re here for a fucking reason. Don’t psych yourself out before the game is over.”

Art hadn’t really thought about that, Patrick has been having a hard time on tour, Art feels a little softer for him now. He rolls over to face him wrapping a leg over Patrick’s thigh. “You think I should stay in the class? Prove them wrong?”

Patrick smiles. “No, what the fuck do you need calculus with physics for anyway?”

Art laughs a bit. “I mean… if I decide to go to med school I’ll need a physics and a calculus class… but I guess I don’t really need this specific course unless I was going to become an engineer.”

“I’ve heard you talk about being a doctor before, never an engineer.” Patrick says, “Fuck that class, find something better to do with your time.”

“Yeah…fuck it,” Art says thoughtfully, he can play with his teammates on the indoor courts in the mornings. He feels so much lighter actually. Patrick is right, he really doesn’t need this course at all. He was just so used to high school, thinking everything put in front of him was something he needed to ace. In college, none of it mattered except for what he needed for his major. Patrick’s tracing circles idly along Art’s thigh. “Mm, something better to do with my time….” Art says, smiling, “You think we can fuck again before my roommate gets home?”

Patrick smirks, “Oh absolutely.”

[ciaradream8]

Where Are You?

A/N: So I wrote this to let off some steam because Zayne didn't come home. I lost the 50/50 badly! I usually write fanfic in private, but I never posted before so this is a first for me. Please keep in mind that I really didn't proof read cuz like I said I was just letting off steam. I WAITED TIL MIDNIGHT OF THE NEW YEAR FOR THIS MAN AND I LOST THE 50/50. The fact that this was the anniversary is what hurt most :') I was so excited too. I apologize for being too dramatic in this haha. Also, sorry for the terrible writing.

Warning: Angst

Words: 1.5K

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A sigh escaped my lips after taking a quick glance at my phone for what might be the millionth time. It was a half hour before the new year came. I glanced at the counter where I had made the homemade macarons specifically for a special doctor I had kept close to my heart.

Zayne. Where are you?

Zayne and I made plans together for the new year. We just wanted it to be the two of us. I had it all in my head; make dinner together, watch him eat the macarons I made, steal one from him after he took a bite as we wait for the countdown for the new year, countdown, gaze into each others eyes with the fireworks in the background, and promise to be together for years to come with a kiss. Nothing could be more perfect than that. Or so I thought.

Surprisingly, the sight of wanderers has been low which meant I mostly did paperwork or took missions outside of Linkon City where I was needed. I was able to get off work on time or Captain Jenna would let us go early as a reward for all the hard work we’ve been doing for our city. I had a bit more free time which was a luxury. Zayne, on the other hand, was more busy than ever. He would always try to respond to my texts as fast as he could, but I knew he was doing what he does best and that was to save lives. Yet it’s been different lately.

Zayne rarely responds to my messages now and every time we go out or we visit each other’s places he takes out his laptop to do work. I call out to him, but he always says “I’m almost done. Just give me a minute.” Then he started to sound a bit annoyed with me. I stopped asking him to hang out for a while, but I found the courage to invite him for new year’s eve a few days ago:

“Are you going to work on new year’s eve?” I asked him over the phone.

“No. I have the day off unless I am called for an emergency. Why?” He asked.

“Um…” I took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you wanted to spend it with me. That’s all. It’s been a while since we had a date after all.”

There was a pause over the phone. I bit my lip out of nerves and was worried he would say no. This would be our first new year’s together and a week after that it would be our first anniversary as a couple. After another moment of silence I heard him speak.

“It has been a while. I hadn’t noticed. I’m sorry if I made you feel sad.” He said. I could hear his tone. He sounded guilty.

“Oh! It’s okay. You’ve been busy after all.” I awkwardly laughed. I didn’t want my true feelings out. A part of me felt sad that I hadn’t seen him, but another part of me was angry because of the tone of annoyance in his tone of the last time we spent together. He told me I was in the way and that he had to focus. Yet I was the one to apologize and made up an excuse to leave.

“No, it’s not. In fact, why don’t we celebrate our anniversary that day as well?” He said.

“Isn’t our anniversary the week after?”

“It is, but I want to make it up to you. I could wear that butler outfit with the cat ears you bought not long after what happened with me being turned into part feline.”

My heart leaped as I smiled. I could feel my body being light as a feather from joy. Since the cat evol incident he always dressed up as a butler with the cat ears to cheer me up whenever I was upset with him. It was a rare yet welcoming occasion.

“Yes! I want to see kitty Zayne again!” I exclaimed.

He chuckled, “Alright now. Settle down. It’s the least I can do for a certain hunter who has been working hard to ensure not only Linkon City’s safety, but other cities as well. Where do you want to celebrate?”

“Just the two of us. My place if that’s okay.”

“Well…”

“I’ll even throw a plate of macarons for a certain doctor who is keeping his patients alive not just in Linkon City, but other cities as well.”

I could hear his smile over the phone, “Well, an offer like that is difficult to turn down. Very well. Your place. I’ll be there at four in the afternoon. We’ll make dinner together and wait for the countdown. Together.”

“Yes. Together. I’ll see you. Take care.” I smiled.

He chuckled, “You as well. I’ll see you then.”

I stared at my phone screen. It was the two of us at the photo booth where we took photos with animals. I remember that day well. I cupped his cheeks, catching him in surprise, while I smirked at the camera. I let out a soft laugh, but this doesn’t make me laugh the way it used to. All I can feel is pain in my heart just by looking at this. I unlocked my phone to see the wallpaper of my homescreen: Zayne kneeling to feed Clopidogrel. I smiled sadly at this until I went back to frowning. Then I looked at the text messages from today.

12:30 - Can’t wait to see you!

5:43 - Was there an emergency at the emergency room? I totally understand if you’re running a bit late. Do what you gotta do doc! You got this!

9:52 - Zayne? Are you okay? Do you need help? Are you hurt? Please tell me you’re okay

11:26 - Zayne? Where are you?

“Where are you, Zayne?” I whispered. I hear the announcer on the television set telling the audience that there was five minutes left on the clock. I used my hands to cradle my head. It took everything in me not to cry. He’ll be here. Even if it’s one minute before midnight. He’ll be here. I thought to myself. Just a small glimmer of hope. I took a deep breath and walked towards the window to look down. His car wasn’t there, but I was waiting for it to show up and for him to come out running to me. Next thing I know, I heard the announcer and the audience behind him counting down.

5…4…3…2…1…Happy New Year!

At that moment I collapsed on the floor and could feel the tears spilling out. No matter how many times I tried to wipe my tears away it wouldn’t stop. It was a never ending stream. “He didn’t come. He didn’t come.” I kept mumbling to myself. Why? Why did this have to happen? Was I no longer good enough? Was he tired of me? Did he only agree to spend New Year's with me so I would stop bothering him? Was this his way of telling me that we were done? So many questions were swirling in my head.

