#did this for school and i loved writing it

[hcneymooners]

⋆ arcane but it's a private university au ( for the girls: pt. ii )

ice princess!f!reader x multi. f!characters. men & minors dni.

synopsis: private university!arcane headcanons but it’s really specific bc it’s based on my time at catholic private school except this au is just a private hold the catholic.

cw: this part contains scenarios for jinx, sevika, & ambessa. writing for jinx was actually my favorite portion (ambessa, please forgive me.) suggestive content. notes: i love them so bad. you can find part one here. i didn't include the intro since i did it in the first one! i love you.

jinx : the "bad influence." 

୨୧ the two of you met mid-sprint, fleeing a party broken up by the police. it was one of those raw, electric moments where adrenaline surges and strangers become allies in chaos.

୨୧ in the frenzied escape, she tripped, her knees hitting the pavement hard. without hesitation, you yanked her up, kicking away an overzealous officer with surprising precision.

୨୧ all you caught were glimpses: two impossibly long blue braids swinging like a pendulum and wide, heavily-lashed pink eyes that lingered on yours, a strange curiosity etched into their neon stare.

୨୧ your fingers found hers without thinking, and together you ran—your heeled feet stumbling across glitter-streaked concrete littered with shattered glass and discarded red cups.

୨୧ the chase ended in a hole-in-the-wall thai spot, rain pouring in sheets outside. bundled in your oversized vintage fur coat, dark brown and impossibly warm, you glanced at her—soaked, shivering, and unapologetically smug.

୨୧ against every instinct, you shifted, lifting the bulk of your coat to drape over her smaller frame. pressed close, you felt the cold bite of her skin and the cherry tang of her perfume, thick and sharp. her stomach—toned, pale, and adorned with vibrant tattoos—drew your attention as it flexed when she flagged down the waitress.

୨୧ she was so deeply beautiful and so fucking close to you and you’re shivering and wet together.

୨୧ silence settled between you as she grew overly familiar, stealing bites from your plate and feeding you egg rolls with a crooked grin. her nails scraped against your bottom lip, and she laughed when you blinked, stunned, swallowing more than just food.

୨୧ at some point, she leaned in, stealing a sip from your drink, her lips lingering on the rim.

୨୧ you paid.

୨୧ "thanks, ice princess," she murmured as you left. only then did it hit you—she knew you. you must’ve crossed paths on campus, and yet, she felt like a stranger from a different world.

୨୧ she pressed a glossy pink kiss to your cheek, saluted with mock reverence, and vanished into the seedy underbelly of the city.

୨୧ you thought about her for weeks.

୨୧ you didn’t expect to see her again. but days later, there she was on campus, leaning against the vending machine in your dorm building like she belonged there.

୨୧ “ice princess,” she greeted, that crooked grin pulling at her lips. “guess we’re neighbors.”

୨୧ you didn’t know what to say. it was one thing to pull a stranger out of trouble and share a meal in some forgotten corner of the city. it was another to see her here, part of your world, like she’d been there all along.

୨୧ she started showing up more often after that—slipping into your study sessions at the library, tagging along when you grabbed coffee. she was loud and reckless, her laughter echoing off the quiet walls, drawing stares that you pretended not to notice.

୨୧ it wasn’t long before she started pushing you out of your comfort zone. sneaking you into underground parties, dragging you to rooftop hangouts where the city stretched out beneath you, glittering and endless.

୨୧ she made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t realized you were missing.

୨୧ you couldn’t stop staring at her tattoos, the colorful, intricate designs that covered her stomach and arms. one night, without thinking, you reached out to trace a line along her skin.

୨୧ she caught your hand before you could pull back, her fingers curling around yours. “you like ‘em, huh, mama?” she said, her voice low and teasing. your cheeks burned, and you stammered something incoherent, but she only laughed, pressing your palm flat against her stomach. “gonna get one just for you. we can match.”

୨୧ she had a habit of being overly familiar—feeding you bites of her food, letting her fingers linger against your lips as you swallowed. one time, her thumb brushed your bottom lip, and you caught her smirk as she let her teeth graze her fork, slow and deliberate.

୨୧ you knew you were falling for her. it was impossible not to. the way she leaned in close when she talked, her perfume sweet and enticing, her lips always just a little too close. the way she made you feel like the only person in the room, even in a crowd.

୨୧ not everyone saw her the way you did. when someone from your social circle made a snide comment about her, you didn’t hesitate to defend her. “she’s smarter than all of you combined,” you snapped, your voice colder than ice. “and she’s got more heart than you’ll ever understand.”

୨୧ it was after that that she started pulling away. her laughter came less easily, her touch less frequent.

୨୧ “you don’t get it,” she told you one night, her voice brittle. “i’m… broken. you shouldn’t—”

୨୧ “jinx,” you interrupted, your tone firm but gentle. “i’m from a legacy family. and, according to my family, i "choose" to like girls. i’m definitely fucked up. so how could i judge you?”

୨୧ she stared at you for a long moment, her eyes softening, and for the first time, she was at a loss for words.

୨୧ your first kiss wasn’t rushed or reckless. it was quiet, heavy with the weight of everything building between you. 

୨୧ you were sitting together on the roof of her sister’s apartment, the city lights stretching out below, and she was looking at you like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

୨୧ “you’re staring,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

୨୧ “yeah,” she said, her grin softer than you’d ever seen it. “so what?”

୨୧ before you could answer, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours like a question. when you didn’t pull away, she kissed you deeper, her hand cupping your jaw, her thumb tracing your cheekbone.

୨୧ she tasted like strawberry chapstick and danger, and you never wanted to let her go. when she finally pulled back, her forehead resting against yours, she smiled.

୨୧ “told you,” she murmured, her voice soft and warm. “you’re stuck with me now.”

୨୧ you smiled back, cheeks aching. "i'm not stuck. i'm right where i want to be." ୨୧ she leaned back, dragging you into her lap. a slender finger dipped into your skirt's waistband and fingered the lace dip of your panties. your breath hitched, and she kissed your throat. "c'mon. lemme hear you, mama."

୨୧ from that moment on, you were hers—completely, irrevocably hers.

p.s you say fuck it, choose her over your fuck ass homophobic family, get disowned, get married, start a million dollar engineering empire, & have isha. 

sevika: the older student.

୨୧ you first noticed her in your advanced biochem lab—all sharp angles and calculated movements, her mechanical arm gleaming under fluorescent lights as she measured solutions with military precision. 

୨୧ sevika was notorious among grad students: brilliant, ruthless, and absolutely not interested in working with undergrads. which made it particularly unfortunate when professor silco paired you together for the semester's research project.

୨୧ she was older than most students—whispers said she dropped out years ago and came back after “handling some things.” no one was brave enough to ask what that meant, but her reputation kept most people at arm’s length.

୨୧ her expression when your name was called could have curdled milk. you lifted your chin, met her gaze steadily, and pretended your heart wasn't racing. 

୨୧ sevika didn’t bother to introduce herself. she just crossed her arms over her broad chest and grumbled, “you’re doing the talking.” her voice was low, almost lazy.

୨୧ "i'm not carrying dead weight," she said at your first session. you noticed a scar bisecting her left eye, the way her jaw clenched when she spoke. "if we're doing this, we do it my way." “thought you said i’d be talking,” you snapped back.

୨୧ 'her way' meant late nights in the lab, your designer clothes traded for practical cotton, hair pulled back from your face. she worked you relentlessly, expecting perfection in every measurement, every calculation. but beneath her harsh exterior, you caught glimpses of something else—the way she'd correct your form without mockery, how she'd appear with coffee when your hands started shaking from exhaustion.

୨୧ it was after one of these late sessions that it happened. you were walking back to your dorm, mind fuzzy with fatigue and feet stumbling, when rough hands grabbed you from behind. before you could scream, a low voice cut through the darkness: "let her go, or i remove your hands permanently."

୨୧ sevika stood there, golden eyes burning in the streetlight, her mechanical arm whirring softly. the would-be mugger took one look at her and ran. you stayed frozen, heart thundering in your chest, until she clicked her tongue in disapproval. “get it together, princess. come on."

୨୧ she led you to an alcove and watched you flutter with delayed panic like a bird, mouth twisted with an unreadable expression. "you need to learn to defend yourself," she said finally. it wasn't a suggestion. you opened your mouth to argue, but she cut you off. “gym. tomorrow. six am. wear something you can actually move in."

୨୧ that's how you found yourself spending your mornings with sevika, learning to throw punches and break holds. she was a harsh teacher, but her hands were surprisingly gentle when correcting your stance. "again," she'd say, and you'd try to ignore how your skin tingled where she touched.

୨୧ soon enough, she started showing up wherever you were—whether it was a coffee shop, the library, or your favorite bench on campus. “just passing through,” she claimed. still, the way she always ended up sitting beside you said otherwise. she knew you were anxious, your body tensing whenever someone passed by. your airpods haven’t been in noise cancellation mode for three weeks.

୨୧ her mechanical arm fascinated you. one day, you asked about it, your curiosity outweighing your hesitation. she shrugged, but you caught the faintest twitch of a smile when you told her you thought it was beautiful.

୨୧ the project evolved, and so did whatever was growing between you. she started letting you help maintain her arm, teaching you the intricate mechanisms. your fingers would brush as you worked, and sometimes she'd let them linger. "careful," she'd murmur, but you were never sure if she meant with the machinery or with her.

୨୧ in these moments, she had a way of looking at you that made your stomach flip—like she was sizing you up, deciding if you’re worth her time. 

୨୧ you began to seek her out. the first time you loitered in the parking lot of her condo, fingers twitching nervously as you texted that you stopped by. she opened the door and lounged against the doorway, thick thighs bared by her boxers and skin gleaming from a recent workout. she laughed as you gasped and turned away.

୨୧ “what the fuck, sevika!” “princess, we have the same parts. they probably would feel real nice pushed togeth—“ “SEVIKA.”

୨୧ she pushed you out of your comfort zone in quiet, deliberate ways. you’re dragged to the campus bar, taught how to play pool (and lose), and laughing when you scratch on the break. “you’re hopeless, princess,” she teased, her smirk revealing her perfect gap teeth.

୨୧ her teasing was relentless, and she always called you “princess” and sometimes “baby girl” like it was on your birth certificate. you flushed every time, which only encouraged her.

୨୧ the first time you successfully pinned her during a self-defense session, she actually laughed—a rich, surprised sound that made your heart stutter. "not bad, baby girl,” she said, still beneath you, her organic hand warm on your hip. you became acutely aware of your position, of how close her face was to yours. neither of you moved for a long moment.

୨୧ if you’re becoming way too possessive of her, sue you. you’re the only undergrad who’s smuggled yourself under her wing and you’d like to keep it that way, goddamnit. you were never good at sharing anyway.

୨୧ it came to a head at an afterparty, your eye twitching as you watched some bitch (sorry!) trace her talons across sevika’s waist, which was framed admirably by a dark pair of jeans that were practically painted on.

୨୧ it only took a few seconds for you to stomp across the room and root a hand around her neck, drawing her into a searing kiss. you kissed her like you were trying to draw juice from her lips, moaning as she tugged you in closer.

୨୧ she kissed like she fought—precise, demanding, taking no prisoners. she backed you against the counter, knocking over a bottle of malibu, mechanical hand cool against your hips. “didn’t know you had it in you,” she laughed. “shut up, sevika. my god.” you grabbed her collar, reeled her back in.

୨୧ "you're my special girl,” she'd tell you later, tracing patterns on your skin with metal fingers. “the only one i give a fuck about. no competition.” her voice was bleeding with affection, and you curled into her side. she pressed kisses to your hair and leaned over to set an alarm for the both you—one for her, four for you.

୨୧ it worked, somehow—your refined, gilded edges against her sharp ones. you learned to throw a punch; she learned that you would lock her out if she didn’t allow you to spoil her relentlessly. “princess, i already have a bike.” “keep talking, honey, and i’ll purchase the whole dealership.” “now—“

୨୧ "you're trying to kill me slowly,” she grumbled, watching you charm your way through department gatherings. but she'd be there anyway, a solid presence at your back, her mechanical hand resting possessively at your waist. and when you'd lean into her touch, she'd hide her smile in your hair.

୨୧ if anyone found it strange to see the ice princess curled up in the lap of the most feared grad student on campus, well, one look from sevika's narrowed eyes was enough to silence any commentary.

୨୧ you were a fucking princess, both in real life and in her bed, but fuck you were hers. and sevika protected what was hers.

ambessa medarda : the professor. 

୨୧ you first saw her across a dimly lit hotel bar. you were three drinks in, mascara smeared from crying after the worst fight yet with your mother. "disappointing," she'd called you. "ungrateful." all because you refused to date the son of her country club friends.

୨୧ “mommy, please,” you’d sobbed. “i’m not ungrateful. i just don’t love him.” she’d left you with the dial tone.

୨୧ you rubbed a fist across your face like a child, attempting to gather yourself. your phonecall was denied again, and you winced at the tinny voice of your mother’s voicemail, setting it down and turning it off. god, this was the worst thing to happen to you in a long time. 

୨୧ with a sigh, you glanced up at the mirror behind the bar. she was looking right back. 

୨୧ the woman was striking—white locs swept into an elegant updo, wearing a low-cut red dress that hugged her body tightly. she moved like a lioness, back flexing as she hunkered down over the glossy wood. her golden eyes met yours, and your stomach began to spin. you knew this was the beginning of a dangerous game.

୨୧ after a minute she walked over, hands bearing water instead of another drink. "crying in bars rarely solves anything, little one," she said, her accent rich and heady. when you tried to argue, she simply raised an eyebrow, and you found yourself downing the glass in its entirety. 

୨୧ you kept eye contact as you swallowed, tongue peeking out to lap at the remnants along your lips.

୨୧ you don't remember who moved first. but you remember her hands—strong, calloused—gripping your thighs. remember her voice, rough with want, whispering against your neck. remember the way she claimed you, leaving mottled marks you'd find days later.

୨୧ you remember waking up alone in her hotel room, a glass of water and two aspirin on the nightstand. no note. just the lingering scent of her perfume—spiced and earthy—on the sheets.

୨୧ you tried to forget her. tried to forget how she'd called you “sweet girl” when you'd bitten her shoulder, how she'd laughed darkly and pinned your hands above your head, called you “easy” when you sobbed out pitiful demands for her to go harder and faster, do destroy you from the inside out.

୨୧ then came the first day of advanced military history.

୨୧ "good morning, class. i'm professor medarda."

