#at least they once knew trig in high school

[critical-and-cringe]

The fact that advanced geometry skills are considered more important by the American School system then like....

Basic knowledge of history that doesn’t revolve around the founding fathers...

Is an absolute atrocity.

[sweet-pea-channie]

Never have I ever - Stiles Stilinski Imagine

Author: @sweet-pea-channie​​

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!reader

Words: 4,7k+

Warnings: underage drinking, spicy questions, oral (f receiving), fingering, slight begging, swearing, overstimulation

Requested by @moumouton4​​: I have a request It's a Stiles x fem!reader and the pack are having a party and they are playing a drinking game where they ask each other questions and people who have already done the thing have to drink, but as the game progresses the questions get more sexual "Who did it in a car? Who did it in high school? ) and Stiles and Y/n drink every time but no one knows they are together, and the suspicious ones ask more and more direct questions to make them confess

AN: This was so much fun to write! AAAAAH. Also I was struggling with myself, because I didn’t know if I should make it smutty or not, so I decided to go with that. I really hope you like it! :) 

Masterlist

“Okay, never have I ever cheated on a test,” Lydia said and waited for everyone’s reaction. 

“C’mon, Lydia. That’s boring,” Malia groaned as she leaned back into her chair. 

“Well, I have never. So I don’t have to drink,” Lydia said proudly and told you to hurry up with a single hand motion. 

You couldn't help but sigh as you reached for your glass and lifted it in the air. “Well...”

Everyone else reached for their glasses as well and all took a sip. They definitely hadn't imagined these questions when Kira suggested playing Never Have I Ever.

The party at Lydia's was in full swing after Mason had once again shown up with half the school, and so you had looked for a "quiet" corner outside in front of the pool under the canopy. Even Liam and Mason, who were actually now almost responsible for the party, had joined you. And of course Mason was the first one who thought that Kira's suggestion was perfect and had started directly with a statement. But if the questions would remain so normal, you were sure that soon everybody would be very drunk. Well, everyone for whom alcohol at least had an effect.

“Okay, okay, how about this? Never have I ever made out in the janitor’s closet,” Malia said and looked at Lydia. Because it was clear to everyone that this time, our strawberry blonde friend had to drink. Lydia just rolled her eyes and drank without saying a word. Stiles also reached for his glass, followed by Scott and Kira. 

"Who the fuck did you make out with in the janitor's closet?" asked Scott Stiles, before looking at Malia, who shook her head.

"Um...," Stiles stammered, trying to come up with a lie that his best friend wouldn't notice. "This isn't truth or dare."

"Barely saved it," Scott laughed.

The game continued as you watched Stiles reach for his phone and type furiously on it.

Sti: Why didn’t you drink?  

You: It wasn’t in the janitor’s closet. 

Sti: It was. 

You: It was the room in front of it. That’s not the closet.

Stiles sighed and was quickly putting his phone away again when Scott beside him nudged him. "Who are you texting with now? Like, that girl you apparently made out with at the janitor's closet?"

"Maybe," Stiles replied, picking up his glass again.

"So if it wasn't Malia, who was it? Come on, Stiles, tell us. We want to know who managed to wrap you around their finger again," Scott kept on insisting that Stiles would tell us.

"As if anyone would volunteer to make out with him now," you laughed, seeing Stiles give you a dirty look.

“Is it Liza from trig?” Scott asked as he nudged Stiles again. 

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “Not her.”

“Who is it then?”

"Can we just get on with the game?" begged Stiles, who by now was sitting slightly flushed in front of us.

"Maybe, we'll get it out of him if we can get him to keep drinking," Liam said, getting right on with the game.

Once again, Stiles gave you a nasty look, which you skillfully ignored. You knew exactly why he gave you that look. After all, it was you who didn't want to tell anyone about your secret meetings. Not because you didn't want to be seen with him, no. It had nothing to do with that. It had more to do with the fact that no one would take it seriously, given with your past.

It was known to everyone when you transferred to Beacon High that Stiles had a bloody nose because of you. He claims it was accidental. But secretly, you both knew that you hit the ball so hard against his face on purpose back in gym class.

If it wasn't for Allison back then, you never would have gotten into the friendship circle either. But since you were both new to the school, you couldn't help but become friends. And so she dragged you along all the time. And of course, she had to fall in love with Scott. Endless meetings you had to endure with her, Scott, and Stiles. Allison and Scott had tried to set you up several times back then. But somehow the chemistry between you was not right. You were always bickering and fighting.

But at some point you noticed, that the tension between you two was so much different from what you thought. 

“Never have I ever used handcuffs or other implements,” Mason said, grinning at Stiles. It was clear to everyone that Stiles had to drink. After all, he was the sheriff's son. And of course he reached for the glass, followed by Malia and Lydia. While everyone looked at Lydia in shock, no one noticed that you also took a sip from your glass and thus drank your glass empty. 

"What you?" asked Kira, horrified. 

“He said other implements, right? Doesn’t have to be the handcuffs,” she huffed out and took another sip, probably just wanted to taste her vodka soda once more. 

And while Malia, Liam, and Mason were trying to squeeze the information out of Lydia, no one had noticed Scott reaching for his cell phone to start writing messages. Even you were too caught up in the conversation from the teens. 

Scott had seen something, and he was probably the only one. But he needed to share his thoughts with someone now. 

Scott: Did you see Y/N always drinking when Stiles did, too?

Kira: What do you mean?

Instead of answering, he just gave her a look. It took Kira a moment to catch on, but when she understood what Scott was trying to tell her, her mouth dropped wide open. She had never expected this. Never. Before that would ever happen, she was still sure Peter would finally get it that he was evil and switch to the good guys. 

"Are you sure?" she whispered to Scott, looking at you. Your expression didn't let on that you were attracted to Stiles, though. You took the furthest chair away from him, as always, but not right across from him, or you'd have to keep looking at him, at least that was always your reasoning. And even so during the party you were never where Stiles was. But now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember where Stiles had been all evening either. He had also disappeared for a while. 

"Maybe we need to ask more specific questions. If they both drink all the time, maybe, we'll find out. They both don't have superpowers. They get drunk and eventually tell the truth," Scott chimed in, quickly pulling back from Kira as everyone looked at him. "What?"

"Your turn," you said as you refilled your glass. "And please stop with the boring questions Lydia always asks."

"I don't ask boring questions!" defended Lydia, but Liam also felt that the questions could be a little spicier. 

"They may not be boring to you. But they are to us."

"Aren't you only 14?" asked Stiles, raising one of his eyebrows. 

"I just had my birthday last week, remember? We celebrated my 16th birthday together!" retorted Liam, horrified. "Plus, I have a girlfriend right now, and you don't."

Stiles then gave Liam a warning look to continue keeping your little friendship plus secret, but he didn't know that Scott and Kira had now made it their mission to expose it. 

“Okay, never have I ever...”

Not so carefully anymore, you tried to push your way back out through the crowds of people. Your inebriated state didn't make it any easier, of course, and again and again you found yourself bumping into someone or running into an object. All the drinking eventually led to you having to empty your bladder while the others continued to play the game outside.

The party in here was still in full swing and the house was filling up with more and more people. Luckily, Lydia's mother was traveling for the whole weekend and would hopefully not notice any of this. After the party at the boathouse escalated that much last year, she wasn't so excited about Lydia and her parties anymore, because you could see the traces of the party everywhere around the house. But Lydia just could not be stopped.

Back outside, Mason was sitting on the armchair you had made yourself comfortable on before, and his place on the floor, where he was only sitting on a cushion, was free. You looked at him annoyed, but got a shrug back from him. "My butt is starting to hurt."

But one look to the left was enough to make your heart start racing. After all, Stiles had previously been sitting next to Mason on the two-seater along with Scott. However, to maintain your image, you gave a short grunt and rolled your eyes as you sat down on the cushion in front of the couch. Your back was leaning against the couch and Stiles' leg was inches away from you.

Of course, Scott immediately noticed that your heart began to race. But not just yours. He glanced over at his best friend sitting to his right and grinned at him.

“What?” Stiles asked confused and Scott could hear him being tipsy or much rather almost drunk. 

“Nothing.”

Lydia reached for your glass that was on the other end of the table and gave it to you with a simple nod. “You good?”

“Tipsy, but good. Not feeling too drunk.”

“Maybe we could stop playing?” Lydia suggested and looked around, but Kira was already shaking her head. She and Scott had not yet succeeded in their plan. 

"Just two more questions. Or until everyone finishes their glass," Kira said quickly, pointing to her glass. "I don't have much left in it at all."

"Okay, then you ask a question," Malia countered, apparently not really in the mood for the game anymore either and preferring to mingle with the crowd. After all, she loved to dance. 

“Okay, never have I ever faked an orgasm.”

Laughing, you reached for your glass and took a big sip of, probably too big of a sip, because Stiles' gaze was immediately on you when he saw you had drunk a third of the glass. "Come on, Kira, come up with something better. We're women, it's normal."

And sure enough, all the girls in the round had been drinking. Stiles and Scott were completely beside themselves. Of course, now they thought it was their fault as men, and now they were questioning whether they were that bad in bed. 

"Did you see that?" Kira whispered to Scott, while Mason and Liam questioned you in the meantime why you always had to fake your orgasms. 

"That you've been drinking?"

"No," Kira sighed, sliding even closer to Scott. "When Y/N was drinking, Stiles' eyes went straight to her, not Malia. Surely he should have given Malia such a shocked look and not Y/N? Besides, Y/N only had this friendship plus once with this guy who was a year above us at the time. And I'm sure she always said that sex with him was pretty boring. I don't think she experienced that much with him."

"Okay, that's way too much information for now. But I have an idea how we can blow their cover. Trust me."

"Never have I ever slept with someone of the same sex," you tossed in. Who knew which of your friends were out doing something experimental. Of course, Mason rolled his eyes and let out a quiet duh. But Malia and Lydia also reached for their glasses. You widened your eyes and mouth as you looked at Lydia. You weren't shocked that she had done that. Rather, that she hadn't told you. "Why didn't you ever say that?"

“Well, somehow you are quite busy lately,” she replied, pressing her lips to a thin line. “I’m wondering why...”

You didn't even try to answer her question, because you were sure that you would say something wrong, which she would never believe anyway. Therefore, you thought it would be the easiest just to shrug your shoulders. Lydia just shook her head with a slight grin. She was sure it had to do with a boy. However, she hadn't seen all the hints, like Scott and Kira. 

But while you were trying to get out of the situation, you hadn't even noticed that you had been leaning further and further to the left and by now you had already leaned completely against Stiles' leg. Of course, Kira noticed immediately, followed by Stiles, who had unconsciously put his hand on your shoulder. For him it was already normal to feel the body proximity of you, at least as long as you were alone and never among your friends. 

Scott cleared his throat and readied himself for the ultimate question. He knew he was going to uncover it now. At least, he hoped he would. "Never have I ever had sex in Stiles' jeep."

Kira was so shocked by Scott's question that she had already opened her mouth so wide before anyone could even take a sip. So Scott and his friends could now watch as Stiles, Malia and likewise you drank. Of course, you were so out of it that you hadn't considered that this one gesture would now reveal everything. 

When Malia put her glass back down, she looked at you confused as you still held the glass to your mouth and at the same time as Lydia, she retorted a quiet "What?!"

However, Lydia's was not as quiet as Malia's, she shouted it so loudly that everyone in the circle was startled and now looked at you and Stiles as well. 

"I knew it," Scott laughed, jabbing Stiles with his shoulder. 

"What's going on... I don't really understand what's going on right now," Stiles stammered as he set his now empty glass down on the table. 

"Okay, I understand that you've been drinking, Stiles. And Malia too, of course. But you! Y/N!...and Stiles?!!" still yelled Lydia, as it was also a bit louder around you. However, she screamed, but mainly because she still could not believe it. 

“Oh shit,” you mumbled as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “I just blew it, right?” 

“Yeah, I think you did,” Stiles said, taking a deep breath. 

"So it's true. You two-" Scott began, but was interrupted by Lydia. 

“Wait, hold up. So you’re trying to tell me that you two are sleeping together?! I mean... it’s amazing! I was always rooting for you two because of all the sexual tension going on between the both of you, but you always made me think that you two didn't really like each other. You made it clear to me several times. How could you?!"

“I’m sorry, okay. And yes, Stiles and I we’re... you know-”

“Together?” Kira asked. 

“Yeah, you could say so. We never made it official, I guess,” Stiles replied simply, and only now noticed that he had his hand on your shoulder the whole time. His hand now wandered to the back of your neck and disappeared between your hair, where he reached for a tuft of hair and pulled it lightly so that you looked at him. Your look was a mixture of oops, I'm sorry and well that's awkward, and he could only agree. But you had gotten yourself into this, so...

"How long has this been going on between you two?" asked Kira, leaning forward on her knees in her chair to hear you better. 

"Um... For a while... I think the game is over now, right? No one feels like playing anymore, right? Then, if you'll excuse me," you rattled off and quickly got up from your spot on the floor to escape the infinitely awkward situation. After all, this is not how you imagined telling your friends. But before you could walk out the door into the house, you quickly turned around, rushed back to your friends and grabbed Stiles' hand, who was already looking at you in confusion. "Now that you know, I'll take him with me. Bye."

Stiles stumbled as you jerked him up from the couch and pulled him after you. "Where are we going?"

"Now that they know, I can do that," you smiled, pulling him closer to you as you now stood among the dancing teens. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, while he rested his hands on your hips and grinned seductively at you. "Feels illegal to do this now."

“That makes it even more interesting,” you whispered into his ear.

Stiles got goosebumps all over his body. Mainly because of the light breath of you on his ear, but also because of the sensation. He could finally do all the things he wanted to do with you all the time. If he felt the urge to kiss you at school, he could do that from now on. Finally, he could pick you up in the morning before school without it raising any questions.

“Why are you smiling like that?” you asked him. 

“I just had in mind what I can do with you now that it’s all out.”

“So tell me, lover boy, what were you thinking about?”

“Well, mostly I was thinking about doing this,” he smiled and leaned down to lock his lips with yours.  His hands gripped your hips tighter as he let himself indulge your taste. Your hands around his neck gripped the curls at the back of his head as you kissed him deeply. The kiss was different from what you were used to or ever experienced before, but none of you could quite make out why that was. But right then, you didn’t really seem to care. 

One of Stiles’ hands began tracing a path from your hip, up your side and slows as it passed over the side of your chest, but still making sure that you were okay with doing that much PDA in public. The same hand then came up to your head, grabbing some hair in it and pulled you even closer, if that was even possible. You let out an involuntary, sharp gasp, before that same hand pulled you back in for more. Holding you in place with enough force to feel like he was in control, but light enough that you could pull away if you wanted to. 

Of course, you didn't want to stop kissing him, but when a thought crossed your mind, you gently pushed him away from you. His lips were red and swollen, longing for the warmth of yours again. He didn't want to waste any time either and came closer to you again, but a hand on his chest stopped him. "Come with me."

This time, Stiles followed you without questioning where it would go this time. He trusted you completely. So while you pulled him behind you through the crowds, he couldn't help it and pulled you back strongly by the hand he was holding. You stumbled against his chest and looked at him in wonder, but the darker eyes told you exactly what he was about to do. "Almost there."

Stiles smiled at you and pressed his lips to yours once again. His tongue slipped through your lips in no time and touched yours. So while he kissed you full of fire, you carefully walked backwards, your destination not far away. And as your back slammed against the door, you disengaged yourself from Stiles and opened the door. 

Stiles smiled seductively when he saw where you had pulled him. “You said you never made out in a bathroom while there was a party going on outside.”

He licked his lips before he pushed you into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, making sure that no one was going to interrupt you.

Even though you thought it was no longer possible, his eyes darkened even more as he followed you step by step further into the bathroom. When the cold sink behind you came into contact with your naked thighs, you gasped loudly, and Stiles used the moment to throw himself on you. 

His lips found yours directly as he placed you high on the sink. Goosebumps from the cold spread down your arms and legs, but were quickly forgotten as Stiles' lips broke away from yours and now caressed your neck. He quickly found the one spot that drove you crazy every time and sucked hard on it. A loud moan escaped your lips. 

Stiles pulled away from your neck and pressed his hand flat against your mouth. "Shh."

"Oh, come on," you sighed as you pushed his hand away. "It's way too loud outside." And before Stiles could get another stupid thought, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pressed your heels into his thighs to pull him even closer to you. Stiles' torso slammed against yours and your breasts pressed against his sturdy chest. This turned Stiles on even more, but he knew he couldn't do all the things he was going to do to you, here and now. 

Before Stiles could even attack your lips again, the first knock on the bathroom door filled the room. Stiles grunted and rested his forehead on your shoulder. "Occupied," he mumbled into your shoulder, loud enough for the person outside to hear.

“Okay, seems like we don’t have enough time for all of that,” he said and dropped to his knees. Looking up at you with lustful eyes, he unbuttoned your jeans shorts and yanked them down your legs with such a force your butt was almost falling down the sink. 

Stiles giggled and pushed you back up while he was working on your panties. And once they were off, Stiles didn’t hesitate and opened your legs wide for him. ”You’re already soaking wet,” he groaned, kissing your flesh, ripping the drenched garment down your legs completely.

You bit on your lower lips as you watched him peppering kisses all over your thighs, but not where you wanted him the most. You whimpered, bucking your hips through his face. “Stop teasing, Stiles!”

“Okay, okay,” he giggled, pressing your hips down. His index finger spreading your slick around your lips, while he watched you gasp loudly with dreaming eyes.

Your cunt clenched around nothing when Stiles attached his mouth to your dripping core without a warning to suck your engorged clit, thighs closing around his ears, making it hard for him to hear your pretty moans. But fuck, he was so drunk on your sweet juices, he didn’t even care at all. He just kept licking and sucking your slobbering pussy, his tongue pumping in and out.

Leaning back on your elbows, you knocked over the soap and all the other things on the sink, but you couldn’t really care less at the moment, all you could think about was Stiles’s face, sitting right in between your thighs. 

With his left hand, he forced your legs apart and started to work his tongue in between your folds. “Holy fuck,” you cried out, remembering just how good at this he was. “Stiles, fuck. Please,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair.

That familiar feeling started to form in your belly and toes as you groaned louder. He hooked your leg over his shoulder, pulling you in close. You were vulnerable like this, letting yourself get swept up in pleasure at Stiles’ tongue.

Your walls were clenching around his tongue as he pulled it out and dipped a finger in, his hands holding you still, not letting you move from his grasp. But just as you were about to really fucking enjoy it and let it all go, Stiles pulled his finger out and brought his glistening finger to his mouth, letting his calloused fingertip brush against his plump lips, tasting the sweetness of your cunt. 

“You always taste like Heaven,” Stiles groaned, his lips hitting the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he spoke.

 “Stiles, please,” you whined, missing his touch. Stiles bit his lip before he dove right back in. Another load moan escaped your lips as you had to focus on your breathing. His tongue on your clit was driving you crazy while he pushed two of his long delicate finger deep up into your deep channel. You tightened your walls around his fingers, causing him to hum against your nub. 

Stiles was really enjoying himself as he felt you shaking against him. He really wanted to make sure that you were having one of your best orgasm ever. He never wanted you to fake an orgasm, ever again. And that was his very intention. His fingers curled within you, easily pinpointing your most intimate spot that had you arching your back off the sink.

“Cum for me, love. I’ve got you,” he mumbled against your pulsing sex as he felt you shaking in front of him. Biting your lips to maintain your moans, you continued to rake your fingers through his hair. And he was definitely enjoying it, the grunts he pushed against your core had you building up climax even more. The vibrations shaking through your whole sex. 

You cried out his name over and over again, stepping closer to your orgasm with every maneuver of his skilled tongue, as you felt your belly tightening. You knew you were about to lose control, and he knew it, too. He wrapped his lips around your clit and started to suck at a steady pace, sending you falling over the edge. 

One curse after another left your lips as you came hard, pulling at the strands of hair in your hand. Stiles groaned due to the slight pain that was still turning him on. So he pulled your sopping cunt closer to his face as he buried his nose deep within, licking every ounce of you as if it was the last time he could taste you. He really made sure to ride you through your orgasm. 

But once the sensation became too much, you had to push his face away with such a force, he was not getting enough of you. Never. And soon your legs were shaking again, you couldn’t handle him between your thighs any longer. Thankfully he pulled his face away from your not so dripping core anymore, his lips were still swollen from the activity and glimmered thanks to your fluids. 

He got back up on his feed and leaned forward, kissing you, so you could taste yourself on him. “I could taste you every day,” he hummed against your lips. 

“I think we’re making a really good team,” you mumbled as you licked your lips. Stiles grinned proudly when he saw you in front of him, with your legs spread wide between which he was still standing, your vagina all to himself, just for him. He just couldn't get enough of you.

“Okay, guys, now come on! I gave you ten minutes, that’s enough for a quickie!” you heard Scott groaning on the other side of the door while he kept banging on it this time.

Stiles sighed and bent down on the floor to hand you your panties and jeans, watching you quickly jump down from the sink to put your clothes back on. "What about you?" you asked, pointing at his jeans. The bulge was clearly visible, and he couldn't hide it that easily.

“It’s not about me. I wanted to make sure that you’re feeling good. I’ll take you as my personal shield to save me from embarrassment,” he said as he was positioning himself behind you. He wrapped his arms around your shoulder from behind and pressed his crotch against your lower back, so you could feel his erection poking right at you. “Now open the door.”

With a short laugh, you unlocked the door and saw Scott standing in front of the door. Relieved, he sighed and pushed past you into the bathroom. 

"Well, if ten minutes is all you need for a quick round, then I can see why Kira has to fake her orgasms," Stiles mocked his best friend before he slammed the door in your faces, annoyed. “Now where were we?”

“We could always ditch the party and continue where we had to stop at my place, what do you think?” you asked as you turned around in his arms, looking up so you could see his beautiful amber eyes. 

“I say, why the fuck are we still here?” he answered and grabbed your hand to pull you out of the house as quickly as possible.

[atlabeth]

turn back the clock - rafe cameron

summary: your boyfriend breaks up with you days before your best friend's wedding. you're dreading having to face it alone, but when some behind-the-scenes tampering by the bride brings you back into contact with your high school crush, more comes to light than you could've ever imagined.

a/n: thank you to ri for helping me decide which current wip to finish and this post i saw on ig for inspiring it in the first place. i love second chance romance so much and the obx3 trailer made me wanna start writing for rafe again so here we are lmao.

this has been in google drive hell since august and i finished the rest of it all in one go at midnight when i was supposed to be doing homework. so i hope you enjoy

wc: 4.2k

warning(s): small bit of angst at the beginning but basically all fluff, like toothrotting. also reader was a college track athlete but nothing else about her is described

(no i will not stop using this gif of him in the blue suit<333)

You didn’t really wanna have to make this call. Instead, you just wanted to stew in your own misery, watch some sappy rom-coms that make you feel even worse about what happened, and maybe go out and buy a couple pints of ice cream. 

But the day wasn’t supposed to be about you. And you owed it to Elizabeth to at least explain why you might be in a vaguely shitty mood at her wedding.

Honestly, though—you should have expected this. 

“He what?” 

“Liz—” you started, but you knew once she got going there was no bringing her down until she was done. 

“He broke up with you?” 

“Yes,” you said, and you clenched your free hand in a fist to keep from choking up. He didn’t deserve any of your time, you knew that, but that didn’t mean you weren’t hurting. It didn’t mean tears didn’t well up every time you thought about him. “He just sprung it on me out of nowhere last night. I thought we were doing pretty well, but,” you let out a watery laugh, “I guess not.” 

“I can’t believe him,” she seethed. “I told you not to trust guys with J names, and Jason is like, the biggest offender! I told you the moment we met him at that frat party he was bad news—” 

“You don’t need to go on a rant!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I already know how much of a jerk he is— well, I might’ve just had my eyes opened to it, but I know. I just wanted to tell you that I’m… going through some stuff, I guess, in case I seem off during all the planning. But that’s all—you have to promise me that none of the focus is gonna be on me, because this is your day.” 

“...Okay,” she said after some hesitation, “but you can still rant to me whenever you want. Just because you’re one of my bridesmaids doesn’t mean all you have to talk about is the wedding.” 

“How can I not talk about the wedding all the time?” you exclaimed. “Lizzie, I’ve been involved in so much of the process with you that it’s basically all I can think about. This is the most excited I’ve been for anything ever.” 

“Didn’t your brother get married last year?” she said. 

“You know what I mean,” you chuckled. “I just can’t believe you’re getting married, and to Nate, too. It feels like it was just yesterday that you were telling me about the cute boy in your trig class, and six years later and you’re marrying him in a week.” 

You could hear the smile in your words. “It really does feel like yesterday, huh? I remember going on and on about how much I liked him after that group project we got stuck together for—y’know, your encouragement was the only reason I ended up asking him out.” 

“Then I’m glad I kept bothering you,” you said with a smile of your own. “You guys are so great together.” 

“I just wish you would’ve taken my—” Liz suddenly stopped talking on the other end, and you frowned a bit. 

“What?” 

“...Nothing,” she said very suspiciously after a pause. “I, uh— I just remembered there’s something I need to do. Wedding related. I’ll talk to you later?” 

“Yeah—” you said, but she had already hung up. You chuckled and shook your head as you set your phone down. 

You didn’t really know what that was about, but you were looking forward to the wedding—it didn’t matter that you were suddenly single. 

You and Liz had been best friends since you were put next to each other in the seating chart in sixth grade science—and even though she went to NC A&T and you were all the way at San Diego State, you talked basically every day for all four years of college. Sometimes you even made the flights to see each other, and it was worth every single dollar. 

It made you feel a lot better, knowing she had your back (and knowing that she had likely already blacklisted Jason from the guestlist made you feel pretty good too). 

What you didn’t know, though, was that what she was doing at that moment would make the wedding night a whole lot more interesting for you. 

And it all had to do with one Rafe Cameron from high school. 

-

The air was thick with a thousand different perfumes and the stiffness of hairspray along with a whole lot of anxiety as a result of the eight bridesmaids who inhabited the room trying to make sure they looked their best before the procession started in T-10 minutes. 