After I was done crying I went to the bathroom to splash water in my face and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were puffy and red from all the crying I did. The worst thing was that I knew I could keep crying. I took a couple of deep breaths without breaking the gaze to myself. I thought of all the memories we made together: going to the amusement park, him kissing my cheek when I got drunk, our first kiss in his car after our third date, him teaching me pool, everything. I clenched my fists and furrowed my brows. No longer did I feel disappointment, but instead I felt anger. I walked to my bedroom to see the two snowmen on my bed. The blue one was him and the red one was me. I picked up the blue one and held it in front of me.

“I devoted myself to you. I couldn’t and still can’t see anyone else for me except you. But if this is how you truly feel then fine. I don’t need you.” I threw the snowman across the room. I went to grab my phone and began typing a message to Zayne:

Next time you want to break up with me at least tell me. Before you lecture me on doing this kind of thing in person let me tell you something. At least I have the decency to let you know SOMEHOW. Unlike some people. Good bye, Dr. Zayne.

My thumb hovered across the sent button. I didn’t want to end it. I was in love with him. But there is no point in being with someone who doesn’t love you back. After a few seconds I finally managed to push send. My emotions were all over the place. I changed my lock screen to a photo of Tara and I after the escape room and changed my home screen to a video game character I liked. I went to my photo album to delete the photos, but I couldn’t do it. That was too far for me. I didn’t have it in me to go that far. I decided to not delete the photos and go to bed with a broken heart. Knowing my love for him would never disappear.

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A/N continuation: So yeah. I'm pretty salty as you can see XD For the time being I'm mad at Dr. Zayne and put him in the doghouse. I might write another part for when I'm no longer upset with him or to continue to be salty. I don't know. Or you could give me a request. Again, sorry for the terrible writing. Didn't proofread it. If you guys give me something I will look back on it carefully I promise. If you have any questions as well ask and I will answer as best as I can. Happy New Year everyone!

[hauntedbydreams]

Ik im so late to the Xmas!Vi fics but I’ve had an insane holiday week and didn’t get to finish my Xmas headcanons, so here it is now… it’s kinda meh but I still had to post it cause come on! Xmas Vi is so cute.

Xmas!Vi Headcanons 🎄

Vi can’t wrap Xmas presents for shit, it’s kinda funny

But it’s your first Xmas together and she’s trying really hard but the paper keeps ripping and she’s got double sided sticky tape all over her hand bandages

You can’t help but giggle as she sighs frustrated laying her hands on the kitchen table, leaning on her arms and sulking.

Your hands wrap around her as you lay your head on her shoulder. “I got this honey, can you go get the Xmas decorations and grab the tree from the garage please?”

She’s still sulky as she turns around in your arms and looks down at you. You grin up at her “I’m sure I saw some mistletoe in the decoration boxes…”

She’s smiling and is pulling on her boots before you can say anything. “Be right back” she winks at you.

She brings the tree and the ornaments and you can already see the knowing smirk on her face while you finish wrapping the gifts.

Decorating Xmas tree w Vi consists of her holding up mistletoe every 6 seconds and winking at you.

After the 3rd time you’re eye rolling so hard and about to snatch the mistletoe out of her hand when she pulls it higher out of your reach and grabs you toward her by the waist.

Your faces are so close now, you can practically taste the million candy canes she ate earlier (and then complained about a bellyache)and hot chocolate on her breath.

She’s still holding the mistletoe above you when she says “one last time? I promise” and then she hits you with the puppy dog eyes and you can’t help but crash into her lips.

30 minutes later and you’re almost done decorating the Xmas tree but you take a look at the side she was hanging ornaments on and your jaw drops.

“Violet! Are you kidding me?!? You can’t put two red baubles right next to each other and all the blue ones on the same tree branch!!!”

She knows you’re annoyed but she’s stressing cause it’s just a Christmas tree and why are you using her full name?!?

That’s only reserved for when you’re really mad. This can’t be that bad right?!? (I swear she panics anytime you call her Violet instead of Vi or any of the 60 pet names you guys have for each other)

“I’m sorry! I was just hanging them rando-“

“But this looks like a 6 year old decorated our tree! It’s our first xmas together Vi, it has to be perfect!”

You sigh when you see her all quiet and looking down at her feet. “I need this xmas together to be perfect”

“I know honey, but it’s just a few ornaments, plus I kinda think it gives the tree a chill look.” She’s grinning at you batting her lashes trying to get out of her lil fuck up.

“Really Violet? The tree’s got a chill look?” You snort “Who are you?!? Did Ekko and Jinx teach you that word?”

“What? No!” She protests getting all defensive “I’m chill! I can be chill!”

“Oh my god, please just stop saying ‘chill’, please.” You say as you snag a piece of mistletoe and raise it above her, moving in for a kiss to shut her up before she can say “chill” again.

She’s kissing you back eagerly in an instant and then she pulls away with that little sparkle in her eye “if mistletoe is how you shut me up when I fuck up the Xmas decorations, I might just have to make it into an Xmas tradition!” She’s laughing and kissing you again. You can’t help but roll your eyes and smile into the kiss.

Oh and then after everything’s done and the whole house is decorated you decide to pull out one last surprise…

It’s your early Xmas present to Vi

You quickly go change into a red pj set with white fur trim, cute lil shorts and a low cut top.

You decide to throw on a deer antler headband as well before strutting into the living room where Vi is still arranging the Xmas gifts under the tree that you had to redecorate to save it from her “chill” style.

She’s not really paying attention till you call her name in that bedroom voice she LOVES.

“Vi… baby can you tu-”

“Holy shit cupcake!” Her eyes are about to fall out of her skull and you’re pretty sure that’s a lil bit of drool on the corner of her lips.

“What’s this?” She’s up and walking toward you almost too scared to put her hands on you in case she’s just imagining things.

“It’s your early Xmas gift baby. You like?”

She looks you up and down, RAKING her eyes down your sides “Do I like it?!? I love it!”

Then she’s picking you up bridal style and carrying you towards the bedroom as you giggle.

“You know who might not love it tho? Santa. I bet you’re on his naughty list this year.”

You laugh at her tragic Xmas themed flirt attempt but can’t help and play along. “Oh yeah? What about your list?”

“Oh you’re the only thing on my naughty list this year pretty girl”

[stevesgother]

Chalkboard Hearts Pt III - S.H

Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Single!Mom!Reader

WC - 4.3k

Summary - A winter dance recital prompts you and Steve to spend a little more time together outside of the school.

AN - here they are again! the crowd favs it seems. thank you all so much again for the love on previous parts, i’m so excited for everyone to see where the story is headed and what these two losers get up to next. ~ emma <3

Outside the door labeled with a plaque that reads ‘Mr. Harrington’ in neat font, you can just barely make out the faint hum of a distantly familiar song. The door is slightly ajar but you still give a soft knock before entering to announce your arrival.

“Mommy!” Abbey shouts as she barrels towards you; whatever activity she was previously occupied with long forgotten.

“Hi, bug!” You greet through a quiet grunt as you hoist her up. “How was your day?”