୨୧ your blood ran cold. there she stood—your favorite fantasy, your most well-spent drunken night—looking devastatingly beautiful in a tailored suit. her eyes found yours immediately, and you saw the recognition flash in them, followed by something darker, more primal.

୨୧ you tried to drop the class. she denied your request personally.

୨୧ "running away?" she asked during mandatory office hours, pouring tea from an ornate set. "that's not the fierce girl i remember. you scratched me all up.”

୨୧ your cheeks burned. "professor—"

୨୧ "ambessa," she corrected, sliding the tea across her desk. “i think we’re past the formalities.”

୨୧ you couldn't avoid her. she called on you in class, her voice caressing your name. kept you after lectures to "discuss your work." you told yourself the tension would fade.

୨୧ it didn't.

୨୧ "i need a teaching assistant," she announced one evening, when you'd stayed too late reviewing your paper. "someone sharp. strategic. devoted.” her fingers brushed yours as she took your empty teacup. "interested?"

୨୧ you should have said no. you should have viewed her wolfish grin as a red flag, grabbed your shit, and hauled ass. instead, you heard yourself say, “of course.”

୨୧ being her TA meant late nights in her office, her perfume making you dizzy with memories. meant watching her command rooms full of students while remembering how she'd commanded your body. it meant pretending you couldn't feel her eyes on you, hungry and possessive.

୨୧ "we should establish some boundaries,” you said finally, after weeks of delicious torture.

୨୧ "should we?" she moved like a predator, backing you against her desk. "or should we discuss how you keep shivering when i get too close?"

୨୧ your breath caught. "this is inappropriate."

୨୧ “mmm, entirely," she agreed, one hand sliding into your hair, the other around your neck. “now, tell me to stop."

୨୧ you didn’t. 

୨୧ “little minx,” she murmured and you kissed her, surging forward and into her lap.

୨୧ it became your secret—stolen moments in her office after hours, weekends at her apartment where she'd cook elaborate dishes and tear your papers to shreds, nights where she'd make you forget your own name and squeal hers.

୨୧ “good girl” she'd murmur against your skin, switching to noxian when you drove her too far. she ordained you with names that meant something far more possessive and crude in her native tongue.

୨୧ the whole thing made you feel deliciously stained and you sought her out to purify you time and time again. you kept it hidden until graduation. until you had your degree in hand and nothing left to lose.

୨୧ the scandal was delicious—respected professor medarda and her former student, now openly living together. your mother was horrified. society whispered.

୨୧ "regrets?" ambessa asked one morning, watching you sip the spiced coffee you'd grown to love.

୨୧ you thought of that night at the bar, of all the paths that led you here. "never."  it turned out some mistakes are worth making twice.

© hcneymooners.

[grimaldiapologist]

Writing on a blog dedicated, at least in spirit, to our dissociative identity disorder, this is something that fascinates me. For context - living with the poster child disorder of "that's not even real" and "you're just faking it to get out of jail" and "you're just histrionic with bpd I know this because I took a psych class once in uni", that some fucking airheads still make their paycheck "criticising" in the psychology field (and teaching), the fear of being declared a faker, an attention seeker, a liar, a self-centered and stage-obsessed criminal-until-proven-otherwise came as a free package with the diagnosis. Just the suspicion of the diagnosis was enough for all of those labels. From whom? Everyone.

The first time I dared to open my mouth to my psychiatric nurse, she was putting me against the wall for lying and omitting, because in her view, I was doing too well with no explanation. In reality, at that point, I'd spent some months after becoming aware of the system getting to know them and reading up on how to get the basics of communication together, and working through the first chapters of Coping With Trauma-Related Dissociation, which helped us understand what we needed to do with one another in order to stabilise and feel safer in our everyday life. Things were actually going wonderfully, I wasn't lying, but I was omitting, yes. I was omitting, because even though at that point I knew nothing about DID beyond what I was learning from resources and my friend/now partner, who'd been in the community for a long time and gave us crucial peer support in terms of figuring our situation out, I knew extremely well the stigma associated with "split personality", and our first and primary instinct has always been to hide and cover the existence of the system.

But she was forcing it, so I told her. I was asking for help, yes, but with the context of doing so well - we were winning, and we wanted to keep winning.

She promptly told us we weren't allowed to leave, and started to set us up for involuntary inpatient stay. Exactly what we'd been afraid of the most: that "the psychiatric system" would imprison us and kill us, kill the parts of us who were vulnerable, with cocktails of medication in padded rooms and straitjackets and whatnot that we'd seen in the movies. (And, to a degree, during our actual inpatient stay years before.)

The resident psychiatrist did a quick evaluation of us and released us after, clearly annoyed at the nurse for overreacting and putting us in the extremely triggered and traumatised state that we were in, but it did permanent damage.

Very soon after, we discovered the online "discourse" on the validity of DID, and the "fake claiming" communities. This is all we inherited, first thing, with our diagnosis - which we did get after the above clusterfuck, within a year, with the aid of a specialising therapist and years of notes from our history, or so I assume. I can't remember, it's been years, and I have DID. The point is, even the DID community itself demands that you will never show a bright side to your disorder.

You either suffer all of the time, always, you hate yourself, you hate your other selves, you want to die, and you're forever a mess and you're in eternal war against yourself, or you're faking.

We are not this way and have never been. Prior to discovering the system, we were poorly. To spare the details, at 29 when we were diagnosed, we hadn't worked a day in our lives, dropped out of school at 12, and spent about a decade locked indoors with suicidal spirals being the expected main event of every three days or so. But our main strength has been our us, the family that we have, and the care that we've shown each other all along. Even if we can't love ourselves, we can love each other, and after learning communication - learning to listen, learning to talk - we've been doing phenomenally. Our condition has changed from treatment-resistant and debilitating to actually, we no longer need SSRI medication at all, after being on it for our whole lives. And luckily, this is enough proof for us, but not the world.

No, we're now in that funny place where our partially treated trauma/dissociative disorder looks like too much fun to the world. We're fine and we love each other. We indulge in dressup, we have our own silly little blogs and journals each with their own specific equipment like fancy ink pens and wares of stickers and decor, we have galleries of fake Instagram pictures of ourselves, we use PluralKit on Discord and talk to ourselves like we own the chat - among friends, anyway, or just between ourselves in our private one. All of this means we're fake, fake, fake, fake. God forbid a man has fun. God forbid a woman takes an afternoon to herself to give herself a makeover and go on a date. God forbid a guy just wants to feel comfortable and laugh and express himself, or have a chat with his closest friends.

We're not in enough pain all of the time to be "true" DID anymore. If we were "true" DID then we'd still be in the untreated, pre-diagnosed state. This is a stagnant disorder of identities that may never experience growth or true humanity. All I am allowed to be is a filthy, incapable hikikomori afraid of the world, because anything else is fucking weird to people.

I'm sorry, but. None of your fucking business. I've spent 33 years of my life split squarely on a tightrope over the chasms of "I don't want to die" and "I want to kill myself now". I'm 33 fucking years old and I've earned my goddamn license to feel good, actually. I'm allowed to be fucking weird because I'm developmentally disabled. I will never not be the way that I am, and I also have no intentions to ever be anything but the way that I am, I'm just aiming to be better at it.

This now means that I'm not actually allowed to talk about my disorder... basically anywhere but here and in therapy. No matter where I go, people treat me like a criminal. People who don't have DID tell me I'm faking for clout and larping (LARPing is great by the way and you should absolutely try it out instead of using it as a weird slur online) and they're the champions of true sufferers who are there to nobly remind me that REAL people with DID are actually so in pain all of the time and dying unrecognised while freaks like me... post on Tumblr for attention or whatever I don't fucking know I'm still disabled and in chronic pain and I can't do shit with myself regardless of our overall improvement - and people with DID tell me what I have isn't real DID and I'm "anti-recovery" or whatever because I don't subscribe to their specific dogma of recovery (which, for the record, every single microcosm of the recovery community has their own version of, and they all hate each other for it). The latest edition of how this fucked us over was our choice to write frankly about the positive sides of how the often negatively portrayed coping mechanisms of DID can be turned to work for recovery, and how things like substitute beliefs (believing things that are factually untrue such as 'I am an actual dragon trapped in a human suit' when you're not) can be used not to distance one from reality to escape but help one adapt into it (because I am a dragon in a human suit, a dentist cannot scare me), and had the whole conversation just without warning or any sort of notice deleted from the community. Mods never replied to my request on clarity on what the fuck they were doing and why, and I haven't been back in the community since, either.

And it's hilarious. The whole fucking thing is hilarious. You're faking it if you've recovered too much, because a true sufferer of a severe mental health condition would never recover, but if you don't recover enough, you're anti-recovery, and therefore also faking. There's a slim venue of acceptable suffering in an eternal still-shot in the middle, but you're not actually allowed to exist beyond it or past it in any capacity.

The only true DID case is a non-person who is incapable of growth and change, for a disorder that is all about identity, which by definition is all about growth and change.

I'm so tired of it. Sorry, freaks, I'm gonna freak the way that I freak from now on. I'm too well-adjusted these days to be your perfectly martyred poster patient.

ive found that partially treated mental illness can sometimes look to uninvolved onlookers like faked mental illness.

[wcters]

𝗟𝗔𝗦 𝗩𝗘𝗚𝗔𝗦 𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛 𝗢𝗨𝗧

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!sainz!reader

word count: 1.3k+

summary: dating charles while he raced with your brother was complicated, but is even more complicated after the events of the las vegas grand prix

request: i cant stop thinking about the charles & carlos drama from vegas. would you be able to write an angst/fluff charles x sainz!reader fic where charles kinda lashes out on reader bec hes so angry at carlos. then they make up so some fluff in the end ,, thank you!

warnings: swearing, fighting (mostly charles being a dick, sorry), angst, fluff at the end, established relationships | sorry it’s so late, school and christmas has kept me busy 😔 i don’t think i can wait till march, and the way the eras tour ended the same day as the f1 season did had me sobbing 😭 i used translate for the spanish and french so if it’s wrong, please correct me, anyway, hope this is what you pictured !!!

For the first part of the race, you completely thought Charles had a chance of winning the race ━━ having moved from fourth to second ━━ but after the failed pass on George, you knew he was going to be upset. You also knew that he was going to be upset at your brother for overtaking him and getting podium when he was told not to. It was hard to be proud of your brother for getting podium while also mad at him for doing that to your boyfriend.

You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Charles, but it didn’t make situations like these any better. Both would feel betrayed no matter what you did, and that hurt because you loved them both. Carlos was your big brother, the man who introduced you to this sport and your love for it. The man who always supported you with your school work and degree, and doing whatever made you happy. Charles was your boyfriend, the man who you came home to every night and had conversations in the middle of the night with. The man who you imagined your future with: dancing in the kitchen, kids, what you’ve wanted ever since you were a kid. It was complicated, and it got even more complicated after you found out Carlos was traded to Williams.

You knew he was incredibly upset when he wouldn’t answer Bryan’s call for him over the radio. Then the whole speech happened and when he wouldn’t stop even after Fred hinted at it, that’s when you were called in with a desperate look from the two. “Charles, miel, you did what you needed to. You did the right thing. We’re so proud of you, mi amor. You can talk about it when you get back. I love you.” Bryan and Fred thanked you with a look and nodded, walking over to them once the radio was off.

“He’ll be fine, it might just take awhile.” They told you as you crossed your arms. “I know, it’s just unfortunate. If he asks, just tell him I’ll be back after the podium. If he lashes out at you, let me know. It’s not your fault,” you told them, rubbing their shoulders. “Thank you, chéri.” Fred thanked you. You just nodded and started to make your way to the podium with the rest of the Ferrari staff. You knew Charles would be salty that you were there, but he needed some time to himself before he talked to people. Especially before media.

The podium celebration was like the rest of them, besides the worry building up in your stomach. You were so proud of your brother for how he did this race, especially since he’s leaving at the end of the season, but you were worried about Charles as well. You know what he’s like, and you know how competitive he is. It just hurt that you can’t be in two places at once right now. You were thankful no champagne got on you ━━ no matter how hard your brother tried ━━ so when you finally got to Charles you weren’t rubbing it in even more.

You chatted with Bryan and Fred, as well as a couple more people before finally making your way to Charles’ driver room. You knocked first before calling his name. “Not right now Bryan, please.” “It’s me. Can I come in?” It was silent before the door opened and there stood Charles, eyes filed with anger and face filled with disappointment. “Oh cariño,” you sighed, pulling him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around you before you let him go and he sat back down on the couch in his room. “He always does this. Always.” He spoke up, his accent more noticeable as he got more upset. “Does what?” You asked softly, not trying to rile him up. Apparently that was the wrong move.

He rolled his eyes, “you know what.” You stayed silent. You had never felt this before, unwelcome. You didn’t know what to do. Charles was your boyfriend, but Carlos was your brother. “He did something wrong tonight, I know ━━“ “It’s not just tonight. Dieu, Y/n, why do you always stand up for him.” The anger in his voice was evident. “Excuse me?,” the shock displayed in your face, and in your voice. “You always do this. Always standing up for him and downplaying things he’s done wrong.”

At this point, you were tired of this conversation. Your boyfriend was gone to a point that nothing but some time would help him come down from his high. “I’m not talking about this.” You said, making your way to the door. “Yeah, go ahead, go to him.” You turned slowly. “Do not lash out at me because of something my brother did. I agreed with you, and you shut me out. Yes, he did something wrong, but it was him. Not me. I don’t deserve that. Now, I’m leaving and you better get yourself together before you do media because we all know you’ll regret what you’ll say when you’re angry tomorrow. I’ll see you when we leave.”

As the sounds of you walking away started to fade, Charles put his head in his hands. He knew you were right, but at this moment he was too filled with a mix of emotions that he knew he couldn’t work it out right now.

The car ride was filled with uncomfortable silence as you made your way back to your apartment. You could see the way that Charles’ hands gripped the steering wheel and how he refrained from putting his hand on your thigh like he usually did. You hadn’t talked after he lashed out at you. You understood he was frustrated, but you didn’t deserve for that to be put on you. That’s why you didn’t start a fight. You knew that he was upset and disappointed, so instead of trying to figure it out then, you saved him the stress ━━ and time ━━ and waited for him to apologize.

It stayed as you headed up to your apartment: in the elevator, as you opened the door, and as you started to come down from the race. You were the first one to speak. “You want water?” Although you were mad at him, you still cared and wanted to make sure he was okay. “No, thank you.” His voice was firm. You took a glance at him before getting your water and setting up on the couch. Charles probably wanted a shower, so you didn’t expect his shadow to fill your eye-line and for him to sit down next to you. “I’m sorry.” You paused the show you had put on as you faced him.