You were, of course, stressed as well. It was like everything that was fine for the months leading up to the wedding had suddenly decided to go wrong just to spite you. You’d forgotten to take a tag off of your dress and it was digging into a very particular spot of your back, your hair was not cooperating—Ariel and India and Natasha might have said that you looked beautiful, but it was just not working with you—and you were about to run out of your favorite mascara. All small things, but they were beginning to add up. 

And to add to your stress, your phone started to go off. When you opened it, you saw it was a text from Lizzie. 

girl I am so sorry to ask you this I know we’re so close to the start 

but Ayana just told me that she left my bouquet on the table in the sideroom of room 139, she forgot to take them out of the vase! 

sisters aren’t even on top of things when they’re your maid of honor apparently 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃 

you’re the closest to the room and the only other person I can trust rn because Im going slightly wedding crazy, can you please get it??? I will love you more than my future husband and you will have my eternal gratitude 

using my track past against me i see 

you are pushing it babe 

I know 

help me obi-wan kenobi you’re my only hope 

lol 

dw I got this 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

You are my savior and all your drinks are on me next time we go out 

You sighed and shook your head, slipping your heels off in favor of the flats you came here in. The last thing you needed was to break an ankle before the procession. 

“I’ll be back!” you announced to the rest of the bridesmaids—though you weren’t sure any of them heard you in the havoc—before you ran out of the room. You were thankful this dress had a slit. 

It took a minute for you to get there, makeup and hair still intact, but when you did you didn’t see a vase. You huffed a sigh and got to work going through everything. The actual last thing you needed was for Liz to not have her bouquet as she walked down the aisle. 

“Oh— I’m so sorry, I didn’t even know there was another person in here.” 

You turned around from your crouched spot on the floor at the voice, and you nearly toppled over when you saw who it was. 

“Rafe?” you marveled. Though it was posed as a question, there was no doubt about it. You’d only thought about him basically every day for all of high school. 

He said your name with the same surprise, his eyes widening slightly at the same time as he stared at you for a moment too long. You swore his eyes went up and down, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, when he blinked and shook his head. A wide smile spread across his lips in its place, and it did the same sort of thing to you that it did in high school. You weren’t immune to a Rafe Cameron grin as a freshman, and apparently you weren’t as a college graduate either. “What are you doing here?” 

“Trying to find Lizzie’s bouquet ten minutes before the wedding,” you said with a slight laugh. “What are you doing here?” 

“Uh, Topper left his pocket square in here, apparently,” he said. “We drove here together, and he’s the best man so he’s scrambling all over the place, and—” Rafe paused and he breathed a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the same way they did in high school. “You get the idea.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, and a smile pulled at the corners of your lips. “I had no idea you were gonna be at the wedding. I—” you chuckled and shook your head. “I guess I forgot that you and Nate went to UNC together.” 

“Yeah.” Rafe laughed again, though it was a bit nervous as he ran a hand through his hair, stuffing his other hand in his pocket. “It’s uh— it’s been forever since I’ve seen you, though. What, the last time we actually had a conversation was—” 

“That one party at UNC,” you supplied, and you stood up, leaning against the countertop. “The one that Liz dragged me to when I came to visit her for spring break sophomore year. We saw each other there.” 

“...Yeah,” Rafe repeated, and his smile softened. “Yeah, it was then. I didn’t know you remembered that.” 

“‘Course I did,” you said. “I mean, the last time before that was the huge party you, Kelce, and Topper all threw in the last week of summer. Before we all went our separate ways.” 

“Oh, that was…” he laughed as he bowed his head a bit. “That was something. Uh, it should be a rule pre-college boys should not be allowed to be around that much alcohol without supervision. I’m surprised no one died that night.” 

You grinned as the memory of it all came back. It was hard to believe that it was one of the last times you saw Rafe. That it was the last time you saw Rafe for two whole years, and the next time you got even the slightest glimpse of him was a minute long conversation with your very drunk self before you were dragged out by your one sober friend. 

Seeing Rafe was the only thing you remembered from that night.

“I can’t believe it’s been so long,” you said, your voice a bit softer. “College really did something to us, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he said, and his smile faded the slightest bit. “Being on separate coasts’ll do that to you.” 

Your expression softened, and you were about to say something when your phone buzzed in your hand. Panic jolted through you for just a moment before you read what the texts said. 

just kidding lol. It turns out that Alicia got the flowers when she was picking up the drinks from there for the reception

crisis averted!! 

I’ll still cover your drinks though since I prob gave you a mini heart attack and Im very sorry about that 

“Huh,” you said, and you glanced back up at Rafe. “Looks like I was sent on a mission for flowers that weren’t even here.” 

“Elizabeth’s probably all over the place,” he said. “I mean, I’ve been kinda stressed out and I’m not even part of the wedding party. Bridal nerves have gotta be a lot worse.” But then Rafe paused and took his phone out of his pocket, and his brow creased. 

“What’s got you lookin’ like that?” you asked. 

“Huh,” he said. “Topper actually just had his pocket square in his… other pocket. So I guess I was here for nothing then, too.” 

A laugh bubbled out at that. “We’ve got some very organized friends today, huh?” 

“Seems so,” he agreed with a smile. “But I’m glad he misplaced it.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Rafe nodded, and he shrugged. “I got to see you.” 

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks at an astronomical rate, and you had never been more thankful for your phone to buzz. 

But seriously you gotta finish getting ready we have like five minutes left before the organ starts playing 

liz if this was not your day i would be so mad at you

please. you can never be mad at me 

“I gotta go before I single handedly ruin this whole procession,” you joked, and you went past the entrance and Rafe. But just as you got a few steps away, you turned around and smiled. “I’m also glad that Liz sent me here.” 

Rafe chuckled, smiling inwardly as you hurried away. You didn’t know it, but his eyes didn’t leave you for a second. 

-

The wedding ceremony went fabulously. 

You got back in time and finished getting ready—for some reason, you felt a lot more confident in your appearance—and walked down the aisle arm in arm with a very lovely groomsman before taking your place at the front of the bridesmaid line. 

You cried. A lot. 

When you saw Liz walking down the aisle, when you looked up at Nate and saw the way he gazed at her with all the stars in his eyes, when her father gave her away, when they said their vows, when they kissed, when they walked off—you were a mess basically the entire time. Thank god for waterproof mascara. 

And then when you sat with the bridesmaids for the Liz and Nate's first dance and the parent dances, you cried again. And when Ayana gave her Maid of Honor speech and Topper gave his Best Man speech—you were like a waterfall. A complete mess, but a very happy one at that. 

But you managed to stop by the bathroom and fix yourself up in record time before you all went off to your normal seating charts, and god, you had never been more glad to have done so when you walked in and saw who was at your table. 

Liz either knew everything or nothing, because this... this was really something. 

“So we meet again,” Rafe said, another easy smile appearing as he turned to look at you. “Looks like this wedding is trying to make up for all the years we missed.” 

You chuckled and took your seat next to him. “Guess so. It’s not an easy feat, though.” 

“Six years was a long time,” he said. 

“Didn’t really help that my parents sold our house in the OBX after I graduated,” you said dryly. “I missed all those Rafe Cameron summers during college.” 

“‘Rafe Cameron summer’?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t realize there was a word for it.” 

“What can I say?” you shrugged. “I graduated with an English minor. It allows me to make up phrases whenever I want.” 

“Ah,” he said, nodding sagely. “I guess my… finance concentration means I control the stock market?” 

You laughed and shook your head. “You’re ridiculous. It obviously means you’re the head of the treasury. Keep up, Rafe.” 

“My bad.” He held up his hands with mock austerity. “Our time apart is the reason for such a ridiculous mistake.” 

You smiled, but it sobered a bit and you bit your lip. “On a serious note,” you said, “I’m… I’m really sorry.” 

Rafe frowned. “For what?” 

“For that time apart,” you said. “I came back to North Carolina more than a few times to visit Liz and some other friends, but I never came to see you. We were— we were good friends, Rafe, and I shouldn’t have just disappeared on you like that all because I was at a different college.” 

Somehow, his brow furrowed even deeper. “What? You can’t possibly be blaming yourself for this—people grow apart in distance. That… that just happened to us. I mean, you were in California and I was in Chapel Hill. That’s crazy distance.” 

“I still came back, though,” you said. “Just… never for you.” 

“...I didn’t expect you to,” Rafe said, looking right in your eyes. “No matter how much…” 

“What?” you asked after he trailed off. 

Rafe sighed, then shook his head, trying to clear his mind before he looked back at you. “Do you wanna dance?” 

“What?” you repeated, mostly because you couldn’t believe it. 

“Dance with me.” He stood up and offered a hand, passing a glance at the dance floor. All of the official dances had been done already so it was open to anybody, including you and your high school crush. 

“Okay,” you said with an almost breathless laugh, and you really felt like your freshman self again the way butterflies fluttered in your chest as you took his hand and walked over to an open spot. 

You and Rafe fell into an easy rhythm, like you’d been doing this all your lives, and it didn’t take too long for your conversation to follow. 

“So what did you get up to in all those years at SD State?” he asked. “All I really know about your college career is what I’ve gotten from Instagram and your parents’ Facebooks.” 

You laughed a bit. “Regular college stuff, I guess. I did track all four years and I won some awards, which was pretty cool. Went to a lot of parties, got drunk a lot, swore off drinking a lot, studied until I thought my eyes were going to fall out, then graduated with a chemistry degree. I’ve been working as a technician in a lab for the company I interned with for the past two years.” 

Rafe whistled. “‘Regular college stuff’, she says, as she describes an insane balancing act between student athlete life, partying, and schoolwork, and still being able to graduate with a STEM degree.” 

“You’re such a flatterer,” you admonished, but there was no real bite in your words. “That’s one thing that’s never changed.” 

“It’s easy to flatter a woman like you,” he said. “I mean, you’re out there changing the world. I feel like I’m not even worthy to stand in your presence.” 

You chuckled as Rafe spun you, and as your hands joined once again you offered a coy smile. 

“You know,” you said, feeling a surge of confidence with his words, “I had the biggest crush on you in high school.” 

Rafe’s eyes widened slightly, but he covered it up with a well placed smile of his own. “Really?” he marveled, and he said your first and last name, “you had a crush on me?” 

“Yep,” you nodded. “And she had it bad. If freshman year me could see this, she would be losing her mind.” 

Rafe laughed, and it spurned butterflies in your chest yet again—they were the same kind you’d felt whenever you talked to him back then, trying to catch whatever moments you could between your busy schedule and his own responsibilities. You were too scared to admit your feelings, but you enjoyed spending time with him nonetheless. 

If there was one thing this was proving, though, it was that your feelings definitely weren’t as settled as you thought. 

“Well, you know,” he said thoughtfully, echoing your previous words as he brought you back to the present, “I had a pretty big crush on you in high school too.” 

That completely threw you off your rhythm. So much so that you stumbled, totally missing your next steps—if it weren’t for Rafe catching you, you would’ve face planted. 

“Are you good?” Rafe asked, concerned. 

“You had a crush on me?” you asked instead. 

He laughed again and ran a hand through his hair before you fell back into your rhythm together—he had let it grow out some, you realized, and it looked infinitely better all ruffled and mussed up than styled. 

“Yeah,” he said. His smile wasn’t as confident as it always was, a boyish charm mingling with unusual shyness. “It, uh— it kinda snuck up on me. I didn’t really know how big of a crush it was until I was at your signing ceremony. Like, right after you signed the contract was when I realized I had it bad.” 

“My signing ceremony?” you marveled, and you shook your head in disbelief. “You really have great timing, Rafe. Couldn’t have realized a couple years earlier when we were still in the same place?” 

Rafe laughed softly. “Yeah. I really do. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make it harder for you. I mean, I was staying in the OBX for Chapel Hill, and you were taking the opportunity of a lifetime to run track in San Diego. I wasn’t gonna take your mind off of that because some hometown guy had a crush on you.”

“Some hometown guy,” you repeated, and it was your turn to laugh. “You thought that little of yourself?” 

“It’s true,” he shrugged. “I was just a friend that fell for you. I mean,” he gave you a crooked smile, “not that it was hard to fall for you. Pretty sure I was one of ten guys who wanted to ask you to prom senior year.” 

“Okay, that is not true at all,” you said, but you were stumbling over yourself just as quickly. He wanted to ask you to prom senior year? When the one thing that you thought about whenever you looked at him that spring was dancing with him at prom? “Grant Millwood was the only one that asked me.”

Rafe nodded with a laugh. “That was because he threatened everyone that he knew had a crush on you to make sure he would get to go with you.”

“And then he ditched me halfway through the night because he got too drunk to function off the alcohol he smuggled in himself,” you said dryly. “Yeah, he was a great date.”

“High school was the best,” Rafe said with mock austerity, “wasn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. “I miss the kook academy every single day.”

“I still can’t believe you wanted to ask me to prom senior year,” you said, shaking your head. “Rafe, how did I not even know? Why didn’t you do it?” 

“And let you miss your chance with Grant Millwood?” Rafe over exaggerated his scoff. “Please.” 

A laugh spilled out as a smile shone through. “You would’ve saved high school me a lot of angst if you told her you had a crush on her, y’know. Then I wouldn’t have had to spend four years pining in high school.” And four more in college, and two more postgrad. 

(God, you wish he had told you sooner. You would’ve blown all of your money on tickets to North Carolina if you had even the slightest inkling your eternal feelings weren’t eternally hopeless.) 

“Goes both ways,” he said, tacking on your last name. “Why didn’t you tell me how bad you had it?” 

“Because I thought that there was no chance in Hell that Rafe Cameron would ever share my feelings?” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, Rafe—you know who you are, who you were. You say a couple guys wanted to ask me to prom—every girl wanted to date you. I didn’t stand a chance.” 

“And yet you did,” Rafe said with a slight chuckle. He shook his head. “Y’know, if I could turn back the clock, I would’ve done so many things differently.” Rafe smiled boyishly. “I would’ve mustered the nerve to ask you to prom before Grant even got the chance. And I definitely would’ve asked you out instead of liking you in private.” 

You smiled and shrugged. He liked you then when you thought there was no chance—why not now, when you also thought there was no chance? 

“Who says you have to turn back the clock?” 

Rafe’s own grin grew immediately, and he pulled you off to the side of the dance floor. He held your hands in his own, the cool metal of his signet ring at odds with the rough calluses on his palms brushing against your skin. 

He said your name with such earnesty you felt like you could melt, and when you gazed into his eyes, you nearly did. “I think you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in every single way. I can’t believe that it took me meeting you by chance at a wedding for me to do this, but I’d like to fix a mistake I made five years ago by never doing this. Can I take you on a date?” 

“Rafe Cameron,” you said, and it was a physical effort to contain the joy nearly bursting out of you, “I would love that more than anything.” 

He grinned. “Great.” 

And then he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you in for the best kiss of your life, one that you immediately fell into with all the vigor of six years spent longing. 

When he pulled away, leaving you completely breathless with widened eyes and bruised lips, his sultry whisper nearly took you out. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years.” 

You only had eyes for Rafe as you pulled him back into a heated kiss, pulling him by the cuffs of his baby blue suit. The only thing that got you away from him was the need for air.

"Me too," you murmured.

(And in the background, you were far too dazed to hear Liz’s victorious cheer.)

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator @louderfortheback 

obx tags: @milkiane @lilgoddesshines @sexytholland

rafe tags: @lurkymurker

[mxtantrights]

Steve Harrington headcanons

forced friends to strangers to friends 

maybe you have known Steve since kindergarten because Hawkins is fairly small and everyone knows everyone. Your parents know each other but for some reason that relationship doesn’t translate to you guys.

it’s not something rooted in hate either. You just don’t mesh well (yet)

but the two of you still talk from time to time in grade school.

Steve needs a crayon? You’re his second option after some kid named Tommy. 

You’re about to throw away your carrots that are packed in your lunchbox? You offer them to Steve.

it’s a casual acquaintance that follows all through middle school. 

And then the summer before high school, you two have grown up obviously but word on the playground is that Steve has become cuter.

internally you didn’t ever think of him as cute but you decide to take a look at him on the first day to understand what everyone’s talking about. 

the first day of high school is upon you and you see him. He looks he same as he usual does. Like Steve. The boy you should have been friends with on account of your parents but that didn’t work out.

You keep that thinking with you when the other girls in school seem to take in his new look. A couple of girls remember you talking to him in middle school and try to ask for his number. You deliver the disappointing blow when you tell them you are not actual friends with him.

This occurrence, of girls asking for his info, doesn’t happen too often after that.

Steve starts hanging out with a new crowd. Particularly the crowd of kids that used to bit other kids on the playground in elementary school. Tommy H. Carol. 

You keep to your small band of merry idiots in high school, and Steve to his. 

You start babysitting for a kid on his block named George. The house where you baby-sit is just three doors down from the Harrington’s 

From Wednesday to Friday you are on his block from 5pm to 10pm making sure George has dinner, brushes his teeth and is in bed by 9pm.

 And at least once a week, you hear him and his friends walking around the block. Loud and making crude jokes. But you don’t say anything.

This goes on from freshman year to sophomore year. Only he seems to get even more annoying. It’s like he and Tommy H. merged brains and have become one hive mind. It freaks you out that your parents ever wanted you to be friends with him.

At school you share no classes with him for two years. Which is a comfort because you don’t want to have to inhabit the same space as him, but you also wonder to yourself if he would even talk to you.

It’s not until Junior year that you share three classes with him. History, Trig and Chem. These were classes you didn’t really care about too much.

You were never really more than a B+ student. School, while it wasn’t hell for you, was fine. You knew you could apply yourself if you wanted but you didn’t really care. Whatever level of effort you were putting in now was keeping your parents and teachers happy and that’s all there was to it.

It’s not until October that Steve notices you share three classes together. You’re not sure why it takes him that long but you figure that Tommy and Carol have siphoned brain cells from him for so long he can’t tell what’s what.

He tries to make small talk to you several times but you shoot him down.

And then somewhat shortly after he’s hanging around Nancy Wheeler. They become the talk of the hallways. Sweet girl Nancy and the King Steve was all you heard about from your friends.

It’s in November that everything begins to change for you. 

You have been saving up money from babysitting to go on a trip with your friends to go to New York for Christmas. You’re halfway there too.

And then Will Byers goes missing. And you don’t know what connection that had to George’s family but they quite literally pack up their shit and leave Hawkins with their kid.

You would miss George, he was a good kid. But even worse his parents were overpaying you because they were the type to throw money at problems and people. 

There was no way you could make the other half of the money before Christmas. 

And so you’re plans are ruined.

This makes you an even worse student. There are about three quizzes and two essays that you get low grades on. 

Your parents are a disappointed. So are your teachers. You’re close to being grounded if your grades don’t improve.

It’s safe to say you’re feeling down on your luck. 

That’s why you go to the gas station and buy yourself a beer. You don’t know how you got away with it but you did. 

When you exit the mini-mart, there are three people waiting for you. Steve, Tommy and Carol. 

You would never be in the mood to talk to any of them. But after having all this news hit you the past few days you are not in the mood to even see them. You try to move around them but they crowd around you.

Carol asks how you got your beer. Tommy makes a comment that you know is borderline misogynistic. And Steve just stands there, staring at you.

You tell them all to fuck off, to which Tommy scoffs and Carol actually puts her hands on you. She pushes you, not enough to send you flying but enough for the beer bottle in your hand to fall and crack on the ground. 

It was your boiling point. 

You turn around and you don’t even say anything. You just return a right hook to her face. She’s down on the ground sobbing about her face and Tommy is trying to comfort her. 

Steve though he’s just standing watching you.

You tell him to get better friends or you’ll keep punching the one’s he’s got now.

And that’s the last thing you say to Steve Harrington that year. 

In a tipsy state you think you hallucinate seeing a creature with a flower for a face, but you think nothing of it as more than an alcohol induced vision.

You make it home that night with the help of chief Hopper, who promises not to tell your parents that you were out underage drinking. And you tipsily give him tips on what kids are into now-a-days and let him know about the creature you might have imagined in your head.

You’re friends reschedule the Christmas trip to spring break and you turn your grades around for the better. At the end of the year you actually end up on the honor roll for the fall semester. And you find a new kid to babysit, Dustin Henderson.

Dustin is fun. He’s a nerd and it’s really fun to babysit a nerd you think because he’s way smarter than you and can help you with history and you just have to make him little snacks for his games.

Of course you hear about Steve’s fallout with Tommy and Carol. You think good on him for ditching them. But that’s about all you think of him.

You take way less money from Mrs.Henderson than you did from George’s family. Morally she was a single mom and taking money from her felt wrong. But you knew she wouldn’t let you babysit for free.

You find a way to give any heft tips back to her in a way. A ten dollar bill stuffed into her jacket pocket, a five tucked between mail envelopes. 

Spring break time approaches in a flash and you managed to raise enough money for the trip with your friends.

The trip is about four days. You all spend it doing fun stuff around the city. Empire state, central park, all the usual spots. And a couple of hidden gems. 

When you get back you’re back to normal life. School, babysitting, hanging out with your friends. And apparently waving to Steve in the hallways. You don’t know how that happens.

Summer quickly approaches. You finish up junior year with the highest GPA average you’ve ever had. And that’s really thanks to Dustin because he’s helped you study a lot.

You’re able to convince your parents to loan out one of their cars to you. And they give you the old yellow Volkswagen. It was a joke to them of course but it meant for freedom for you.

Your parents host a 4th party at your house. They invite all of their friends as usual and they hint (meaning they took it upon themselves) at inviting Steve. They had heard he lost his friends and wanted you to step up this time.

To your utter surprise Steve shows up with his parents and Nancy Wheeler. You’re the only three older kids at the party which is annoying because you’d actually rather hang out with the younger kids than third wheel Nancy and Steve.

You hang out with them until sundown when you create an excuse to leave. Your friends were waiting to meet up with you to light some fireworks. And you leave two of them at your house with pleasantries and satisfying smile, driving your yellow buggy to the quarry all alone and sit in peace and quiet, and fireworks. 

Over the summer you babysit Dustin a bit more. And surpsiginly you grow a bit closer to the other boys. You befriend Will and Lucas pretty easily. Mike not so much. He’s a bit of a tiny asshole that one.

By the end of the summer all the boys know your name and how to placate you into giving them another hour for them to play their game, and how to politely ask for more chips.

When school starts up again your on a roll. You’re hanging out with your friend group which has grown a little bit. And you’re keeping up with your grades, honor roll status maintained. And you do not have any classes with Steve Harrington.

By October you're used to taking the boys to Palace Arcade. They have been trying to get you to join their campaign but you have been refusing because you have no idea how the game works. The boys are on about some Max guy but you don’t stress it. 

Your friends want to go to Tina’s Halloween party. Which means by some cruel stroke of fate, you’re going to Tina’s party. They tell you this a week in advance so you have no excuse about a faulty costume to bail on them.

What happens at the party is weird. Your dressed up as Tom Cruise (white dress shirt, white tube socks) from Risky business. It was the only thing you could come up with that didn’t feel like you were succumbing to sexist costumes. 

You run into Steve in the bathroom.This is pre break up with Nancy but you don’t know this yet. All you know is that you’re both dressed as Tom Cruise and it’s a bit awkward so you make a joke about two Tom cruises walking into a bathroom. You both laugh at the horrible joke.

Then you’re going your separate ways. It’s as simple as that. 

It’s not until the next day at school that you hear about the break up between Steve and Nancy. Someone started a nasty rumor that he was in the bathroom with someone else and got caught.

Your heart sinks. It sinks to the bottom of your stomach and you don’t know what to do or how to stop the rumor. While on one hand no one is throwing your name around, you think it might be a matter of time before they do. Add onto the fact that you and Steve didn’t do anything in the bathroom, you don’t think of him in that way- yes he was good looking but you don’t- do you? 

To make things worse, in the hallways before the week ends you see Billy Hargrove eyeing you up. It makes your skin crawl. Oh and Mrs.Henderson leaves a teary voicemail that her cat Mews has vanished- you’re on babysitting duty as she goes on a search party for one.

When you make it to the Henderson home no one is there. Which is weird because usually Dustin comes home to check-in with his mom. Or at least leave a note. 

You wait up, trying to be a good babysitter and cover for dustin wherever he may be so he doesn’t get in trouble with his mom.

Until you hear noises from outside. You think something nefarious (test coming up next week on collegiate words) is afoot so you go out to investigate. When you bump into Steve and Dustin and a bat with nails you start screaming at them to tell you what’s going on.

Dustin is hesitant to involve you. He likes you very much, his mom thinks he might have a crush on you, and wants you no where near any of the Upside Down stuff.

Within five minutes you’re blackmailing him to tell you the truth and he does. All of it. Starting with Will’s disappearance last year all the way up to now and his little pet experiment. 

You leave a note for Dustin’s mom about going to one of the other boy’s houses. 

That’s how you find yourself with Steve and Dustin buying chunks of meat. Not to eat but to feed a growing creature. You leave a trail as soon as morning hits.

It’s a dumb plan. To lure a creature that sounds like it crawled out of an alien movie, into a junk yard and capture it. But you’re not sure what to think or why Steve is here helping.

And when Steve gives his horrible advice to Dustin, who at the end turns around for your stamp of approval, you shake your head with wild eyes. Absolutely cringing at whatever the hell a sexual storm was.

Between rolling barrels and scraps for the plan in the junk yard, where you gain two members, Lucas and a girl named Max, you try to relive your conscious of the guilt you feel for his break up with Nancy.

He tells you that it wasn’t because of you and that their relationship was headed down for a long time and he didn’t notice. And he makes a joke about nothing happening between the two Tom Cruises in the bathroom, and you laugh.

By nightfall you realize the gravity of the situation. Dustin had told you before the sun set that you were still free to go but you didn’t take that chance. No way. Not when he could die our here. And then you realized, you could die out here.

When the demo dogs start attacking that’s when it hits you. What you saw almost a year ago was not some hallucination, it was real. You say as much while battling the dogs. 

You actually get the last hit in with Steve’s hairspray on the demo dog that crawls on top of the bus (which you have to claim as your own) and a lighter before the dogs are called to someplace else.