Steve had taken to tutoring Abbey after class most days. He had originally offered under the guise that she was falling behind some of the other kids, and while that may be true, you suspect that he really offered because he noticed how guilty you’d been recently for being late picking Abbey up from school. Your job has been keeping you past three, despite having told them repeatedly that you have to clock out by two. You can’t afford to lose said job– rendering you both effectively homeless– and embarrassingly enough, Steve knows this.

“Good!” she wriggles out of your arms, not too partial for physical affection these days, “I was showing Mr. H my dance for the recital!”

“Is that so?” You ask, amused.

“Yes, but Mr. H is not very good at dancing–” she makes a pitiful face that she unsuccessfully hides from Steve.

“--Hey!” Steve laughs, “I think I’m pretty good!” Trying to sound confident but faltering, it elicits a boisterous laugh from you.

“Show us your moves then, Harrington,”

“Fine,” he huffs defiantly and hilariously contorts himself into what he thinks is a correct position for a pirouette. He balances on one foot– the other one tucked clumsily into his knee– and brings his arms up and over his head like one of those spinning jewelry box ballerinas.

“No, that’s really good. You should keep going,” you try to trap your giggling between your teeth, but Abbey doesn’t spare him such mercy, as she is literally doubled over in a fit of laughter watching him.

“Jerks!” He stops his sorry excuse for a twirl long enough to take in the sight of Abbey, who’s still cackling so much she doesn’t even notice he’s done with this antics. A knowing, affectionate glance is shared between you two at the sight of her.

“Whaddya think, Ab? Am I ready for the big stage?” He motions towards himself flamboyantly– striking a pose with his hands on his hips. Not sensing his sarcasm, she exclaims, “No!” incredulously through her gasping, trying to catch her breath. You imagine this isn’t the first instance of this happening today.

“I guess I’ll leave the dancing up to you then, huh?”

Suddenly, her expression erupts with a look of joy that only comes from a great epiphany,

“Can you come to my recital?!”

–

“Mommy that hurts!” Abbey whines from where she’s seated on the bathroom counter.

“Just a few more minutes and then we’ll be done, I promise.”

Trying to tame her unruly curls into a slicked and gelled ballerina bun was proving to be more challenging than you originally thought. Her dance teacher's instructions were very clear, however– the hair must be in a bun, accompanied by the most ridiculous amount of blush you’ve ever seen on a child, so that she doesn’t look pale under the stage lights.

One entire bottle of hair gel and several broken hair ties later, the updo is as neat as you can possibly manage, “Alright, girl, you’re all set. Let’s go get your costume on, yeah?”

She nods as you assist her off the counter and onto the tiled bathroom floor. She books it to her room and you follow suit, but when you look in her closet where you could’ve sworn you left her costume– it's nowhere to be seen.

“Abbey… where’s your costume?” You ask through a tight lipped smile, suspecting you know exactly what happened to it.

“I don’t know…” she answers mousily.

“Were you using it to play dress-up?”

She breaks instantly– her guilty conscience making it impossible for her to lie to you for very long, “Yes but!--”

“--Abbey!”

“I put it right back where I found it!”

You take a deep, grounding breath before you truly start to overreact, “Well obviously not, Ab. Just help me look for it, okay?”

Twenty excruciating minutes later, you’re sweating and on your hands and knees tearing through your daughter’s closet; the mess you’re making is a problem for your future self. Every item of clothing starts to look exactly the same– just an amalgamation of pink and glitter and blinding sequins.

“I found it, mommy!” Abbey yells triumphantly from the hallway as she sprints into her room– beaming and holding the tutu like it's a gold medal.

“Yes!” You gasp with relief and haphazardly crawl in her direction, suddenly thankful that no one else can witness you in such a state, “Hurry, let’s put it on.”

You slip the sparkly red and green costume on her as quickly as possible without damaging the bun you just spent at least an hour on. She does a little twirl, grinning ear to ear, “I feel like a princess!” She exclaims.

In the car, you struggle to buckle her seatbelt over her frilly tutu. After a little finessing, you figure it’ll be fine for the drive up the road to the local high school where the recital is being hosted in their auditorium.

–

In the lobby, you’re looking as disheveled as you feel. Abbey held one of your arms, and in the other you carried a small duffle bag full of extra hair products and a spare set of tights. She’s bouncing with nerves beside you, and asking you for at least the fifth time in ten minutes, ‘Where’s Mr. H?’

“I’m sure he’s here, Ab, we just have to find him,” you reassure her again, anxiously chewing the inside of your cheek as you scan the room for a perfectly manicured head of chestnut colored hair.

And as if he’s got some powerful sixth sense for knowing when he’s needed, you spot him timidly entering the double doors, dodging stray children and looking a little out of place. He holds a small bouquet of red roses that match the shade of his cheeks and nose– tinted red from the biting chill of early December winds.

“Steve!” You call from where you and Abbey stand near the makeshift dressing rooms– waving frantically to get his attention for your daughter's sake just as much as your own, “Over here!”

A look of recognition and then relief passes over his features when he identifies where his name is being called from, and slowly but surely starts to make his way over to you both. If he was just smiling before, he was positively beaming when he caught the sight of Abbey for the first time. His strides increase in length to catch up to you faster.

“Abbey! Look at you!” He compliments, and suddenly she’s all bashful. The man she looks up to almost as much as her own mother is here to see her perform for the first time, with a bouquet of flowers and an unrelenting grin plastered on his face. The sight does nothing to extinguish the steadily growing fire that’s made a home in the pit of your chest the past four months.

She shyly eyes the flowers in his hands– the bouquet almost the length of her own torso, “I brought these for you,” he extends them out for her and she accepts them timidly, swaying on her feet like she can’t stand to be still, “Thank you,” she all but whispers.

“Of course,” he squeezes her little hand as he straightens back to his full height. He directs his attention to you, “How are you? Did everything go alright?” Now you’re sure you look as frazzled as you feel.

“We had a mishap or two, but nothing we can’t handle. Right, Ab?” She’s not paying the slightest bit of attention– too busy observing the older kids as they mingle in front of the auditorium with their friends, “I’ll tell you about it later,” you give him a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods, “when does the show start?”

Checking your watch, you reply, “Just a few minutes. I’m going to drop her off backstage, stay here.” He gives a two finger salute and you recapture Abbey’s focus enough to guide her down the hall where dozens of other dancers in identical costumes were congregating.

You kneel down to her eye level, “I’m so proud of you, you’re going to be amazing,” gently pinching her blushing cheek for emphasis, “Mr. H and I will be right up front, okay?”

She nods once, “Okay, momma,”

“I love you, Ab,” you give her one last squeeze before sending her off, albeit begrudgingly. You know she’s in good hands with the instructors, but lately it seems like the universe keeps finding new ways to shove in your face just how quickly she’s growing up.

When you relocate Steve, he’s standing exactly where you left him.

“You ready?” He asks as you approach.

“Mhm,” you nod and smile in response, suddenly too nervous to meet his gaze. Being around him with Abbey is one thing, but without her as a buffer, you find yourself getting increasingly jittery.