“I’m sorry. I was upset, but had no right to take it out on you. I’ve made a lot of mistakes tonight, that being one of them. I made a promise to you and your brother that I would never hurt you, and I know I slipped up tonight,but I intend to keep it that way. You are not your brother, and I know that he’s important to you as well as me. I should’ve apologized right away. I truly am sorry, miel.” He finally looked to face you. You grabbed his hands in yours, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

“I know. I know you are. I understand why you didn’t. That’s why I didn’t start a fight and left you alone. I didn’t deserve that and I’m glad that you are acknowledging that. It’s over now. We’ve apologized, we understood what we did wrong. Let’s just go to bed and if we need to, talk about it more tomorrow. Okay, amor?” You smiled at him. He nodded and smiled as you went to hold his face in your hands. You kissed him softly on the lips before you got up and held out your hand.

“Come on. I’m tired and our bed is calling our name. Plus, I deserve some cuddles after today.”

[millersfinest]

untethered³ | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 8.1k

series: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three (you’re here!)

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: +18, lmao flip phones, r and ellie NOT beating the cheating allegations, more use of y/n then i would prefer, she/her pronouns, afab anatomy mentioned, some vulgar language, fuckgirl!ellie (kind of), the millers, r is a writer (she doesn’t write much in this ch wink wink), dina being a bitch, more horndog ellie, r being a little self-deprecating, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, jealous ellie, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, r is still very jealous of cat, hella angst, rich!abby (one of r’s evil exes), emotional cheating (from ellie), r using abby for sex, repressed emotions, crazy mature chapter (wasn’t intentional lmao)

note: lmao guys, i just wanna say as i proceed with this series… i do not agree w cheating on your partners DONT DO IT. don’t be like ellie (or the reader), it hurts people’s feelings and it’s just not worth it. i hope i tagged everyone who wanted to to be. bisous little lesbians/sapphics in my phone <3 please, enjoy this dramatic ass chapter x

Normally, you wouldn’t be so pliant with Abigail—letting her hands drift toward the small of your back. Clearly, expressing her attraction, because she lost that privilege a while ago. But, you were weakened. And with the burning dark irises of an old friend into the back of your frame, you couldn’t help but let her. It was like she was some sort of cloak of invisibility. Some made up thing in your head ease your spirits.

You met Abby about a year ago, 2004, at some high profile event your agent made you go to. Isa introduced you as an aspiring author to anyone that she could, getting your name out there—which was a good thing, but horribly embarrassing at the time.

Abby was there with her dad, a well-known general surgeon in the city; when she was still in medical school. Wanting someone to talk to, you offered her a drink; a flute of expensive champagne. You didn’t hide your attraction to her, but you approached her with an open mind. Fortunately for you, the night consisted of flirting and great conversation. She was smart, and you loved smart women.

Give or take a few months, you withstand her busy schedule—dating each other, giving only a sliver of intention to one another. You weren’t sure what you wanted, but what you did know is that you couldn’t stand flakiness. Abby began to flake on you a lot; whether it was for her friends or work or school. For work and school you understood, but even then there were days you spent laying around each other completing your priorities. Somehow in the midst of your temporary romance, she began to cast you aside. Maybe it was because you weren’t drowning in money like she was. Or, she just didn’t like you—both were awful options.

Taking the lead, because you’d rather dump than be dumped, you broke up with her—she then hit you with: we weren’t in a relationship. Which was rough on the ears and heart. That was the first time you actually tried with someone in a long time, and she fucked it up. You learned your lesson, though.

The two of you didn’t speak for a few months, but then you called her on a very lonely night, begging for warmth. And, ever since then, it’s been off and on—you playing hard to get and her playing wanting to have.

In the bar, with your hand clutching your cold, cheap cocktail, you walked with her in the direction of Ellie. Abby had her eyes set on her friend group, so she didn’t realize you were slowing down. “I’ll catch up with you…”

“Oh—“ She looked down, seeing the table of three practically gawking at her. Abby made a face that was unreadable. “Don’t make me have to come and find you.” She purred in your ear, slipping her arm from around your shoulders. Abby was such a show off when she wanted to be, which was more often than not.

An uncomfortable smile rested on your lips, hand waving, shortly, to the three sat at the rocky table. Ellie looked completely taken aback, leaning forward on her elbows. “Who the fuck was that?” Ellie whispered as you slipped into the seat she saved for you. Her jacket was placed on the back of your seat, holding it for you.

“Hey, y/n!” Jesse spoke, grinning ear to ear, leaning back in his wooden chair.

“y/n,” Dina said, plastering a fake smile on her glossy lips.

Jesse snickered, taking a sip of his beer. “Is that all you? Goddamn.”

“She’s just a friend from New York…” You waved a hand, dismissively.

“We just watched her feel you up and buy you a drink. Some friend she is.” Ellie countered, glancing over her shoulder at the tall, muscular blonde sitting with her friends. And, weirdly enough, Abby had her eyes on her, too.

You scoffed, holding up a hand. “Okay, she didn’t feel me up. Just forget it.” Shaking your head, you replaced that stern look on your face with a smile. “Anyway, how are you guys? It’s been a long time.” You wrap your lips around the straw sticking out of your drink. The sweet tangy flavor of the alcohol mixed with cranberry juice spreading over your tongue—easing your worries.

He glanced at Ellie, briefly. So fast, you almost missed it. Almost. “I’m doing good. Just moved into my new place in Boston. How about you, Dina?” Jesse raised an eyebrow, nudging her arm.

She stirred the ice in her water with her straw, raising a thick eyebrow. “I’m great.” Dina responded, simply.

“Great.” You say, sipping your drink, awkwardly.

There was silence between the four of you that could only be classified as awkward, uncomfortable and tense. Ellie boring her big eyes into the side of your face as you, purposely, ignored her. Dina no longer having a reason to speak because of your sudden appearance. And, Jesse, well… He was normal. If anything he was trying to fight the demon that was the awkward silence.

Ellie shook her head, a scoff falling from her lips. Abruptly, she stood up, walking over to the bar. Even though her beer was barely touched. “What’s wrong with her?” You mutter, watching her get up. She motioned for the bartender, and you watched them fill up a shot glass. Her slender frame leaned over the bar top, on her toes. Pale skin exposed between the belt holding up her jeans and the hem of her shirt. You couldn’t help but let your eyes linger there—places you’ve touched with the pads of your fingers…

“I don’t know… But, I’m curious. Be right back.” Jesse stood to his feet, taking his beer with him. Leaving, none other than, you and Dina left alone.

Chewing your lip, you slide your drink forward, looking her in the eye. Perhaps, it was the liquid courage settling in your muscles. “Things shouldn’t be weird between us… Ellie wanted me here.” You felt the need to defend your place. Ever since that day, she always seen you as some predatory figure—now, that you think of it… She had even before that day. Just did a better job at hiding it. You were the predatory animal chasing over your gullible and prancing prey—Ellie

“Yeah, and sometimes she doesn’t know what’s good for her. So… I’m sure she did.”

Ouch.

You physically coiled at her words. A dry, pissed scoff fell from your lips. “Fuck you, Dina.” You cursed, leaning back in your chair. Ellie could never do wrong in her eyes—it was obnoxious. Did she have a crush on her or something?

She dryly laughed, shaking her head. “Fuck me?” Dina raised an eyebrow. “Look at her!” She jutted her brown eyes in her direction. “Every time you’re around, she ends up looking that. A wilted fucking flower.” She scolded you, causing you to follow her eyes. Jesse spoke to her with intent eyes. Ellie ran her hands through her hair, eyes shifting side to side. You didn’t know what they were talking about, but it seemed serious. “Just face it, y/n… You’re the common denominator here.”

The common denominator. What an interesting choice of words.

“She’d probably have a better night if you just leave. Go home. Let blondie over there take you home… Or a taxi. I don’t care.” Dina turned her face from you, like you were nothing.

Your hands began to shake and tremble from her words. The muscles in your face twitched and heated up like a furnace—eyes welling up with pained tears. You sniffled, standing up from your chair. Trying every which way not to make a fuss—saving face. She was always such a bitch! So, instead, you rushed to the bathroom with the stiffest posture. Heels stalking by Ellie and Jesse with eyes set on the women’s restroom to unleash your fury.

It was like a gust of wind passing her, Ellie’s words trailed as she unloaded onto Jesse about where her minds been. He was, probably, the only person she could even share it with. Dina didn’t like you very much, she was too emotionally involved. Jesse wasn’t bias and could give her proper advice—it was just up to Ellie if she wanted to follow it or not.

Ellie confessed that the feelings she had for you hadn’t gone away. Something he already knew. But she explained it like an act of a possession—as if the softness of your skin, the beauty of your features, the smell that exuded from you was a spooky presence that just won’t leave her alone. A poltergeist. It was becoming a carnal need the more she saw you.

But what about Cat?

What about her?

Then, on cue, you passed her. Ellie only caught a glimpse of your face. Jaw trembling, the sound of your emotional hiccups. Immediately, her olive eyes shifted to the young woman left at the table. She clenched her jaw, shaking her in disapproval. “Jesse, can you get a fucking handle on her?”

“Easy, Ellie. Don’t talk about her like that. She’s just looking out for you— or trying to.” He told, shifting on his feet. “…And she’s pregnant.”

Her eyes widened. “What?!” Jesse motioned for her to whisper.

“Shh! I wasn’t supposed to say anything. Dina’ll kill me.”

“You guys aren’t even together—“ Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “Congratulations.” She intoned, running her hand through her hand. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go check on—“

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll talk to Dina.”

Meanwhile, you paced around the single person bathroom. Purse thrown to the ground, makeup smudged down your cheeks. Fists clenched at your sides, and every few minutes pounding a spot on your thigh that inflicted enough pain to briefly distract you from the pain inflicted on your heart. Dina doesn’t understand! You’re not a bad person for what happened that day. When will Ellie get the heat for what happened? Why does it always have to be you? It was always your fault.

So much time has passed, meaning you’ve thought about the altercation for a long time. Hell, it was all you thought about at times. You should’ve never put your hands on Ellie that way—you knew that. But, she shouldn’t have pushed you to do it either. That was her mistake. Pushing and prodding at someone she claimed to love. Ellie was aware of that, too. She wrote about it in that letter she hand delivered on her eighteenth birthday.

Wringing your hands out, you heaved. Emotions still weighing heavy on your heart. Her words cut you like a knife—triggering you. Before you met Tommy and Maria Miller, life was so much harder. Everything was your fault and your birth parents—and the numerous foster parents that you had—made sure that you knew that. It wasn’t fair then, and it wasn’t fair now.

What stopped your progressing thoughts was the gentle call of your name, and a soft knock. It was Ellie.

“Go away!” You sniffled, leaning over the sticky sink to get a look at your appearance. It was a tragedy.

“Please, just let me in. I don’t know what Dina said… But, I’m sure it was fucked up— look, she has her reasons.”

“She has her reasons—?!” You exclaim, looking at the door through the reflection.

“But that doesn’t make it right. I know.” You heard her lean against the door. “Please, y/n.”

Wiping your face, you sighed. Sniffling, you walked over to unlock the door, gulping. “It’s unlocked…” You spoke, weakly. Positioning yourself with your back against the sink, you crossed your arms. Watching her push inside the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Ellie pressed her back against the door, observing you with the softest pair of green eyes you’ve ever seen. It was charming. Through her thick eyelashes, pelvis leaning forward—like she was a child in trouble.

“I’m so sorry about Dina. I should’ve never invited you… I just thought things would be different.” She frowned, fiddling with her fingers in front of her body. Her fingernails had chipped black nail polish on them; focusing on that was easier than focusing on her.

“Well…” You dryly chuckled. “You thought wrong.” Slowly, you drag your eyes from her hands, to her face—avoiding her eyes, though. “Apparently, you’d be better off if I left… Or died; if it were Dina’s way.” Your voice trembled, tears falling from the corners of your eyes. Dina didn’t tell you to die, but that’s what her tone told you. All you were doing was existing. If that’s what stressed Ellie out then… Fuck. Maybe you should just croak, huh?

Ellie ran her hands over her face, taking quick steps towards you. “Fuck— I don’t know why she said that.” Her hand ran through her straight hair, frustrated at herself and Dina. “I—… I do want you here. She doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.” She reaches a hand out for you, but you flinch. There was a slight height difference to the pair of you—your heels caused you to look down at her. But, you weren’t looking down on her.

She was close enough for you to notice the orange-brown flecks in her irises. The ones you missed… So much, and desired wholly. However, you pushed yourself into the ceramic sink, fighting temptation. “Don’t tell me you actually believe what she said?” Her doe eyes looked up at you, demanding a response.

“I don’t know… It’s more than that, Ellie.” You analyze her features as inconspicuously as you could—which wasn’t possible. She noticed everything because she was doing the same thing.

Your bodies drew to each other like the opposite sides of conjoined magnets. Eyes intertwining and overcoming like they always did. Tensions were high, and you were in an enclosed space—your stomach rumbled with anticipation. “Tell me what it is, then.” The feeling of her fingers sliding up the curve of your elbow caused you huff, moving to the toilet to sit down. Cold air replacing where her fingers attempted to tether to you.

Ellie sighed, bunching her hand into a fist at her side. She knew what she was doing—after all, she was a pusher. It was hard to identify when to stop.

You dropped your head into your hands, forcing even breath from your lips. “It’s just… Old shit, okay? Dina struck a nerve.” You glanced at her through your hands, lips quivering.

Ellie took your previous spot, pondering. She knew about your life before your parents—how awful those people treated you; and she couldn’t understand why. You were a scorned person, like most of the kids you grew up with, but underneath it all you were soft. She’s witnessed that softness. And she will regret it for the rest of her life that she was the one to pull you from that that—all for dumb proof of trauma.

She realized too late that she was never alone in that traumatic suffering of the adoption system. After that day, she never wanted to see you hurt like that again. Or at all. Ellie wanted to make everything up to you.

Seeing those tears staining your cheeks; she wanted to kiss it better.

“I’ll talk to her.” The words fled from her mouth. Her old converse squeaked toward you, squatting before your sat figure on the filthy toilet. You turned your head, shutting your eyes and shivering at the thought of her. “Hey,” Her fingers grazed your jaw, pulling your eyes into her line of sight. “I will. She crossed the line— this isn’t my favorite version of you.” Her eyebrows deepened, pressing her lips into a firm line. She wanted to be level with you—not above or below.