On the way back it’s admitted that Dustins new pet ate his old pet and ou let out gasp full of horror. Of course Mews hated you by some sort of defect but still, cats never deserved the best rep they got. 

Instead of running away from the sinister growling you all run towards it 

That’s when you meet up with Nancy and Jonathan. You can’t help to look at Steve when he says Nancy’s name, he was so not over her. You have an inkling as to why you care but you would not even speak it in your mind.

Nancy and Jonathan go inside the lab while you five wait outside for what feels like forever. All of a sudden one car drives by and then Chief Hopper pulls up and is telling you all to get in. 

In the car you mention to Hopper in the silence that what you saw that day when he picked you up for public intoxication was real and he admits to lying to you for your own safety. To which you roll your eyes.

Dustin and Steve are still confused as to how you were picked up by Hopper but decide to keep that to themselves.

You all meet at the Byers house. 

That’s when you get to sit down after being alert all day. The adrenaline had worn off. Someone grabs you a juice box and at first you think it’s Dustin but it turns out to be Mike, who you thank.

you head to the bathroom to be alone for a second.

But Steve, who had been watching you since you all entered the house, doesn’t think you should be alone. He knocks on the door about ten seconds after you close it.

You don’t realize your crying until Steve comforts you. Like as in, he wrap you in a hug even though you’ve talked to him more today than you have in a couple of years.

The two of you leave the bathroom, just like you did at the party, and go your separate ways a bit. You hang around the kids while you can see Steve lingering around Nancy.

When a girl walks through the door in between everyone talking about the ongoing situation everyone quiets down. The girl and Hopper hug and then the girl and Mike hug. 

Not too long after Will’s mom and brother and Nancy take Will somewhere else, Hooper and Eleven leave the house too.

That leaves you and Steve with the kids. Who are antsy to do something, anything to help.

Steve manages to calm them down but that last not a moment too long when a car pulls up in the driveway. Max says she recognizes it as Billy’s car.

Madness issues. Steve tries to keep Billy outside but it doesn’t last because he points out to Max from the window she’s peeking from. He storms his way in and is all fried up until he sees you.

He asks why you’re here and your shrug your shoulders at him, not wanting to talk to him at all. And so he gets angry again and starts raging about hitting Lucas. 

You pull Lucas away just in time for Steve to land a punch on Billy. You all watch the two go at it before Steve is down for the count. You hide Lucas and Max behind you as Billy tries to corner you three.

He grabs you all of a sudden and is sending you into a wall. Dustin and Mike rush to your side while Lucas and Max try to fend for themselves. Billy has Lucas in his grip, and it makes you sick. 

You get up to your feet again and whack him in the back. He lets go of Lucas and lunges for you. That’s when Max pricks him with a needle. And then all of tat anger along with the rest of his body is going down and he’s on the floor.

Max makes him promise to leave all of you alone and he agrees. You’re the one to take the bat away from her slowly.

And then you’re driving Steve’s car, him in the back passed out from his injuries, being told directions from Lucas how to get to the tunnel. When he wakes up Steve starts screaming and you almost miss the turn so you drift the car to correct your mistake and everyone goes crazy.

When you get to the tunnels it’s game time. You and Steve lead the charge to light the tunnels on fire. 

In the end, Steve drops the kids off at their respective homes. He saves Dustin for last because he knows your car is at his house. You walk Dustin in and talk to his mom for a bit, fully expecting Steve and his car to be gone when you get back outside. But he’s still there...

The both of you follow each other home. And when you see Steve go into his house, front door and all, you know his parents aren’t home. So you do what any normal person would.

You get back into your car and drive it down the block, away from watchful eyes, and walk to Steve’s house. You knock on the door for a bit until he comes to open it.

And out of your mouth tumbles a poor excuse of staying at his because you told your parents that you would spend the night at one of your friends houses. Steve welcomes you in anyways.

He offers you the guest room and you take it.

That’s the night that you and Steve finally feel like friends, or on the road to being friends.

[tastyykpop]

𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑢𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛-Final

Pairings: jaemin x reader

Genre: smut, fluff (mostly at the end but it's short 🤠)

<previous>

Warnings: dom!jaemin, brat!reader, brat taming, punishment, overstimulation, edging, face slapping (literally slaps her once), choking (wOw iM sO sHocKeD), hair grabbing, degradation, jaemins gets angrier throughout the story, fingering, finger sucking, praising, unprotected sex, soft sex, y/ns pretty dumb but I think we knew that by now, once again jaemin calls himself nana because shut up

Tag list: @ahgastayzen @allykookiez @wooyugta @dreamlesswonder86 @taetaeismy @nanaysa @patchi-chi @simplicitysbabe @sweetjaemss @huangvibez @kaitherring @xxjaemchenct

It was obvious how tense and awkward jaemin was the entire time you stayed at his house, which lasted longer than you thought. You stayed for two days, per jaemins request, and you thought what if he's finally angry and decides to break. No, it was the complete and utter opposite. Jaemin was sweet, something you've barely seen when he used to bully or make fun of you before all this happened. He made sure you were okay staying with him another night and took care of you when you weren't hungover.

Did anything special happen though? Nope, just you and jaemin cuddling every so often while binge watching Netflix shows while he sometimes cracked jokes here and there.

It was definitely a sight to see. Even made you wonder if this is what its like to date him.

"Nana," you spoke, jaemin lifting his head off your shoulders to give you his attention, "Get up, we need to go to school."

Jaemin groaned, putting his head down on your pillow like chest and began, "Can't we just skip school?" He whined, "Maybe play a bit too?" Jaemin lifted his chin up, placing it on top of your breasts as he pouted, waiting for you to give into his cuteness.

Wouldn't that be nice- but you weren't going to miss school to mess around with jaemin. No way. You weren't even his girlfriend yet and you were sure his little play thing, seulgi, wouldn't be too happy, shes been calling him since he brought you here.

"No." You grabbed him by his hair and peeled him off your body. Jaemin wasn't very amused by the action.

"Oh i get it." He mumbled, "You want to see jeno, right?"

The question caught you off guard. But jaemin being jealous wasn't unknown to you anymore. He was possessive, that much you knew, and he always found a way to guilt trip you about it.

"I mean, we have been talking a lot more so a lil bit." You smiled, earning an eye roll from jaemin as he got up with nothing else to say and stalked his closet for something to wear. You glanced at your clothes which were actually his. And since you never went back to your apartment to get another outfit, you had to wear what you wore at the party.

Eyes stared into your bare back after you threw off the shirt that covered your body. They lingered, but didn't settle on staying until you slipped the bralette on.

Jaemin was going to comment about it, yet kept his mouth shut because there was no use saying he could give you a t-shirt instead, youd just complain about how it didn't match.

But the skirt was a different story. It was a party skirt, something way too short for school. No wonder jeno liked it. And to be honest, jaemin didn't hate it himself, he'd just rather not have people like jeno staring at you and your thighs. You were his. At least in his head you were.

"Fuck!" You screamed, "My bags at home." Softening your voice, jaemin just about wanted to smack you for scaring the shit out of him. He actually thanked the heavens your bag wasn't here, it gave you a reason to change.

"Let's go to your place quickly before school starts." Jaemin grabbed his things and you nodded, following behind him almost speed walking because of how long his strides were. "And change when we get there too."

You looked down at your fit and hummed, stepping into the car ready for jaemin to go.

"I don't think I can handle trig anymore." You bit your lip at the paper in hand. Jaemin looked down over your shoulder and almost scoffed. It was the homework due today, of course it was also one of the hardest pages the professor had given the class too, making it ten times harder for you to finish.

"If you had come over these past few nights, you wouldn't be so stressed." Jaemin shrugged.

It was like you knew he would say that with the way you rolled your eyes and crumpled the paper up, "Im actually thinking of dropping that class." You stated.

"Dont." He rested a hand on your shoulder, "Come over later and I'll help you." It wasn't even a question, in fact it was him telling you to do something. Its clear jaemins had enough of you ignoring him and hes also fed up with your complaining. Even wondered why you held out this long.

"But-"

"I'm not taking no for an answer anymore." Jaemin stated sternly as he sighed, stopping in front of your classroom and put his hands in his pocket. "Stop trying to ignore me," he leaned forward, just inches away from your face, "its not working."

"Just because you think its not working doesn't mean its not working...." You tilted your head to the side questioning your own words, "Anyway, you're jealous." Crossing your arms and leaning against the wall, your ego fed off of jaemins glaring eyes.

"Bullshit," jaemin tsked, "why would I be jealous?"

You smirked despite knowing you were playing a dangerous game with him. And jaemins good at playing games, he's done it to you for years.

You took a step forward, ultimately getting closer to his still leaned over figure and said, "You kept staring at jeno and I at the cafe and you had an attitude the entire time. Its obvious you know." Slithering a hand up his cheek, you pinched his smooth skin, "Nanas jealous."

It was an understatement to say jaemin didn't feel shivers go up his spine from your low voice. For once jaemin didn't have anything to come up with. Nothing crossed his mind to tell you that what you saw of him wasn't him being jealous, but that would be the dumbest of lies.

"Quiet for once? That's a first." You snickered at the small shade of red on his cheeks. It was either anger or him actually getting flustered. Either way you still claimed victory for keeping him surprisingly quiet.

Jaemin pulled your hand away from his face and opened his mouth, "Admit that you're purposely doing it then. There's no way you and jeno are magically good friends now. You hate him just as much as you hated me."

"Im not purposely making you jealous," you lied, "And I never hated jeno, just strongly disliked him for being friends with you."

The older almost laughed in your face from how stupid your lie was. "If you want my attention, say it." He smirked, proceeding to push you against the wall behind you without a second thought making you uncross your arms, "Its not hard y/n."

His hands trailed down to your waist, intensly watching your face as you looked around him, afraid that what he'd do will go too far and some students will see a not so innocent sight.

"Youre full of yourself." You inhaled sharply as he leaned forward ever so closely, just barely brushing his lips over yours.

"And you'll be full of nana soon." Jaemin almost closed the space between you with his lips, but someone stopped him.

"Jaemin!!!" Seulgi came running up to jaemin in her cute high heeled shoes. Her hair bouncing perfectly against her back as she pulled him away from you and into a hug, not before she planted a kiss to his lips as if you weren't standing right there, "I haven't seen you in so long, babe. You didn't call." She pouted with more puppy eyes than normal.

You missed the way jaemin growled at her, almost throwing seulgi off him since you were so focused on them kissing. Never did you think you'd witness it either. Something about it made your stomach churn and you couldnt bare stand there for long before walking away, taking zero notice of the way jaemin called out for you.

"Let's get some coffee before the bell rings." Seulgi pulled jaemin, but his eyes still lingered on the door you entered.

You couldnt stop your mind from racing in class. It was like your mind was playing games on you, telling you that jaemin wasn't in the slightest interested in you and thats why he never answered you, because he was too embarrassed to be seen with someone like you.

But that was only you overthinking.

Obviously jaemin cared for you, he wouldnt have let you stay over his house, tutored you, or be possessive when it came to you. So why did he kiss her back? In front of you too? Was he actually dating her for real?

These questions ran through your head, giving you a mini headache from thinking too hard about it.

It was like you were in high school all over again where everything was dramatic for no reason, well in some aspects you made it this way, but your point still stands.

"Y/n," someone tapped the table repeatedly, bringing you back to reality, "Class is over." jeno looked at you with suspicion but brushed it off thinking you were probably tired.

You glanced around the empty room before looking back at jeno, "Oh...yeah."

"Well uh," he scratched the back of his head, "You should probably get to your next class."

That's the last thing you wanted to do. Jaemin would be there and so was one of seulgis minions that always kept an eye out for anything he did. As annoying as it was, you weren't surprised anymore.

"Im gonna skip."

Jeno grimaced as you stood up and grabbed your things, walking towards the rooms exit as he followed close behind, "You? Skip? What the fuck??"

You stopped in your tracks, jeno almost bumbing into you in the process, "Do I need to spell it out for you or something? S-k-"

"No shut up. Its just shocking that your skipping." Jeno half grinned at the way you stared at him stoically.

"What are you getting at?"

The man before you chuckled, "Im saying youre a goody two shoes and you've never done a bad thing in your life."

You can't say he was wrong, but you also have to admit that you have stepped out of your shell recently and maybe for the better.

"Everyone changes some time in their lives." You pointed out, strolling out of the class to nowhere specific. "Better run to class jeno, dont want the teacher calling you put again."

"Yeah yeah." He eye smiled, giving you a quick pat on the back before saying bye and walking to his class.

You couldnt help but smile at him as he moved further and further away. You had to admit, jeno wasn't as bad as you thought. Not anymore anyway. But as jeno soon disappeared around a corner, you sighed and sauntered to the library where you were going to do your work until class ended.

Students were scattered everywhere in the library, some typing away at their laptops or school computers while others had papers and books sprawled out in front of them. Unfortunately for you, you were going to be the ones with almost any school supply in front of them. And with a sigh and slouched shoulders, you sat at an empty desk near the front of the library, taking your homework out as well as some books.

Normally it wouldn't be a problem for you to focus, but it was stressful with so many things laid out for you. Face palming and groaning quietly at your trig paper, you attempted the first problem which honestly didn't seem too bad, but you weren't always so sure of yourself when doing these kinds of things. Mostly because you second guessed yourself making you pick the wrong answer when you were originally right.

"This is so fucking stupid." You threw your head into your hands, giving up on trying since it was useless anyway. You needed jaemin. He was the only reason you started getting some good grades on your work.

"Whats stupid?"

Speak of the devil.

"The trig home- wait why aren't you in class?" You gazed at him before averting your eyes, not trying to let them linger too long.

Jaemin pulled a chair out and sat closely beside you, raising a brow as you inched away from him. "I could ask you the same thing." He tipped the chair back a little, keeping his eyes locked on the side of your stoic face.

"Im doing something if you can't tell." You snapped, instantly regretting the way your voice raised once you noticed jaemin clenching his jaw out the corner of your eye. But you couldnt help it, you were still frustrated, embarrassed, and jealous from earlier.

"Whats wrong?" Jaemin calmed himself, not wanting to blow up at you.

"Nothing." You ignored his eyes that watched you do out the problem. Probably silently telling you that it was all wrong but you weren't trying to pay attention to him.

"Youre doing it again."

"Doing what? I'm just trying to do my work." After writing your answer down, you checked over tbe work before you smiled to yourself. This had to be the right answer.

"Stop playing dumb." he grabbed your chin, "You know what you're doing."

Wiggling out of his grasp was no use, jaemin managed to move his hand to your jaw to keep you still.

You winced at the sudden squeeze, "I dont know what you're talking about."

Jaemin had enough of this bullshit, now grabbing your neck instead. Your eyes wondered the room hoping no one was paying attention, "Im not playing games with you. Why are you ignoring me again?"

"That's a good question." You looked away and though jaemims grip was starting to hurt more each second, you still found a way to show your disinterest.

Jaemin sighed, letting his hand drop and you inhaled deeply without a second thought. "Whats wrong then?"

"I told you its nothing."

"Bullshit." Jaemin took the pencil out of your hand just as you were about to write, your hand flying up to try and take it back but he pulled away.

"You really wanna know then?" You asked sharply to which jaemin nodded, "You kissed seulgi. Happy now?"

Jaemins mouth fell at your confession. Yes he figured that upset you a bit, but he never thought it was enough for you to ignore him.

"I never even went that far with jeno."

"Never went that far, huh?" He snapped back, shaking his head in disbelief as his face once again was steaming with anger. "Need i remind you how you made out with him at the party. Or were you that wasted and cant remember?"

The new found anger overlapped the previous one with more than just anger, but annoyance. There was no way jaemin was telling the truth, you would never kiss jeno.

"No i didnt."

"Dont tell me you didn't, I fucking saw it." His hand found its way on the table creating a loud bam that startled not only you, but a few kids that even lifted their heads to see what caused the noise. "You were the first one to go that far, so blame yourself before you blame me."

Taking a deep breath, you had to calm down before you said something you'd regret. Knowing jaemin too, you already had something waiting for you at his house.

"I believe you." Jaemin was ready to open his mouth but you were quick and responded, "because i remember." The problem with this answer was because it was untruthful. You already dug yourself a whole from the beginning yet you knew what you were getting yourself into. There was something about playing with jaemins anger that made you go wild.

Determined with your lie, you kept the straightest face like it was proof you recalled that night. Jaemin too was focused only on your face, his hand balling into a fist ever so slowly.

"I remember....he was a really good kisser," you whispered, "And you looked so mad." Snickering away at your words, you placed a hand on jaemins lap and watched his expression go from anger to almost frothing at the mouth.

Bingo. He was too far gone to see through you at this point and this is where you smirked to yourself.

"You're unbelievable." He scoffed, rolling his eyes thinking about how fed up he was, "Lets go."

Despite being told what to do, you sat looking between jaemin and your sprawled out homework. "I have things to do."

Jaemin literally shoved all your papers into your bag, not caring how they crumpled in the small space as you complained and swatted at his arm. Of course though, jaemin payed no mind to it, grabbing your hand and bag before dragging you out of the library.

You fought and struggled to get out of his grip. From the start you knew what you were getting into, that's why you did what you did. Now being dragged to his house it dawned on you that it was time to suffer whatever he had in mind.

"When we get to my house," jaemin locked his eyes with yours as he led you to his car, "We'll study trig, and depending on my mood and your attitude after, I might go easy with the punishment later."

"Im not going over to study and then be punished afterwards." Your voice faltered as you saw a familiar someone walking towards you and jaemin.

Jenos eyes lit up sadistically, smiling at you, telling you to smile back for one reason: to set jaemin off.

You did without hesitation, jaemins hold getting tighter and tighter as he glared at his best friend who walked by, holding the proudest grin on his face.

Once at the car, jaemin shoved you inside the passenger seat, slamming the door before he situated himself in the drivers side. Your eyes watched in annoyance yet you were intrigued. Maybe because you haven't had any action with jaemin since about a week ago.

Resting your head against the headrest, you stared outside the window. There wasn't any way you could hold another conversation with the man, it would only drive your hormones insane.

Its been thirty minutes and to say you were paying attention would be the stupidest thing ever. every word that jaemin said went in one ear and out the other. Some part of you was purposely choosing to ignore him, but your attention span was almost non existent in the first place. So listening to jaemin talk about trigonometry was only boring you.

You tapped out, playing with your pencil or doodling on the paper. Each time you weren't paying attention, jaemin would ask you to write down the answer or a land a slap right on your thigh. It stung and made up jump with shock in your eyes as jaemin told you the same thing each time: "pay attention." But did you? God no. It was impossible. With the thought of a punishment too, it made your mind run like it was in a marathon.

"Little girl," jaemins voice once again brought you back to reality, "what did nana just say?" You shrugged your shoulders slightly, keeping your head down like you were shy yet you were far from it, holding a small grin on your innocent face.

"I dont know, nor do I care." You finally looked up. Jaemin was none too happy, letting his chest fall.

Shaking his head, he said once more to listen and pay attention.

Jaemin took your pencil so he could write out the problem for you, deciding to be nice even though you weren't returning it. You watched the way his pretty hands flexed with every number or letter he wrote. The subtle veins showing every so often too made you almost drool at the sight. Oh what you would do to have him wrap his hands around your neck again.

"Solve it." Jaemin threw the pencil down in front of you, resting his head in his hand to watch you. But you didn't move, not even a simple budge.

"No."

"Y/n its not that fucking hard, just solve it."

You glanced at the paper then the pencil that laid on the table before grabbing it and snapping it in half.

"Im not doing it." You faked a smile, ready for jaemin to snap just like the pencil.

"You need to pass this class, y/n. Stop messing around and pay attention."

You shot up from your seat, "I. Dont. Care. I'm going home."

It wasn't long before he suddenly stood up too, grabbing you by the hair and threw you on his bed, "Okay you wanna act up?" He hovered over you, pinning your arms down on the soft bed as he straddled your lower half. "I dont get why you continue to act like a brat when you know you're going to be punished. Unless you want it?" Jaemins face was merely inches in front of yours not until you blew into his face and smirked when he flinched and pulled away.

"Ever wonder why I act this way? Your easy to push, I can get in your head and make you get mad so I get exactly what I want." You snickered, "Not to mention its to make you suffer for not answering my question." A hand was placed on his covered chest, rubbing small circles on the fabric of the shirt.

Suddenly, jaemin laughed. Though, it wasn't a joyful one. It was more sadistic and filled with amusement, "How is it making me suffer if you're the one about to be punished?"

"Cuz i still get what I want in the end."

"My dick or my attention?"

"Both."

Jaemnn chuckled dryly, quickly sitting back and tearing your clothes off without a second thought.

You were ready to protest about your clothes until jaemin took matters in his own hands and shoved his fingers nearly down your throat to shut you up.

"Im tired of your voice." He spat, "All you talk is shit."

Whimpering around his fingers, you tried anything in your power to try and pry them out. He never moved back, sticking his fingers deeper and deeper until he heard you gag and whine the best you could. Your throat felt so tight and it was getting harder to breathe. Jaemin didn't care, deciding to just fuck your mouth with his fingers as he started pulling your pants and panties down, lifting his hips up so he can take them off all the way.

"It would be so much nicer if you weren't a brat you know." Jaemin began, easily shoving two fingers inside your dripping cunt, "Nana could've stuffed you full of his cock, made love to you, and made you happy. Instead," his fingers that were buried in your heat, curled and pushed in a certain way that made your eyes roll, "You wanted to be a little bitch."

You drew out a long hum, the pleasure felt so good after pushing jaemin for so long. All his anger was going to this one punishment and you should've felt scared, but you weren't. You were excited and loved every bit of it.

The way he fingered you was almost too surreal. It made your body crumple against his will and he wasn't even fucking you yet.

It was getting harder to breathe being filled by his two fingers. Just barely becoming too overwhelming so you tapped his hand to signal you needed to breathe. Jaemin took his hand out, watching your face to make sure you were okay as you gasped for air.

"Are y-you try-trying to kill me or s-something?" You moaned at one particular hard thrust that made your breath hitch.

"Oh shut up, I know you liked it. Probably imagined my cock down your throat." He bit his lip, taking in the thought of what you would look like on your knees for him before shaking it off.

"I-i was n-not."

Jaemin smirked devishly, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out more, but you kept clenching around him. Your hand grabbed his wrists in a death grip, moans fell from your open mouth and jaemin ate that all up. Loving how your body shook, knowing you were so close.

Right when you felt your orgasm coming, jaemin ripped his fingers out of you, essentially letting your juices flow out. But you didn't cum, no you were just that wet.

Your hips lifted up like you would get friction but there was nothing to get friction from, you looked dumb and pathetic.

"Not fair..." you mumbled, frowning at the annoying smirk on jaemins face.

"Punishments aren't supposed to be fair," he said a matter of factly, pushing your hips back down on your bed as he grazed his fingers over your wetness before pushing back in again.

This time setting a ruthless pace, taking in your fucked out expression.

"Jaemin- please im s-so close." Fidgeting and clawing at his wrists, the orgasm built back up. It got closer, closer, closer. Right there, it was right there, but jaemin took it away from you again.

"God, I love this way more than I should. Breaking a brat is so much fun." His fingers dripped with your arousal. He stared at the strand connecting his fingers. It was so much and so lewd, it should've been embarrassing to you yet it made him want more from you. "How many times should nana edge his pretty girl? Maybe-"

"Fuck you." You cried, ready to take this into your own hands and finish yourself off.

Jaemins hand made a perfect necklace on your neck, tightening his grip on the sides so you felt all his anger, "Thats the last thing I would say if I were you."

"W-what are y-you gonna do? Spank me?" Thinking he actually would if you said that, you were slapped across the face, eyes not staring at jaemin anymore but the wall next to the bed.

"Dont test me anymore, your already in for it." He growled into your ear. Leaving his hand wrapped around your neck, he slipped back inside, this time fucking his fingers into you at an antagonizing slow pace.

You wanted to scream and push him away for being a tease, but you reminded yourself that this is what you wanted, this was what you'll get. You had no idea how long this pain will continue though. All you could think about was cumming. In fact, that was the only thing on your mind as he fingered your tight pussy. The pain of not being able to orgasm was so unbearable, it just about made your eyes tear up. Were you that desperate that you'd cry over it?

"I wanna...c-cum so bad..."

The man above you stared at you in disbelief. He basically just started and you were already a mess.

"You really want to cum that badly?" You nodded hastily, tears at the brink of falling, you couldnt hold it in anymore, "Then apologize for all the shit you put us through. Starting with you ignoring me, fake dating jeno, and purposely pissing me off for the hell of it." Jaemin said with his whole chest. Being able to say it out loud reminded him of everything. From the time you started this crap, to now.

"I-im sorry- I'm so f-fucking sorry, jaemin." You forced yourself to look into his eyes, his angry red eyes that tore into your soul to find any lie, yet you had none. You meant what you said with full honesty, "Please nana, l-let me cum."

Jaemin simply gave you a nod and thats when you let everything out. You came all over his fingers but jaemin didn't stop nor slow down. He kept the same rough pace as before and you could only scream and cry from the sensitivity.

Then jaemin started rubbing and pinching your sensitive clit before giving your cunt a slap that made you jolt and cry out.

"Ahh- w-wait jae-mmm....s-so sensitive."

Jaemin rolled his eyes, "thought you wanted to cum? I'm giving you what you want, babe."

Your legs closed around his fingers though it didn't stop him from curling and fucking them inside. He could just easily push them open yet he found your sensitivity amusing which led you to cum again without warning.

"What a pathetic little fucking brat you are." He gathered the white substance that leaked from your clentching hole and shoved it back in, "Making such a mess of yourself."

Your back arched, even more sensitive than before.

The hand on your neck moved down to your breast, squeezing at your nipples and playing with everything he could get his hand on. Your nipples were so sensitive that that alone could make you cry and moan just from a simple touch.

His fingers brushed against your sweet spot where you screamed his name. Being over sensitive made everything feel more pleasurable and painful. Every small touch on your pussy brought you to a shaking pleasure that you couldnt control. It was becoming too much and too overwhelming.

"Fuck, are you gonna cum again? It hasn't even been five minutes." He watched, eyes filled with amazement as you shook and once again, came on his sheets and fingers.