An usher hands Steve a program for the recital, which he promptly passes to you before thanking the woman. You can feel his right hand just barely hovering over your lower back with a featherlight pressure to guide you through the swarms of families attempting to enter the auditorium. You don’t think it’s even a conscious act, but the touch makes your heart– for lack of a better phrase– drop into your ass. You come to the stark realization that to the untrained eye, you must resemble two doting parents here to watch their child perform.

“Alright, where are we sitting?” He asks, breaking you out of your stupor.

“Oh–uhm,” trying and failing to speak around the dry muscle that sits in your mouth like lead, “Row C, I think,”

When you reach your assigned seats, he waits for you to go ahead of him, holding his arm out as if to say ‘ladies first’, just like he did that day on the bus. It makes you swoon just as much now as it did then. The auditorium feels sweltering.

“Hey,” he places a clammy hand on your knee when he notices you zoning again, “You okay?” Oh my God get it together, you think.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just,” you pull at the neckline of your wool sweater, “It’s a little warm in here, isn’t it?”

“A little bit, yeah. Long morning?” He asks with an empathetic wince.

“You could say that,” you chuckle breathlessly, “With her? Every morning is a long morning,”

“You can say that again,” he shares in your laughter, “keeps me on my toes, alright.”

“I don’t know where she gets it from,” you sigh introspectively, “some days I feel like she couldn’t be less like me even if she tried.”

“I beg to differ,” The way he smiles at you sets you on fire from the inside out, but the lights dim– signifying the beginning of the show– before you get the chance to ask him what he meant. It’s only then that he removes his palm from your leg, and you immediately miss the weight of it resting there.

The Nutcracker theme plays over the loudspeaker as a group of ten or so little girls perform a haphazardly put together ballet number. Almost all of them are doing something different, but with huge, toothy smiles on their faces nonetheless. Originally, putting Abbey in dance served as a way to tire her out before bedtime and give yourself a measly hour of alone time, but seeing how much effort she’s put into practicing and how much joy she takes in performing cements your decision to keep her in class.

She performs wonderfully, just as you suspected she would. Always your little perfectionist. You may be biased, but you thought she was the most elegant and beautiful little girl on that stage.

When the company takes their bows, you and Steve both shoot up at the same time to give a standing ovation. Everyone else stays seated, which would have been embarrassing if you weren’t so filled to the brim with pride for your daughter. There was simply no room in your body for any other emotion.

“Yay, Ab!”

“Let’s go, Abbey!”

You both shout simultaneously, clapping your hands ecstatically.

–

Back in the lobby, your arms are overflowing with Abbey’s things from the dressing room along with the flowers Steve brought her.

“Did you see me?!” She asks expectantly, as if you could’ve seen anyone else up there except for her.

“Of course we did!” Steve assures her quickly, “For a second I thought I was watching the real Nutcracker,”

She blushes wildly, “Really?” If you didn’t know better, you thought you could’ve seen stars reflecting in her pupils.

“Totally! You were the best one up there,” he takes his forefinger and mimics drawing an ‘X’ shape over the left side of his chest, “Cross my heart.”

Abbey tugs on the hem of your sweater you were starting to become too warm in again, “Can we still go get milkshakes?” she asks. You had forgotten all about her stage fright induced breakdown two days ago, during which you promised to get her a treat if she went through with performing.

Checking the time, you saw it was already well past eight o’clock– but what would one late bedtime hurt?

“Sure, that sounds yummy. Say goodbye to Mr. H, then we’ll go,” she barrels into his legs at full speed– her signature– and wraps her arms tightly around his knees.

“Bye, Abbey, I’ll see you on Monday, ‘kay?”

She reluctantly loosened her grip on his legs and made her way back to her designated spot next to you.

 “Goodbye, Steve, thanks for coming.” You give a small wave accompanied by a tender smile.

“Thanks for having me.” He said, returning the gesture.

Feeling a little reluctant yourself, just as Steve was crossing the threshold of the double doors, you called,

“Hey, Steve?”

He turned back at the sound of your voice, looking at you over his shoulder just enough for you to admire the straight slope of his nose and the twin moles on his cheek. He was giving you that warm, anticipative smile you were beginning to grow particularly fond of.

“Yeah?”

“Would you–uhm,” Don’t get nervous now, “Would you want to join us?”

–

At Benny’s, Abbey insists on sharing a booth with Steve while you sit opposite of them on an uncomfortable, sticky vinyl chair. Steve orders a basket of fries to share and shakes for the table. Strawberry for Abbey, and chocolate for the adults.

At one point, Abbey lifts the straw from the old fashioned shake glass and attempts to spoon the whipped cream into her mouth, consequently dripping the frozen treat all over the front of her sweatshirt. You try not to fuss, even though you’re plagued with the fear that you won't be able to get the stain out of her brand new hoodie. Such is having a five-year-old, you suppose.

Steve was quick to grab the napkins at the far end of the table, surprising you with his reflexes– like he knew the mishap would occur before it actually did. 

As he’s dabbing Abbey’s shirt dry, she studies his hand and asks, “Why don’t you have a wife Mr. H?”

“Abbey!--” You scold through a poorly concealed laugh. Steve barks out a shocked huff of laughter himself.

“How do you know I don’t have a wife?” He asks, looking a little dumbfounded at the suddenly intrusive line of questioning, but amused nonetheless.

“Well, mommy used to wear a ring for daddy, but you don’t wear a ring.” She observes, “Aren’t grownups supposed to be married?”

“Ab–” You grow quickly embarrassed by your child’s lack of a filter and social cues. Again, such is having a five-year-old.

“No, that’s okay,” Steve chuckles, only slightly reassuring you, “I guess I–” he contemplates, choosing his words carefully, “I just haven’t met anyone I want to marry yet,” the only thing giving you solace is the knowledge that he probably deals with children asking him much, much more embarrassing questions, all day long.

“Oh,” Abbey says, doing some of her own contemplation, “that’s okay, Mr. H,” she comforts, like a little therapist, patting his back twice before refocusing her attention back on her milkshake.

You send Steve a look across the table, trying your hardest to convey ‘I’m so sorry my child says the shit she says, forgive me?’ with just your expression. He seems to understand what you’re attempting to get across, because he simply shakes his head and smiles like he’s trying to tell you ‘I spend everyday with her, I get it. Don’t worry about it.’

You spend the next half hour or so swapping your funniest workplace stories with each other.

“So then, we’re in the middle of a quiz right? This kid, he just–” he motions with his hands near his mouth, “projectile vomits all over the desk and the kid sitting in front of him,”

“Oh…” you wince with second-hand disgust, “that’s brutal,”

“I know!” he laughs, “I literally had to evacuate the entire classroom,”

“I feel like I remember Abbey telling me about that, actually,”

At the mention of her, he glances to his side, “Speaking of,” he chuckles.

You follow his eyes to find Abbey slumped over into Steve’s side– completely dead to the world. You can tell she’s asleep by the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing.

Steve carefully fishes a twenty dollar bill out of his jeans pocket– careful not to disturb her– and places it on the table underneath a sweaty glass that at one point contained a diet coke.