Those words were music to your ears. Supple in its raspiness. The warm touch of her fingers on your face, you leaned into her hand. She had a favorite version of you? You reached up, gently gripping her wrist to pull it from you. Ellie shouldn’t have been touching you like this. But, even so, your bodies somehow gravitated toward one another. Eyes staring at each others parted lips, wanting. Needing. Her hand bracing on your thigh, pulling herself closer until your lips met.

Soft and forbidden. You gasped against her mouth, pulling away for a brief moment. Her olive eyes were pleading, and you just couldn’t say no. Being a victim of your flesh, your hand found its way to the back of her neck to pull her lips flush to yours. Mixed whines coming from the both of you; lips merging and meshing together. Creating something beautiful.

Every time you were physical with someone they were missing something. This was it! The passion, the history—the things that matter. The fucking chemistry; it was all there with Ellie. And, deep down, you knew that it was the only place you were going to find it.

She pushed into you, being guided by her carnal desire. Whining and growling into your mouth. Hands gripping at your hips, and the side of your backside. Ellie was hooked under a spell you concocted—some aphrodisiac that exuded from you. And she wanted to breathe more of you in until she couldn’t anymore. She was gluttonous.

Breaking her trance was a rough knock on the bathroom door. The two of you basically jumped apart; you falling into the toilet, nearly touching the water, her falling on the floor. Some of the glitter on your lips had rubbed off onto hers—it looked nice on her, but that was besides the point.

“Some people need to piss! Get out of the fucking bathroom!” Some heavy handed woman exclaimed from the other side.

A smile spread on her lips, hazy eyes watching as you pulled yourself up. “Fuck, Ellie. Why are you smiling?” You walk to the mirror, taking a look at yourself. You and Ellie had just kissed. The same Ellie who’s girlfriend is waiting for her back at the guesthouse. The pressure was already hitting you like a ton of bricks—Ellie was right, you had a terrible poker face. How could you forget about this? “Can you hand me that?” You pointed to the purse beside her.

She chuckled, standing up from the floor. Your purse was in her hand as she walked up behind you, handing it over. Her other snaking around your hips—clearly, still overcome. Taking the purse, you smack her hand away. “Enough!” You scold, deepening your eyebrows. She pouted, crossing her arms. Leaning her back against the wall, shutting her eyes. But it was soon replaced with a smirk.

Your fingers rummaged through your purse for your lipgloss. “This didn’t happen… This never happened…” You muttered to yourself. Once you found the sparkling tube, you began to apply it like a nervous tick. “I still don’t know what you keep finding so funny— nobody can find out about this, Ellie.” You turn to her, dropping your lipgloss back into your purse. “What just happened isn’t fucking funny—“

You were a homewrecker, a thief of girlfriends—watch out New York!

“You’re spiraling.”

“Yeah, and I have every reason to. This isn’t me. I’m not this person. You have a girlfriend!”

Ellie watched you ramble with a look of in awe in her eyes—you were fucked, and so was she. “I remember…” She couldn’t compel herself to care about the repercussions of hr actions; Ellie just wanted you. Even more now than before. She was given an inch, and she was ready to take a mile. Perhaps, longer if that was possible. Your ethics only made her want you more.

The glitter on her lips distracted you, causing you to reach your thumbs near her lips to wipe away the signs of you. Her wide eyes looked up at you, hands wrapping around your wrists. Where did she learn this type of behavior from? VHS porn?“Ellie, will you quit it?!” You stomped your foot, squeezing your eyes. “Fuck me.” You whisper to yourself, adjusting your purse.

“I’ll see you at home…” You mutter, placing your hand on the door handle.

“Am I not driving you?”

“No. You’re gonna stay here, mingle—fuck, I don’t care.” You shook your head. “Abby’s gonna take me home.” The words rushed from your lips because you were thinking and speaking at the same time. You needed an alibi and that’s what Abby was going to be.

The auburn-haired woman rolled her eyes, scoffing under her breath. Jealousy peaking inside of her like it did earlier. “Abby. Abby… The buff blonde you walked into the bar with— the one who was feelin’ you up.” She popped the p sound, nodding her head with searching eyes.

“She wasn’t feeling me up. I don’t think you know what feeling up looks like.”

“Show me, then.”

Your jaw almost dropped from its hinges, gasping at the woman before you. She was shameless, and you were the complete opposite—it was a recipe for disaster. “Like I said… I’ll see you at home.” You opened the door, slipping through to allow her some privacy. The people must’ve opted for the men’s restroom. Fucking freak. You thought, fighting the amused smile off your lips.

Adjusting your top, you approached Abby’s booth. She was surrounded by familiar faces—you knew them-ish. “Abs, can I talk to you for a second?” She looked up at you, blinking with slight confusion at your state.

“Oh, hi, y/n!” A short-haired woman grinned, wiggling her fingers at you.

You smiled at her, while Abby shimmied out of the booth. Taking her hand, you led her away from her friends, keeping her large hand in yours as you began to speak. “I know it’s early, but could you take me home? Like, now?”

She deepened her eyebrows, a hand dropping to your face, wiping at the mascara stains that had run down your cheeks. “Are these tears?” She bunched her eyebrows, gripping your chin and moving your head side to side. “I saw you run to the bathroom—“

“It’s not important, all right?” Your eyes peer up at the blonde woman, pressing your lips into a line. Pleading and batting your eyes at her—you really wanted to go home. And you weren’t necessarily doing it for Dina, it was more so because of her. As well as the fact that you had just made out with a woman who was spoken for. Whose girlfriend who is only ten minutes away, and who also offered to get champagne for Thanksgiving after you mentioned its absence. It was currently, probably, chilling in the fridge as all of this unfolded.

While you semi-sensually begged the woman to drive you home in her Jaguar, Ellie had gotten herself together in the bathroom. After you left, she released a joyful laugh once the door shut behind you. As if she had finished with making out with the hottest girl in school—very teenage-like. Her cheeks were flushed, blushing a warm mahogany through her freckles. You wanted her just as much as she wanted you; the kid proved that much.

But, then, a pang of guilt settled in the pit of her stomach. A fragment. Very small and minuscule.

It wasn’t right away; Ellie was certain that you thought of her to be cold based on how she was handling the situation. She had a girlfriend and found the situation amusing? You’re right—nothing was funny about what happened before you fell into the toilet and before she fell onto the floor. The both of you had managed to dig yourselves into a hole that she didn’t want to get out of. And she was sure you felt the same—she hoped you felt the same. Holes were fun, right?

Ellie wanted to keep digging deeper, and deeper, and deeper. She wanted to envelop herself with you, just like she used to. However, this time, she wasn’t planning on letting you go.

Cat was just something—someone she had to deal with in the meantime. She’s gonna fix it… Ellie just doesn’t know how, right now. She can’t think straight. Pun intended.

Leaving the bathroom, she checked her cell. Noticing the few messages her girlfriend had left her during the short period of time she had you to herself. Her avoidant nature caused her to skim them, then slap her phone shut.

“Everything good?” Jesse questioned, watching as she approached the table.

Ellie shoved her phone into her front pocket. “Yeah… Everything’s fine.” Her olive eyes averted to Dina. “Dude…?” She squinted her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Els. I went too far, I know.”

“I’m glad you know.” She sat in her chair, glancing over at you talking to the buff blonde. “What you said was fucked up, and I should be more mad at you, right now…”

She sighed, pouting her lips. “Well, thank you for your mercy, sire.” A smile creeped onto her lips.

“Dina,” Ellie narrowed her eyes, shaking her head.

Jesse side-eyed her, pressing his lips into an unimpressed line. She looked over at him, lips parting. “Just tryin’ to lighten up the mood. Excuse me.” Dina deepened her eyebrows, sliding down in her chair.

Ellie chortled, shaking her head once more, making sure to swing it far to get a glance at you. She watched you follow Abby back to her booth, telling them that you were leaving. Her hand guiding you, rubbing circles on the back of your hand. Fuck, that should’ve been Ellie. She hated watching you lean into her like that—shrinking yourself. That wasn’t you.

You were bold, opinionated, and despite your strict upbringing, you never shrunk. If anything, Maria and Tommy’s parenting gave you confidence. That used to intimidate Ellie, but it didn’t anymore. It influenced her.

As you walked out with Abby, Ellie gave an awkward wave, but you snapped your head in the other direction. You needed to clean your pallet, and that’s exactly what you were planning to do in that shiny black Jaguar.

When the door opened, the brisk, autumn air hit you, cooling your body down. But your mind was still set on using Abby as a cleanser—a handkerchief to wipe you of your mistakes.

You feigned a straightforward destination, giving her the address of your childhood home. But, halfway, you told her to pull over onto a dark dirt path. She made a joke, asking: Is this where you kill me and steal my car?

And you respond, full of need: I don’t want your stupid fucking car. I want you. Launching yourself over the center console, wrapping your arms around her face. You swing one of your legs over to straddle her in the driver’s seat. Hips grinding against her, shoving your tongue down her throat like she was going to leave you. Although, she wasn’t going anywhere—not with you on her lap, anyway.

Abby groaned into your mouth, gripping your ass over your jeans, pushing you harder against her. Messily, you begin to trail your lips down her jaw, toward the softness of her neck. Urgently nibbling at her skin. “Fuck, you’re eager…” Abby muttered through her heavy breathing. “I like this version of you.”

This isn’t my favorite version of you. Ellie’s voice echoed in your head. It frustrated you.

Warmth built up under the crotch of your jeans; the thick seam doing very little for the pleasure you wanted. “Please, Abby…” You breathed into her ear, tugging at the silver ring through her cartilage. “Touch me.” Reaching for her hand, you place between your legs, cupping her hand as she groped you. Meeting her eyes, you taunted her, chewing on your bottom lip.

The blonde didn’t hesitate, unbuttoning your jeans and shoving her hand inside. She was always quick to give rather than receive—listening to any command you spoke. As the pads of her fingers contact with where you needed her the most, you sighed. “You’re so wet for me already…”

It was debatable whether it was for her or not. With your eyes squeezed shut, you imagined the earthy, olive eyes of your past lover. The softness of the her lips. The desperation in which she put her all into pleasing you—it was experienced before. But, at that point, you were amateurs. So much has changed since then. You were curious how much, though. “All for you.” You whined, rocking your hips against her hand. Lying through your teeth.

She pressed two fingers into you, pushing a moan from your throat. Hands gripping her shoulders, bracing your weight. You imagined them to be her fingers curling deep inside of you—pulling sounds from you like a puppeteer.

You were worser than you thought.

Abby was supposed to be a pallet cleanser, but instead she was just a vessel for your horny fantasies.

The palm of her hand rubbed against your clit, pushing you closer to an edge you wanted to fall off of. A tightness built in the pit of your stomach—burning like a prosperous flame; standing by to erupt. “Ah… Fuck, yes!” You lewdly affirmed, fingers gripping the roots of her hair, back arching into her. The smell of lavender shampoo wafting into your nose from how close you were.

Ellie would never wash her hair with lavender shampoo. She stuck to sweeter, muskier smells. The one’s you liked.

Your legs trembled around her hips, jolting with every stroke and thrust. Her ministrations intensifying causing the sounds from your lips to get louder, laced with desire. “Abby,” You trembled with a warning tone. “I’m g—gonna… Fuck, I’m comi—“ Your choppy words are cut off with the snapping of a band in your stomach—spreading over you like a brisk gust of wind. Shocking your body into a brief state of paralysis against her strong frame.

She coax’s you through your orgasm, with that same come hither motion that got you there to begin with. Although, she was so quiet. That’s when clarity hit you, as you shakily rocked against her hand. Reaching down, you grip her wrist, kissing the pressure point under her ear. “Can you check the time f’me?” You sweetly ask, still subtly, rutting against her.

Abby checked the watch on her wrist. “Eleven-something.” She hummed into your neck.

“Eleven-somethin’, huh?” You tease, lifting off her, trying to settle back into the passenger seat. “I should probably get home…” You zipped and buttoned your pants. Normally, you’d be eager to return the favor, but your plan didn’t work—and, frankly, that irritated you. That nerdy, auburn-haired, freckled woman, that you knew so well, had burrowed herself under your skin already. It was a recipe for disaster.

There was a twitch in Abby’s brow at your sudden departure from her. She felt that bite of coldness; it was something she wasn’t used to. Nonetheless, she drove you home. With you leaning on the window, watching dark, shedding trees pass you by. All the way until you felt that familiar shift from side to side as you cruised over the gravel that led to your childhood home.

“How long are you gonna be here for?” You asked as she pulled to a stop, where Ellie’s car was previously parked. It was out of courtesy to wonder; these parts of town wasn’t really for people like her.

“Until the end of the week, then back to work.” She turned toward you, pushing her hair behind her ear. “When am I gonna see you again?” Record scratch. Abby Anderson has never asked you that. She was always aloof and carefree. I’m too busy. Let me check my schedule.

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your lips. “I’m really tying to spend some time with my family, but— uhm… I’ll call you, okay?” Leaning over the console, you place a lush smooch on her lips—riding on the confidence from her lack thereof.

Getting out of her expensive car, you adjust your clothing before walking into your house. Thankfully, the lights were off, meaning your parents were asleep. Thank, God. You looked awful, and you preferred not to be questioned on your state, Ellie’s whereabouts, and who took you home.

Gently, you shut the door behind you, keys jiggling in your hand. Slipping out of your heels, you tiptoed toward the fridge just to prove something to yourself. The white light from the fridge illuminated your deadpanned expression as two tall bottles of champagne sat on the second shelf. Nobody likes champagne that much. You rolled your eyes, scoffing under your breath.

Cat didn’t deserve any of what happened tonight, and you hated that.

When you got to your bedroom, you wasted no time to peel the clothes from your body. Falling atop of your mattress like a starfish. Before you slipped under the covers, you pulled your laptop onto your stomach to log into your MySpace. There was a red notification on your activity icon. When you click on it, StarlightWilliams had added you back—you were mutuals now. The pads of your fingers touched your lips, remembering the softness of hers from that moment in the bathroom. The pressure of her slender fingers gripping your sides—wistfully you sighed, slumping your head against the fluffy pillows and stuffed animals against your headboard.

Suddenly, your computer makes a sound—a ping. You sit up, squinting at the incoming notification.

kit_cat79 wants to be your friend!