Your shaking didn't stop though, it was like the kind of shake you get when your cold, though you were far from it. The intensity of this orgasm was just too much where even jaemin had to pull his fingers out and let you breathe for a moment.

"You okay, baby?" He asked quietly, kissing your temple as you nodded your head, "Can you give nana one more then?" Not wanting to stop, you nodded without a thought causing jaemin to smile and lean back.

Jaemin finally got rid of his clothing, crawling back on the bed before giving you a kiss so you wouldn't notice how he slipped his cock inside.

Surprisingly jaemin took his time pushing in, savoring your sweet little moans that drove him crazy. He started and kept a slow pace that made the overwhelming feeling dissolve away. Now you were wrapping your legs around his waist and staring into the soft eyes of jaemins that were just red a second ago.

Every vein against your walls made you feel ecstasy. Jaemin was careful with each thrust and it felt like pure love. They were passionate and he didn't fail to show it.

"Taking nanas cock so well, just like the good girl you are." Jaemin smiled at your beautiful face that contorted into pleasure. Both of your moans filled the room. More cuss words were thrown from you like it was the only thing in your dictionary.

The lewd sounds of your bodys bounced off the walls as jaemin fucked you slow and steady, grabbing your hips gently as he kissed all over your face, neck, and breasts. He sucked on your skin here and there, creating small bruises that looked like a tattoo as you grabbed the back of his head, lifting him up by the hair to bring his face to yours so you could place a kiss to his red lips.

The kiss was sloppy and slow. Neither of you cared though, both focused on your orgasms that kept coming closer.

Jaemins thrusts stuttered and his cock twitched inside you. The hand in jaemins hair pulled and messed up his locks, sure to create a messy sight later on.

" 'm gon-gonna cum." You moaned, lifting your hips up to meet his along the way.

"Cum, princess."

The final orgasm left your body feeling like it was on a cloud while all you saw were stars making jaemin coo at your fucked out face.

Pulling out, jaemin finished on your stomach before letting his body fall next to yours, wrapping an arm around your hips and pulling you into him..

You both panted out of tiredness, neither one bothering to move as you were both spent.

"Did I hurt you, princess? Are you feeling okay?"

You smiled into his chest, "no you didn't hurt me and I feel fine."

"Good." Jaemin smiled, petting your hair before laying his head on top of yours, "Wanna go on a date?"

You swear your heart stopped as your face heated up, "Jaemin, you're doing everything backwards."

"So is that a yes or no?"

"Of course its a yes!"

It was a peaceful restaurant that jaemin brought you to, saying it was supposed to be a place a lot of couples went to which you thought was absolutely sweet of him.

"So...uh." jaemin looked anywhere but your face like he didn't just have sex with you for the second time.

You snickered and sipped the drink in your hand, "Why are you so awkward all of a sudden? Its just me."

"I know it's just- I feel like I can't say what I wanna say because I'm afraid." Jaemin sighed.

"Of what exactly?" You placed the drink down, watching as jaemin fumbled with the menu before he covered his mouth and mumbled something you coulsnt quite grasp, "What did you say?"

"...nothing."

"Jaemin."

His doe eyes stared into yours like it was some sort of contest, wanting you to look away first but you and he did, "Alright fine. I said I'm a bit nervous if I were to ask you out."

Tilting your head to the side, you puffed your cheeks out in confusion, "Why?"

"The last relationship I had, the girl cheated on me. Afterwards she said it was because i wasn't good enough." He frowned, returning his attention back to the menu where you presumed was his hiding place for the time being.

"Well she's a bitch and is missing out on an amazing person." You pushed the menu down, "Is that why you acted that way when you saw jeno and I at the cafe? Did you think I thought you weren't good enough?"

Jaemin nodded slowly, "Kind of. I didn't want to lose someone I loved again."

"Loved? Na jaemin-"

"Dont say it." He groaned.

"You've gotten soft! Does this mean what I think it means?" You quirked a suggestive brow at him causing him to put his head in his hand.

"Yes, ill be your boyfriend." He said in his hand before you took it away and grabbed his face to kiss him. "I- princess when did you become do confident?"

"When did you become so shy?"

"Fair point."

Everything felt right all of a sudden. No more of jaemin being your bully. No more coffee being poured on your head. No more stupid high school drama that wasn't even drama in the first place. It was all right for once. And you couldnt say you could complain. After weeks, you got what you struggled to have before; na jaemin.

[221bsunsettowers]

Buck/Eddie High School AU: Everything Will Be Alright If You Keep Me Next to You

Fandom: 9-1-1

Pairing: Buck/Eddie

Summary:

Buck was used to having no one cheering for him.

And then one day Buck barreled into Eddie Diaz in front of his locker, and nothing was ever the same again.

Buck/Eddie High School AU

This is my first high school AU and my first story for @tropetember 2021! Thanks so much to @officer-highway for the prompt!

Christopher is a national treasure and absolutely exists in this universe, but he isn't born until a few years later when Buck and Eddie have both graduated from college. They use their good friend Shannon as their surrogate ;)

Also I absolutely shrink the age gap between Eddie and Buck to fit this story.

You can also read this on Ao3

CW: Briefly referenced homophobia, Buck’s parents essentially abandoning him

Buck was used to having no one cheering for him.

Maddie had been there for every game when Buck was playing  pee wee football, even buying pom poms to go along with the glitter-covered signs she created, to make up for their parents never bothering to show up. But then Maddie went away, and didn't come back, and the driver their parents hired said he didn't get paid enough to watch some kids fumble around the field.

Most times Buck would be waiting at least an hour after the game for the driver to show back up.

All his friends were on the football team with him, and they all had parents who came to their games and took them home after. Buck always hid in the trees by the field so the rest of the team would think he had parents who had already taken him home too.

And then one day Buck barreled into Eddie Diaz in front of his locker, and nothing was ever the same again.

Eddie's family had moved from Texas to Pennsylvania that summer for his dad's job, just in time for Buck's junior year and Eddie's senior year to begin. Buck was distracted by the grade on his latest Trig exam, hoping that by staring at it hard enough, he could change the marking to something his dad would not only approve of, but celebrate.

It would be one of the only times Buck would ever be grateful to his father.

Because he was so distracted that he walked right into new student Eddie, right as Eddie was reaching to close his locker. Books fell, the test went flying somewhere down the hallway, and as they both squatted down to pick the textbooks back up, Buck found himself staring straight into Eddie's eyes. Their hands brushed, Eddie blushed, Buck smiled shyly, and they realized they both had Lunch next period.

That day Eddie's truck wouldn't start, and Buck drove him home. (Later Eddie would sheepishly admit that his truck had worked just fine, he had just wanted to spend more time with Buck, a fact Buck reacted to with sheer glee.) On the way, they stopped for burgers, Buck eating all his fries and stealing half of Eddie's, and got so caught up in conversation the waitress had to remind them the diner was closing three times before they finally stood up from the table.

Buck dropped Eddie off at his abuela's house, and after they shared their first kiss on that porch, that home became their refuge. Eddie was practically living with his abuela, his parents having let him know quite loudly their lack of approval regarding his bisexuality, and Buck's parents were barely ever home and never noticed when he wasn't there.

They already had their plan for next year in place. Eddie had been accepted into Penn State Harrisburg, a college only seven miles from Hershey, with a full scholarship and a job as the front desk attendant at the Fitness Center. As long as Buck kept his grades up, he knew he had a good shot at getting in as well. He would get a job too, they could share the rent on a one bedroom apartment, and once Buck graduated, they would move somewhere on the opposite coast, officially leaving their parents behind.

But before all that came to pass, there was tonight. There was Buck, running in the game winning touchdown, lifting off his helmet to squint past the bright spotlights surrounding the field, to see Eddie. Eddie, wearing Buck's jersey, Buck's number painted on both his cheeks in their school's colors, cheering and clapping and looking down at Buck with so much pride and love Buck had to blink back tears.

Buck didn't have to hide anymore. He had someone to take him home now.

[wenttworth]

At this point, Eddie’s prowess at sneaking out was basically legendary amongst what was left of the Losers.

His mother never really recovered from whatever had happened that summer he broke his arm--the details were fuzzy enough even when they compiled all the information together--and even now at sixteen he felt more like a preteen under her thumb. But, she slept very deeply. More than that, she slept deeply in the living room with the TV turned on, clear the other side of the house from Eddie’s room.

He kept his door cracked open and tried to read comics, finish off that last bit of trig homework he was bashing his head against, and waited for her bear-like snores to start.

They started, and he held his breath for a few seconds before carefully clambering out of his window, finding the trellis and locking his toes in it to start the precarious trip down. He was dreading the moment the trellis finally gave up and broke apart under his weight, almost expected it to now, when it was more important than ever before that he get out of that house, but it didn't creak any more ominously than before and the snores continued their rhythmic lull through the open window.

He'd stashed his bike in next door’s bushes on his way back from school so he didn't have to open the screechy garage door, and before long was free with the wind blowing back against his face. It was sharp enough even in what should be a mild March to make his eyes sting. At least, that was what he told himself to explain the prickle in his eyes.

He would be able to make the trip to Richie’s house blindfolded and backwards, after almost ten years of shipping himself between the two houses, either accompanied by more of the Losers or alone. When he pushed himself, he could get there in eleven minutes. Just enough time to really feel the sinking of his stomach at this probably being the last time he made the trip.

As usual when arriving at Richie’s after dark, he avoided the doors and started the climb up the porch to Richie’s window. More a precaution than anything else--the Tozier’s wouldn't have minded if he stayed over, but it would also be the first call Sonia would make if she discovered he was missing.

He tapped on the window when he made it up, his arms straining from the effort and slightly miffed that Richie hadn't already opened it in preparation, but there was no answer. Eddie’s heart dropped somewhere in the region of his ankles and he hissed Richie’s name, tapping a little harder. Surely he hadn't been so stupid as to get the date of the move wrong, and surely Richie hadn't made plans with anyone else his last day in Derry.

“I swear, motherfucker, if you're not here--”

“Eddie?”

The voice came from above, and Eddie looked up to see Richie’s familiar mess of curls and oversized glasses peering at him from over the lip of the roof. “What are you doing up there?” he asked, still hanging for dear life onto the windowsill.

“Best seat in the house, shweetheart,” Richie crooned. Sorry, Boghart crooned.

Eddie rolled his eyes hard. “Whatever. Help me up.”

His hand reached down, and Eddie gripped his forearm as Richie helped hoist him up. He panted once he finally managed it, lying on his back and staring up at a crystal clear night sky. “That should not have been so hard. Fuck. I'm only sixteen and I already can't do a pull-up.”

Richie shot him an amused look and pulled a drag from his cigarette before answering. “You're a runner, Eds. Not a body-builder.” He punctuated the remark by slapping Eddie’s thigh hard enough to make him yelp, and Eddie retaliated by slapping his arm just as hard.

“Don't call me that, dick.”

Richie laughed with his whole body when he really got going, his head dipping forwards, his shoulders hunching in as they shook. Almost like he was trying to hide his laughter from the world. So different to when he waited for a reaction to his jokes, when he would stand straight with a proud grin on his face. Eddie still memorised it. Who knew when he would see it again.

“That's not a cigarette,” he finally said, when Richie had put it back to his lips for another drag.

“That it ain't, Eddie, my darling.” He shrugged. “Figured this was the best time to buy weed for myself, you know. Seeing as I'm skipping town tomorrow. Do you want some?”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, and Richie winked. “Didn't think so. But you know. Must be a gracious host and all that.”

“You're a shitty host,” Eddie said automatically. “Where are your parents? Surely they don't approve of you getting high on a roof.”

“No, they usually make me choose between getting high and getting on the roof,” Richie said, sincere enough that Eddie couldn't quite tell if he was joking. “They went out with friends. I figured you would be over at some point so I pretended I was...depressed about leaving or whatever.”

Eddie pulled his knees up and shifted on the tiles to try to find a more comfortable position, even as he kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, at the water tower that still made his palms sweat whenever he walked past it, for whatever reason. “Are you? Depressed about leaving, I mean.”

The harsh laugh that ripped through Richie’s throat was so unlike him that Eddie jolted. “Fuck no,” he said in a low voice.

Eddie’s vision blurred, and he tried to swallow around a lump in his throat. He'd been sad when Stan and Bill had left, even more so as he waited for the letters and postcards they'd promised that never arrived, but it was nothing compared to now, knowing that this was likely the last time he would see Richie. Richie may have been loyal here, in a small town with nothing and no one, but he would find his people in Chicago. He would find people better suited to his exuberance and who could fire his jokes back on him with much more wit than Eddie ever could. The last thing Eddie could ever expect was that he could hold onto this friendship that had defined so much of his life.

“Derry’s not for people like…” Richie paused, before breathing out harshly. “I don't belong here,” he finally continued, looking down at his lap.

And that was the problem, wasn't it? Because they'd always belonged with the Losers, with each other, and yet they were being splintered apart piece by piece, nothing more than another piece of luggage.

It wasn't until he felt tears burning tracks down his cheeks that Eddie realised he was crying, and he didn't even think about being embarrassed about it until Richie gave him an alarmed look, gripping his hand and lacing their fingers together. He didn't say anything, instead watching Eddie with wide eyes as his blunt kept letting a trail of smoke whisper through the air.

“I can't believe you're leaving me here, man,” he finally said, wiping his cheeks quickly with his free hand. “Who the fuck am I supposed to cheat off of in trig.”

Richie smiled at him, biting his lip hard and his eyes shining with so much affection that Eddie could barely meet them. “You've still got Ben in our class.”

Eddie shook his head. “Ben’s not you,” he admitted in a whisper.

Richie was still. Probably the most still Eddie had ever seen him, and any other time Eddie would have been relieved at the sudden calm. He cleared his throat, before lunging for the blunt. “Give me that,” he muttered as he yanked it from Richie's hand, though he made no move to even suggest that he would have stopped him. He took a deep drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs and hoping it would start acting quickly.

Richie blinked dazedly as Eddie handed it back to him, before narrowing his eyes. “Eds, that was way too experienced.”

Eddie shrugged and waited for Richie to take another drag before stealing it from him again.

“No. No, no, Eds.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie said around the blunt.

“Have you...have you smoked before, Eddie?”

Eddie blew the smoke in his face in lieu of an answer, and Richie broke into delighted laughter. “No, that's not fair, Eds, I wanted to be with you the first time you got high! How did it even happen?”

“You don't get invited to every party, dumbass,” Eddie said.

“And you do?” Richie asked. His pupils were wide as he leaned in.

“More than you, apparently.”

Richie gave a dramatic sigh, falling back against the roof (muttering ‘ah, shit’ as he lost a few inches down the slope) and covered his eyes with one hand. “I don't know how I can recover from this betrayal. To think mine own Edward Spaghedward didn't invite me as his date to those parties.”

“What did you just call me?” Eddie asked, half contemplating pushing him the rest of the way off the roof.

“They were probably just worried that I would steal all the girls from them.”

“Ah, that's definitely it,” Eddie said, injecting as much sarcasm as he could in his tone.

“No, no, it's true, Eds. Whenever I'm around girls it's like...woah, I'm only one man, and sure there's a lot of me to go round, like, so much Eddie, you have no idea, but also my dick very firmly belongs to your mother so there's that--”

“I will push you off this roof, Richie.”

He thankfully stopped, though he was still giggling to himself like a school child.

They finished the rest of the blunt in silence, and Richie started rolling another as soon as it was done. Eddie watched his long fingers work at it, dexterous and sure in a way that made his mouth feel dry. Probably the smoke.

“You want to know something?” Richie said quietly after the first drag. His fingers lingered against Eddie’s when he handed it over to him. Eddie almost shook his head, but instead he shut down the panic that was building somewhere above his diaphragm and waited. “I asked my parents whether you could come with us. Like, genuinely asked whether it was a possibility that you could come live with us. Instead of…” he didn't continue but Eddie understood well enough. “I don't think they believed me when I said how bad it had got. You know. Since…” Words failed him then, though Eddie understood when he was talking about. Not what, never what, other than brief flashes of pure terror and then pure courage. But the ‘when' was The Summer of the broken arm and…

He couldn't complete the thought, and shook his head to clear it.

“But you can come for the summer, if you want,” Richie continued, forcing hollow cheer.

Bill and Stan had said the same before they left, to no avail. But it had to be different with Richie. It was Richie, dammit.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, not really trusting himself to say anything more. There was something wet on his cheeks again, although he wasn't entirely sure if he had just started crying again or if he just hadn't stopped. Richie hadn't let go of his hand in that time.

He hesitantly raised his free hand to Eddie’s cheek, and when Eddie didn't move away gently brushed his thumb over his cheekbones, wiping the tears away.

He was leaving tomorrow. Leaving to be what felt like an entire galaxy away. Some other family would be here, some other kid would be in Richie’s room and hide things under that one loose floorboard and spy the etching the Losers had scratched in another floorboard hidden under the bed. Eddie could blame a lot on this, or the weed, or some shit like how romantic it was to sit together under the stars like this for what he did next, but honestly, he simply wanted to.

He leant in and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to Richie’s mouth, pulling away a few centimetres when Richie froze. He stared at Eddie for a few seconds as Eddie waited for him to yank back in disgust or push Eddie away, but instead he cupped Eddie’s jaw and pulled him in to kiss him again.

It did feel...a little awkward. He wasn't too sure what to do with the hand that wasn't clasped in Richie’s own, and finally settled on placing it on Richie’s thigh. He wasn't too sure whether he should keep his eyes closed or not--every instinct in him was screaming to keep a look out. He wasn't too sure how to react when he felt Richie’s tongue against the seam of his lips, though Richie’s groan when he let him press it into his mouth made a self-satisfied shiver of pleasure travel up his spine. Richie’s hand went to grip his waist, his own went to Richie’s hair, some instinct or memory reminding him just how much Richie liked his hair being stroked.

In the end, Richie pulled away first, keeping their foreheads together and breathing hard in the space between them. He made a small, plaintive sound when Eddie pulled him in by his hair to steal another kiss.

“Eddie, I…” he stopped himself, screwing his eyes shut tight, before wrapping his arms around Eddie's shoulders and pressing his face against his hair. He was trembling, his breath shaking as he pulled air in and out. Eddie put his palm on his chest to feel his heart thud against it, quick and hard. Almost as quick and hard as Eddie's.

He waited until it had calmed to a more normal pace, before picking up the blunt from where Richie had dropped it, and the Zippo lighter from the breast pocket of Richie’s top before lighting it, ignoring how his hands were shaking as he did so.

“That was my first kiss. Just so you know,” Eddie said as conversationally as he could manage. He cast a sideways look to Richie, who blinked away the dazed look in his eyes before smiling wryly.

“Mine, too,” he admitted, before taking the blunt back from Eddie.

[icecoldflames]

Gold Star (Sanders Sides)

Human AU

Romantic Analogical

Background Romantic Royality

***

Virgil’s eyes flashed open. His alarm went off. The sun streamed in through his window. It’s going to be a good day today, he thought to himself as he heaved himself out of bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

He padded over to his closet and opened it, eyeing his clothes. Virgil didn’t often care about his outfit. Usually, he just wore his usual hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. Nothing too loud. But today he wanted to try something new.

Virgil’s eyes glanced over to his fancy clothes. He ran his hand over his purple tie but then immediately dropped it. No, that wasn’t the look he was going for.

He eventually settled on a purple plaid shirt with a black tee underneath along with a pair of jeans. Good, he thought to himself as he looked in the mirror. Something different but not too different.

Forty five minutes later, he climbed aboard the bus and sat down next to his friend, Roman, who looked him up and down appreciatively. “I see you’ve upped your style today. What’s new?”

Virgil shrugged, a grin creeping up on his face. “Oh, nothing.”

Realization dawned on Roman’s face. His eyes widened. “You’re getting your Math test and English essay back today, aren’t you?”

Virgil nodded in delight and his heart fluttered.

“I swear, Virgil,” Roman began, “if you get a higher mark than Logan, please don’t shove it in his face and if he gets the higher mark, don’t start a fight. I’m begging of you.”

“I can’t promise anything.” Virgil said, dropping the smile and putting on an annoyed expression. “Logan just gets on my nerves so much. Who does he think he is?!” He griped.

Roman sighed and crossed his arms. “Alright but I’m not going to pull you out from a fight again.”

The bus came to a halt and some other kids boarded the bus.

“Don’t worry, Ro. That was forever ago.” When I did hate Logan, he added in silently. “Besides, he started it.” That wasn’t true but Roman didn’t know that.

Roman huffed. “I think I know what it feels like to be an exasperated mom…”

When the bus finally arrived at the high school, Virgil told Roman he’d meet him at his locker in a bit.

Virgil’s locker was right next to Logan’s. Virgil knew Logan arrived at school at promptly 7:30 and stayed in the library until five minutes before the bell where he would head to his locker to pick up his books for first period.

As Virgil neared his locker, a pair of feet caught up to him and began to match his pace. “Virgil.” Logan said with a curt nod. He had a book under his arm: The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.

Virgil’s heart fluttered. Logan was wearing his usual black-collared button up with a blue tie. Most of the other kids thought he was a bit excessive with his tie but Virgil really liked it. It suited him really well. Virgil put a disinterested look on his face along with his signature scowl. “Logan.” He was early—it was ten minutes before the bell, not five.

They both arrived at their lockers at the same time but Logan was the first to unlock it and swing his open.

Out of his peripheral view, Virgil watched as Logan carefully placed his book on the top shelf before methodically grabbing his Math textbook and binder. He put his pencil case and book on top of that.

Virgil began unpacking his bookbag which didn’t have much in it—just some random stuff like gum and his Chemistry homework. Logan took Biology.

Virgil, just slightly, wished he had chosen Biology even though he was terrible at remembering terms and parts of a cell. Just seeing Logan again for another hour would have made up for his cruddy mark in that class. Then again, if he took Bio, he would lose a lot more in their competition.

Their competition started last year when Virgil moved here. He and Logan were put in the same Math class and the teacher would give out a sticker to the top grade every test or assignment.

Roman told him that, last year, he had heard that Logan had received the gold star every single time. For the entire year.

Virgil had called the whole thing stupid when Roman explained. “What are we?” He had asked Roman with a scoff. “Kindergarteners? A gold sticker?” The whole thing had sounded absurd.

Virgil liked math. It was weird, but he found doing equations were therapeutic. That first unit, Logan had gotten the two gold stars. Virgil hadn’t minded. Again, gold stars were childish in his books.

But then the second math unit was trigonometry. And Virgil loved any type of math that had to do with shapes. And, that first assignment he had scored a 100% and gotten the gold sticker. He experienced great joy that class feeling Logan’s fiery stare boring holes into him.

Virgil had turned to Logan with triumph gleaming in his eyes. “Feeling glum there, Logan?” He had goaded. He hadn’t gotten an answer.

Virgil received the gold star on the trig test too. A 97% while Logan had gotten a 95%. He found that he enjoyed that golden star that the teacher had probably bought at a dollar store.

The next unit was algebra and Virgil was just half percent away from Logan’s 99% and gold star. Logan had looked so triumphant as he flashed the gold sticker in Virgil’s direction. He made a dramatic frown as Virgil scowled in the corner.

And so it went on like that for the rest of the year: Logan and Virgil trying to out-do each other and receive the gold star.

At one point, maybe during the quadratic unit, it had gotten so intense that Virgil almost started a physical fight with Logan after the tests came back and Logan had received the gold sticker. The teacher stopped giving them out after that.

But that didn’t stop anything. Both Logan and Virgil were far too gone to let that stop anything. While the gold sticker was no longer there, their percentage still was.

That summer, Virgil got a job at a LGBTQ+ youth camp with Roman as counsellors. And, lo and behold, Logan had gotten a job there too as a lifeguard.

That was when something changed between them. And not because Virgil often saw Logan shirtless up on that lifeguard chair or walking out of the shower.

It was nighttime when all of the campers were gone to sleep. Or, at least, they thought.

Logan and Virgil had been paired up to do one last sweep of the main campground. It was, understandably, tense until they heard a child’s whimpering off in the distance.

It was terrifying. It had been dark, the paths in the woods filled with tree roots, and the only flashlight they had had run out of batteries. So they were looking for a child in the woods using only the moonlight. Thank goodness it had been a full moon.

Once they found the child (he had gone off to pee in the woods because all of the other stalls had been filled and apparently he really had had to go. He had gotten lost once he had finished), Logan and Virgil had been inches away from each other outside of the boy’s bunkhouse. Virgil had been sure that they were about to kiss but then Patton, another counsellor, had poked his head out of the bunkhouse, asking if they were alright.

They didn’t bring that moment up again.

This year, Virgil shared two classes with Logan: Math and English. They didn’t have the gold star teacher. The competition was still there, maybe with even more vigor, but something else was behind their jabs at one another.

Virgil prayed that Logan felt it too because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he found that Logan didn’t harbour the same feelings as he did.

He grabbed his math books and stuff and then left to go find Roman before the warning bell rang. “Good luck,” he sneered as he passed Logan.

“You’re going to need it,” Logan retorted, not even glancing up at Virgil.

“Please tell me you’re feeling calm,” Roman said as he saw Virgil.

Virgil took in a dramatic breath and breathed out loudly. “I’m fine.” He said with a roll of his eyes. “So, how was last night?” He asked, changing the subject. Patton and Roman had gotten together recently. They had met at camp last summer but that was when their friendship was formed. Their romantic relationship had started just a couple of days ago.

Roman didn’t seem to notice the subject change. “Oh, it was amazing. To be honest,” he said in a whisper, grinning, his face flushed pink, “I could hardly concentrate on the movie…we were holding hands and his laugh whenever there was a joke was just so cute. I can’t wait until you get a boyfriend and then we can all go on double dates!”

Virgil thought about Logan and just smiled. “That would be so fun.”

***

When Virgil made his way into Math after the bell rang, Logan was already sitting in his assigned seat. Virgil found his own, across from Logan and against the wall.

Logan didn’t even acknowledge Virgil as he sat down, just kept reading his book. Every so often he would push up his glasses when they slipped too far down his nose.

As soon the teacher walked in the two of them immediately straightened up and Logan put away his book with a bookmark filled with old gold stars. Probably just to spite Virgil.