“Oh, no you don’t have to–” you say, reaching for the bill when he delicately grabs your wrist to stop you from trying to shove it back towards him. His palms are much softer than you anticipated, and the sudden movement of his arm sends a wave of his scent straight up your nose– nearly suffocating you. What a lovely way to go, you think.

“Hey, it’s okay. I want to,” he reassures you as he pushes your hand he’s still holding back in your direction. You oblige him, only because you don’t have the energy for a chivalry competition. You make a promise to yourself that if you’re ever fortunate enough to do this with him again, that you’ll foot the bill.

When you try to gently shake Abbey awake, he stops you again, “I got it,” he says, as he hoists Abbey up and carries her bridal style out of the diner and to your little sedan; you wish the waitress a good night as you exit. It’s a dark night outside, no moon or stars to be observed. The navy velvet of the sky is completely blanketed by heavy clouds. It’ll probably snow soon.

You open the rear passenger side door for Steve as he sets Abbey in her seat and fumbles a little bit with the seat belt mechanism. As he’s ducking back out, he rises just a second too early and rams his head on the top of the car with a harsh ‘THWACK!’  You try to stifle a surprised laugh behind the back of your hand as he groans and shuts the door as softly as he can.

“Oh my God, are you okay?!” You take a step closer to him as he scratches at the back of his usually perfectly coiffed locks, having lost its usual volume.

“Don’t laugh!” He playfully scolds.

“You’re laughing!” you quickly retort.

“Because you’re laughing!”

Once you’ve calmed a bit– reduced to just quiet giggling– you ask, “Can I look?” With that, he turns to give you a better look at the back of his head.

From this angle, you can unabashedly blush and grin at him and not have to worry about him seeing you. You relish in it for as long as possible, as well as the excuse to touch him, even for a moment.

“How do I look, doc? Am I gonna make it?” He says with a faux grim tone to his voice.

“Well, I’m just the receptionist– but you’re not bleeding, no cracks or contusions, either. I think you’ll be alright,”

You grin when he turns back around to face you again, this time with less space separating you, accounting for how closely you were inspecting his head. You stay like that for a moment too long, giving you just enough time to count the freckles spattered across the bridge of his nose like constellations lacking in the sky above you, and how his lashes kiss at the corner of his eyes.

He harshly clears his throat– a nervous habit, you’ve noticed– and looks down at the pavement where you stand, inches from each other.

“I’d better let you get her home, it’s getting late,”

“No yeah– definitely uhm…” you struggle to find your words again, “I’ll see you Monday?”

“Yeah,” he smiles fondly, “Oh, I uh– I wanted to give you this,” from out of his coat pocket, he pulls a crumpled piece of paper and hands it to you. It must’ve been in his pocket for at least a few hours, maybe even a few days– the ink smudged like he’d been nervously fidgeting with it before he gave it to you.

It was his phone number.

“You know, in case you ever–” he clears his throat again, “in case you ever need anything, or there’s an emergency, or something…” he trails off at the end of his thought like he’s completely regretting the gesture and already trying to figure out a way to back track, but before he can get the chance, you embrace him in a grateful hug.

“Thanks, Steve,” you say, slightly muffled by the hood of his coat, “I really appreciate everything you do for Abbey,”

He doesn’t mention how he gave the number of his landline to you in case you ever needed anything, he just takes the win for what it is. You have his phone number, and you’re hugging him. The perfect floral scent of your shampoo and whatever perfume you’re wearing flood his senses, and he immediately misses your touch when you pull away.

“Mommy?” Abbey croaks tiredly from the backseat, “Are we going home?”

“Yes, baby, one second,” you smile apologetically at Steve for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, “I’m gonna get her to bed.”

“Of course, go,” he says as he ushers you around to the driver's side door. As much as he craves to, he doesn’t open it for you. Maybe another time, he thinks.

“Goodnight, Steve.” You say before you pull the door closed.

“Goodnight, drive safe,” he aims his sights for the backseat, “Goodnight, Ab. You did awesome today,”

“Bye, Mr. H,” she waves, eyelids heavy with the exhaustion of being everyone’s favorite five-year-old all day.

Steve waits until you’ve pulled out of the parking lot, hands shoved tightly into his jeans pockets, before walking to his own car across the parking lot.

–

About halfway home and in between bouts of nodding off, Abbey asks quietly from the backseat, “Can Mr. H be like daddy?”

Startled and slightly by the nature of her question, you lock eyes with her through the rearview mirror, “What?”

Even though you fully heard her the first time, she reiterates, “I mean like, because we don’t have a daddy anymore,” she pauses– thinking, “maybe he could come live with us?”

“Oh, I don’t know, baby. It doesn’t always work like that, you know?” It breaks your heart to break hers.

“But–” she pouts in that adorable way that she does when she’s trying to lure you into giving her something she wants. Though this time, you can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. “He said he doesn’t have a wife!”

You can tell she’s too tired to have a productive discussion about this, and frankly– you have not a single idea of how to approach this subject, “Tell you what– how about we talk about it tomorrow when you wake up, yeah?” You try to reason, but secretly hoping she’s too drowsy to remember this conversation in the morning.

Mid-yawn she responds, “Okay…” clearly losing her battle with the hypnotic hum of the engine lulling her softly back to sleep.

–

At well past eleven o’clock, you find yourself sinking into the cushions of your thrifted sofa, staring at the faded piece of paper with Steve’s phone number scrawled on it so hard you thought it might burst into flames and disintegrate.

The drone of black and white reruns playing on the television was your only reprieve from the rushing spiral of your rumination, as you fought the urge to call Steve and ask what counted as ‘an emergency or…something.’

You wondered, against your better judgement, what you’d be interrupting if you gave into your temptation. You wonder if he, too, is lying restless somewhere in his house just like you were– if he has someone there to keep him company, and maybe you’d gotten this all wrong. You wonder if his walls are filled to the brim with photos of his life before Maine, and what brought him here in the first place. You wonder if he sleeps with the fan on or off.

You wonder if you should even be feeling this way at all.

But somewhere, in a mostly empty house on Ashburton street, Steve is staring at the white expanse of his popcorn ceiling of his bedroom pondering identical thoughts about you.

divider by @/saradika-graphics @borhapparker @alexa4040 @chiliwhore @weonlysaidgoodbyewithwordss @paddockspookie42 @foxes-n-frogs @tv-girllover07 @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @jamdoughnutmagician @cali-888 @kolsmikaelson @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name @ilovetaquitosmmmm @mrsnarnian

[chbvalentine]

4. SOMETHIN’ STUPID

song #4 of sometimes (a leo valdez x daughter of dionysus smau)

NOTE! i don’t know if I mentioned this in previous chapters, but y/n is female / uses she/her pronouns. also, there’s some writing in this chapter, so don’t skip past it!

Leo sat on his bed, waiting very impatiently for his friends to arrive. His palms were sweaty and his throat seemed to close up at the mere thought of confessing, but it hurt even worse when he pictured you dating somebody else. Why was he so nervous?! He had asked out plenty of girls before.