What a coincidence. The website exposes whether you were online or not—you couldn’t hide from her. So, you decided to add her back. Cat’s picture was of her with her tongue out, dark bangs styled to the side. You didn’t realize that she had a tongue piercing—could she get any cooler? Maybe you should get a tongue piercing.

Her mood hadn’t been recently updated, but it was: Optimistic.

Her bio didn’t over explain much, but said more than her freckled counterpart: my name is cat and i do tattoo’s !! message me for inquiries (or ur a loser). Your eyes and cursor skimmed her account, not paying attention to the smaller details. Quickly, you navigated to the pictures and videos. There were some pieces of her work, candids of Ellie, pictures of her at band shows—

kit_cat79: hey… i know it’s late, but that was you who just got back, right?

The messages appeared at the bottom left corner of the screen, blinking green.

BugsWritersRoom: Hey, yeah. That was me…

Duh.

kit_cat79: i thought you went with ellie in her truck. also… where is she? she’s not answering my texts.

Was she worried about her? Or was her questioning coming from a place of distrust? Or, a secret third option... you had a bad case of paranoia.

BugsWritersRoom: She’s still at TB. I’m sure she’s just distracted catching up with Jesse and Dina.

kit_cat79: oh…

kit_cat79: that was some car you pulled up in...

She was wanting to start conversation, but you were too tired. You didn’t want to think about, or talk to another person about Abby. Let alone, talk about her with Cat. No offense. Sleep is the only time when your mind was going to finally rest, and you can resume thinking tomorrow.

Leaving her message on seen, you shut your laptop, pushing it to the side. You took Cat’s message as a sign to shut it down, reaching to click your lamp off.

You allowed sleep to take over, cuddling into your pillows as if it were a body. Hitching your leg over it, tugging it to your chest. Could you have been more evident in your loneliness? In your restless dreams, your brain scoured for something to show you. Something relevant, of course.

Olive eyes, freckles, prominent beauty mark—it was obvious what images it was looking for. Ellie.

By the time the sun lingered on the horizon, a tragic alarming song sang in unison to wake you—the sound of your ancient alarm, and the sound of the rooster sat atop of the chicken coop. Groaning into the pillow you held, squinting your eyes open. It had pulled you from a dream that was… Certainly, a dream. It was untoward, lewd; just straight up nasty.

There was a wetness between your legs that was the first to get your attention. Out of shameful curiosity, you reached your hand under your shorts; hoping it wasn’t your period suprising you. Pulling your fingers out, there was an absence of the dark hue that was a symbol of your menstrual cycle. It was fairly clear, shiny, and slick. You were a victim of a wet dream. How juvenile.

The sight of it only made your hornier. So, while you still had time, you jumped for one of the bags you brought. You were expected for morning chores, but there was always time to rub one out.

Taking the battery-powered silver bullet from you bag, you attempt to switch it on but it doesn’t respond. You even switch the batteries around, blowing into the port. “Come on…” You complain, but it still it doesn’t adhere to you.

You groan, falling back into your pillows. There was nothing wrong with going old school, but you were a creature of habit.

Sliding your hand down your body, you slip under your shorts and underwear. It didn’t take long for you to completely rouse yourself, blinking your eyes shut to fall into your imagination. Usually, the best material was your most recent hookup—or some celebrity crush that you couldn’t get over.

The movement of your finger mirrored a strong blonde who always aimed to please you. You could imagine yourself gripping her long, silky hair, pushing her into your pussy—devouring you. Feeling her hands gripping your thighs, anchoring them to the mattress.

You relished in the feeling that was slowly washing over you. So much so that when the image of blonde hair began to fade and be replaced by short auburn strands, you barely noticed. Subconsciously, replicating the dream that kept you snug as a bug all through the night.

Your ministrations quickened as you neared finality. Bottom lip slipping between your teeth. Soft, repressed moans sneaking through them as your hand clutched your breast, thumbing your sensitive nipple. The serotonin levels increasing with every swipe and slide. Fuck, El—

Downstairs, the artist peeled dried paint from her fingers, waiting for you. Staying out late knowing she had to get up for chores was a huge mistake. There were many mistakes that happened last night. Another being, ignoring Cat’s messages. Ellie pulled into the driveway not too much later than you—it was nearing one o’clock.

When she entered the guesthouse, shrugging off her jacket—with a mind busier than New York City herself—Cat was found in the small living room. With her thin eyebrows bunched together and her arms crossed over her chest. Dressed in nothing but a fitted tank top and cheeky underwear.

Ellie had looked at her with a stressed look, “What are you still doing up?” Walking past her to the bedroom to undress and unwind. Cat scoffed, following her to the bedroom. Slippered feet stomping behind the artist.

“What am I doing up?!” She chided, twitching toward her. “I’ve been texting you all night, Ellie. You couldn’t respond to one?”

The freckled woman plopped onto her side of the bed, kicking off her shoes. She pretty much saw the messages as they were coming in; Ellie just didn’t have the nerve to respond. She didn’t feel like it. Not after what happened in the bathroom—she couldn’t come back from that. Hell, she didn’t want to come back from that. The only image replaying in her mind was your lips on hers. Your hands imbedded in her hair. The wanton sounds coming from you that she wanted to hear on again, and again, and again. That feeling of being between your legs...

And, let’s not even get into how it felt to see you leave with Abby. That ruined her whole night. Not even Jesse could cheer her up.

She ran a hand through her hair, looking over her shoulder with a tired expression. “Babe, I’m sorry, okay?” She began, standing to her feet to remove her jeans. “We just got too carried away talkin’ and whatnot.” Walking to the bathroom in the bedroom, she shed her shirt from her body. Ellie found it too easy to lie—she’s always been good at it. And, Cat was pretty gullible. But she had to throw a monkey wrench in there to really calm her down.

“Turns out… Jesse got Dina pregnant.”

“What?”

She turned on the shower, then peaked out of the doorway. “Yeah, how crazy is that?”

The tattooed girl fell onto the edge of the bed, eyes casting toward the ground, full of uncertainty. “Super crazy…”

Noticing the subtle dejection in her features, Ellie sighed. Leaving the doorframe as the shower ran hot in the background. She appeared before her, reaching her hand down to lift her chin. “Kitty Cat,” Her voice was soft and oh, so forgiving. “I should’ve responded to your texts— I’m an asshole. Let me make it up to you…” She sultrily offered, caressing the softness of her chin with her thumb.

And that’s what she did. Ellie made it up to her girlfriend of almost a year. By fucking her in the shower hard enough to make her forget about all of her uncertainties.

She had a long night.

This morning, she got up an hour earlier to get a better start on her sketch—she even started incorporating her oil paints. That’s what was stuck to her hands. The coloring in of her portrait of you in front of that shed. She felt the need to freeze that moment in time; where you embraced each other in the arms of company for the first time in too long. That hazardous kiss you shared in that sticky bathroom at the Tipsy Bison inspired her to color in the lines.

“I normally hear her up and movin’ around… She’s taking longer than I thought she would.” Maria commented, munching on a buttered bagel. “How long were you two out last night?”

Ellie inhaled, lifting her eyebrows in thought. “I got back around one, but y/n came back earlier than I did. She got a ride from a friend.” She shrugged, the ends of her lips curling, mischievously. “I think her name’s… Abby.” Ellie added, glancing between the two parents.

“Hm. What made her leave early—?” Tommy began to ask, but he stopped himself. He frowned, leaning his elbows on the counter, peering at the auburn-haired woman across from him. “How’s Dina doin’?”

She chuckled. “Still pissed, if that’s what you’re getting at?” Ellie went from peeling paint off her fingers, to fiddling with them. “They got into a bit of a…”

“Fight?” The blonde woman questioned, deepening her arched eyebrows. She never liked hearing about you fighting—or seeing it. That was a strictness Maria was never going to get rid of. Tommy used to get into fights a lot, finding himself locked behind iron bars at the county jail. But that was years before he moved to New York. When he still lived in Texas with Joel.

“No.” Ellie bunched her eyebrows in defense, shaking her head. “It was an argument, but it didn’t last long. I handled it.”

Steps sounded from the stairs, silencing the three. Pairs of eyes peered up the stairs, hoping that it was you stalking down the steps—but it wasn’t. When he began clearing his throat and coughing, loudly, they knew it was Joel. “Goddamnit…” Tommy rolled his eyes, slapping his hand against his thighs.

“Good mornin’ to you, too, Tommy.” Joel scoffed.

He huffed, licking his lips. Just like you did when you grew irritated—Tommy’s antics had rubbed off on you. “Is there any signs of life from my kids' room—? Because she should’ve been down here five minutes ago.” He looked to Joel before glancing at his watch. “Maria and I planned for her to teach Ellie how to do our grocery shipments.”

“Grocery shipments?” Ellie cast her earthy eyes toward Maria.

“It’s a lot of information, but I’m sure you’ll catch on just fine, Ellie.” She placed her hand atop of hers, pressing her lips into a smile. “If only your teacher could be timely…” Maria sighed.

The freckled artist stood up straight, pursing her lips. “I can go check and see if she’s up…” She offered, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’m sure she is— maybe she just needs a little nudge. I had rough time this mornin’, too.” To be frank, offering to grab you from the second floor of the house was clouded with selfish intentions. Ellie hadn’t seen your bedroom since she was seventeen. She couldn’t help but wonder if anything had changed.

And, she wanted a useful reason to talk to you.

Your parents are wondering what the hell you’re doing— also, how was our kiss from 1-10?

Hey, you’re supposed to be teaching me about grocery shipments, right now— hypothetically, would you kiss me again… Or?

She was such a loser for you; she always has been. “If you don’t mind. I’m sure she’d appreciate seeing you more than me.” Tommy chuckled, nudging his wife but she barely broke a smile. Staring her husband down with icy, blue eyes.

Ellie’s eyebrows twitched, but she decided not to interact with whatever happened there. Quickly, moving to the stairs to find you.

What she could remember about your room was the pink wallpaper and the posters. You used to be very persistent in upgrading old ones for new ones—saving the old ones in your closet. She found it amusing how you could never get over anything; you liked to collect things. As many things as possible—posters, collectors items, superhero figurines—you were an undercover geek!

The fascination you had with catwoman was insane. But, understandable.

The stairs of your home was guided by many picture frames. Pictures of you lining the walls. The bottom starting with photos of you when you still went heavy on the eyeliner and hairspray; gradually preceding with much happier images of you. The final photo being the whole family together, including Ellie. It was taken after your college graduation, in front of the house. You were sandwiched between your grinning parents while Joel and Ellie were on both ends; her sporting a timid smile, and him grinning just like his brother.

She was so proud of you that day, but didn’t dare to enunciate that how she really wanted to. At the time, the shoulder you gave her was ice cold. Brisker than the harsh weather of the east coast.

When she emerged at the top step, the first door in front of the stairs was cracked open. But that wasn’t your bedroom, that was your parents’ bedroom. Down the hall, to the right, after passing an open floor planned media space, was the guest room. Where Joel was spending his nights. A little further down that hall was your bedroom.

It was the best spot in the house. Your bedroom have the best view of the front of the house, and was far enough from the prying ears of curious parents.

Neither you or Ellie were innocent teenagers—you both couldn’t wait to get some alone time, and you couldn’t keep your hands off each other once you started. It was the perfect place for late night shenanigans.

Again, some things never change, huh?

Strolling toward your door, Ellie raises her hand to give a soft knock. But she pauses at the faint sounds coming from under your door. Breathy whines, the light rocking of your old, rickety bed frame. Could she hear just how wet you were from outside your door?

She leaned closer to the brown door, her bottom lip slotting between her teeth. Ellie wanted to be sure she was hearing correctly, of course. She heard you cursing and swearing, but nothing shocked her more than when she heard you squeak her name. “Fuck, Ellie…”

Apparently, Ellie wasn’t the only one who was overcome. Wanton sounds filled her ears like a mantra before she decided to interfere. Knock, knock! She heard you gasp.

“It’s Ellie... Your parents are gonna throw bitch-fits in T-minus five minutes if you’re not downstairs soon.” Ellie kept herself composed, using her hand to hold her weight against the wall. She heard you shuffling behind your door, cursing under your breath.

“I’ll be down in, like, five minutes!” You shout, the sound of quick maneuvering being heard from Ellie’s side of the door.

She wanted you to open the door, just to get a glimpse of that blissed out look on your face—Ellie anticipated that flustered look. Forgetting about her own blushing cheeks after hearing you say her name while touching yourself. She felt like a fucking king.

Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she walked to the media space. Lifting up CDs, VHS tapes, and eyeing thick books that haven’t been touched in years to pass the time. Fuck, Ellie—still played in her mind like a record. There wasn’t any scratching, only smooth playing; no interruptions.

When you appeared from your room, dressed in your working cowboy boots, a long-sleeve Abercrombie shirt and bootcut jeans—there was a shit-eating grin that just wouldn’t leave her face. Ellie turned around to lay her eyes on you, unable to help but ogle. “Do you have a condition that you’re not mentioning? Perhaps, a tumor—? Since you can’t help yourself when it comes to laughing…” You grumble, placing your hands on your hips.

Your words only made her smile more. The more time the two of you spent together, the more snarky you were becoming—she missed that. “Turns out, under some circumstances… I can be a morning person. Some circumstances.” She muttered, mainly to herself but she didn't mind if you heard. Ellie deliberated with herself on whether she was going to expose what she heard you say… Or, if she was going to hold onto it. Similar to how victorians put the hair of their lover’s into lockets.

“Whatever, Els.” You rolled your eyes, loosely calling her by that nickname, again. Ignoring the harshness of her eyes, you passed her to descend the wooden stairs. There was still a mindless sleepiness to you. It was charming to your past lover, as she followed behind you—floating on air. Thinking about how great of an idea it was to come back this year.

And, still, Ellie was barely harbored with guilt. Even more so when she inspected your features, intently. When her thoughts wandered into the gutters of her creative mind—spreading you wide in all of your glory.

taglist: @autisticintr0vert , @liasxeatt , @hopingforgoodblogs , @lia-winther , @macaroni676 , @tobiotruther , @anewkindofloove , @fatbootymuncher (i love your user lmao) , @maiaska

[yunimayie]

#POUNDT0WN (2 death) ?!

—#info. thinking about dubcon scenarios. . . ; chuuya, dazai (sep)

—#warnings. x fem!reader | nsfw content (mdni) | not edited | dubcon, sex virus (dazai), chocolate aphrodisiacs (chuuya), no protection/rawing, p->v, mean dom charas x sub reader (woohoo!), heavy degradation, humiliation, a bunch of positions i won't go over, marathon sex, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, and whatnot.