But that was okay. Virgil had his phone case decorated with his gold stars.

When the last student trickled in and the bell rang again the teacher began passing back the tests they had done last week.

It hadn’t been a difficult test but it hadn't been necessarily easy either. The only thing Virgil was worried about was that last word problem where he wasn’t sure if he had plugged in the numbers right.

Logan’s test was passed back first. Virgil stretched his neck and straightened his spine even more. 99%. Logan grinned over at Virgil, his eyes twinkling. ‘Beat that,’ he mouthed.

Virgil pursed his lips. He had to get a 100 if he was going to win. Then again, he still had the English essay later on in the day so even if he didn’t get a 100% he might beat Logan with the essay.

The teacher walked over to Virgil and he held his breath as she placed the test on his desk. 100%. Yes.

He didn’t even bother waiting for Logan to crane his neck at an awkward angle. He pulled up the side of his test with the mark on it and gave him the middle finger with his free hand. Virgil grinned over at him.

Logan scowled.

“Got a little overconfident there, didn’t you Logan?” Virgil said, rubbing it in. His cheeks hurt from so much grinning.

Calm settled on Logan’s face. He pushed up his glasses, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. “We still got one more today, Virgil. Don’t get too cocky. I do write a sublime essay.”

Virgil chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

***

Their research essays counted for quite a bit of their English mark. It could be on anything they wanted but they had to take a side. Of course, it had to be appropriate for school. They had started preparing for it almost a month ago and now it was the moment of truth.

Virgil had decided to write his research essay on how cellphones have a positive impact on youths (maybe not always positive but they weren’t 100% bad). Logan must have seen Virgil’s topic somehow although he couldn’t figure out how because Logan’s topic was on how cellphones have a negative impact on youths.

Virgil wasn’t even sure that Logan believed that.

Their English teacher was known to be a hard marker so, when Virgil got his essay back and saw the 85 he mentally fistbumped the air. He was going to win this. He lifted his paper so Logan could see his mark behind him.

When the teacher gave back Logan’s essay Virgil spun in his chair and snapped his head down to look at Logan’s mark: 89. Logan smiled triumphantly up at Virgil. “Look who’s overconfident now.”

“Draw,” Virgil sniffed. He had won Math, Logan English. It would have been nice to win both but one was better than none.

Logan smiled as he put his test in his binder smugly. “Sure.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and turned back around to face the front.

***

When the last bell rang Virgil saw Logan already at his locker, piling in books into his blue bookbag.

Virgil pursed his lips as he neared his locker and Logan. He opened his locker and began packing his backpack as well. “Hey,” he finally said, swallowing his pride. “Can I read your essay?”

Logan glanced up at him with slightly narrowed eyes. Suspicious eyes. “Why?”

Virgil shrugged. “I just want to see what arguments you used. Do you even believe that cellphones have a negative effect on youths or did you just choose that because I was doing the opposite?”

Logan grinned but didn’t say anything. He just grabbed his essay and handed it over to him.

“Well?” Virgil prompted. He wanted to know how Logan figured out his topic. It wasn’t like they shared their topics before writing them.

“Oh, I’m pretty neutral on the debate on cell phones. I could have gone either way, to be honest. But I overheard you talking to Roman about your topic outside of the library and,” he shrugged and gave a toothy smile that made Virgil remember that night at camp, “I just thought it would be fun to do the opposite argument that you were doing.”

Virgil had no recollection of speaking to Roman about his topic but it sounded about right. But then a memory resurfaced and he scrunched up his nose. “Hey, no. I told Roman about my topic when we stayed behind to help Ms. Morrison organize her textbooks to get volunteer hours!”

Logan flushed a deep pink and Virgil’s stomach did a little flip.

“I don’t think so,” Logan said quickly, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure I was in the library.”

But the memory was becoming clearer now. Virgil’s eyes widened in realization. “You were spying on us!” He breathed.

“No—”

“—Yes,” Virgil cut Logan off, nodding his head vigorously. “Or you overheard us…whatever. No difference.”

The crowds around the hallway were beginning to thin out. Logan sighed. “Okay, fine. I was just running back into school because I forgot my book and I overheard you in Ms. Morrison’s class.” His face was still pink as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Virgil grinned as he shut his locker. “Okay.”

“It’s true!” Logan exclaimed hotly, closing his own locker and swinging his backpack onto his back.

Virgil began to walk to the bus line. Roman was probably wondering where he was.

He knew Logan walked home so he was surprised to hear his footsteps trailing behind him. “Hey, listen. I got something for you.” Virgil was so used to their witty banter that he was caught off guard when he heard how genuine Logan’s voice was.

Virgil spun around in surprise and waited for Logan to catch up. “What? Really?” He raised his eyebrows.

“It’s-it’s nothing really,” Logan fumbled, digging around in his jean pocket. “It’s just a little trinket I saw at the store and thought…” he shrugged and pulled out a gold star keychain.

For a long moment, Virgil stared at it. “But I tallied it up last week, overall you’ve won!” He had gone through all of his old tests and assignments, curious to see who was in the lead. Logan had been ahead by two tests. “I mean,” Virgil amended, “thank you, but why?” Why would Logan give him a gold star keychain if he wasn’t winning?

Logan ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Because I think you’re intelligent.” He pushed up his glasses and coughed awkwardly. “And I really like you.”

Virgil froze but then hesitantly took the keychain from Logan’s hand. He looked at it closely before carefully clasping it onto his bookbag. “Truce?” He asked, holding out his hand.

Logan smiled and took Virgil’s hand. “Truce,” he repeated. He cocked his head to the side. “So does this mean you like me too?”

Virgil grinned. “What do you think?” He laughed and intertwined his fingers with Logan’s. By now, the entire hallway was empty and Virgil was sure that the busses had already left.

They walked down the hall hand in hand.

[svnthxsense]

Genre/Rating: Fluff/smut ; M

Warnings: Fem reader, cursing, light choking, slight corruption (?), slight praise, oral, tiny bit of slow burn

Word Count: 9.8k i’m sorry

Author’s Note: I got very carried away... Anyways, Happy Mark Day! This oneshot is a standalone in my Neo Tech High School series and is loosely based off of the first verse & chorus of Shot Clock by Ella Mai. Please send in any feedback! Also, my apologies if the Keep Reading function doesn’t work on mobile but I can’t do much about it T-T

It was mid-March when news broke in your school that a tier-1 athlete had transferred in. Everyone was swarming with curiosity all for a certain Mark Lee. Most of the gossip came from the guys, who bantered about his stats as a starting point-guard and argued about whether or not he’d make a good addition to the school’s beloved team. The girls, of course, were looking forward to a fresh face on campus. You couldn’t help but be curious, too.

After a week of anticipation, people were stunned to see the actual image of the mysterious basketball player. He was attractive at the absolute least. Then there was something that neither you nor your peers expected: he was the shyest, most awkward boy you had met in a while. How was it that the star basketball player who was always in the spotlight happened to be socially awkward?

You were surprised to discover that you two had a lot of classes together, and you’d be lying if you said you never stared. It didn’t help that he always came into math class with basketball shorts and a tank top on, his skin lightly glistening with sweat even after his brief post-gym shower. His hair was tousled, yet he managed to make it work like no other. It was a sight that made your mouth water and your mind fill with less-than decent thoughts.

It was only halfway through his first week of school when Mark had gotten called into the principal's office in the middle of third period. And then you were called in- not even five minutes after.

“Good morning, Principal Yoon,” You greeted her politely, taking the only other seat left in the room right next to Mark. You felt his eyes on you but decided against looking back at the nerve-wracked boy. Every time you saw him, you seemed to have a new fantasy about things you’d love to do to him. Was it wrong to fantasize about what his hands could do other than dribble a basketball?

“Good morning, Y/N.” She sat down in her leather office chair, scooting along until she found a comfortable position. Her tone was firm yet extremely polite. Most principals were intimidating and loathed by students, while Principal Yoon was approachable and kind. The students of Neo Tech adored her and her methods of running the school.

“Good morning, Mark. I’m sure you’re both wondering why I called you in, and I can assure you that it’s nothing of concern.” She held a manila colored folder in one hand before opening it and examining the paper in front of her. The both of you sat a bit uneasily, wondering what could’ve possibly landed you in this predicament. 

“Mr. Lee, your basketball skills are outstanding.” Immediately, Mark began rambling about his appreciation for her comment until her voice interrupted him. “Yes, well, the reason I called you both in has to do with that actually… You see, Mark, your last school was a bit behind in comparison to our curriculum here, and without the proper grades you won’t be able to be an active team member.”

Mark could’ve sworn he heard his heart drop. The whole reason he transferred to your school was that his tier-1 team was becoming mediocre at best. In order to stay on track with his plan of obtaining an athletic scholarship, he needed to choose the best of the best. And that’s what led him to your school, which currently holds the number one spot in the nation amongst all the tier-1 teams.

“That’s why I’ve brought Y/N in as well. It was brought to my attention that you two share more than half your classes together, and I’m well aware of how advanced she is in all subjects. So, to put it frankly, I’m going to suggest that you two become acquaintances. Of course, the final decision would be up to Y/N, but I’m hoping that both of you might benefit from this opportunity.”

Mark couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed about how Principal Yoon pressed the issue. It was bad enough that his old school had a less advanced curriculum; and to make matters worse, his tutor just had to be the prettiest girl he’s seen. The way you dressed, especially, drove him crazy. Your sheer black tights underneath your plaid skirt, with your skin-tight, off-the-shoulder top that exposed your collarbones. He gulped at the very thought of what was underneath those clothes. How was he supposed to focus when he wanted to study his tutor more than the material?

“I would be happy to help,” You answered, mindlessly sneaking a glance at the boy next to you. His gaze seemed to be set on the ground, looking at anything but you. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to add ‘tutor’ to my resume.”

Principal Yoon smiled in response, setting the folder down on her desk before gently lifting her glasses off her face. She was pretty young to be a principal, couldn’t be a day over thirty. It was one of the things that made her so approachable, she seemed to sympathize with the lives of students because she was in their place not too long ago.

“Well, then it’s settled.”

You strained yourself trying to hide the smirk forming on your face, finally allowing yourself to steal a look at the golden boy once again. He seemed flustered, as per usual, and still didn’t dare to look you in the eye. He seemed so innocent, yet so ready to be corrupted. The excitement bubbled deep within your stomach at the thought of how much time you’d really need to spend with him in order to get him caught up. And boy did you hope you had extra time for other activities.

Without a word, you rose from your seat to offer a ‘goodbye’ to your principal and sauntered out of her office. Mark fumbled to get up, hurriedly saying goodbye to Principal Yoon before he rushed after you. At the sound of his footsteps, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. This will be fun.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You hummed in response, then turned on your heel to face him. He was breathing a little raggedly, but you knew it was from nerves because there was no way someone as athletic as him would be out-of-breath from a short jog. 

“I- I was wondering when you’d be available…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, trying his hardest to sound anything but stupid. You waited for him to go on as he stared back at you but quickly caught himself. “Y’know, for the tutoring.”

Your smile almost made his breath hitch but he ignored the pounding on his chest and found the courage to keep eye contact with you. He regretted it as soon as it happened because he damn-near whimpered at the beauty in front of him. Your lips, a faint rose color, were glossy and plump. He imagined how they’d feel pressed against his, and against other body parts alike.

“How about we do an evaluation of sorts at the library this afternoon? This way I can see how behind you are and how much time I’d need to get you in shape. I wouldn’t want you missing the opening game.” You winked, and Mark found himself gulping down nothing in another attempt to calm himself.

“Y-Yeah, that sounds good,” He replied and waited for you two walk away first because he couldn’t quite will his feet to move.

The end of the day seemed to have come much too quickly for Mark’s liking. Of course, he was itching at the chance to get to know you, but even he knew his nervous habits. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in the midst of his first impression.

Mark made his way to the library like you had told him to, and he easily found you at one of the tables towards the back of the room. You had books laid out in front of you, with worksheets accompanying them.

“Hey, so I was thinking we could start by evaluating your trig skills and then get into some science. Does that sound good?” It felt like an eternity before you finally looked up to find him sitting directly across from you at the table. He nodded softly as you pushed over the first worksheet. While he diligently started scribbling across the paper, you had nothing to do other than watch him. You picked up on a few things in a short amount of time: math seemed to frustrate him. When faced with a particularly difficult problem, he would huff in annoyance. Nonetheless, he would complete it before moving onto the next one with a scrunched-up nose. It was incredibly cute and you couldn’t help the smile that found its way to your lips.

“Okay, I think I’m done.” He pushed the paper back to you before bringing his hands down into his lap, nervously toying with his fingers. He then brought his bottom lip in between his teeth, chewing delicately. You tried not to react, instead turning your attention to analyze his answers. Did he know what he was doing to you? After looking through all the questions, you tsked.

“Your trig teacher must’ve sucked.” You adjusted your sitting position so that the paper would be visible to the both of you. “For number four, you need to use the quadratic formula- which is X equals negative B plus or minus the square root of B squared minus 4 times A times C. Then you divide the whole thing by 2 times A.”

Mark tried to keep up with you as you explained, but his mind was way too focused on how good you looked while concentrating. On top of that, math was never his strong suit. He had always struggled since the moment variables were introduced into his lessons. Memorizing the quadratic formula was all too difficult when the explanation was coming from that pretty mouth of yours, he thought.

“B…? Wait where is the X comin-”

“Mark.” You interrupted, trying to the best of your ability to keep the smile creeping up on you at bay. The way his name rolled off your tongue so naturally enticed him. “I can already tell that you’re about two months behind with the trig curriculum. That alone will take me at least two weeks to catch you up on, and that’s if we meet practically every day.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Mark answers weakly, his eyes retreating down to the desk below him. Immediately, your demeanor softens at his vulnerability. “I know this probably isn’t how you’d like to spend your free time. I’ll find another way to catch up, I’m sure-”

“Hey. I said it would be a lot of work, I didn’t say I don’t want to tutor you. Luckily for you, I’m pretty much free this semester anyway. Now, the issue is if you are willing to put in the work.”

Oh, was he willing.

[two days later]

“So, after school at the cafe?” You ask, grabbing your books from your locker and securing them in one arm. The tutoring sessions would have to be extremely consistent to make any noticeable progress before the school’s opening games. They were a big deal within Neo Tech’s school community, and the pressure was on to see how the new point guard would compare to all the hype.

“Yeah, if that’s fine with you,” He murmurs before eyeing the small stack of books and papers cradled in your arm. Naturally, he feels the need to take that burden off your hands. After all, you would be the reason he even gets to play this season. Without you, it’s unlikely he would’ve caught up in time to make a good impression on Neo Tech and other schools alike. “Let me carry your books for you.”

“You don’t have to,” You insist, moving slightly so the books are a bit more out of reach. Mark pouts in response, leaning forward again in another attempt to grab the materials. He succeeds this time, his hand slipping around the stack and drawing them away from you. “Persistent, huh?”

“Guess you could say that.” He chuckles, wrapping the books in his arm just as you had done. This is the only plan he thought of to spend time with you outside of a studying environment, but he hopes you don’t notice these intentions. “We have class together anyway.”

“And where are your books?” You raise on eyebrow questioningly, beginning to walk with him beside you. History was never your favorite class, but you stayed on top of the work anyway. It was easier, you realized very early on, to get the work out of the way so you’d have more time for studying and other extracurricular activities.

“I leave them in my desk.” He shrugs, looking over to see you smiling widely. The baby pink color that takes over the apples of his cheeks is extremely obvious, but you don’t comment on it. Seeing Mark flustered is cute, you determined as soon as you had met him.

As the two of you walk through the large doorway of your history classroom, bubbly conversation fills the air. Your teacher, Miss Han, sits perched on her desk patiently. She was a nice lady, but it didn’t change the universal distaste for history among your class.

“Well, uh- I guess I’ll see you at the cafe.” Mark sets your books down on your usual desk quickly, scurrying to find his seat among some of the other basketball players that had this period with him. You recognize one of them as Hendery, a friendly acquaintance due to all the classes you two shared last year.

“I see you, Mark.” Hendery’s eyebrows raise in a teasing matter, shoulder bumping the boy next to him. Mark stares back at him, confused as to what he meant. “You carrying Y/N’s books.”

The explanation causes Mark’s blush to reappear, the heat becoming warmer and warmer upon his flesh. Hendery is one of the only guys on the team that he’s fairly close with, yet he still didn’t feel ready to tell him about his little crush.

“It was nothing, really. She’s tutoring me and I thought- why not?” He tries desperately to make his response seem nonchalant, but the act he puts on is no match for his flushed cheeks. Hendery, with one brow raised, eyes Mark’s cheeks. “Okay, maybe I think she’s kinda cute.”

“Bullshit! You like her!” He accuses in a whisper-shout type of voice. Mark groans in response, softly hitting his shoulder with a closed fist. A cackle leaves Hendery’s lips, his hand coming up to muffle the sound. “Dude, just ask her out! You’d be a very lucky guy.”

“I can’t just ask her out!” It comes out as a high-pitched shriek. “It’s not that simple. I mean, it is that simple. But what if she says no? Then I’ll have to deal with rejection and seeing her every day for our study sessions and-”

“Mark, you’re way too worried. Do you want me to talk to her? Find out some dirt? We had a few classes together last year-”

“N-No! That’s too obvious!” His voice sounds so exasperated by now, Hendery is afraid he’ll pass out. Talking with his hands is a nervous habit that happens when he’s rambling, and right now is no exception. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, dude.”

“Better hurry before someone else beats you to it.” At this, Mark’s head snaps in Hendery’s direction. Before he can even formulate a proper response, Miss Han clears her throat and silence falls upon the whole classroom. Throughout the lesson, though, Hendery’s words echo in Mark’s head. What did he mean by that?

“One iced americano and one green tea please.” Mark pulls out his wallet before you have time to protest, and by the time your mouth opens to say something, his receipt is already printed. You didn’t expect him to order for you when he asked what you liked from this shop. Oblivious, he turns to you and stops in his tracks when he sees your surprised expression. “Huh?”

“You didn’t have to pay for me.” Your voice is firm but you’re grinning over at him, ignoring the way your whole body feels warm because of his display of generosity. Buying drinks shouldn’t be such a big deal, you remind yourself. “I owe you a lot now- carrying my books and now coffee.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs, before examining the shop to find the best seats. He decides on the small table in the corner, shuffling towards the spot silently. Your brows furrow at his response, hoping for something a bit more engaging in terms of conversation but realizing that Mark wasn’t quite good at conversing in general. At least, around you, he didn’t seem to be.

The cafe became a regular stop before your tutoring sessions, the two of you eventually decide that the library was a better spot for studying. So, almost every day after school, you two would rush over there to pick up your usual orders before racing back to the library. Most of the private rooms filled up after dismissal, so you two always made it a point to manage your time efficiently. Coffee runs and then studying- that was your routine.

You had hoped to test the waters with some flirting, but your efforts seemed to go unnoticed. And when they didn’t, Mark would be a nervous wreck in response. You wondered if you should try your luck outside of your study sessions, but you didn’t have many opportunities since he sat nowhere near you during your shared classes. Study sessions and coffee runs seemed to be your only options.

On numerous occasion, Mark would slip his wallet out and pay for your coffee without a second thought. These events would result in a whole lot of whining on your part, always arguing that you should treat him once in a while too. He liked the idea of spoiling you, he wanted to say, though the invisible filter that was stuck in his throat never allowed him such a luxury.

Plus, the look on your face was equally as cute as your whines. Although you tried to be angry, the lopsided grin that always appeared made Mark’s stomach do flips. How was it possible to be that effortlessly pretty? It would take the nation’s top philosopher, Mark thought, to figure that one out.

“Mark!” You call, jogging over to his locker where he stands, putting his books away. He focuses on not being a clumsy mess then looks over at you, spending extra time admiring your all-black outfit: leggings and a v-neck. He forces his eyes not to travel south of your face, instead putting on a small smile. “I was wondering where you think we should study? The library is gonna be closed for a staff meeting today.”

Without thinking anything through, Mark immediately answers with, “Actually, my parents are out of town this week. We can study at mine if you want.”

Fuck. His eyes widen at his own words as soon as they come out. You can’t help but be surprised too, but your shock quickly turns into something much less decent. At this point, you’re dying to get your hands on him. You know that if you two have your study-session today, you’ll jump his bones the minute his hand so much as grazes yours.

“Oh, okay. Cool. So I’ll meet you after 8th,” You conclude with your voice sounding like pure honey to Mark. As you turn and walk away, Mark is unsurprisingly staring at your figure in those damn leggings. He wonders how much thought you put into your outfit, if you’re wearing it on purpose to torture him. He shakes the thoughts out of his head when he feels excitement course through his veins and towards the southern region of his body. No way is he going to get a boner now. Demanding his attention elsewhere, he rips his eyes away from you and tries to think of anything but how good your ass looks.

P.E. was always Mark’s favorite class. For most of his life, his Phys. Ed teachers had consistently been carefree and maybe a bit lazy. Their go-to lesson plan comprised of a few laps around the gym and then free-choice sports. Most of the girls opted for volleyball and badminton while almost every single boy could be found on the basketball court in the midst of a friendly scrimmage. Today is no different from the rest of those times.

Mark enjoys the friendly competition but easily leads his team to a win. He has gym with some of the other guys on Neo Tech’s basketball team, and it was easy to see how well he’d fit in with the pace of the other guys. At his old school, it always felt like he was being held back. He had to slow down his plays and examine the court thoroughly before he was able to make a proper judgment of his next move. With the Neo boys, everything seemed to come naturally.

He was able to gauge each player’s strengths and weaknesses fairly quickly too. For example, Hendery was a great shooter under pressure. When he gets boxed in by other defenders, that’s when his shooting is the most precise. So with that in mind, Mark always looks for Hendery when he notices that the opposing team’s defense is particularly aggressive that day. His judgments haven’t failed him thus far, with today’s scrimmage resulting in another win that should go down in the books.

Basketball was something that came easily to Mark his whole life. Talking to girls though? Not as much. He excelled on the court, took the lead and kept a risky attitude with unexpected plays and passes. He fits in well with Neo Tech’s strategy and game style. Plus, the guys on the Neo Tech basketball team were quick to befriend him and make him feel right at home. That is, of course, until he overhears one of his teammates, Lucas, talking to another teammate in the locker room as he begins to pack up his stuff after their particularly long scrimmage.

“Bro, are you really gonna shoot your shot with Y/N?” The other one- Xiaojun, he thinks- asks the taller boy. Lucas shrugs a little, folding his gym clothes neatly before placing the pile back in his locker. He’s not wearing a shirt, and Mark can’t hide the feeling of insecurity that seeps into his veins. Mark’s never been as built as that, but he never thought much of it until now.

“I mean, probably. She usually comes to our games, right?” He looks back at Xiaojun, eyebrows raised. The boy nods back slowly, a look of uncertainty on his face. “She’s so hot, especially in that one skirt she always wears.”

Mark’s jaw tenses and his whole body becomes rigid before he can calm himself down. He knows, in his mind, that he doesn’t technically have a right to feel possessive. He hasn’t made a move, so who was he to stop Lucas’s plans? This thought doesn’t stop him, however, from feeling the sudden urge to punch Lucas in his pretty face. It annoys him that all Lucas has to say about you is ‘She’s hot.’ To Mark, you were so much more. 

He loves the way you insist on helping him and accept nothing less than 100% effort on work. He loves how you smile proudly at him when he finishes his worksheets with no errors, how you blush every time he pays for your coffee before a study session, how you always find a way to get something done if you commit to it, how you genuinely care about how his day went when no one else seems to ask. You’re more to him than a nice body in a short skirt. Much, much more.

Hendery notices his tense shoulders and pensive facial expression, quickly grabbing the shirt that was draped over his shoulder and sending a soft wack to Mark’s back. This seems to do the trick, his face softening when he realizes it was Hendery who hit him.

“Ignore them,” Hendery orders, folding the shirt in his hands and placing it back in his locker. He’s friends with both Lucas and Mark, but he can tell how much Mark likes you. Lucas’s crush would pass with time, it was a never-ending cycle with that one. “Lucas isn’t her type, trust me. And if you’re so worried, make your move.”

This time, Mark realizes that Hendery is all too right. He needs to do something-anything, before it’s too late.

Yet again, the end of the day comes too quickly for Mark to process. He blankly shuffles out of the lab room and is taken by surprise when he sees you leaning against the wall opposite the doorway. You push yourself off the wall when you spot him, and take into account how good he looks when he’s out of it. It makes you wonder how he’ll look when he’s all fucked out and-

“Ready?” Mark interrupts your thoughts. Instead of saying anything, because you don’t trust your voice at this point, you simply nod and begin pacing your walk so you’ll be shoulder-to-shoulder. Your shoulder brushes against his occasionally, but neither of you shows any sign of being bothered by it.

The car ride is full of thick tension and utter silence aside from the soft hum of the radio. Mark’s grip on the wheel is tighter than he’s used to but he can’t help it. He can feel your eyes on him, his skin beginning to warm underneath his usual basketball shorts and a loose tee. You study him shamelessly: the veins of his arms that bulge occasionally when he shifts the wheel one way and the other, his habit of biting his lower lip when the car in front of him drives too slow, and the simple things like the contour of his jawline.

He pulls into a driveway and you aren’t surprised by how lavish his house is. His mother and father are both high-ups in some big company, as Mark had put it. They take business trips often but still find time for their beloved son, while his older brother is away at the number one university in the country. One might ask why Mark needs an athletic scholarship if his parents have so much money. He thinks of it more as a pride thing. His father, before becoming a businessman, was also on an athletic scholarship for soccer. His older brother has one for baseball while he studies Marketing and International Finance. Sports scholarships were almost like a family heirloom for the Lee’s, along with a business degree.