Although, none of them had ever said yes, but that was just a minor detail. Also, he had never been in love with any of them, and none of them had been his best friend for years. Whatever. Not important. The point was, he was practically a pro at talking to girls, so this shouldn’t stress him out at all. The sweat trickling down his forehead was probably the result of confidence, or something along those lines. 

“Leoooo! Open uppp!” The familiar voice of Percy echoed from outside the cabin as his fist repeatedly knocked on the door. Leo quickly jumped up, opening the door to reveal his three friends, all eager to help. He smiled, pausing momentarily, although it didn’t last long.

“C’mon! What are you doing just standing there?! We have a confession to write! Go, go!” Percy ushered himself in, Jason and Frank following behind. They immediately got to work, pulling out some paper and pens and brainstorming what to write. 

After what felt like forever, the final copy was written neatly on a piece of clean notebook paper and was sitting pretty on Leo’s desk, next to all of the scrapped versions that had been crumpled into paper balls. 

“Ow!” Leo yelped as Jason brushed his curls, trying to get him looking sharp for his grand declaration. “You can’t do that when my hair is dry!”

“Right, right. Sorry. I don’t really know how to do this,” Jason replied sheepishly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Let me see the brush!” Percy shouted, snatching it out of the blond boy’s hands. “Annabeth taught me how to work with hair like his. Leo, you just continue practicing your speech.”

He nodded and continued quietly reciting the clever lines, trying to get every word perfect. He was sitting in a chair in front of a floor-length mirror, with the three boys hovering behind him and fixing his appearance. Finally, Percy spoke up.

“We’re almost done. Text her and ask her to meet up in around ten minutes.”

Leo picked up his phone, opening your contact and sending a simple message while the boys peered over his shoulder to watch your responses. 

“Oh, gods. I’m so sorry,” Jason broke the silence after reading your replies. Everyone just stared at the phone, absolutely gobsmacked. He had been too late. 

Tears welled up in Leo’s eyes as he looked up from the phone for the first time in minutes, staring at the speech that lay on his desk, practically mocking him. He swallowed his sadness back, trying to lighten the situation as if it didn’t just shatter his heart. 

“It’s no big deal! Hahaha, no biggie. There are plenty of other girls that love the bad boy supreme! All da ladies luv Leo, right?” He attempted to joke, frantically shoving the letter into his desk while the boys just stared with pity. 

“I don’t really care for her that much anyways! It’s fine! Everything’s fine!” Leo continued, throwing away the rough drafts and clearing away any evidence of his feelings. No one knew how to respond to his lies, so they remained silent as he freaked out.

“Okay then, fun hanging out with you guys! Bye!” The boys sent him confused glances as he practically shoved them out, tears beginning to flow down his cheeks as he smiled emptily.

“Wait-“ Frank started, but Leo was already shutting the door. The three stood on the porch awkwardly, wondering what the hell they should do. After a minute, they hesitantly walked away, coming to the conclusion that he needed some space for a minute. 

Gods, Leo hated himself right now. And he hated Cameron even more.

-

TAGLIST (comment on any post in this series asking to join if you want to be added!): @eclipse-777 , @thebestsetter ,

TRACKLIST // NEXT

[simpxxstan]

Hi! Been reading your fics svt as you best friend’s brother and im hooked, my favorite would be vernon’s!!! Idk if you still accept request but if you do, can i request Joshua + as your brother’s bestfriend?

P.S. i really like your writing style! 🥰

this is a part of my 550 followers event, but requests are now CLOSED.

thank you for enjoying my work <3 and thanks for the request, it was wonderful to work on it!! altho i wrote like 4 versions because i so unsatisfied but finally settled on this, really hoping that you'll like it1 and again, i'm so sorry for being late, i hope you still enjoy this :)

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who you certainly don't approve of at all

"i don't like this new friend you have." you tell your brother straight up when joshua leaves your house after dinner. it's the first time he's visited your house since your brother and he became inseparable. you've heard a lot about him and to be fair, you'd expected him to be .... not like what you realise he is.

it's nothing tangible, though. joshua is all politeness and manners, but there's an air about him which constantly reminds you that he belongs to old money, an air of superiority that seems to be ingrained in his manner of walking and talking.

and the worst bit is that everyone is so taken with him. ever since he's joined your high school, it's become amply clear that everyone loves joshua hong. some because of his wealth, others because of his looks.

"sis, he didn't even bother you. how the hell do you not like him?" your brother's low grumble annoys you, as if he has a right to ask you this although he freely drops his opinions about all your new college friends. "i don't know, really. but the vibes are... vibes are bad."

vernon rolls his eyes. "you're just mad because he's not into you, isn't it?" the words don't leave his mouth before he gets a very subtle kick in his shin that dumps him on the floor.

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who rarely ever gets curious about people, but somehow he just cannot understand you

he's seen enough people already and now he can flag each person by their type. but you don't seem to fit into any of the boxes he can so easily segregate humans into. for one, you're very lowkey, just like vernon. but unlike your brother, you're not laidback nor are you cool, at all, really. you're very tight-wound, always on your guard, your wide eyes taking in everything around you.

"okay you're scaring me now," joshua spins around and meets your gaze, squinting to try and understand what thoughts lurk beneath those judgy little eyes.

"what have i done?" "you can't be judgmental during a creative process!" "i have literally not spoken a word and yet you think i'm judging you." "that's cause you are," joshua stands up and walks to you, hands on his hips, desperately trying to keep a cool face as he tries to read your mind. you cock your head to one side, meeting his stare, "oh yeah? how's that so?" "your eyes are boring holes into my back, i can feel them, you know." you stand up, your height nowhere close to joshua's but the strength of your gaze strong enough to pin his attention, "that's just the voice in your head, nuthead. you know your song is trash and you're dumping it on me now."

"hey!" vernon protests, and joshua smirks, "see i told you she was judging us! well, you can keep your judgement to yourself, miss chwe-" "yeah, i was gonna-" "and maybe leave the room while the artists are busy creating art your silly brain cannot understand."

you gasp, "you can't kick me out of my own room, you nobody!" "but he can," he says, pointing to vernon, "he's your brother." "not really, i'm gonna tell mom-" joshua loves seeing you get riled up, loves to see at least some emotion on your face. "okay, my whiney lil girl, go tell mommy," he bends down to your level and winks, his breath catching at the very audible sound of your gasp.

and it works, somehow. did he just intimidate you? or irritate you? whatever he's done, now you do leave the room, but not before flipping off him and vernon. that hurts his ego a little bit, but at least he won't have to feel your judgy eyes stare at his back while he's composing the masterpiece he and vernon are going to perform at the next party. that's a win in his books.

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua whose somehow everywhere you go, almost like a shadow

of course, some of it is thanks to your brother. and the rest of it is because he has a lot of common classes with you. and although he's a new student, he's quickly become the apple of the eye of many teachers too.