—#love, may. i was absolutely geeked while writing this. ehuhu iykm by my writing, hiiii.... i am baaack.... 💦 im posting thid then crsshing outttt!! PSADJDNS!!!@ on a side note, i need to start following other blogs again to reconnect to ppl 😭 i just don't know who's opened to be bothered atm

—#streaming. pound town 2 😝

⁰⁰¹DAZAI—sex virus

" 'Donna.." Dazai whispers behind you, arms supporting him as he rocked his body rhythmically. "Yeah?" You look behind, stopping in your tracks to sway with him. He grins, stepping aside to waddle around you—now standing in front of him was your confused figure. "Lookie here," he holds up a thermometer he stole from Yosano's clinic, "and open your mouth".

You look at him weirdly, but do as he says nevertheless. He padded the tip onto your tongue, waiting for the reading to be finished. the screen blinks once, twice—"Aw damn, you're not sick..." He mutters quietly.

"Has anyone seen Dazai?" You hear Yosanos' muffled question through the door you were currently pressed against. Loud murmurs echo down the corridor, and up the office area where most of the agency lounged at. "Uh oh.." Dazai's voice, breathy and quiet, peers above you. His thumb massages your waist, the languid action nearly made you sob as he held you still. "Did'ya hear that? She's looking for us."

Us, implying him only. His cock rocks slowly, your arousal seeping everywhere onto the floor as he moves. Your lips part, close to letting loose noise that'll get you two caught. His hand was quick to cover your mouth, "Nah-uh..! Keep quiet or she'll find us". He peeped, his voice balanced the edge of urgency and collective coolness. His body was hot—almost feverish to an extent.

As the chatter got louder, the laughter of a certain someone's snicker was enough to tell you; they knew. Or at least he did.

"Osam- uhnn..!" Tou moan through your teeth, his cock piercing your insides with a sharp annotation of silence. Dazai uses his free hand to pat your stomach, the gesture endearing and humiliating at the same time. "Your noises are like the tune of a birds song my dear. Unfortunately we need to stay silent before the teachers' pet snitches' to our lovely school nurse." He says while punching his cock up your gut.

Your body stiffens under his hold, your hips lifting itself to meet him as you fell limp to his mercy. "Do you hear yourself?" He chuckles to himself, "squealin' so cute! What's next? A waterfall?" Like the prophet next door, your cunt convulses—pussy gushing out your orgasm as you cum. The slick that puddles beneath you and Dazai pings another cord inside him. You were sure his cum was starting to foam up with how relentless he was behaving, using his cock to plug everything in while he whisks your insides to batter.

"C-can't!" Your eyes roll back, "Osaamu..! Mhnn--! I - I just came!!" You damn near screamed from the chambers of the enclosed bathroom. He expressed a sad smile that you can feel, the chitter of the air frowns upon your panic. "Okay." He says solemnly. Unexpected and uncharacteristic of him to just agree with whatever you say.

There always had to be a condition that benefited him, and you had yet to find out what he was planning on the spot. Instead of letting you dwell on that thought any further, Razai strokes your walls with long, slow thrusts. "Could've sworn he was just standing near utility." Yosanos' mutter brings you back some lucidity with the click of her heels.

Before you could react appropriately, your body jolts down, impaling yourself further onto his cock. "Oh fuck -!" Dazai curses in your ear, his breath ragged and sloppy. His hands catch you, stabilizing the two of you while his thrusts felt like never-ending. "Keep still." He barked into your ear. " 'M sorryy..!" You hiccup an apology. Dazai didn't need you ruining his initial plan, but...

"Oh doctor, doctorrr!" He sang, knocking the door to alert Yosano. Your eyes went wide—what the fuck was he doing!? Your palm reaches your mouth as the sound of her heels near the bathroom. "Dazai?" She calls from the other side, another knock echoing a gentle lullaby into your ear. "Oh! Yosano!" He pants out loud, giving himself away.

You spun your head in a hurry, a glare etching its way onto your fucked out face. Don't make a sound, he mouths, a sly grin eating you up.

"Dazai? – Oh my gosh..." Yosano groans once she realizes his little predicament. "You're not supposed to be here, Dazai – you're fucking sick! go home!"

"But Yosano-kun..!" Dazai damn near whines into the small cracks that allow air to flow. "As you know, I—oh— am a little occupied."

"Doing what? Fucking your hand? Get out and go home." She sighs, "Thank goodness you haven't caught [Name] yet.." A mutter made way, a giggle from Dazai confirming her belief. "You're right! Wouldn't know what I'd do with [Name] around. Probably fuck her cute cunt like this."

His hips snap forward, your eyes bulging just as big as your stomach. "Mhnn - hmpp..!!" A muffled cry escapes before you can stop it. "Shshh.. No noise, remember?" He dumbifies his wording, acting as if you were an idiot who forgot they were dead. His cock buried itself deep inside, your walls molding it to the base like a silicone wrap.

"Dirty talking your hand isn't gonna help you, fyi." She mumbles.

Your eyebrows are pinched together, proof of your will trying its damn hardest not to blow it. "Aye ma'am.." He says in a scathing tone, his grip on the door slipping as he bundles your flesh in the other. By now, the whole frame was trembling with immense force, it forced Yosano to back up a bit. "Can you not break the agencys' door? Unless you're alright with it being taken out of your pay."

Your breath became ragged, heavy, deep heaving took over your circulation as your body shook from your anticipated orgasm. "Os-ah-Osamu..! G-gonna—Eeen!!" A particularly harsh thrust came into contact with your bundle of nerves, starting a chain reaction of your weary fears.

Dazai's fingers collide with your lips, stretching them open, restricting your jaw movement as you let out a blood curdling scream that rivals a piglets' cry. Dazai huddled your body close to him, a bite to your shoulder indicating his own orgasm threatening to lodge itself inside you even more. "Ghmnm—[Nameee], you feel amaziiing..!" He gurgles a combination of choice words like he didn't just thoroughly humiliate you in front of your coworker a few seconds ago.

What came next wasn't a surprise to you, Yosano, or anyone else standing outside with her for the matter.

Couple of thrusts later, and he's emptying his load into the canister with no regard to your puffy, stuffed cunt. A squeal escapes your throat as your cunt clenched with vigor, milking him for all he's worth while white heavy spurts join the puddle below. He pants right above your shoulder, catching his breath.

He falls back slowly, lifting his weight off your shaking figure. "You okay?" He asks, helping your exhausted body stabilize on its feet. You grumble, "Tired. hot.. and–wait."

Your head did a whole spin, the cheeky smile your boyfriend always wore whenever he got caught doing something a toddler would do, was present. "Sorry..."

"Osamu," You pressed him for information. He says nothing.

You felt your eyebrow twitch in annoyance; of course he fucking did. His arms tightened around you, a malicious smirk coming forth. "Since we're both very sickly and in need of sex-induced release – how 'bout we–".

Large, rounded bangs pounded the door, "Get the hell out you two! Gross!" Yosano shouts from the other side, her heels clacking away as she mutters something about; 'This is what that virus does to a person or two, Atsushi'.

⁰⁰²𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀—endurance training

A box was dropped in front of you; heart shaped with a beautiful red bow tied to the side. "What's this for?" You quiz, untying the lace and lifting the lid. The milky chocolate laid bare in each hole, about six total. "For you to keep up," He shrugs nonchalantly, toneless as he picks two up and held it to your lips.

Smack—smack, smack, "Chuuya..ah—c-can't..!"

"Don't give me that crap." Chuuya grits his teeth, an arm holding you up with ease while the other delivers a harsh blow to your ass. "I gave you two—no, insisted on two," He tugs you down harshly, impaling you on his cock more. A choked moan feverishly escapes your throat as your body was being pinned and mercilessly used like an artifical, doll-like fleshlight. "But—" His voice was heavy, uncaring of his harsh words, "What did you say?" Chuuya's voice was condescending, an exact mimic of your previous mockery that was far too late to retract now.

"What—" smack "—d'you—" smack "—say?" Two consecutive harsh thrusts brought you back to reality. "I- ah- I- s-said.." His thrusts never slowed, a harsh reminder that you got yourself into this mess. "Said what?" Another slap to your ass. By now you were sure your bum was as red as the chimney downstairs—puffy and sure to loosen up the more it's used. "Said..!–T-that I can h-handle..! You—ohnnn!!" A cry, that echoed nothing. feeling pity for your struggle, Chuuya paces himself, allowing you to catch your breath while still maintaining a light tempo that has you dancing on the edge.

"Can you?" He sneers, his stupid smirk doubling down as one grand tease. Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid—! "Don't look at me like that." Chuuya laughs, catching your lips in a kiss. His own caught your whines in a net of darkness, swallowing them like a whale-shark eating plankton. "Fuck," He mumbles—staring adoringly at the way your tears paint your face, "Hot as hell, aren't ya' babe?" He pushes you both off the wall, stumbling back a bit from the instability.

Sinking to his knees with you in tow, you're seated gracefully on his lap—cockwarming him. Your back meets the wall again, the cool area turning warmer as you're pushed and squished against it, Chuuya's body trapping you with room to barely breathe. His arms cage you in, rocking his hips back and forth to simulate friction. "Chuuu—ah! Please—" You beg, his humiliation ritual going as far to bring tears to your pretty eyes. He hums expectantly, using two fingers to lift your head up by your chin—kissing them away like the tooth fairy excitedly placing silver coins under a childs' pillow.

His grinding comes to a stop as he takes your hand in his, lips meeting your knuckles. "Want me to stop?" He intertwined yours with his, "We don't have to do this sweetheart." He coddled, docile, and firm in standing by your decision. Chuuya knew he could be a bit much sometimes—specifically during sex—but he knew you inside out, even your limits and how much he can take from you. You wipe your own tears, determined to see this challenge through, "No...give me another one—" Fuck it to hell. you desired to keep up, match his tempo, and force him into the same overstimulating orgasm that keeps you on your toes when his cock bumps that sensitive nerve in you.

His eyes widen, radiant eyes eager to follow suit in your new adventurous game. But...yet again, you were just sobbing into his chest—Chuuya! Chuuya! I can't handle it! How was he supposed to put his poor baby through hell again when he just brought you out of it? Well, the answer may surprise him, and boy did it shock the hell out of him.

You start humping, stumping Chuuya for a moment for you to push him down and pin his arms to the side of his head. Crawling above his entire torso, your arms were barely long enough to reach the small round table holding the box of aphrodisiacs hostage. In all your glory, Chuuya finds your little stunt remarkable for someone as unathletic as you were—giving your theatrics a mediocre rating though.

You swallow another, barely chewed and still practically in solid condition. Its' effect was slow to start, allowing Chuuya to reposition his hands onto you, his cock sliding in between your thighs. "Wow, that was spectacular babe," he jokes, "teach me how to do shit like that. I wanna be a gymnast too."

"Shut up." The imaginary holes your glare dug out was almost visible to him. He pats your hip, all apologetic like he meant it. His touch sent cold shivers in waves through your body—goosebumps evident from the way his hand felt cooler than your body. "Hmm.. oh what's this?" His cock teased your entrance, rubbing himself in the warmth of your thighs. His tip was beading precum, white oozing just a bit to get you sticky.

"Do you know what you do to me?" He pumps his cock back a few times before spreading your legs wide and plunging his head deeeep into your pussy. "Gggouuuhhh—!" Your whole head flew backwards, landing softly onto his shoulder.

"Chu—ah—uya! My, I'm—!" Your body was on fire, the intensity of the sudden rush threw you into a loop. You couldn't stop yourself from cumming the moment he thrusted inside, it was euphoric, even as he was chasing his own high in discount to your sensitive body. He's quick to switch out his hands for his arms, launching his feet to give him slight momentum. Chuuya has you on your stomach, getting a close grip to your scalp as he yanked your head up, tears jittering down your face from the nonstop pleasure. Your lips are captured into another kiss, the residue of the chocolate on your teeth taking flight. He memos a small note at the back of his mind, the subtle flavor of the chocolate, after breaking the kiss.

The flaming pit in his abdomen has grown stronger, hotter—despite the quick motion. For the first time throughout your entire session, Chuuya quietly moans into your neck, his breath fanning an area that was more prone to sensitivity than others—coincidentally overlapping with yours, more loudly.

Jesus; Chuuya felt like your cunt was threatening him with extortion. Every jab his cock made, churned your stomach inside out, the once tight wedge he had to prep was fully turned into a broken dam that was rummaged through. There was a twitch. And another, then another— "Shiiit—hold on, I- I'm alsooo—ghnn..!" His groan was gruff, thin but still hold the weight of an undertone whine. You felt wrung up, his arms wrapped around your entire waist, hugging you closer.

Chuuya's body felt just as hot, if not more, than yours by this point. A smooth, creamy glaze bursts your thought bubble, all rational action is snubbed as soon as he pulls out, "Chuuyyaa!!" You cried. He was nasty, finishing himself off in between your thighs rather than together. "Nonono!!—Pleeease!!" Your sobs sound like the cruel one to him. Tacky, always crying to get whatever you wanted—how manipulative you could be to him, should he deny you any princess care.

"One sec, darl'." He continues, pausing every now and then to check up on you. His cheeks were so red, damn was he feeling the effects now, preventing him from toying with your screaming sex any longer. "Ugh—! Oh, [Name]—Sweetheart, you kn—oghn—ow—Haa..Fuck!!" He slides his dick in between your thighs one last time, "You drive me absolutely—In—mgh!—sane..!" And that was his breaking point. As your pussy gaps around nothing while you arch your back, Chuuya positioned his cock to your entrance, and pistoned upwards, his cum filling the scene of the crime he left to rot in the woods.

Only this time, you managed to keep up.

GASPPPP—i am so sad. i lost the ability to write for more than 2 charas 😭😭💔

erm. here was supposed to be oda's little part :'D ദ്ദി! was also gonna write a section for fyodor + nikolai but i just couldn't .... gonna have to update my lil req part to be "2 charas max"

💀i have gone from fic pumper to having dead fingers. the quality of my writing went down significantly a lot..