He jumps out of his seat, closing the door behind him before rushing to the passenger side to open the door for you. Under normal circumstances, you might’ve blushed. But with Mark, you know you have to be the confident one between the both of you. No matter how flustered his smiles make you and how weak in the knees his deep voice makes you, you force yourself to put on a bold front.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Mark snorts as he leads you through the foyer to the carpet-clad staircase. Humble was one way to put it. The whole interior has a simple, all-white color scheme. Upholstered leather loveseats were positioned neatly down the halls, with minimalistic tables to match. You let yourself take in your surroundings as both of you walk through the maze of his house towards what you presume will be his bedroom. Your guess is right; he stops in front of a white-painted wooden door and opens it just a bit to peek inside and make sure nothing was out of place. He breathes a sigh of relief that he decided to move anything remotely embarrassing to his walk-in closet as soon as he started his new school. Opening the door wider so that you could enter, you step in hesitantly and watch a little too intently at Mark closing the door firmly behind him.

His room is somehow exactly how you pictured it; a light blue color paints the walls. His full-sized bed leans against one wall, with posters of his favorite movies hovering above the headboard.

“Shit, I just realized that my desk-” You glance behind you, seeing his computer which took up most of the space that the desk had to offer and the somewhat large gaming chair that was tucked comfortably underneath said desk. Almost thanking fate for throwing this curveball in your favor, you just smile reassuringly at him.

“It’s fine, Mark. We can study on your bed.” Mark’s eyes widen suddenly and you realize that you probably gave him too much to process at once. “Or the floor, that’s fine too.”

“N-No! I mean- whatever’s more comfortable,” He manages to stutter out. Mentally, Mark would have said something spicy just to see you blush. However, in reality, Mark just couldn’t muster up the courage to openly flirt like that. His lack of confidence had posed many obstacles for him over the years. It seemed the one place he was truly confident was on the court.

“Well, it’s your room so I’ll sit wherever you sit.”

He nods once before setting his backpack at the foot of the bed and jumping back onto the soft mattress. Scooting up towards the headboard, he waits for you to do the same. You ignore the excitement that bubbles knowing his eyes are on you, and take a seat next to him with your bag still in hand.

“So uh- what are we gonna start with today?” Mark tries so hard not to seem phased by having a girl like you in his bed, but his patience is wearing thin and he can only blame himself. Maybe if he just made a move…

“We always start with trig.” You furrow your brows in confusion because it’s become a set routine already. Trig was always first because that was the subject he was most behind in. English was obviously not a problem for him and in terms of science, he was just behind with lab work that he could complete in school. “Then, we brush up on some science. I don’t really think you need it, though. You’re almost caught up with your lab work.”

“Oh, yeah. Right, of course.” He has to physically focus on not rambling or he’d be a mess all over. Of course, you know this by now. And while his shy and awkward demeanor is definitely adorable, it also makes you hesitate to try anything with him. After all, what are the chances of the shy boy in front of you gripping you up only to have his way with you?

Mark begins working on the sheets you give him almost as soon as you hand them over, eager to complete the work and somehow finesse his way into spending more time with you. He was being dumb, Hendery would continuously tell him. He should just go for it, because with a tutor ‘as hot as Y/N,’ why wouldn’t he? His lack of confidence makes him want to pull his hair from the roots, but he resists the urge and silently completes the worksheets. He double-checks all of his work carefully so that no time will be wasted in going over stupid mistakes. With a sigh of relief, Mark hands the papers over to you and looks up at you nervously. You always look so stoic when analyzing his answers, it intimidates him yet also lights a spark of excitement at the same time.

“Well done. There were no errors, just make sure you remember to show your work because the question requires-”

“Y/N?” Your name slips out of his mouth before he realizes it. You fall silent, eyes lifting to meet his dark brown ones. “Um… Can we maybe t-take the day off? I think I’d rather be doing almost anything other than trig right now.”

You don’t expect this question, because he’s never asked for a break. It was always about him being up to date with the curriculum so he’d be able to be part of the starting five. What you also don’t expect is for his eyes to flicker, very briefly, to the exposed skin of your upper body. There’s only a bit of cleavage showing, and a peek of your collarbones visible from certain angles. Suddenly, you realize that the time for making a move is now. And you can’t pass up the opportunity.

“What did you have in mind?” Your voice dripping like honey in the air. Slowly, you push the papers and books away from you and they hit the carpeted floor with a light thud. Mark gulps, finding his mouth dry when his mind goes blank with what to say next. Come on, Mark. Keep it together.

Instead of saying anything that might ruin the moment, he simply mimics you and pushes the books off his lap and onto the floor. When he turns back to face you, he’s met with your challenging gaze and he can’t help himself as he leans towards you without any doubt in his mind.

Your noses brush against each other, his face so close that you could feel every minty breath he lets out. You know what’s about to happen, and you no longer have the patience to delay it any further. Mark’s hesitant ways, while sweet and gentlemanly, drive you to the brink of insanity. And so, with a deep breath, your hand lifts to pull his face to yours. Your lips softly press to his, letting him process the fact that you’re actually kissing him before you grow impatient. Feverishly, you move your mouth against his. Mark swears he’s in heaven when he slowly opens his mouth a bit wider and your tongue automatically swipes against his. He’s been waiting for this moment- to feel your lips against his, to taste you in more ways than one. He needs it all, right now.

“Y/N,” He separates from you to breathe out your name. You practically bite back a moan, humming in response while his hands grab your waist. You expect him to say something, but he just kisses you again with more confidence than before. As he slowly leans back against the headboard, you follow him absentmindedly, simply chasing the heat of his lips against yours. You’re straddling him now, his hands moving to grip your ass cheeks with greed. The force makes you roll your hips in response, grinding down onto him unintentionally which makes Mark’s breath hitch.

You experiment, repeating the movement and pulling away from him only to see his reaction. His eyes are focused on the movements of your hips above his, concentration straining his face. After flipping your hair to one side, you continue your slow torture and lean down to kiss the spot below his ear. With his hands firmly clasping around your hips, you suck at his supple skin and lick over the spot when you’re done. By now, his breathing is a little heavy and uneven as his erection pressed against your clothed core. You feel him against you, his basketball shorts doing little to conceal his excitement.

“You’re driving me crazy,” He whispers as he drops his head to the crook of your neck, his breath tickling you slightly. You relish in knowing that the feeling is mutual. With every huffed-out breath, every soft kiss on your skin, you only become more reassured that you want this- and it makes it all the more worth it knowing that he wants this too.

You break the kiss to rid yourself of your t-shirt, the material on your warm body frustrating you a bit more than you’d like to admit. As you meet his eyes again- they’re filled with a hunger that causes your stomach to clench and arousal to pool within the confines of your panties- you can’t help the absolute urgency you feel to make him putty in your hands. So instead of kissing him again, you play with the hem of his loose tee, letting your hands graze over the skin of his abdomen. He hesitates, remembering the locker room fiasco with Lucas and suddenly he feels that insecurity itching at his skin again. He isn’t extremely built, his athletic body on the more slender side, but you don’t mind at all. 

From his demeanor, you can already deduce what’s bothering him. You press a sweet kiss to his lips, almost silently telling him that you liked him just as he is. A kilowatt smile lights up his face, and your cool hands against his heated skin make him grab at the material to discard it himself. He stares up at you, waiting for your next move because quite frankly, he likes you in control.

“These too,” You order, pointing at his basketball shorts. Mark is quick to shimmy them off of his body, leaving only his boxers to conceal the length of his cock from your eyesight, though the bulge is very much prominent. You debate whether or not to fuck him then and there, but decide that having him writhing from your mouth alone would satisfy you more.

With a quick motion, you bring your lips down to the skin above the waistband of his boxers. He twitches slightly at the contact, and then feels your nails gently rake against his sides. He’s much too sensitive to your touch, and it almost scares him. How could you have so much power over him? Maybe it’s the way your plump lips push against his skin so confidently, how your eyes find his without a second thought. He envies your confidence, but he also finds it unbelievably addicting to have such control taken away from him.

Mark isn’t a virgin. But he also isn’t very experienced. His past sexual encounters were vanilla, with him hesitantly taking control because his girlfriends always expected such. His first time was awkward at best, his hips didn’t quite know how to fluidly move nor did his tongue know how to expertly flick against hers. He did get a bit better as time went on, or so he likes to think. But he feels so foreign to sex with you.

It might be because you seem so opposite of him- in terms of how easily everything comes to you. However, he doesn’t find it in him to assume anything about your sex life, because he doesn’t particularly care. He ignores any thoughts of how many guys you’ve been with or if they’d be better than him, because as your hands slowly pull his boxers down, he’s content with knowing all you’re thinking about is him, at this moment.

You hum pleasantly at the sight of his length free from its confines, a small bead of precum ready to drip from the head. Much to your surprise, your mouth salivates on its own at the sight. You stroke him twice in your small hand, before your spit comes down on the side of his dick. He watches you in awe as you slide him into your mouth without hesitation, your tongue running along the underside of his length. A guttural groan emits from the awestruck boy before he can stop himself, much to his dismay. It would make you grin if your mouth wasn’t preoccupied.

You begin to slowly, tentatively bob your head up and down on him as your hand twists up to meet your mouth. You look at him expectantly for his response, and it doesn’t disappoint. His hands fly to your head, fingertips smoothing over your scalp while he sucks in a harsh breath. His mouth drops open soon after, the warm and slick tunnel of your mouth proving to be quite the pleaser. 

He feels nervous under your stare once again, but he certainly can’t look away from the sight before him. With your plump, infamously glossy lips wrapped around the tip of his dick and your tongue sliding obscenely over the slit. He wants to memorize every detail of the picture painted for him, so he stares at you and forces himself not to look away. He sees everything: the way you blink slowly as you take him further into your mouth, the way you search his face for reassurance that you’re making him feel good, the way you twist your wrist in an almost tortuous way that feels so, so good.

“Fuck, I need to feel you.” He gently, regretfully pulls your head away from his crotch. Your mouth detaches from his cock with a quiet popping sound, a string of spit connecting his dick to your bottom lip. Your mouth is tinted red and a little swollen, a bit of spit still left on the side of your mouth. Even so, Mark still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. 

He decides that, eventually, he’ll ask you out. The turn of events today is unexpected and definitely not what he had in mind, but he’s in too deep to put a stop to it now. He wonders if he fucked up his chances by going along with this, if you’d reject him because of the irony of him asking you out after he’s had his way with you. He swallows the nervous feeling that is rooted deep in his chest and stems out to the entirety of his body, pushes it aside to deal with later.

You undress quicker than Mark can process his thoughts, and for the first time since you’ve met him, your confidence wavers. Confidence was always something that came and went for you- the brave front you had put on didn’t quite prepare you for feeling Mark’s hungry eyes all over every inch of your body.

“Y/N- you’re so beautiful.” He motions you to get on top of him again, and you comply shyly. He kisses your lips once, then your cheek, then your neck, then your shoulder. All until you’re smiling so wide that you feel a pinch of pain in your cheeks. Mark Lee definitely owns your heart, no point in denial any more.

“W-Would you want to uh- ride me?” He stutters out clumsily, his hands finding purchase at his sides. This is why he likes that you take control. For one, it’s sexy as hell. For another, it gives him less room to be the nervous mess that he usually is. 

At his question, your demeanor changes from a slightly nervous girl feeling so bare underneath his gaze to something even you didn’t know you had in you. You can feel your arousal as you slowly move closer to him, your thighs on either side of his. His boxers are still hanging just below his knees and he hurriedly kicks them off all the way.

“Condom?” You ask, eyes searching around his bedside but to no avail. Mark fumbles a bit, keeping one hand around your waist securely while the other rummages through the bottom drawer of his nightstand. After finally locating the box of condoms his mom insisted on giving him during freshman year, he pulls the foil packaging into sight. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly his hands make work to slide it securely over his length, but his desire is clouding his judgment more than he expected.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” His voice is a bit breathless as he carefully tucks some of your hair behind your ear. The action makes your face warm and quite possibly your heart. But you don’t admit that. Instead, you nod curtly before pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips. Without skipping a beat, you take hold of his cock and align it at your entrance. You run the head back and forth between your folds, but realize you’re only putting yourself through further cruelty with every second that passes with no relief to the throbbing of your core.

So without warning, you sink down on him at a painfully slow pace. Your slick folds welcome the stretch of his girth, the very feeling of him making you shiver with sensitivity. Mark looks down to where his dick is being swallowed by your core, finding it harder and harder to hold on to his sanity as you sink further down on him. You let out a soft, delicate moan when you feel him fill you up completely, and Mark swears he could cum just from hearing those angelic sounds. He then decides, if you two do this again, he’ll fuck you into his mattress until you’re crumbling at the seams because of him.

“Shit,” He mutters under his breath when you start bouncing on top of him. The sound of skin slapping against skin proves to be quite the soundtrack as you desperately grip his shoulders. You bite your lip in an attempt to muffle the screams of pleasure just aching to come out. Your moans come out in whimpers when Mark uses his thumb to draw figure 8’s on your clit. He’s biting his bottom lip, his facial muscles strained between a fucked-out state and a concentrated one.

“Such a good boy,” You muse lightly without even thinking. Your voice mumbling such praise causes Mark to gulp, and he’s strangely even more turned on. Then again, you’d been awakening emotions and sensations that Mark hasn’t quite felt before, didn’t even know were possible. On your side, you’ve never tried much dirty talk during sex, but for Mark, you were willing to try. You can tell he likes it by the way his grip on your hips tightens and his breathing becomes heavier. And so, as he pants and groans softly next to your ear, your pace turns merciless. You bounce on him with an unrelenting pace and he knows you won’t stop until he cums, hard.

“Oh fuck. Oh shit.” Profanities spill from his mouth, his eyes screwing shut intently at how good the friction between your folds was. He forces himself to continue rubbing circles into your clit, albeit a bit sloppy, but circles nonetheless. You’re only more motivated by his lewd sounds, feeling your walls clench even tighter around his throbbing cock. The sensation causes an idea to form in your head, and you decide that his reaction will be the most satisfying part.

“Feels so good. Are you close?” Innocence laces your voice as you grab his hand and guide it to one of your breasts. Watching as he instinctively grabs it greedily in his palm, you notice how hot his fingers look wrapped around your flesh which only fuels your idea. Mark nods eagerly at your question, his breathy pants coming out shorter, more frequent, and sinful enough to make your head spin.

Abruptly, you begin rolling your hips against him rather than bouncing, causing him to look up at you. Then, you grab his hand again and bring it to your throat, making him wrap his fingers around the width of your neck slowly. Mark’s mouth drops open a second time this afternoon, feeling his hand tenderly squeeze around your neck. Your breathing becomes a bit restricted, but not enough to cause any discomfort. The force only makes your eyes roll back, while Mark turns to putty underneath you. After a few seconds, he releases his hold and brings his hand down to knead your ass, whispering something about how good you feel. Despite his seeming increase of confidence, all that Mark is thinking about is the power trip he got from choking you. Holy fuck, did that really happen?

“Gonna cum now, baby?” You force the question out when you feel him begin to pulse inside of you, leaning down to suck on the skin where his shoulder and neck meet and then licking your way up to just below his ear. Gently and carefully, you take his earlobe between your teeth and pull away slowly. Mark, by now, is a writhing mess underneath you. He can no longer contain his sounds nor his desperation to climax, bucking his hips up to meet yours. The combination of his thumb running over your clit repeatedly and his dick hitting just the right spot has a white-hot pleasure burning through your entire body. “Mmph- Mark!”

“Fuck! I’m g- gonna cum,” He yelps when he hears you moan his name, his thumb’s movement over your clit becoming rougher, sloppier by the second. He gives up on trying to thrust up into you, instead letting you ride him with an almost animalistic nature. His face scrunches up, a choked groan falling from his open mouth as he feels his climax course through his entire body. His seed fills up the condom, the sensation of release so utterly euphoric that Mark isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this good. Your pace on his dick slows before coming to a complete stop, breathing heavily and feeling so out of it even without an orgasm.

“Lay down, beautiful,” He rasps out, moving from his position and running his hand along your thigh delicately. His half-lidded eyes meet yours before you obey his command, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed with your head resting comfortably on one of the pillows. Mark hovers over you, pressing affectionate kisses all over your upper body before traveling lower. 

“I’ve never done this before,” Mark admits shyly, sucking on the skin of your inner thigh before repeating the action to the other one. As he licks a stripe up from your dripping core to your clit, you feel a shiver run all the way up your body. Noticing your reaction, he sucks your clit into his mouth and rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud. Your drawn out moan tells him he’s doing something right, so he continues to flick his tongue over the bundle of nerves while he looks up to see your face.

“Shit! More, p- please.” Your pleads leave his ears red and his mouth watering, his tongue moving to slide between your folds with a soft moan. The vibration combined with his tongue darting in and out of you languidly makes you see stars at this point. “Oh my god- are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

He chuckles lightly, seeing your brows furrow in concentration as he forces his tongue to fuck your core faster and faster. One of his hands comes down to rub over your clit, your juices creating a squelching noise every time his tongue moved inside of you. Mark swears he’s never felt more proud when your hand comes down to grip at his hair, pushing his face further into you just as your thighs clench around his head.

“You’re so wet,” Mark praises before going back to thrusting his tongue between your folds. The taste makes him hum, vibration spreading through your lower region and making you whimper in satisfaction. Mark’s a quick learner, you see, when he continues to hum and groan into your pussy as his finger circles your clit consistently. “Cum, baby.”

You give in to his command, letting yourself fall apart at the seams underneath his mouth. Your pussy throbs around his tongue as you ride out your orgasm, a moan caught in your throat as your mouth hangs open in an ‘O.’ Mark happily laps up your juices, diligently downing every last drop before collapsing on the mattress next to you.

“Wow,” He remarks in awe, peering at you through the corner of his eyes. You’re still trying to catch your breath, but you laugh lightheartedly anyway as you turn your body to face him. A few pieces of hair cling to your forehead, and he delicately pushes them away from your face before caressing the curve of your jaw.

“The game’s coming up,” You comment, your hand toying with the one that wasn’t touching your face. The game was so important to him, you couldn’t think of anything else you’d rather talk about in this moment. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Well, yeah of course. A little anxious, but I think that’s normal before a big game.” Basketball might be the one thing he could talk about without a nervous bone in his body. No stuttering, no confusion, just speaking his mind. “Do you like basketball?”

You nod in response, giggling at the face he makes that’s somewhere between surprised and overjoyed. Basketball was something you enjoyed watching and analyzing, especially since it was such a big thing for the students of Neo Tech. Most schools prided themselves on their football team, but not Neo. Basketball had always been like gold.

“What do you think of our starting five? Maybe you can tell me something I haven’t picked up on.”

“Hmm,” You start, fully prepared for the rant that’s about to happen. “Xiaojun is a pretty amazing shooting guard, he almost always knocks down shots whether he’s open or not. Ten can’t be matched when it comes to being a small forward. He’s quick as hell, and I see him use that to his advantage a lot when he’s trying to get open. Hendery- where do I even start? He’s so versatile when it comes to shooting, perimeter shots and jump shots- it doesn’t matter, he can make them all. And his defense skills are crazy, he’s fearless even up against bigger guys. I mean, I guess that’s normal among power forwards but-”

Mark zones out a bit as he prepares for you to talk about Lucas. What were you going to say? Would your eyes light up when talking about him? Would you gush about how good he was? He hopes not, especially not after what just happened.

“Lucas is a good choice for center. He’s tall, so it makes sense that he’s the best at rebounds. His shooting ability is fairly decent, but he needs work on his passing in my opinion.” He’s surprised to see that you keep your comments completely analytical, not even blinking an eye as you continue your commentary. If Mark liked you a lot before, hearing you talk about basketball has him on the verge of calling out for cupid.

“And you-” Mark’s ears twitch, his attention completely and utterly focused on you. Had you seen videos of him playing at his old school? He dreads the thought, knowing that he wasn’t playing to his full potential back then. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see this Friday.”

“Is it too early to say ‘marry me?’“ He jokes, and both of you laugh. Secretly, though, you wish he had been more direct from the beginning. Seeing him with his newfound confidence is even more attractive than seeing him flustered. You wonder what today will bring of your relationship, but decide to wait and bring it up after his big game. He needs a clear head, and so do you if you want to see him perform to the best of his abilities on game night.

[game night]

You aren’t disappointed in the least bit, savoring every minute of the game and concentrating on how good Mark is. His position was always point guard, and now you understand why. He has a certain talent, it’s not technical. Sure, he’s a great shooter and he’s ruthless with defense. But more importantly, he facilitates the team in a way that makes all of the players better. He plays using their strengths, knowing exactly who to look for in any given situation rather than making himself the star.

He leads the team flawlessly, and you’re sure everyone feels it too. The momentum the five boys build up in the first half is too strong for the other team to compete with. By the time half-time is up, it’s clear that Neo Tech will come out on top. There’s a certain feeling lingering in the air as the coach switches out Ten and Hendery for Yangyang and Jungwoo. No matter what the coach does, who switches out, the outcome is secured.

Despite how certain victory is, it doesn’t stop everyone holding their breath as the shot clock winds down to its final seconds and Mark steps back to launch the ball into the air. Everyone is still as the ball seems to move in slow motion, a loud swoosh sound echoing throughout the gym seconds before the final buzzer blares, indicating the end of the game. The crowd is immediately on their feet and cheering, high-fiving and fist-bumping all around.

You’re sitting in the first few rows, so it’s easy to run out onto the court. The school’s sports reporters, Chenle and Jisung, are already holding the microphone towards Mark to record a post-game interview for tomorrow’s newsreel. They only get to ask a few questions, though, before Mark’s eyes are on you.

A bright, proud smile graces your face and Mark is sure he wants to see that same smile every day of his life. You’re standing a few feet away, facing him and the rest of the boys on the team. This reminds him of Lucas’s conversation in the locker room, and he knows that now is no time to be shy.

So, he answers one final question before brushing off the two boys and turning towards you. His walk is confident now, as if he’s done this millions of times before. Now, he stands with you toe-to-toe and he lets his arms wrap around your waist slowly.

If it’s even humanly possible, you push your body closer to his and drape your forearm over his shoulder. His eyes stare directly into yours, the shy boy long gone and replaced with the same courageous Mark that was on the court tonight.

“How’d I do?” He whispers as he leans his forehead against yours, his breath tickling your nose. Everyone on the team is watching, but it doesn’t bother either of you. Instead of answering, you grasp his jaw and press your lips against his. It doesn’t take long for him to respond, his mouth moving against yours slowly and affectionately. You pull away after a few moments, still beaming up at him.

“I guess you finally got together, huh?” Hendery smirks from his spot on the bench beside the two of you, and Mark laughs quietly. Though, Hendery’s statement reminds him that he never did ask you out. His brow quirks upwards when he meets your eyes, the silent question spelled out right in front of you.

“Yeah, we did.” Your answer is what he’s been dying to hear since the moment you walked into Principal Yoon’s office, and it feels even better knowing that he isn’t daydreaming this time. This is real, you returning his feelings- it’s all real. And Mark couldn’t be happier.

“I told you she liked Mark!” Xiaojun throws a victorious, high pitched scream at Lucas as they walk towards the locker room.

[itsblosseybitch]

All of these stories about black men and women being murdered by police are heartbreaking, but what happened to Breonna Taylor, in particular, feels personal.

At 26, Taylor was an award-winning EMT. I have family members who work as EMTs and Paramedics, who help save lives on a regular basis and give Americans the healthcare they need.

The other reason Taylor's murder haunts me is because I've experienced an almost identical situation with cops.

This happened during my Junior year of high school. I was living in a suburb in Clermont, and I was home alone. I was working on my Trig homework when two policeman showed up at my door. I was confused and scared, having no idea why they were there.

I've told this story before, and I've been asked why I didn't ask for a search warrant. I was so overwhelmed with fear that it just didn't enter my brain at the time.

The two cops started asking me questions. I don't remember *exactly* what they were about. I think it was about drugs. I was denying whatever it was they were asking me at the time. They weren't convinced.

What I *do* remember clearly is one of the policemen saying to me:

"You're lying. I can see it on your face."

I immediately replied "No, I'm nervous because the *cops are at my house.*"

They backed off, and I let them search the place. They only went into my room, for some reason. They must have thought I was a real drug pusher.

I was in the living room as they searched my bedroom. I didn't want to be near them. I couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, but they were cracking jokes at a picture my mom took of me when I got my voter ID in the mail. It was an important milestone for me, and you can see me beaming with pride in my Bear Hugs t-shirt.

After making these wisecracks, they left. They didn't search the rest of the house. I continued to do my Trig homework that night, spooked by what happened.

I told my family what happened. They were all baffled. My stepfather is an EMT, and knows a lot of cops in the community. If I remember correctly, he found out that, unsurprisingly, they were at the wrong house. I think it was a drugs investigation, but I'm not 100% sure.

The reason I bring this incident up, is because it was under similar circumstances that Breonna Taylor was murdered. The only differences being that her boyfriend was there to try and stop the policement coming into the house without a search warrant, and that Breonna was shot eight times in her sleep.

There's no doubt in my mind that, if I were a black woman in America, this incident would have ended very differently. Perhaps I would have been arrested despite the lack of evidence against me. Perhaps I would have been tackled to the ground once the cops came inside. Something tells me I would have *at least* been shot at. Hell, I probably would have been shot at for saying I was nervous about the cops being at my house. Being upfront about my fear de-escalated my situation, yet I strongly believe it would have had the opposite effect if I were black. Philando Castile was shot despite repeatedly saying he wasn't going to pull out his gun.

White Privilege is very real. While I'm not in support of looting and burning down businesses, I can clearly see why we're here today.

People didn't like it when Colin Kapernick kneeled peacefully in protest during football games. People didn't like it when peaceful protests called attention to police brutality. The police in this country are more interested in protecting their own than they are in protecting their country's most marginalized communities. It was Martin Luther King Jr. himself who said that riots are the language of the unheard. He didn't condone riots, either, but he knew all too well how societies use it as a last resort.

The police force, as an organization, are a huge part of the problem. They helped create this current situation, having no real interest in reforming their own system. They had no interest in getting to the roots of their white supremacist influences, with which they have a long, overlapping history with.

Are there good cops? Of course they're are. But it doesn't matter. The system is too corrupt for these good cops to make any real difference. It doesn't matter if "not all cops..." would have murdered George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Mike Brown, and Sandra Bland if they were in the same situation. What matters is that these injustices have been happening for too long and for too often. I'm fed up, too.