"if you're really so good at creative literature, why can't you write your lyrics yourself!" you huff at him when he shoves the notebook towards you across the table once again. "that's because i've got writer's block, you idiot. why can't you just be nice to me for once, i'm just asking for some help!"

joshua's looking at you with the most helpless puppy eyes he can manage, but you're not falling for his tricks. "you're getting me distracted with this, i know what you're doing." your hand stretches across the table, pushing the notebook back to him. "distracting you? it's one damn verse-" "joshua, you're trying to distract me from working on the essay due this week, aren't you?"

joshua's eyes bulge. "what? woman, now you're overdoing this. i don't even know why you have these kinds of illusions about me. i haven't done anything to you." "but i know your type of guy," you eye him seriously, and he cocks an eyebrow. "whatever it is, you've got me wrong, y/n." for a second, you're almost convinced, but then you look at the rolex resting casually on his wrist.

"no i'm not, joshua. there are hundreds of other people, eager to write your song lyrics, but no, you come to me. why? you're an attention whore, you only pester me because i push you away. the day that i give in, you'll be gone, and -"

joshua leans in until he's almost breathing the same air as yours. "and what, y/n?" you pause for a second to frame your words correctly, but joshua takes up the chance, "then you'll realize that you've got me all wrong, because i never left you at all?"

there's some rawness in his voice, a rugged angle that's new in his usually sugary sweet voice, and it leaves you disoriented for a long minute, your thoughts scattered, your heart racing and your intuition anxious. have you really got him all wrong? but he's already gone by then, gone before you've predicted, and you have no second chance to call him back to tell him that you'd already thought of lines for the verse last night when you'd heard your brother sing the rest of the song.

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who's looking for you in the crowd when he performs at the party tonight, but it's a search in vain

he wants to ask vernon if he knows where you are, but he doesn't want to sound desperate. doesn't want to sound like an attention whore, doesn't want you the pleasure to think that maybe you're right. because no. you're not. he's not thirsting for your attention. he's not yearning for one soft look from your eyes because he can never understand what's going on behind them. he's not going insane every night wondering what you really think of him. he's not longing to see your fake guard fold in two so that he can tell you that he-

Hope you listen to this song 'cause I, I, I... 'Cause I'm doing right just fine. I'm doing alright, doing alright. he sings, but he really hopes no one sees it on his face that he's not, in fact, doing alright. no one has affected him to this extent, to the extent that it's plaguing his thoughts all day and all night whether they hate him or not. and the fact that even this is occurring is concerning enough for joshua to feel his stomach twist in anger and anxiety, although he can see the crowd happily sway to their song.

and then vernon sings, I can't get you out of my head, yeah, Gotta get you out of my head, yeah. How can you be so fine when ... and joshua remembers how he wrote this verse thinking about your icy eyes when you stare at him when he's standing in front of the class, giving a presentation that the teacher's asked him to deliver, staring at him like he's not good enough.

I'm doing great myself, Hope you know I am... and how joshua wrote these lives in a feverish whisper in the middle of the night when your words from last afternoon had come rushing to his mind and he'd lost all sleep. because he is doing great, isn't he? he is. he doesn't need your attention. he doesn't need your approval. he doesn't even need your affirmation.

except the voice in his head knows he does. he knows it because it's at this moment that he sees you in the crowd, standing far away from the stage so he hopes you don't know he's staring right at you, but he can feel the burn of your gaze even through the blinding lights.

and the song ends with a final strum of his guitar, vernon singing, I'm super fine, I don't need you anymore... and joshua can't help but whisper out, into his microphone

i need you

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who's looking too good for even you to resist tonight, with the signature black jacket and a single vein popping out on his neck

you don't even know why you came tonight. something something about your mother asking you to check on vernon and make sure he's not getting high. something something about this being the last weekend before you get into study mode for finals. something something about you being curious about what joshua finally wrote in that verse.

and while you've seen your brother perform quite a few times, seeing joshua on stage gives you a different kind of goosebumps. the kind of goosebumps that leave you wondering what is wrong with you that you're so mean to him on an every day basis when he's so beautiful and so talented.

i'll give him a chance, you think, when you walk towards backstage. you confidently enter the tiny room that's labelled as backstage, but you find your brother making out desperately with someone in a corner so you jump out of the room immediately...

"looking for someone?" and bump into the person you've actually been looking for. when you turn around, his eyes leave you breathless, and you think that he is right. you have got him all wrong.

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who can finally read your eyes because he's taken you by surprise and you can't mask your feelings so quickly

and now he's got you in his arms, and he knows that vernon is up to something inside the room, so he slowly slides you away from the room and against the wall next to it. "did you watch me?" not us. me. because joshua wants to know desperately what you think about him.

"i did." "and? what did you think?" your pretty eyes flitter about, trying to avoid his gaze avidly, but his hand slips under your chin so that you do look at him. "don't make me lose my mind, y/n. tell me, please."

so you finally look at him. really look at him. no shields, no guards, no distances. "i thought you were damn good, joshua hong. that's what i thought."

joshua's hand slips from under your chin and falls to his side. "and? what did you think of the song?" there's a hint of a smile in your eyes, and he can see them crinkle into a smile before your mouth can. "i thought it was very emotional. i didn't think you to be capable of such raw emotion. was it for someone?"

and he knows this is the moment. he knows it is because all the voices in his head are ringing like sirens with only one answer. "yes, you."

and you gasp and joshua leans in to press a kiss to your mouth. it's a soft kiss, barely a peck, a request for permission, a test to check the tides. so when you lean into him, chasing his lips, he loses all control.

"y/n chwe, you're driving me insane," he mutters, as he slowly tastes all of your lips, feeling the plush and the warmth of the one thing he's craved for months now. "pl- please, don't fight this feeling," he knows he's begging, but he doesn't care. all he wants is your softness against his hands and your warmth spreading to his body and your lips smashing again and again against his own lips.

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who's eyes bulge out of their sockets, his lipstick smudged against the corner of his mouth, a pathetic whine leaving his throat as you push him away

there's an emergency siren ringing in your head right now, and all you want to do is fall back into his arms, but you can't. you simply cannot. because that would mean you've fallen for his games, become prey to his tactics and he'd win again.

you have to fight the feeling because you know tomorrow morning he'll be gone, and never come back, because he's got you under his grasp now. so you do the first thing the rush of adrenaline tells you to do- run.

you run all the way home, locking yourself into your room, biting down on the rough edges of your t-shirt to stop yourself from screaming because your mind is still reeling from the taste of the forbidden fruit. you know deep down, that you have lost to joshua. you've given yourself up to him, let your guard down, and if you see him right now, you may just fold.

thinking about brother's best friend!joshua who doesn't give up looking for you, and finally finds you in the corner of the library the next afternoon, skipping lunch in favour of revising biology

thankfully, you're too engrossed in your notes to realise when he's taken the seat next to you, it's only after he softly calls out your name that you jerk up with surprise, "oh it's you."

and then a second later, when joshua's hand is halfway across the gap between you two, you whisper out louder, "oh it's you." he pauses. "yeah, y/n, it is me. what's wrong?"

you don't respond immediately. you stare at his outstretched hand, at the confusion etched on his features and the way your knees are touching under the desk. "you came looking for me?" joshua doesn't understand why you look so dazed, but he replies softly, leaning in, "of course. why wouldn't i?"

and then you lean into him and kiss him. wow that was simple, joshua's mind still confused at what just happened, but he doesn't miss the opportunity. his hand finds your arm, and he pulls you closer to kiss you, to taste you in every way he couldn't last evening. "i want you, y/n. why do you run away from me?"

and joshua doesn't know why, but you laugh. it's the sound of rain falling on leaves, the sound of tinkling beads, the sound of piano keys played on a midsummer night. "i promise i won't anymore, joshua. because i admit, i want you too." and you kiss him again, and somehow, his curiosity becomes the last thing on his mind. not when you're busy rearranging his brain chemicals to make sure he's addicted to your scent, your taste and your touch and he can never live without you now.