[em-exceeds-change-zearu]

oho i've been tagged.

so like. i thought i did this meme before and went looking for my old answers, but it turns out i did that for zexal, not pokeani. so that's fun. answers under the cut!

blorbo: ash, undoubtedly. that boy went from baby's first crush in elementary school to the darling little son boy i still enjoy poking at and writing fics about. sure recent years have soured the fandom on him, and his retirement was handled...poorly. but he holds a special place in my life as baby's first blorbo so it's hard for me to not be fond of him. and writing fics with people's other POV's looking in on him is always a delight. to him he's just a guy travelling and meeting all the creachers and living his best life but anyone looking at him even a little sideways spots an incomprehensible lad.

skrunkly: predictable answer, but it's pikachu. loved his early characterization of a feral little goblin who's only barely tamed by ash's blinding sunshine nature, and while he's grown to be a capable leader and a sweet guy in his own right, i do love to think that he's still that prickly bastard underneath it all. this rat is SO tired seeing the light of his life CONSTANTLY running headfirst into danger, he will in fact be the mean one so ash doesn't have to. (and then when he and ash are BOTH being mean it's even MORE delightful).

scrimblo bimblo: maybe trip. i think he had a lot of potential as a rival and could have been written really well, especially as a rival who's main focus was alder, and he treated ash dismissively as best. but he wasn't really allowed to grow organically like the other rivals, and his constant refusal to engage with the rest of the cast when they were all making bonds with each other really made his character leave much less of a favorable impression on people. i have a lot of words on how trip could have been done better tbh. so yeah probably trip.

glup shitto: a. are there obscure faves in pokeani? it's all one off CoTDs and such. i'm straining to think of one.

poor little meow meow: is alan still a controversial character. the way the entire fandom turned on his ass when he ended up being the only rival that ash never got to beat in a battle was absolutely unwarranted. comparing him to TOBIAS was completely uncalled for, when he was a character who was, in fact, built up through his own separate storyline as a protagonist for the team flare plot, as opposed to tobias who came literally out of nowhere, because sinnoh is the region full of legendaries and you can't trip over a rock without finding one apparently. i think people have softened up to him after he got. COMPLETELY miscast in journeys (but everyone got completely miscast in journeys, except like. opal), and i know he has a fairly dedicated following outside of the english fandom, but man. i love that poor child and he doesn't deserve the hate he got for winning the kalos league.

horse plinko: the fun part about plinko is that you can put multiple chips (or uh horses) into the game. EVERYONE GOES INTO THE PLINKO. EVERYONE DEALS WITH THE SITUATIONS AND THEY ARE GOING TO LIKE IT.

eeby deeby: i can't eeby deeby lysandre because bonnie already sent him to superhell. but maybe i'll eeby deeby him regardless.

Send me a fandom and I’ll tell you my:

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

[cosmicalily]

"baby, you can have it" - a jeongin oneshot by @cosmicalily

"an inch away from more than just friends, touch me, baby, put your lips on mine." - 'naked in manhattan' by chappell roan

author's note: another situation where i normally gatekeep the fuck out of my queer anthems (in the context of writing non-wlw fics for them), but the whole 'an inch away from more than just friends' felt SO relevant in the context of this oneshot. go stream 'the rise and fall of a midwest princess'. go listen to 'casual' and cry. it's good for you!

warnings: nudity, suggestive (the most that occurs is a makeout, nothing more)

You hadn't been able to stop yourself.

Why couldn't you have just remained a normal friend, his best friend?

Why were you spending hours, analysing the simplest things that he did, things that made your heart flutter, scream, and slingshot all the way to the moon and back? Spin around Saturn, melt through the heat of the sun and settle back in your chest, a mess of thoughts and emotions, innocent and otherwise.

The way he ate the strawberry liquorice he loved so much; his pink tongue pointed and sticking out occasionally to brush his lower lip as he savoured the candy.

The way he'd drag you home with him almost each night after school, hand you a cherry cola, and you'd spend hours playing video games and talking and laughing. Sometimes, Jisung would join you, but those evenings you got Jeongin all to yourself were something you treasured. And sometimes, those nights would end with more than just you kissing him on the cheek goodbye. Some mornings, you’d wake up, sprawled across his chest, the ghost of his lips on your neck, and the aching feeling of missing something. The feeling that even if he held your hand all the way to school, where you’d enter class together and apologise in unison for being late, he could slip away oh so easily.

The way he had made a habit of sketching little stars in a blue ballpoint pen around the few freckles that dotted your arm.

You looked down at your skin. There were still faded sketches dotting your arm, blue ink melting into your skin. Ghosts of the drawings he’d done yesterday; slowly disappearing but still very much so there.

Of course there were other girls. Girls who’d message him day after day, ask for his Snapchat, stick post-it notes onto his locker and cling to his arm in the hallway.

He tried not to pay too much attention to them; the occasional smile and ‘hey’, not to be rude, not to be unkind, but never responding to their affection, to their endless babble.

Jeongin was made to be a high school crush. He had bleached hair with the slightest hint of pink to it, sharp, fox-like features, contrasting wildly with his soft, dimpled cheeks, frequently flushed with a peach tinge.

You sometimes wondered why he gave you the time of day. Jeongin, although he wasn’t necessarily the most popular guy, was known across your grade and even the years above. He was older than almost everyone in the year level; an early birthday had originally granted him a move up to twelfth grade, but he’d opted against it. His friends were all in the year above, and whilst he still sometimes sat with them at break times, he’d decided to go for you.

“He hardly sits with us anymore,” Jisung mumbled to you, after Jeongin had passed out on the couch, head in your lap, arms around your waist. 

“I know. I keep asking him why. He says he sees you guys enough.”

Jisung looked down at Jeongin’s babyish expression as he slept, face pressed against your stomach. “Or he’s in love with you,” Jisung had reasoned, ruffling your hair and giving Jeongin’s arm a pinch before leaving.

You’d looked down at the pile of Jeongin lying before you; sleepy, clingy and oh so angelic. His features looked softer in the dim light, and his eyelashes fluttered every few seconds.

Every soft breath against your stomach made your heart swell, and you wished, just for a moment, that he’d say it out loud. Admit to it. 

There were times where you were almost certain. Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent. Catching him staring at you from your vanity mirror as you did your eyeliner, his hands slipping around your waist as you sat on the bathroom counter bleaching his hair, the soft kisses to your cheek that he’d offer you when you were crying.

That wasn’t platonic, was it? It couldn’t be.

You looked down at your arms, admiring the faded stars again. There was one in particular, a little larger than the rest. It wasn’t really a star anymore. His hand must have slipped. You craned your neck a little closer, getting a better look at the smudge of blue ink.

A heart.

You breathed out a little, and Jeongin’s eyes fluttered open.

You stroked his hair softly, hoping he’d fall back asleep, but he sat up, looking into your eyes. 

You felt so overwhelmed by him, but in the most beautiful way possible. By his sparkling eyes and his sweet face, the soft scent of his skin, and finally,

His lips on yours.

The way they moved in harmony, the way his tongue slipped in gently, not dominating your mouth, but exploring it. Curiously, like he wanted to get to know the parts of you that he hadn’t been able to. The parts that exceeded the confines of platonic love.

His hands were on your cheeks, your shoulders, your hips, your waist, gentle, fluid movements that sent shivers down your spine. There was a calm desperation about his actions, a need to search for more, to find another patch of skin he hadn’t seen or ran his fingers across yet. 

And when the two of you broke apart in a daze, chests heaving, sweat glossing over your skin, he hooked his fingers through the straps of your camisole, looking at you intently and giving you a moment to protest. When you nodded eagerly, he pulled off your tank top with one movement, one hand on the fabric, the other smoothing your hair to avoid it getting tangled. But once it was off, he didn’t grope or squeeze or touch.

Not that he would've without making sure you wanted it, even if he felt sure. Ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent wasn't one hundred, after all. He wanted you to be sure, because he was sure. And he was sure as hell that he didn't want to hurt you, not when he had you like this.

Not when you struggled to keep your lovedrunk eyes open, exhaustion creeping through your veins.

So he laid your body down to rest on the sofa, chest-down, and pulled a blue-ink ballpoint pen from his back pocket.

“That tickles,” you giggled, squirming a little as Jeongin settled himself behind you and began drawing on your bare skin.

“I wanna give you all the stars, baby,” he mumbled, sketching. His fingers were hot but the metal tip of the pen was cool on your back. The patterns he traced and the galaxies he formed were soothing and repetitive, and you felt yourself drifting off.

And when you woke up, he was beside you, limbs wrapped around yours, lips pressed against your neck.

A faded imprint of the ink stars on your arms stamped onto his skin.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @yaniluvs @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff @starsinagreenskyxx - comment, dm or send an ask to be added!

[rcmclachlan]

okay, so if you’re not writing the aquarium scene in the 118/217 scheming fix-it (god i love this) can you at least share what mishap and or shenanigan gets them banned from the aquarium?? (since you mentioned it in the tags i assume you picked one!)

The aquarium is Christopher's idea, because getting Buck and Tommy back together is the one thing he and Eddie can talk about without it devolving into shouting or week-long silences that make Eddie want to put his fist through his living room wall.

So if plotting to interfere in the open bear trap that is his idiot friends' breakup gets him an hour of uninterrupted screen time with Chris three times a week? He'll meddle in a way that would make even his abuela say, "cariño, that's a little much." He'll change his legal middle name to el metiche.

"Buck used to take me to see the otters when I was younger; they're his favorite. But the exhibit has been closed for a year because they've been redoing it," Chris says, then texts him a link to the aquarium website. "The big reopening is next week. If someone asked Buck to take Jee-Yun, he wouldn't be suspicious."

"Chris, you're a genius," Eddie says, a little awed. His entire body aches to reach through the laptop screen and across state lines to pull his kid into a hug, but all he can do is sit on his hands and hope his face shows all the love he feels.

A small, but genuine grin unfurls on Chris's face. "That's not news, dad."

Eddie decides to take the aquarium idea to what Chimney keeps calling the weekly 118-217 Shadow Summit to see if the rest of the group thinks it holds water—no pun intended—and is extremely offended when Dana gives him a slow blink and says, "That's actually not bad. Who came up with it?"

"Is it that hard to believe it was my idea?"

"Very."

Dana presses the rim of her wine glass to the sly, crimson curve of her mouth. With her victory rolls, winged eyeliner, and tattoos, she looks like the winner of a car show pinup contest. She also looks like an evil queen out of an old school Disney movie. At least five people in their general vicinity look like they'd thank her if she force-fed them a poisoned apple or turned into a giant dragon.

Eddie reaches into the bowl of popcorn by his elbow and throws a handful of it at her. She just takes a sip of her wine and serenely lets the kernels bounce off her.

"Knock it off before I put you both in a time out." Lucy drains the dregs of her beer and says to Chimney, "Having Buckley take your kid is the perfect excuse—she's, what, two? Three?"

"Five," Chim says with the heartache of a man whose baby is almost old enough to rent a car. "As long as we don't tell my wife that Jee's playing the part of the cutest MacGuffin ever in this little plot, we should be good. But how do we get Tommy there?"

"Short of planting a bomb in the penguin tank, I can't think of a reason Mr. Nature Boy himself would ever voluntarily go." Hen roots around in the popcorn bowl for the kernels with the most butter. "Actually, he might be thrilled if we did that. I don't think he likes birds very much."

Dana lifts a brow. "I smell a story."

"Does it smell like KFC?" Chim pops a pretzel in his mouth and chews loudly, grinning. "Once we've adjourned the cabal for the evening, remind me to tell you about Maurice."

Eddie doesn't know Nico very well—he can't get a read on the guy to save his life—but the smug smirk he's sporting looks entirely out of place. Nico takes the last mozzarella stick off the platter they'd ordered to share and puts it between his teeth like a cigar. He looks like the world's lamest oil baron.

Eddie looks at Dana in askance. Wordlessly, she plucks a piece of popcorn out of her hair and throws it at him. It nails him right between the eyes.

"Let me handle Kinard," Nico says. "I'll get him there, no problem."

To his credit, Nico does get Tommy to the aquarium the day of the sea otter exhibit grand reopening. And thanks to Chimney planting Chris's idea in Buck's head at the start of their next shift, Buck does take Jee-Yun.

Unfortunately, their paths never cross, because while the penguin habitat doesn't explode, the sea jelly gallery does, completely flooding the first floor. When the aquarium is forced to evacuate everyone, Buck and Jee-Yun end up at the Chili's down the street, while Tommy ends up riding in an ambulance with an old woman who gets stung by a box jellyfish.

"I don't understand how this happened!" Lucy shouts, keeping her fingers on the ankle pulse of a man in the middle of an allergic reaction to a lilliputian jelly sting as Hen and Chim pump him full of epinephrine and then start administering compressions.

Eddie would help, but he's carrying three kids—two in his arms, one on his back—through shin-deep water to safety while attempting to dodge all the bluebottles floating on the surface. Dana glides past him to get the next group of kids waiting to be rescued, not a hair out of place. She looks like a fucking mermaid. He's gonna trip her the next time they pass each other.

Annoyed, Lucy casts around and then asks, "Has anyone seen Nico?"

Just in time for the man himself to sedately walk through the pandemonium, two bewildered penguins tucked under his arms like purses. He smiles brightly. "Hey, did Kinard pass through here, by any chance? Phase two of my plan is ready to go."

Eddie stares at him. "What was phase one?"

He never does find out what exactly phase one entailed, but it's enough to get them permanently banned from the aquarium for life.

"If you ask me, the punishment so does not fit the crime," Nico says, digging an elbow into Eddie's side as he jostles for room in the back of Athena's squad car.

Eddie says nothing. He's too busy mentally composing the short-answer portion of his application for the El Paso Fire Department, although, in the end, it doesn't matter. He completely forgets everything he plans on writing when Athena slides in, glances in the rearview mirror, and shouts, "Those better not be penguins in my back seat, Edmundo Diaz!"

He and Chris spend two hours talking about it during their next call, so Eddie calls it a win.

[starrihan]

Suck On It - (Taesan Fic)

-> Pairing: Han Taesan x gender neutral! Reader

-> Plot: where a lazy weekend spent on the couch leads to you sucking off your best friend because of a ring pop

-> Genre: smut, food play, indirect cum eating, sub tendencies! Taesan, he gets a little harsh towards the end, oral (m receiving), neck kissing/ sucking

-> Warnings: mentions of food

-> Word Count: 2,111

-> Notes: woke up and wrote this in 2 hours. Happy new years! This was so fun to write so I hope you guys enjoy it as well! Have a wonderful day~

༄ ༄ ༄

You find yourself sprawled out on the couch of your apartment of which you shared with your best friend and roommate, Dongmin. You lazily scroll on your phone, the weekend not providing any entertainment to you. The only thing you could say that was bringing you any sort of joy, was the sweet treat you had sitting on your index finger– a blue raspberry ring pop. You sigh as you bring the confection to your mouth, lips wrapping around it and sucking on it lightly.