[kindness-ricochets]

Prompt: “You’re not supposed to be here”

Modern/High School AU

-------

“You’re not supposed to be here!” Wylan objected, pushing himself to sit up. He looked awful. Clearly the fever still had its hooks in his him. His usually springy curls were limp with sweat and roses bloomed on his too-pale skin. He looked adorable. Not that Jesper wanted Wylan to look sick, but he loved his softness, his openness to the world. And he loved how, the moment Wylan saw Jesper, he smiled and his eyes brightened. Jesper smiled back. “And yet,” he said, waving his hands like a magician presenting his grandest trick. “You should be at school,” Wylan said, reaching out to him.

Ignoring what Wylan said, Jesper hugged him. He really was burning up—Jesper felt the heat radiating off Wylan. “It’s lunch, anyway,” Jesper explained, “I signed myself out. And I think I can handle missing one comp sci class.” Okay, that was borderline true. Entirely true depending on one’s definition. There was a zero-percent chance of Jesper failing computer science, but a non-zero-perfect chance of Jesper failing the Photoshop unit. Or at least getting a C. Like he’d ever need Photoshop in his daily life! “But,” he continued, “I was only allowed in on the provision I get some food into you. You’ll eat for me, right?” He asked like he knew Wylan would. (He knew Wylan would.) Wylan followed Jesper to the kitchen with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, shuffling in two pairs of socks. One look and Jesper wanted to banish him back to bed, but Wylan gave him a stubborn look and took a container from the fridge. Even with Wylan sick, Jesper had to admit this felt pretty good. Just the two of them, alone, doing normal real life stuff. It was lightyears better than the two of them at school, trading glances and trying not to act obvious to avoid meatheads picking fights. That was… well, it was infinitely better than school before Wylan, but that didn’t mean it was enough. They both deserved more, individually and as a pair. They deserved to be together. Not just two boys with a responsible adult within shouting distance, but men, queer and normal and together. They deserved moments like these, and one day— “It’s not enough for you,” Wylan said. Jesper startled. “What?” It would. Life with Wylan would be enough for him. “You should get something else to eat,” Wylan said, and a knot in Jesper’s chest eased. Right. Because Wylan was sick, he had a pot of broth on the stove and a box of crackers. Jesper was not sick. Like it understood, his stomach growled. In the end, Jesper sat opposite Wylan and devoured a plate of sandwiches while Wylan took pitiful slurps of broth and soggy Goldfish. It took him back to his early thoughts—Jesper and Wylan, somewhere far away, their own apartment. It didn’t have to be fancy, although he would like if it was fancy. Just a space that was theirs. They could live in the city, somewhere he could get a real job—maybe tending bar in a few years, he’d be good at that, and Wylan would… Wylan would find something. He hadn’t been long enough out from his father’s thumb to learn what he was really good at, not practically. Wylan’s sock-padded foot found Jesper’s under the table, nudging at his sneaker. “Hi,” Wylan said, and was it just the fever pinking his cheeks or was that a blush? “Hi, beautiful.” Definitely a blush. “You shouldn’t have left school, but I’m glad you did.” “Aaw! I knew I was corrupting you!” Jesper crowed. Wylan tried to look fussy about it, but he was too cute and returned his attention to his lunch. There were little drops of slick fat on the surface of his broth. Wylan needed it, but more important was the fact Jesper knew that meant someone made this for him, with an actual chicken and everything. He had the strangest desire to get the recipe. When Wylan had eaten his lunch—he tried to quit halfway through, but Jesper gave him a look and another handful of Goldfish—he started for the sink. “Not a chance.” “I’m sick,” Wylan objected, “not helpless.” Once more he tried to look serious, but he took a step, stumbled, and had to catch himself on the counter. “Sure,” Jesper said. He took hold of Wylan’s shoulders and turned him around. “Back to bed. I’ll clean up.” “Come with me.” “I’ll clean up before I leave,” Jesper amended. Then, leaning close because why even try to resist, he added, “I’ll never refuse when you want me in your bed.” Wylan objected—that is not what he meant!—but catch Jesper caring. He guided Wylan back down the hall and laid down with him on the narrow twin bed. If his appearance hadn’t been evidence enough, their cuddle was proof Wylan was too sick for school. He was almost uncomfortably hot to hold onto. And not in the good way. On the wall opposite was a mural Wylan had spent weeks painting. Completed, it gave the sense of floating above the clouds. “Just until I fall asleep?” “Just until you fall asleep. Not that I really need the points for trig, either.” Wylan shook his head. “You don’t know how lucky you are. It’s so hard for me.” It was a testament to the seriousness of the situation that Jesper did not comment on what could be so hard for him. Instead he kissed the top of Wylan’s forehead—the most readily available part of him. He knew Wylan wouldn’t have said that if he weren’t fuzzy-minded. “I know how lucky I am,” Jesper said, “I have you, don’t I?” He had a boyfriend, and because of Wylan, Jesper had genuinely wanted to do better. And because Jesper had genuinely wanted to do better, he had started really talking to his father. He had started to think about a real future. Yeah, he knew. “All yours,” Wylan murmured, squirming closer. “Ooh, I think I like sick Wylan.” Wylan laughed weakly. “Mean.” “Pfft, what’re you gonna do about it?” “You’re a mean… beanpole. You’re a meanpole.” Jesper laughed so hard the bed shook. There was no chance of this being forgotten ever. Meanpole. “Promise you’ll go back though, Jes. Please. After I sleep.” He didn’t want to. He really, really didn’t want to—but he couldn’t help thinking about what Wylan said. He had gone so long without a diagnosis, let alone intervention for his dyslexia. School shouldn’t have been a challenge for Wylan, but it was. Jesper couldn’t help being grateful for what he had. With a heavy sigh, he said, “Okay. I promise.” He wouldn’t even try to keep Wylan awake.

[idreamofplaid]

I Know What’s Mine

Square Filled: stripper!Sam for @spnaubingo & Edging for @spnkinkbingo

Characters: Sam x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: oral (male receiving)

Summary: It’s only natural to be a little jealous when your boyfriend’s a stripper. Right?

Word Count: 1382

Created for @spnaubingo & @spnkinkbingo

Finals started tomorrow. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this, but you really didn’t care. Your roommate told you how hot the guys were at this club. Between studying for trig and hot guys, there was absolutely no decision to be made.

She had neglected to tell you it was a strip club, but you were certainly no stranger to those. The first act had already started by the time the two of you sat down. You ordered a drink, and before it arrived one of the guys on the stage had already caught your eye. He was tall, had broad shoulders and dark hair that curled in waves around his ears, neck, and forehead. But the most incredible thing about him was his smile.

It was the kind of smile that could make you forget any pressure or problems you were feeling. It practically fucking glowed. And the dimples this man had! A stripper with dimples, the world was a wonderful place.

The way he moved sent your mind to hot, sexy, and sweaty places. He definitely knew what to do with his hips. Tall and gorgeous was on the stage with two other guys, but he was definitely the standout.

You felt a twinge of disappointment when you watched him leave the stage, but you figured another Texas Margarita would be the perfect cure for that. The next couple acts did nothing to hold your attention like the muscled guy with the beautiful smile. By the time he returned to the stage, the tequila had you feeling free. Your head was feeling slightly fuzzy, and your body felt like it could float. This was going to be a solo performance. When the strobe lights hit him, you let out a yell of encouragement and appreciation.

He danced to the pulse of the music. The man was captivating. The announcer said his name was Jared, but you knew that wasn’t his real name. Strippers never used their real names. You continued to think of him as tall and gorgeous, but part of you wanted to know his real name and wanted to know it badly.

“Jared” removed the leather vest he was wearing and dropped it to the stage leaving his chest bare, and he continued to dance. It was probably the tequila, at least that’s what you told yourself. You started to dig around in your purse for a pen while you watched women stroke their hands all over his shoulders and chest. You pulled the napkin from under your drink and scribbled your name and number on it.

Your fantasy guy had returned to the center of the stage and torn off the leather pants that matched his vest revealing tight white briefs that rode low beneath his hipbones. As Jared circled the edge of the stage, women stuffed bills into the the waistband of his briefs.

You folded the napkin with your number on it and wrapped it with a five dollar bill you found in your wallet. It was the only cash you had. When Jared approached your area of the stage you extended your hand with your offering. He knelt to accept what you were giving him. As you tucked the money enclosing your phone number into the side of his briefs, a shiver went down your spine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Jared sent you a text asking you to meet him at a pizza place a couple of blocks from campus. It was easy to spot him in the crowded pizza place. He was sitting in a booth in the corner and got up to meet you when he saw you walk in. He was wearing a pink polo shirt and jeans looking every bit like the boy next door, the innocent boy next door.

As first dates went, this one was exceptional. You found out his name was really Sam, and his story was a common one. He was stripping to pay his way through school. Conversation came easily like you had known each other for a long time. You felt comfortable enough to ask him what it was like being a stripper and having women he didn’t know touch him all the time. “It’s kinda weird actually. I know most guys would think it was some kind of dream job, but not for me. I don’t like what it does to me. I try not to get turned on even though you get more tips if you’re hard.” He realized what he said, got a funny look on his face, and let his mouth hang open for a second. “Wow. That’s too much information.”

Your instinct was to put him at ease. “No, it’s all right. I asked. I wanted to know.”

After a few more seconds of silence, he said; “There’s something else I don’t like about it. It makes it almost impossible to have a relationship, with a girl I mean, to date.” His awkwardness was cute. “Would it bother you? Do you think you could handle it? Because I’d like to go out with you again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Handling it proved to be more difficult than you thought. You knew there were women slipping him their phone numbers constantly just like you had. His faithfulness was never a question. You’d never seen a guy who more about having one woman than Sam. You kept your jealousy a secret from him because you didn’t want him to feel guilty about what he had to do to pay for school.

Once you moved in together, it became even harder to hide how you felt. He smelled like perfume when he got home, and you knew why. You didn’t like other women touching him, and you’d told him you would be okay with it. You needed to do something about this because now you were falling in love with him, and you had to find a way to deal.

Your solution? Be for him what no other woman was and do for him what no other woman could. That started with a bustier and high heels. He was the one always looking sexy. Now, it was your turn.

Sam’s shift was scheduled to be over at midnight, and you were waiting for him when he got home. You’d draped yourself across the bed, and when Sam walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel his mouth literally dropped open. “Wha...holy fuck.”

You smiled, got up, and went over to him. He scanned your body all the way down and back up. “Y/N, you look...I’m getting hard just looking at you.”

He was. The front of the towel was beginning to tent. You cupped his chin in your hand and kissed him. “Good. Let me see.” You opened the towel wrapped around his waist and let it fall to the floor. Then you dropped to the floor and took his hardening cock into your mouth. You bobbed on it and wrapped your hand around the base that wouldn’t fit into your mouth. You did everything you knew Sam liked until he was right on the verge of shooting down your throat, and then you stopped.

His eyes had been rolled back in his head; they focused on you. “Y/N. Please...please finish me.”

You stood. “I want you to fuck me, Sam. You can finish then.”

After a seductive little striptease that made Sam’s dick twitch, you lay back on the bed and spread you legs for him. “Go on, Baby. Give it to me.” Sam plunged deep into and started thrusting chasing that release he wanted. When you felt him begin to throb inside you, you uttered two words that had him pleading with you again. “Slow down.”

It went on like this for several more minutes. Every time Sam got close, you told him to slow down until tears were oozing from the corners of his eyes and slipping down his cheeks. When you finally said, “Come, Sam. Come for me now.” He did with his thighs shaking and yelling your name. Your own orgasm rocketed through you.

Sam collapsed on top of you completely spent, and you softly ran your fingers through his hair. He managed to say, “That was amazing” before he fell asleep. Sam was yours.

@tumbler-tidbits @coffee-obsessed-writer @waywardbaby @maddiepants @sorenmarie87 @thoughtslikeaminefield @girl-next-door-writes @evansrogerskitten @just-another-busyfangirl @cosicas-cuquis @sandlee44 @deans-baby-momma @death-unbecomes-you

[nicoletterogers]

task eight - high school never ends

( tw: adhd mention )

[ soundtrack ]

Let’s start with the simple stuff first. what classes did you take in high school? which ones were you most and least excited for? did you have a favorite teacher that made the days more enjoyable?

Nic propped her leg up on a chair, leaning in as she listened to the question. People never wanted to talk about high school--brought up bad memories for some. Some just didn’t care. Not for Nic--comparatively, high school was a good part of her life. She preferred college, but she didn’t hate her last years in the public school system. The blonde shrugged. “Well, I mean--I had to take the core classes, y’know? But my high school was big enough where we had a lot of really cool electives in all sorts of subjects--like I once took a class called ‘American History through Music”’and that was sick as fuck. I also took one on the World Wars. I liked history a lot back then. I guess I still do--but I don’t have a lot of time to sit and learn anymore. That’s why I’m big on documentaries. I mean, yeah, Liam of course--but also I like learning.” She paused, humming while she thought about her classes. “I hated English. Like what a pointless class--why would you have to learn about a language that you already speak? I mean, yes, i know, it’s not actually important. I think Lia has shared with me a few times the joy of what words mean--but i don’t know. I just never could figure out why anyone would want to spend more time than they had to writing papers or reading books. Maybe if i had taken a creative writing course or two--but nah. Give me AP Gov any day--or even trig. I was good at trig.” She paused. “Nah, teachers liked Liam. He was charismatic and charming, good at sitting and listening. School was never hard for me, but I didn’t possess the talent of sitting still for very long. I think I was...a sophomore in college when I first got diagnosed with ADHD. Did you know that ADHD often shows up different in women than men?” Nic nodded. “Yeah--its wild. Girls are significantly less likely to get a diagnosis growing up, which means that their symptoms go untreated and unsupported for crazy long periods of time--like sometimes 20 years. I think that’s why I really struggled in English--because the subject didn’t interest me and like hell i could just sit there and read something. But nah, teachers and I never bonded. Which is fine because I still did well in school. It just took some extra effort.”

and now, outside of the classroom. did you participate in any extracurricular activities like sports, band, or other clubs? were you apart of the prom planning committee or did your parent always sign up to chaperone field trips? or did you bolt home or to work at the end of the day?

“Oh hell yes. I was all about the extracurriculars. I did archery, cheerleading--don’t laugh--worked on the school newspaper for a year, managed the lacrosse team for a year, volunteered to be a mentor for incoming freshman and, of course, worked. Anything to stay out of my house. I mean, I loved Liam but my dad and I are like oil and water. He wanted me to be like Liam so badly--and I just...couldn’t. One, I wasn’t a guy--and that was disappointment enough for him. But I wasn’t Liam and spending time around dad just...it was so much pressure. So I tried to focus my time elsewhere. and I liked being busy--my brain enjoyed that piece. It was like my environment finally matched how fast my brain was working. Even cheerleading--the sport that made me a wear a skirt--was fun. Because nothing is better than proving a bunch of stupid high school boys that yes, cheerleading is a sport. a hardcore, badass sport. But if I had to pick a favorite, it would be archery. I think it’s because I got to teach it to the kiddos at camp later on, but also--like how powerful is it to be able to pull back on a bow and let an arrow fly through the sky and get a bullseye? Like it’s badass.” Nic grins at the memory. “Oh, and then seeing those kids at camp--especially the ones who struggle with who they are and their self-confidence--light up when they hit the target? the pride they have in themselves for something they’ve done? That shit’s an unreal high.” 

a night to remember. did you go to prom? if so, did you have a date or fly solo, and was it a good time where you danced all night, and what were you wearing? if not, did you have an ‘anti-prom’ party, or why else did you decide not to go? what about other school dances or pep rallies?

The blonde lets out a laugh and nods, thinking about the memory. “Oh yeah-- I definitely went to prom. I mean, I think I was always going to--but I don’t think I anticipated having a date. And definitely not winning prom queen, but that’s Malik for you. The kid was like the closest thing to a celebrity in school--I mean, I think so. He was the star jock and you know how high schoolers get about their sports. But no, Malik and I are good friends--super close. I love that guy, he’s such a good one. So of course I was going to say yes when he asked me to go with him. I’m pretty sure half of my squad was jealous, but like...that whole thing never made sense to me. The whole jealousy thing.” It sure as hell does now though. She thought bitterly, her own situation appearing back in her mind. “Anyway, we went as friends. I didn’t expect to win prom queen--hell, i didn’t even know people knew who I was. Weirdest experience ever to put a tiara on. But honestly--prom was kinda fun. Not kinda, I really enjoyed it. Malik and I did end up kissing, but it was one of those kisses where you realize, at the end of it, you’re way better off as friends than anything more? Not that the kiss was bad, not at all.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I wore this red dress with a slit up the side and I had never in my entire life though I’d wear something like that. It looked good though. Like really good. All that cheerleading paid off I think.” Another chuckle came out of her lips. “As for pep rallies-- I was in them so of course I was there. And I liked the energy of them. I’ve always liked big energy spaces--concerts, pep rallies, sporting events. It feels like--at least for a moment--you’re all connected by something greater than yourself. Maybe that’s like my church. I don’t know. But yeah, I liked pep rallies.”

some more of the hard hitting q’s. who did you sit with at lunch? did you keep the lock off your locker or decorate it? were your headphones always snaked through your sneeve? was cutting class a normal occurrence or would you never dare? did you ever get detention?

“I mean, I don’t think I was ever popular--but I always had a place to sit with someone. It was either with Liam and his friends--I guess they were also my friends, but I met them through Liam so it’s hard for me to associate them as just mine. Sometimes with my squad, but not often. I didn’t care for the dramatics of dates and boys and clothing talk. But every so often we had a good discussion on things that I did care about--sometimes it was on women’s rights, though that was a lot of Sammi repeating what her mother told her about feminism (not that it was wrong, but it wasn’t Sammi’s words, that was sure) or the fact that child workers were making the clothing they had talked about the previous day. I liked those conversations the best. But even still, it was usually me shooting the shit with Liam and our friends. I loved those guys so much, y’know? I still keep in touch with a lot of them--some have families, some just got married. In fact, I am going to Tate’s wedding in a couple weeks. Its so weird to think they’re just now getting married and...” She trailed. Maybe now wasn’t the time for that thought. “Detention? Oh yeah. Me and Mrs. Huxley were good pals by graduation. Mostly it was about cutting class--but everyone once in a while she’d catch me with a...special someone in an empty hallway. Ok, so it only happened twice and I never told Liam because he’d kill me if he knew. So I guess,” She looked up at the sky and chuckled lightly. “Surprise?” 

upward and onward. what did you want to be when you were sixteen? was there a career path in mind, a certain college, another route worth taking? were you excited to see your high school in the rearview mirror or was moving on bittersweet?  if you graduated, was it scary or exciting or a mix of both? did you end up where your younger self expected you to?

"Well, when I was really little, I wanted to be a sideline reporter for the Bears. Or a commentator for the Cubs. Something to do with sports, absolutely. I could never imagine leaving this city--not in a million years. Even at 31, the city still surprises me daily and i love that fact the most. You never know who you’re going to meet--its a giant present box you wake up in every morning. How could anyone want to leave that?” She grinned, tapping her foot. “But at 16 I think I had let go of that dream and set my sights on the Academy. Police academy. I did, briefly, think about enlisting. Thought that if I wanted to break stereotypes and gender roles, I could make a huge splash in the military. But something about that whole world--I couldn’t take the plunge. I think I wanted to support my community, keep them safe, make my home a home for all.” She sighed. “So I was going to be a cop. Plus Liam was already doing that and I couldn’t let him have all the hero glory.” She winked, smirking. “I stayed in state--in city--for school, saved me some money and I already knew the area. In fact, I didn’t really ever leave Chicago. Which, makes me small minded to some i’m sure--but why do I need to leave when the world seems to flock to chicago? Just because I never lived anywhere else doesn’t mean I haven’t been challenged to grow.” Nic shrugged. “But yeah, like I said college was probably my favorite time in my life. Like hands down. I mean how could it not be? Killed the beer pong scene, met all sorts of great people, honed my skee ball skills even more, learned some awesome things, found the love of my life--got married.” It was so much simpler at 20. So much simpler. When did everything go so wrong? “Yeah, sorry--this was about high school. Uhm--wait, what was the question again?”

and last but not least. if you could tell your younger self one thing - what would it be?

“You’re a strong cookie, Nic. Life is going to wreck you down to your core but don’t ever think it’ll destroy you. You’re too damn stubborn to let that happen--and that is not a bad thing.”

[magicallygrimmwiccan]

Only Time

Summary: They used to spend almost every moment of their lives together. Everything changes once high school hits, and Roman begins to realize that his actions have consequences. 

Notes: This is my half of an art/writing trade with the wonderful Wren (@dailypattondoodle or @moonfang03), who wanted some twin Logince with angst and a fluffy resolution. Welp, hope you enjoy this :)  This is going to be posted in a couple different chapters, purely for the sake of my editor and formatting on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy, Wren! 

Logan and Roman Everhart had always been non-normal children. They were an adopted set of identical twins, something very unheard of by most. Their adopted fathers were always quick to defend the legitimacy of their claim to parenthood, however, with Roman and Logan none the wiser. The twins also never quite seemed to act their age. Roman began to recite Shakespearean sonnets at 8 without being in an acting company. Logan was reading high-school level chemistry textbooks at age 10 and actually understanding them. Roman was fluent in at least 3 languages including English by the age of 11, and Logan could translate texts in at least 5 by the same age. Their fathers were extremely proud of their children (although baffled over how they learned these things that quickly) and encouraged their interests as individuals.

At the same time, however, both were still just average children. Roman enjoyed going to movies and playing outside and doing sports while also joining a Shakespeare youth company and a choir outside of school. Logan found a STEM group outside of school and joined that while also enjoying reading in his spot on the windowsill in the living room. Both boys had their differences, both from each other and from other children, of course, but first and foremost, they were brothers. They did everything together as children, from watching new shows and movies to starting new books and even trying to cook together. In other words, they were siblings. Yes, they fought, and had their differences, but at the end of the day, they were each other’s best friend. The two of them were always there for each other. Well… until high school, that is.

The first day of high school, Roman met the other theatre kids and was instantly enamoured by them. They understood him perfectly. They supported and participated in his dramatics. They didn’t laugh when he began to geek out over the latest Disney news or the latest Broadway musical or the newest episode of a cartoon show that he really should have stopped watching years ago when he got “too old for it”. They were there with him, just as passionate about the same things. Oh, sure, they all had their differences, and drama, but overall, Roman knew that he had found a new family in this small group of social outcasts in the theatre department at his new high school.

Logan, however? Logan struggled. Not only was he seen as a freak for his selective mutism (and yes, it was selective, he had a hard enough time talking normally so it wasn’t much of a stretch to only communicate in sign), his uncommon interests pushed him even further away from his peers. While he made a couple of friends, mostly fellow science fans, they had lives and responsibilities away from him and their group, and, as all of them were introverts, they tended to not meet up outside of school very often. As such, Logan was extremely lonely without Roman. But this was fine, he told himself. Roman was a social person by nature. He needed people to talk to that weren’t his brother. Logan had no reason to be upset, right?

“And then he just started bawling! I mean, it’s understandable, that spider was far too large for any five year old to handle, but I think that’s the most emotion he’s ever shown in his life!” Roman finished, head thrown back from the force of his laughter. The rest of his friends giggled a bit as well, all too used to hearing about the adventures of Young Logan and Roman.

“Roman, you’re so mean to your brother!” Mabel giggled, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulders. Her brown eyes twinkled with mirth as she almost dropped her fork into her pasta. Roman snorted and rolled his eyes, far too used to Mabel’s clumsiness.

“Mabel, you have no room to talk,” he shot back, grinning. “I seem to recall you telling us stories about being an absolute menace to your brother one summer when you were 12?” The other six people at the table laughed and oohed along with Mabel and Roman like the immature freshmen that they were. People at nearby tables shot them looks but did not speak up, ultimately succumbing to the apathy high school filled you with and returning to their regularly scheduled lunches. Nonetheless, their table did quiet down, not wanting to cause a fight to break out in the crowded lunchroom.

“Hey, speaking of brothers, I haven’t seen yours in a while, Roman,” Shiloh mentioned, instantly dampening the mood of the conversation. While Logan was liked by all at the table, more than one person had a complicated relationship with him, whether it be from classes or indirect experience through another person. Roman blinked in shock at Shiloh’s statement, mind whirling. He had just spoken to Logan an hour ago, hadn’t he? Outside of Logan’s Honors English classroom? And hadn’t his friends been with him? No, they had not, he concluded as the memories solidified. He had talked to Logan alone.

“He’s been busy with classes. He’s in all honors, remember, and he has a lot of activities to do outside of school,” Roman answered, voice even and unconcerned. Why should he be concerned, after all? This was normal behaviour for Logan, who did not like to talk to most people that were not in his immediate circle of Trusted Humans. Plus, these were not Logan’s friends. Acquaintances, yes, but not friends. Logan had his own friends, a couple of fellow sciencey introverts who did not mind Logan’s methods of communication. Why should Roman be concerned, then, that his friends had not seen Logan for a bit?

“Yeah, true. I dunno, though, he used to stop by at least once a lunch period. He hasn’t done that for at least two weeks,” Shiloh continued, chewing his bottom lip. Dani murmured in quiet agreement and shoved the rest of her sandwich in her mouth, and Mabel sighed, eyes flickering with melancholy. None of them would admit it, but they missed Logan’s visits, if only to see his adorable banter with his twin.

“He’s probably just busy, okay guys? Nothing’s wrong,” Roman huffed, stabbing violently into his pasta. “Why are you worried, anyway? He’d tell me if something is wrong.” Dani and Shiloh looked at each other across the table, silently communicating with eyebrow raises and glances. Clearly, Roman wasn’t paying attention to his sibling. Should they tell him, or let him figure this out on his own?

The bell to signal the end of lunch interrupted their decision making, and the group all stood to scatter to their afternoon classes, groaning the entire time. Roman hiked up his backpack and stalked off to algebra, slipping into his seat just before the late bell rang. Logan was fine, he knew. His friends had no reason to make such a big deal over this. Right?