[tab00-1nce51]

Teacher and student. (Story). Part 1

Melisa Mendiny - teacher 

This is a story about a lovely school teacher Melisa, 27 years old. And the student boy Vlad is 16 years old.

It all started with the fact that Melisa, having finished her classes, went out into the corridor. I saw that her student boy Vlad was sitting in the corridor. Sitting and sad alone near her office.

Melisa approached him and asked. 

Melisa : - What's the matter, why are you sitting and feeling sad here alone.

Vlad : - I have no friends. Not at all. 

Melisa felt sorry for him. And she began to spend time with him every day after class.

They talked, walked around the school, stayed together until late at school. Vlad helped Melisa with her work. She was pleased that she was no longer as sad as before.

In her heart, Melisa wanted to help this boy, and something else attracted her to him. What it was, she could not explain. 

After some time, they met in the city. Melisa saw Vlad alone in the park and went up to him.

Melisa : - Hello. How are you? I see you are alone again.

Vlad : - Yes. I decided to take a walk in the park.

Melisa : - Any plans for today?

Vlad : - There are no plans teacher, I'm completely free.

Melisa : - Then I invite you to my place for tea. What do you say?

Vlad: - Truth?

Melisa : - Truth.) Well, what are we going?

Vlad : - Oh sure. I am pleased to Miss Mendiny.

Coming home. They talked a lot, watched movies. And at the end when the love scene of the film ended. Vlad, in a fit of emotion, confessed his love to Melisa. 

And kissed her.

Soft and warm lips.

Melisa smiled and said.

Melisa : - Honey, it's time for you to go home, it's getting late.

 Hearing nothing in response, Vlad decided that he had done something wrong. Silently he got up and went to the door.

But already on the threshold, Melissa ran up to him. And a whisper in your ear.

Melisa : - I really like you.

 And kissed him.

Vlad, inspired, ran home. Not noticing anything around you. He was in love.

Unbeknownst to themselves, this relationship grew into something more. Meliss understood that this should not be allowed. But she couldn't help it.

Later.. 

Vlad had a hobby, he liked to take pictures. And Melisa, earlier in her youth, posed for magazines. She worked as a model.

Melisa asked him

Melisa :- What do you like to photograph?

Vlad : - Well, a little bit of everything. Nature, sunsets, sea, cars. But to be honest. My most cherished dream was to photograph girls. The girls are so beautiful, their facial features and body shapes are mesmerizing. This is my dream.

Vlad : - But they are not friends with me, so I did not have such an opportunity.

Melisa : - Would you like take a picture of me? I would love to pose for you.

Vlad : - You? Are you seriously? I would gladly be, teacher. It's so cool.

Melisa : - I have a basement at home, it is spacious and bright. It's perfect for this. We could try there. What do you say? 

Vlad : - I'm happy to miss Mendiny. Have you posed before?

Melisa : - When I was 19 I worked as a model for a magazine. So I can help you with that.

Vlad : - Cool. Thank you. And when will we start.

Melisa : - Let's go tomorrow night after school. Come see me at seven.

Vlad : - Good. I will definitely be.

Next Day

Vlad arrived at the appointed time. Melisa rang the doorbell and opened it for him. She was wearing a beautiful beige dress with a sheer top. Her breasts were slightly covered with an interesting pattern.

Melisa : - Hi baby. Come on, I've been waiting for you. How did you get there? 

Vlad : - Ok, thank you. You look wonderful.

Melisa : - Thanks, darling. You know, let's do our photoset here today. I'm so eager to start.

Vlad : - Me too. Let's start. Stand next to the sofa. 

Melisa : - Like this ? 

Vlad : - Yes. Excellent.

Vlad : - It's such a thrill. Thank you teacher. You have fulfilled my dream.💗

Melisa : - Do not thank me. It gives me pleasure too.

Vlad : - Wow. You so beautiful.. Um. And your... Your shoulder strap has fallen off.

Melisa : - Oh sorry, I didn't notice. 

Melisa : - Tell me Vlad, how do you like it better when it is lowered or when it is in place?💗

Vlad : - Wow. To me? Em. When she's down.👀

Melisa : - Then I'll leave it as it is.💗

Vlad : - I'm sorry teacher, but I can't help but tell you this. You are so sexy now.

Melisa : - Oh dear thank you dear. Maybe you want see something more?

Vlad : - More?

Melisa : - Yeah... Like... Nude? 

Vlad : - OMG... 👀😍

End of part 1

To be continued.... 

[phagodyke]

the masculine urge to take a saucepan off thr draining board and bash myself repeatedly over the head with it until I pass out and no longer have to experience feeling Bad 😍

[angelnumber27]

Last night I made a list of all the ways drinking has been negatively effecting me, my relationships, those around me, my body and mind, and my life as a whole recently.

There are 45 separate things listed on there so far

[elegyofthemoon]

kicking and screaming FREE ME ALREADY

[dootznbootz]

I just wanted you to know you're very wholesome and I admire that, because it's something hard to keep as you grow older. You're like Polites on cotton candy 🍭

Oh, thank you! 🥹 That's incredibly sweet!

I always try my best to look on the bright (yet still understanding) side of things as there always is one! :D There's good in everything! Even in darker aspects of a story/myth!

There's a lot of humanity and kindness in places you wouldn't expect and it honestly feels silly to act like such things aren't possible! :D

[izzy-b-hands]

They have literally every paystub the uni has ever given me now. If that still isn't what they want (and per the rep, she's not sure why the other rep acted as they did, or why my client ID wasn't linked to anything except my application despite my other submitted documents being RIGHT THERE and only linkable to the number on their side of things)

then idk. I'm trying. I don't know why a lot of the time, but I'm still trying

(that could be a tshirt to sum up my life tbh: 'life keeps kicking me and telling me 'no' and for some reason. I keep trying.')

[bas-rouge]

Oh also so many random opportunities are opening up for me. I don't talk about this here much but I'm in uni atm and I'm a huge insect lover, I'm friends with the head of the (tiny) entomology department at my uni, I'm taking entomology in the fall, etc, and the prof said he thinks I could possibly get some experience working in insect collections 👀 a lot of the class is collecting and pinning (and photographing ofc).. I'm super excited even though it is a 5 hour class at an inconvenient time of day lol

[sheerioswifties]

.