Logan choked back his tears as he checked his phone for the fifth time in the last minute or so. Roman wasn’t coming, it was clear. This was far from the first time Roman had skipped their meetings, and it was very unlikely to be the last. He had a life, and friends, and better things to do with his time than spend time with his stupid nerdy brother who was still far too clingy at age 14. Five more minutes, he thought, I’ll give him five more minutes. He was already five minutes late, Logan knew, but he was not quite willing to accept that fact yet. He was not ready to admit that his brother was abandoning him.

Five minutes passed and Roman was nowhere to be found, as was normal lately. Logan sighed and began to walk towards his next class half an hour early as usual, ignoring the pangs and tearing in his chest. He should be fine, he couldn’t possibly expect Roman to spend every moment with him, he should be happy for his brother and his new friends. Logan knew that change was natural in high school, yet he somehow still felt awful over it. He should have made more of an effort in his younger years to talk to people other than Roman. Maybe then he’d know how to deal with this.

“Logan? You’re here early again. Is something wrong?” his Trig Honours teacher asked, concern dripping from her voice. Logan swallowed down his feelings, shifted his binder to his right arm, and lifted his left hand to reply.

No, I just finished lunch early and my friends are busy. May I please stay in here? he asked, hand shaking slightly at the thought of rejection. His teacher must have noticed and smiled at him, waves of calm radiating off of her.

“Of course you can stay in here, Logan. In fact, could you help me grade the Algebra 1 tests? If that’s not too much trouble,” she replied, holding up a stack of paper. Logan nodded and set his materials at his desk before walking back over and settling down to help grade. Grading relaxed him and took his mind off of his issues.

“So, Logan. Do you need to talk?” she asked, looking over her glasses. Logan shook his head, focusing on correcting a poor freshman’s factoring. She sighed and went back to silence, allowing Logan to stew in his thoughts. Far too soon, the rest of his class began to filter in, and Logan had to go back into his daily schedule, still raw and uncertain about what was going on with his brother.

Luckily, school was over quickly, and Logan began his walk home, not willing to wait for Roman to finish play practice today. Plus, he had homework, and Dad would need help making dinner since Papa was working late tonight. It’s not like Roman would worry, anyway, Logan knew as he reached the front door, reaching into his pocket to grab his house keys. He walked in the door, the scent of burning sugar hitting his nose.

“Logan? Can you help me? I can’t… figure out how to cook!” Dad’s voice called, tinged with panic. Logan chuffed, threw his backpack onto the couch, and walked into the kitchen, eyes widening as he took in the destruction around him. Flour dusted every surface. Eggs were splattered across the table. Sloppily chopped cloves of garlic lay on the floor, and a bottle of olive oil lay on its side, thankfully sealed and not leaking. In the middle of this cooking disaster zone stood Virgil Everhart, a famous author who still didn’t know how to cook at age 30. Logan smiles slightly and walked over, picking up a discarded chopping knife.

What are you trying to make, Dad? Virgil sighed and turned back to the stove, shutting it off and taking the slightly-smoking pan off of the burner.

“This… this nice pasta recipe. And we had all the things to hand make pasta… and I wanted to surprise Patton with something special? But… I failed,” Virgil muttered, gesturing around the room. Logan nodded and gently took the pan from Virgil. He grabbed out all the ingredients he was going to need and set to work, smiling.

I can do this, Dad. Just focus on cleaning up, Logan signed before setting to work. Virgil shuffled around behind him, cleaning up everything that he had almost destroyed and handing Logan the olive oil for later. Logan snorted and took it, giving his Dad a large smile and a big thumbs-up. Virgil was trying to learn a new skill, it was clear.

“Okay, it’s all cleaned up. Can I help?” Logan shook his head and finished kneading the dough, beginning to set it up to roll it out and cut it. The kitchen descended into silence as the two worked, Virgil mostly handing Logan things and stepping back and watching his son make the meal. Logan was just finishing dishing the pasta into bowls when the front door slammed open and Roman’s voice came floating in.

“I’m home, everyone! Do I smell garlic?” Logan stiffened a bit but focused on finishing his task while Virgil went out to find and talk to Roman.

“Yep. Logan actually made dinner. Talk to him,” Virgil drawled. Logan finished topping everything with parmesan and hurried towards his room, snatching a bowl on the way. No, he wasn’t avoiding Roman, what were you talking about?

He walked into his room and softly closed the door before collapsing into his desk chair, pulling out his math textbook and flipping open his notebook. This was not the first time he did this, eating dinner and doing homework while avoiding his family, and it would be far from the last time he did this. He shoved down the bubbling heat, stabbed his fork into a mushroom, and threw himself into graphing conic sections for the second night in a row.

“So… Roman. We need to have a talk,” Virgil started, sitting down with his noodles across from his more extroverted son. Roman blinked and looked up, mouth full of pasta and carrots. Confusion painted his face, which Virgil would find adorable in any other scenario, but right now made anger bubble in his gut. It was clear Logan was hurting, and Roman should have noticed and known, but he clearly had no idea, and that made Virgil angrier than he thought.

“About what? My grades are fine, I’m not having issues… what’s up, Dad? Is someone dying?” Roman babbled, eyes wide and panicked. Virgil sighed and pinched his nose. Wow, how did he raise such a dramatic child? He blamed Patton.

“No one is dying. You’re not in trouble. It’s Logan.” Roman’s face paled and he almost dropped the bowl, catching it at the last second. “I… what? What’s wrong with Logan? Is he being bullied? Is he okay? Is he sick? Does he have depression? Who do I need to fight?” Roman rattled off, fists clenching and teeth gritting. Virgil actually… felt scared of his son at that moment. That… that should not happen.

“Whoa, hang on, Roman! Slow down! No, Logan is okay in most of those fields. Please let me talk!” Virgil babbled. Roman quieted down, brown eyes wide with expectation. Virgil sighed, steepled his fingers, and began. “I… I believe Logan may be exhibiting symptoms of depression or anxiety. And… I want to ask you if you have any idea why?”

Roman frowned and began to think. He seemed to finally stumble across a solution and his eyes widened, horror and despair filling their cocoa depths. “I… holy shit. I have no idea,” he whispered. Virgil sighed, took a bite of his pasta, and began to think about how to explain things to his son.

“I… you talk a lot about your friends, which is great, don’t get me wrong, but you also used to talk about Logan… and I’m wondering if you’ve just stopped talking to him?” Roman frowned before comprehension dawned.

“I haven’t been talking to him… oh crap, we were supposed to meet up at lunch today… oh crap!” Roman bolted upright, face pale. “I… where’s Logan! I need to talk to him! I- I need to fix this!” He sprinted out of the room, leaving Virgil alone to eat his pasta and contemplate all the horrible outcomes this situation could bring.

The front door opened again and closed again, and Virgil looked up to find Patton smiling softly at him. “Hey, honey, what’s going on?” Virgil sighed and pecked Patton on the cheek.

“Roman and Logan… are having some issues. They’re talking it out now.” Patton nodded and sat next to him, squeezing his hand.

“It’ll be fine, darling. They’re strong. They have a great bond. Everything will be okay,” Patton whispered. Virgil leaned against him, smiling softly.

“I hope so, Patt. I hope so.”

Knock knock. “Logan? Can we talk?” Logan’s head snapped upwards and he gulped at the sound of Roman’s nervous voice. His brother only sounded nervous when things were serious. Had Logan done something wrong? The mere thought sent nasty whispers through his brain, and he tried to block them out, focusing on the present. He stood and walked to his door, opening it to find Roman fidgeting with his sleeves in the hallway. “Can I come in?” Roman asked, eyes shining with something Logan couldn’t decipher. Logan nodded and let him in, closing the door behind his twin before sitting back in his desk chair while Roman perched on the bed. Silence reigned as the brothers faced each other, neither putting forth any words. Finally, after a solid three minutes of silence, Roman placed his hands on his knees, sighed, and began.

“Logan. I… you’ve been acting off lately. A bit more… depressed? And anxious? And I’d like to know what’s going on.” Logan bit his lip and wrung his hands together, trying to formulate a response. Should he be honest? Should he tell Roman the truth about his feelings? Or should he try and make Roman feel better? Looking into Roman’s earnest eyes, however, Logan felt all plans of lying leave his head. He had to tell his twin the truth.

I… have been feeling abandoned lately? You have been skipping our lunch meetings to hang out with your friends… and we don’t talk much anymore… which is fine! You have your own friends and your own life. I just feel a bit sad and hurt over it, Logan signed. His hands shook as they formed the damning signs, his hands lowering when he was done. Silence reigned, and Logan’s throat began to close up. He was so stupid, why couldn’t he just push his feelings down, why couldn’t he grow up and let Roman go-

Logan was suddenly yanked into a hug and he gasped, tears bubbling in his eyes. “You’re okay, Logan. You’re okay. I’m so, so sorry, bro, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry,” Roman sobbed, squeezing Logan. Logan slowly lifted his arms and hugged Roman back, finally allowing the tears to stream down his cheeks. There the two brothers sat, crying, for a length of time neither could tell, simply basking in the presence and love of the other, their best friend since birth. Eventually, Roman pulled back, sniffing, but kept his hands on Logan’s shoulders, giving him a watery grin.

“Okay. I promise, I will not forget our meetings, okay? In fact, I’m going to start spending all of lunch at least once a week with you. How does that sound?” Logan’s eyes widened and he frantically shook his head. No, he didn’t want that, Roman’s friends would start to hate him for taking Roman away-

“Hey, Logan? My friends will understand, okay? You come first, anyway. If they can’t handle me spending time with my brother, then they weren’t that great of friends in the first place,” Roman stated firmly, his voice cutting through Logan’s spiraling thoughts. Logan gulped and raised his hands.

I don’t want to cut into your time with people you enjoy, though. Roman growled and shook Logan gently.

“Logan. You matter more, okay? Plus, they all miss you. Just… trust me on this, okay?” Logan slowly, shakily nodded, and Roman smiled softly. “Good. That’s great, Logan. Now, yell at me if I do anything stupid, okay?”

Logan snorted. You’ll be smacked about ten times per day, then. Roman blinked before his cheeks puffed out.

“Hey! That’s rude!” Logan giggled, and Roman simply pouted more in an effort to be the largest drama queen on the planet. This caused Logan to giggle harder, and finally, Roman broke down laughing as well, happiness welling up in both sibling’s souls. They ended up cuddling on Logan’s bed and watching Netflix, somehow, but neither complained. This was the most time they’d spent with each other for a while, and neither was willing to have this end.

What neither knew was that, when they eventually fell asleep, Patton slipped into the room and tucked them in, plugged in Logan’s laptop, and dropped a soft kiss onto both of their foreheads. “Sweet dreams, kiddos,” he murmured before leaving, smiling to himself. His kiddos were finally beginning to make things better, and nothing could be better in his eyes.

“Logan, calm down. They all like you, remember?” Roman murmured, nudging his brother in the ribs gently. Logan gulped and adjusted his grip on his Caesar salad, staring across the lunchroom at Roman’s usual table filled with loud, laughing theatre kids. Mabel was draped across Dani, the two girls watching something on Dani’s phone. Shiloh and Tommy were shouting in Hebrew about math homework (Logan could only tell because he glimpsed their open math textbooks), and Clair was giggling along with Cory and Kate about cute humans. Overall, an alien environment to Logan. He didn’t fit in; he didn’t belong there. Roman huffed and grabbed Logan’s arm, yanking him after him as he marched over.

“Friends! Countrymen! Gentlewomen! Lend me your ears!” he called, causing the entire cafeteria to turn around and stare at them. Logan flinched, but Roman and his entire friend group took this in stride, grinning.

“Yes, Your Highness? What say you?” Shiloh yelled back, his voice lilting with sarcasm. The entire table chorused agreement, a cacophony of sarcasm erupting from the table. Logan flinched back, but Roman pushed onwards, gently shoving him in between Shiloh and Alfred. Logan simply fidgeted with his fork and waited to be kicked from the table.

“I say that my darling advisor, my dear brother, will be joining us today!” Roman chirped, lowering his volume. The rest of the cafeteria ignored them once again, and Logan swallowed as all the eyes at the table turned to him. He was acutely aware of how his argyle sweater vest and tie made him stand out among this group of fashionable teens. He fidgeted, not used to this much attention. Mika and Wirt were much more subdued and hated eye contact as much as Logan did. This… this was not in Logan’s comfort zone at all.

“Cool! So, Logan, do you listen to musicals? I just finished listening to the UK version of Heathers and do I have some opinions,” Mabel answered Roman, slamming her fist into the table.

“Oh, en guarde, bitch, you do not get to trash that recording!” Tommy yelped, slamming his fist into the table. Mabel yelled a challenge back, and Logan soon found himself embroiled in a conversation about which version of Heathers was better, a topic he knew nothing about. However, he found this conversation… pleasant, even fun. All of Roman’s friends were very welcoming and warm, and all of them took their time and let him sign, Roman translating for him. Never once did Logan feel excluded. This was… nice. He smiled his first genuine smile in months. Things were finally looking up.

Notes: And that’s Chapter One! I’m most likely posting Chapter 2 tomorrow (fingers crossed!). Hope you all enjoyed this! 

[depressedramblingsbyme]

So it begins

This is a journal, diary, a void just somewhere i can put my thoughts without feeling like i’m just screaming into a void.

5/28/2020

I’m living in the u.s. my dad is German and my mum is American, while we live in the u.s. they’re laid back parents and have let me drink in the house on weekends since i was 15 or 16.(note: i got held back in first grade after moving from england so despite being born in 02 i graduate in 21) Being 17 i wanted to experiment, I've vaped but personally i don’t see the attraction so i tried weed as it’s starting to become legal. I figured i’m nearly an adult so what’s the big deal. Like an afternoon drink i enjoyed smoking. It helped me relax and be more open about myself and put on this picture perfect filter even if i was just talking to friends. And unlike nicotine i never craved it or felt like i needed it which is why i don’t fuck with nicotine. So life moves on like normal until October. they found some trash from a cart i opened, unfortunately my siblings have ruined weed for my parents as all my siblings who smoke decided to make some dumb life decisions (which i don’t want to type out) and are in my parents eyes not in the best position. Rightfully from their experience they’re against it, it’s not unreasonable to see the cause and effect relationship. lots of yelling and arguing ensue i don’t remember it too well but i didn’t get punished somehow. Fast forward to December My parents are worried for my grades, this year i was spending half my time at a technical school and my other half at my main high school. Perfect grades in technical school but my main school wasn’t the best. I had flat C’s with a b+ in English. In my eyes i had bitten off more than i could chew this year as i decided to take college algebra/trigonometry a class covering two years of college math in one, i suck at linguistics so Spanish class was rough, Chemistry is known for being tough, English always came easily to me but that class takes up a lot of time. So in my eyes my grades could be improved but to an extent it was justified and for the past two years i was on the high honor roll maintaining a 3.5+ gpa so it’s not the end of the world. To them they think that weed is what’s making my grades the way they are that i’m a stoner who just smokes pot all day and that’s all i want to do with my life. This makes me horribly angry for two reasons. The first being i - hate - potheads, ironic but if all you want to do is smoke with your life frankly i think you’re a boring person with no aspirations in life which isn’t what i want for myself i feel unbalanced and shitty if i’m not sober for a few days i would maybe smoke 2-3 times a week at night after i was done with my day or on the weekend with friends. So that’s the first thing that upsets me they think i’m a pothead who just wants to smoke weed all day. the second reason this makes me angry is that they’re completely fine with getting drunk, now i’m not calling my parents alcoholics (my dad doesn’t even drink that much it’s mainly my mum ) but shit at least once or twice a week my mum will be pretty fuckin drunk. which again is an okay thing to do they’re adults it’s their right my problem is that if the world is starting to put weed on the level of alcohol why is it so horrible if i get high occasionally to put off some stress like she does occasionally. Now i didn’t get to ask her this specific question but i did say “so it’s okay for you to get drunk but i can’t get high” to which she responded “i’m an adult, you’re not” if you trusted me to be adult enough to handle alcohol what makes me smoking any different. second semester we have 2 more “big” arguments about my grades, they keep relating it to pot. So at this point i had to 3rd person myself if you will. on one hand i didn’t believe pot to be affecting me as i thought i had control over it and never abused it, i knew what abuse looked like because of my siblings but never felt that way for myself. On the other maybe it is effecting me but i don’t realize it. So to humor the idea i go sober for a month, nah school is just hard it’s not weed. Idk if i typed this already but i understand if you don’t want to smell weed, or have it in your home but i don’t see the harm if i’m not bringing it anywhere near home. At around this point we entered quarantine, i didn’t mind online school however now my mum was hounding me constantly about school, if even one assignment was missing it would lead to more arguing. Now i know to a certain degree i didn’t give a fuck about the online work because at this point my grades weren’t going to be able to go down however i did 80% of my work. If i can’t understand trig in school what makes you think i can teach myself so for the most part i did school. At a certain point i felt this switch was flipped and it happened right around when quarantine started and since then i haven’t felt comfortable in my own home. it constantly feels tense between me and my mum i couldn't tell you what we argue over but i can’t even go hang out with friends without feeling like i’m doing something wrong, which makes me want to stay in my room all day which then makes them upset because they dont see me throughout the day which then leads to an argument and me storming back up to my room. so now that i’m in this cycle of shit frankly i just want to cry and enjoy my last summer but now i’m being threatened with being kicked out despite not even finishing highschool. i turn 18 in 9 days i don’t think i’ve ever been scared for a birthday. when i’m not crying and feel more level headed i do think about actually moving out though.

I mean if i broke it down what’s so horrible about only making 25k a year you can easily live in your own apartment with insurance and enough to save for the future and emergency, I've done the math and it just keeps cycling in my head because all my life I've been taught i need to go to college or make more than 60k a year but after doing the math, why. why put myself in debt if i can live comfortably, i mean shit any job paying something like $15 an hour (in the midwest) isn’t going to be anything to be proud of but if i can sustain myself and grow a retirement fund why not if i meet my partner they most likely have the means to sustain themselves so it would be easy to live together and currently i’d rather be sterilized then have a kid so that’s not an expense i want to think about as it’s something i do not want.

I want to finish highschool but living in my parents house makes me feel constantly on edge. In retrospect after writing this and reliving the past school year if i didn’t or if they didn’t know i smoked pot most of this would have never happened.

also i need a fucking job again at least it will get me out of the house

i’m posting this for my own sanity if you think i’m a dumbass tell me off in the comments if you have similar experiences, advice, encouragment etc feel free to put it in comments i appreciate feedback but frankly couldn’t care if you think i wasted my time in posting this

[samwinchesterfanfic]

What A Cliché

High school!dean x reader au

Warnings: language

A/N: Hiiiii. It’s been a long time y’all. Anyway so this is gonna be a series. Not sure how long yet, ig I’ll see if y’all like it lol. Also, inspired by the AMAZING @jerkbitchidjitassbutt. Ya. That’s all.

Y/n is new to Deans high school. His popular, pretty boy looks annoy Y/N, at least until she sees another side to him.

That’s right folks. It’s a slow burn.

*ALSO NO DANEEL HATE*

The first day of school has always been a nerve wracking ordeal. Particularly because you always started in the middle of the semester. This time, October 14th was the day, and West Valley Boarding School was the place. You step in front of your bedroom mirror, checking your outfit one last time: a pair of black leggings paired with dirty white converse high tops, and a black long sleeve with skeletons dancing on it. A perfect spooky season fit, you thought. Grabbing your backpack, you went downstairs. Your parents were already at work, so you made a cup of coffee before jumping in your car and heading to school.

The drive was quick and before you know it you were in the front office. A fifty something year old lady with badly dyed hair and glasses on the tip of her nose was showing you the school map, your schedule, and your room.

“Now we have a school tour guide to show you the ropes for the first two class hours, so you’ll be skipping your first two classes.” She yammered on and you wondered what preppy cheerleader had volunteered.

“Hey Mrs. Lawer. Where’s my touree?” A gruff voice reached your ears, and you sighed internally. Of course. A jock. You didn’t even have to look to know he would be wearing a lettermen.

“Dean, she’s right here.” She motioned to you and you turned towards the voice. Your breath caught in your throat momentarily, before you recognized that you were indeed correct. His dark blue lettermen jacket fit him perfectly, and you could see baseball patches adorning the sleeves.

“Of course.” You mutter. The most basic of jocks. He smirks at you.

“What? Don’t like what ya see?” He teases, and you grit your teeth. Turning back to Mrs. Lawer, you thank her and grab your papers before looking back at Dean.

“Well? Lead the way.” He shakes his head at you with a laugh before turning on his heel and walking out into the hallway.

I wasn’t sure what to say. This girl was really cute. Like next level cute. I thought I was adorable, but her reaction seemed to say otherwise. Oh well, maybe winning her with my charms will work. I look behind me and see her trailing a few steps behind, looking at the school in all its rich person glory. I slow down, and fall into pace with her. She looks up at me, and I smile.

“So, when are you moving in?” I ask, trying to make small talk until we get to the common room.

“Later today.” She says, and I can see how nervous she is.

“Don’t worry, boarding school isn’t that bad. It’s actually fun.” She looks at me knowingly.

“True.” So she’s been to one before. Okay. We walk into a large room with leather furniture, flatscreens, a pool table, and three vending machines. I close the doors behind us. It’s completely empty.

“Here we are: Junior commons. We’ll stay here for about an hour to discuss a few things, then move onto the tour.” She nods, and I realize I haven’t been formally introduced to her yet. We head over to the leather couches and I stop her.

“What?” She asks. I hold out my hand.

“I’m Dean Winchester.” She looks at me oddly, and after an almost uncomfortable amount of time, places her hand in mine.

“I’m y/n y/l/n.” She qucikly withdraws her hand and sits down. I take off my jacket before doing the same.

Gahhhh. I can’t focus. Why? Why is he affecting me like this? No jock had ever made me feel this... weird. I try not to stare at his biceps, or the way his black shirt hugs his body perfectly. No. No, no, no. You learned your lesson last year. Remember that.

“Okay so let’s start with rules. You’ve got your basic school rules like no littering, pay attention, respect the teachers, don’t break dress code, etc. But, then we’ve got our unique rules. Since we are a boarding school, these are more strict. We’ve got an 11pm curfew on school nights, and a 2am curfew on weekends. They do random room checks every week, as well as random car searches every month. We have our safety drills once a month which are pretty standard. Since we’re juniors, we are allowed to have the opposite gender in our rooms, but everyone has to be back by curfew. Underclassmen don’t get that privlage,” he winks at me, “ so I suggest you exercise it as much as possible. Any questions so far?” His tongue shoots out to wet his lips, and I’m momentarily lost for words. At least until I come to my senses.

“Uh yeah, no questions it all seems pretty basic.” I say, swallowing as an awkward silence blankets us. He scratched the back of his neck and glances around the room quickly.

“Yeah. Okay so uh what are your classes?” I grab my schedule and examine it.

“First hour is Medical Science 1, second hour is AP criminology, third hour is AP psychology, Fourth hour is CP Trig and Calc, fifth hour is lunch, sixth hour is AP Lang and comp, seventh hour is AP forensics, and eighth hour is off. Seems pretty good at least.” I say. I look up and his eyebrows are buried in his hairline.

“Damn girl.” He whistles.

“What?” I chuckle.

“Nothing I just realized you’re smart. Like smart smart.”

“I guess.” I never really thought anything of it.

“Well we have the same off hours so that’s cool.”

“Yeah.” I know better then to think he’ll hang out wit me during them though.

“So the only thing is you don’t have a PE class on your schedule so you’ll have to sign up for a club class.” He says.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah every student is required to take some sort of physical exercise.”

“Okay. Uh this school has a swim team right?”

“Y- uh yup. Yes we do.”

“Awesome that was easy. So what’s next?”

“Okay, uh well let’s do the tour and I’ll explain more as we go.” He stands up and walks towards the door. I scramble to grab my backpack and phone before following him.

We make our way throught the rather massive school, Dean stopping every minute or so to explain something new to me. The information is excessive, and the fact that I’m getting distracted by his jawline or his eyes or the way his muscles are highlighted through his t shirt, is absolutely no help at all. We finally got to my room, and he opened the door.

“Home sweet home.” He says with a chuckle. The room is dark and empty except for a bed, dresser, and desk.

“No roommate, nice.” I say. He nods.

“Yeah that’s why a lot of people try to come here. No roommates. It makes it a nicer experience.” There’s an innuendo in there somewhere, but I ignore it and drop my stuff.

“Nicer then the places I was at before.” You practically shudder at the thought. Dean scoffs.

“Places? As in multiple?” He asks.

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“Well what’d you do?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” he says sitting down on the mattress, “why did you get kicked out?”

“Well,” you sit down next to him, “I only got kicked out twice. Every other time my family moved.”

“And I repeat my question: why did you get kicked out?” He leans in close.

“I believe that’s none of your business.” I whisper.

“Why?”

“Because I have no idea who you are. Also, I don’t particularly like you.” I say, standing up and grabbing my backpack.

“Ouch, that hurts.” He says feigning pain. I roll my eyes and walk out of the room.

“Let’s go dumbass.” He hurries after me.

We finish the tour in a relatively peaceful fashion. We come to my third hour class and he flashes me a knee buckling smile.

“Well sweetheart, here we are. I hope my tour skills were up to pat.” He says, his gruff voice captivating me momentarily.

“Yup. We done.” I stand there awkwardly and he smirks at me.

“I’ll see ya around, y/n.” He walks off just as the bell rings. Students pour out of the classrooms and into the halls. I walk into my class and tell my teacher I’m the new student. He points we toward a desk next to a red headed girl. Setting my stuff down, I slide into my seat and stick an AirPod in, ready to pretend I don’t exist. But there’s a snag in my plan. The red haired girl taps on my shoulder, startling me.

“Hi there. I’m Daneel. You are?” She says, holding out her hand with a sickly sweet smile on her face. It makes me uneasy.

“I’m y/n.” I shake her hand quickly.

“Cool. You’re obviously new. Where are you coming from?” She asks.

“Uh just moved here from New York.”

“New York? Wow! That’s crazy. Why’d you move?” God what was this, a criminal investigation? A voice in the back of my head told me she was probably just being friendly, but I knew that wasn’t true.

“Personal reasons.” I say, and put my AirPod back in, effectively ending the conversation.