“You’re not sucking dick why do you look so into that ring pop?”

His grating voice is irritating to your ears. While he is your best friend, you always rolled your eyes at his stupid and middle-school-esque comments. 

“It’s not your dick so why do you care so much, Dongmin?”

You ask with the same amount of grit in your voice as he did. You suck and release the sweet with a loud ‘pop,’ laughing at the disgusted expression his face is displaying. 

“First of all, get a room. Second of all, I asked you to call me by Taesan!”

He stomps his feet like a child, huffing as he walks over to where you’re laying on the couch. He rudely throws your legs out of the way, plopping himself down on the new free seat he’s created for himself.

“Rude,” you huff as you fix yourself, sitting up on the couch and putting your phone on the table. You proceed to lick and suck on the ring pop before answering him.

“And I’m not calling you Taesan. I’m used to calling you by your real name.”

“But that’s my stage name for the band! I need to get used to people calling me by Taesan and it starts with you.”

“Please, like you’re gonna make it out of this college band and have millions of fangirls screaming ‘Taesan!’”

“That is, in fact, what will happen if you start calling me by Taesan.”

The bickering and childish antics was very on brand for the two of you. Of course you were best friends and you loved each other, but not a single day could go by without the two of you pulling each other’s tails. 

“Whatever, ‘Taesan,” you say in a dramatically mocking tone, “Now go away, you’re disrupting my peace and quiet.”

“Gimmie a lick.”

“What?” 

You deadpan, almost taken aback at the audacity of his question.

“Of your ring pop. Gimmie a lick I wanna try that flavor.”

“No? Get your own?”

He leans in, trying to get a lick but you move your hand back. His head almost falls into your chest, but he doesn’t let that stop him from trying again, reaching above you as you raised your hand over your head.

“Dongmin, stop!”

“Only if you call me Taesan!”

He laughs, grabbing your wrist and trying to pull it down to his mouth. You refuse, fighting him as you try to stretch higher, using your body to push him off. You find yourselves at this for about a minute, until he has you awkwardly pinned diagonally against the couch, smirking as you finally give up and let him grab your hand with the ring pop secured onto it. He grabs your hand gently, folding his fingers over yours as he brings it to his lips, sucking on the juicy, sweet crystal as you sigh in defeat. He looks into your eyes as he sucks the candy, the air shifting a bit from its previously playful state to one that's more suffocating and hot.

“You said you wanted to lick it, not suck the life out of it,”

You retort, gently dialing your hand back and out of his mouth, careful not to knock his teeth on the hard candy, cheeks heating up at the sight of Taesan, almost lewdly, popping his lips off of the candy. You look away from him and you can hear him smirk. 

“My bad, it just tastes so good. The blue raspberry tastes good with your strawberry lip balm on it.”

You whip your head towards him at his comment. Taesan has always been a little flirty with you, but that's all it ever was. So you weren’t expecting the comment that came out of his mouth to be as bold as this one. 

“Freak,”

You say, examining the ring pop that now has his saliva covering it. But you were never one to back down from a challenge. You look into his eyes as you bring the ring pop to your mouth, slowly licking up the height of it before pushing it past your lips, exaggerating the sucking noises while maintaining eye contact. 

His smirk falters as he gulps, a small tent in his pants forming at your sultry actions. 

“Y/N…”

“What's wrong, Taesan? You got what you wanted…”

The use of his stage name gets to him, his mind becoming foggy with thoughts of the name spilling from your mouth as he pounds into you over and over again. It’s almost as if you could tell the thoughts that were racing in his mind as you bring the ring pop back up to his lips, pushing it slightly against them to get him to open up again. He knew the game you were playing. He also knew that there was no going back from this if he decided to open his mouth. But the Dongmin you knew never played it safe.

He opens his lips as he takes the treat into his mouth, sucking on it as you take your other hand and rake it through his hair, playing with it. You couldn’t deny your attraction towards him. He was seriously good-looking, but that's all it was– physical attraction.

He takes the chance to run his hands up and down your body, releasing the ring pop from his lips and sitting up straight, peering his eyes into yours. You sit back up as well, not breaking eye contact as your mouth moves before your brain even has the chance to register the words coming out. 

“I wanna do to you what I was doing to this ring pop.”

If he wasn't already hard enough, he was now as he stood up, eyes glimmering with need as you sat directly in front of him, hard-on straining against his sweats. You look up at him, bringing your face closer to his clothed boner, feeling him through it with your lips.

“I should’ve known you were gonna be a tease,”

He winces at the contact, gently streaming his fingers through your hair. You pull his pants and boxers down, letting his dick spring out into the open air as you watch it, mesmerized by its build. Taesan was tall and lean so you didn’t expect him to be packing as much as he did. But your shy staring has him blushing and looking away from your figure.

“If you’re gonna be staring can you at least do something? This is embarrassing…”

You giggle as you suck the ring pop again, collecting its flavor and letting it coat the inside of your mouth before bringing it close to his dick.

“I should’ve known you were gonna be impatient,”

You jest, bringing your lips just to the tip and sucking on it ever so lightly. He feels himself jolt at your tongue flattening at the base of his cock. You smirk against it, knowing that you’ve found his sensitive spot. You continue your movements, dragging your tongue along the length of his dick, starting from the base to the tip. He lets out a long groan as his gentle streaming of your hair turns into a harsh grip. 

You alternate, sucking the ring pop for flavor before going back to his hard length, taking as much as you can into your mouth and jerking the rest. His whimpers and broken moans go straight to your core, feeling yourself get slick with need. 

“I'm close…”

He draws out as he lets himself fully relax in your mouth. You have an idea, taking him out of your mouth and sucking on the ring pop again, smirking as he complains. Your lips have been stained blue from the sugary treat and you push his length up towards his stomach, bringing your lips to his balls. You lick and nip at them, before pulling away with a victorious smirk.

“Guess you could say I gave you blue balls.”

He rolls his eyes at your laugh that has you gripping your stomach. You’re about to speak again before feeling a sharp pain in the back of your head, his grip on your hair tighter than ever as he brings your face back to his throbbing length.

“You’ve had your fun now give me mine,”

His submissive behavior up until now was all you had expected from him, but the change in his demeanor shocked you, and ultimately resulted in you rubbing your thighs together.  You shut your eyes as you wince, taking his whole length into your mouth. He moves your head back and forth, bringing you impossibly close to his pelvis as your nose brushes against the faint happy trail down his stomach. Your chokes and gags only fuel him further, now holding your head in place as he thrusts his hips into your mouth. You grip his hips, fingers digging into them as tears brim your eyes, threatening to spill out at his harsh movements and your lack of airflow.

“Fuck Y/N I feel so good around your mouth. Just a little more and I'll have my seed spilling down your throat and you’d better take all of it.”

His filthy words have you more motivated than ever, determined to take it until he cums down your throat. You try to calm yourself down, breathing through your nose as sweat drips down your forehead. You open up your eyes to look up at him once again to find him already looking down at you, silently pleading to let him cum. You take the chance to hollow your cheeks, tightening the grip your mouth had around him and using your tongue to lick where you can. The combined actions are too much for Taesan, roughly thrusting into your throat one last time before stilling his hips, letting his seed coat the back of your throat deliciously.  

He pulls your head back softly, your jaw falling slack as your try your best to relax the bones before closing your mouth. 

“I’m sorry if I got a little harsh there… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He grabs you a bottle of water and opens it for you, bringing it up to your lips. You snatch the bottle out of his hand and drink it yourself. 

“I don’t need you to help me drink water. I sucked your dick I’m not incapable. Plus, I liked how rough you were being. I was starting to think I would have to be the dominant one.”

“Sorry for wanting to help you out after I almost broke your jaw.” 

He rolls his eyes but he notices your thighs pressing together, rubbing to create a little bit of friction to help you get the edge off a bit. 

“I can tell you liked it rough. Your thighs haven’t stopped moving since we started.”

His smirk irks you but you can’t help but notice how desperate you’re getting at this point. You’re still sucking on the delectable treat, saliva mixed with his cum adorning the now defiled candy. He takes the chance to slip the ring pop off of your finger and brings it to your neck, smearing the it’s content in a circle before attaching his lips to the stained area. You moan as his tongue licks the spot on your neck, thick lips sucking a little mark onto it. 

“T-Taesan…” 

“Keep calling me that name and I’ll have you screaming it by the end of the day.” 

He slips your shirt off of your body, bringing the treat down your chest and circling your nipples, continuing his previous actions of licking and sucking the affected areas. He takes the candy into his mouth, tasting himself on it and lets out a light moan. He takes it out to see that there’s not much left of it. 

“I bet I can make you come with my mouth before you finish the rest of this.” 

He says as he puts the candy in front of you and you willingly open your mouth as he slides the ring in. He kissed a trail down to the waistband of your pants before slowly pulling them off. 

“I hope you’re ready.” 

༄ ༄ ༄

[posts-without-the-letter-e]

I bliv th nglish phras is “odd duck.” Ys. Jan Kargad was an Odd Duck. H was born in 1922, right aftr Gorgia joind th Sovit Union, in a commun outsid of Batumi. But this was not a normal commun no. His parnts wr strang popl. A small group of Dutch fuckrs, vry protstant popl, startd a winry in th countrysid whr thy could rad thir bibls. You would think thy did not gt along with th Marxists, but you would b wrong. Thy lovd work. Th bibl lovd work. Thr was no problm.

Wll, that is not ntirly tru. Jan was a bit of a problm. H was born with a “wak constitution.” W do not know what that mant xactly, but farmwork would giv him sizurs and vry high fvrs. H was not a good child for farm work. So, thy taught him arithmtic. Young Jan was in charg of counting graps and bottls of win and so on. Mayb th Apparatchik did not mind a child doing all th counting, mayb h was bribd, mayb h did not giv a shit. I do not know. But Jan was in charg of all th counting and, what is th fucking word- logistics. Ys. Logistics. And h was vry good at logistics. 

Thr ar thoris as to his upbringing ys. Studying th bibl alongsid Marx and Lnin and so on. But I do not bliv this. In Chchnya in thos days many studid th bibl and Marx lik Jan Kargad, but w did not bcom lik Jan Kargad. I think prhaps it was th fvrs. On ss things with a fvr whn it is bad nough, ys. 

Kargad also studid th capitalists. H was vry good at this. H rad Adam Smith, but also Issac Nwton, th South Sas bubbl, and most famously th Tulip Panic. Thy say his journals wr filld with prssd tulips. H was a bit of a, what is th fucking nglish word- prvrt. A prvrt for organizing things and numbrs and so on. Jan Kargad lovs logistics lik a man lovs his wif, and tulips ar a symbol of this for him. Thy bcam a microcosm for him. You s how th bud unfolds into many ptals, its is vry similar to how capitalism unfurls into its many aspcts in th world. But, I am gtting ahad of myslf. 

On day, aftr all of his schooling, Kargad has a trribl fvr, mor trribl than any fvr h has vr had. This is in th arly 1940s som tim. Aftr this fvr h bcoms strang. Wll, strangr than h alrady was. H spaks of mn with goldn dog masks, thir ncks chaind to th sun, tulips growing from thir ys, all of that shit. H nvr gos outsid again. H bcoms farful of th sun. H dos not lt it touch his skin. 

H writs intnsly for th nxt thr yars. I hav sn his original notbooks and thy ar staind with swat. This man is not wll, but h writs. H dos not gt hlp, bcaus h is vry good at analyzing agricultural output. I bliv it groundd him som how, to spnd days without slp, rading spradshts about graps and what and so on. 

H is no longr christian. H throws out all of th crosss in his hom, and rplacs thm with grap-cuttrs. Thy ar similar to a sickl, but with a long handl, for raching up and cutting off high bunchs of graps. H bcoms obsssd with this ida of th grap cuttr, and h bgins to paint. And this is whr many first larn of him. H influncs a group of artists who bcom famous in th southrn sovit union, though thy ar occasionally dridd as bing “mystical.” I prsonally? I lov th drawings. Many figurs raching up to pluck graps from th sun. It bcoms th cntral thm of his work.

Hr popl discovr his strang writings. But first h is considrd a strang mystic. His arly writings ar still vry christian ys, and this influncs how h is rad in th wst. Many think h is spaking of hypr-conomics or whatvr ftishistic bull shit th amricans ar calling it. But I do not think so. His work is vry sovit. Thr ar storis ys, of good sovit mn drinking coff and loving spradshts lik a man lovs his wif, and in this thy bcom a littl bit lik Jan Kargad. Thy ar –you do not hav an nglish trm for this– cutting graps from th sun. But this is not a srious phras you undrstand. Ths mn ar prvrts.

386 101s thrown away

I believe the English phrase is “odd duck.” Yes. Jan Kargad was an Odd Duck. He was born in 1922, right after Georgia joined the Soviet Union, in a commune outside of Batumi. But this was not a normal commune no. His parents were strange people. A small group of Dutch fuckers, very protestant people, started a winery in the countryside where they could read their bibles. You would think they did not get along with the Marxists, but you would be wrong. They loved work. The bible loved work. There was no problem.

Well, that is not entirely true. Jan was a bit of a problem. He was born with a “weak constitution.” We do not know what that meant exactly, but farmwork would give him seizures and very high fevers. He was not a good child for farm work. So, they taught him arithmetic. Young Jan was in charge of counting grapes and bottles of wine and so on. Maybe the Apparatchik did not mind a child doing all the counting, maybe he was bribed, maybe he did not give a shit. I do not know. But Jan was in charge of all the counting and, what is the fucking word- logistics. Yes. Logistics. And he was very good at logistics. 

There are theories as to his upbringing yes. Studying the bible alongside Marx and Lenin and so on. But I do not believe this. In Chechnya in those days many studied the bible and Marx like Jan Kargad, but we did not become like Jan Kargad. I think perhaps it was the fevers. One sees things with a fever when it is bad enough, yes. 

Kargad also studied the capitalists. He was very good at this. He read Adam Smith, but also Issac Newton, the South Seas bubble, and most famously the Tulip Panic. They say his journals were filled with pressed tulips. He was a bit of a, what is the fucking English word- pervert. A pervert for organizing things and numbers and so on. Jan Kargad loves logistics like a man loves his wife, and tulips are a symbol of this for him. They became a microcosm for him. You see how the bud unfolds into many petals, its is very similar to how capitalism unfurls into its many aspects in the world. But, I am getting ahead of myself. 

One day, after all of his schooling, Kargad has a terrible fever, more terrible than any fever he has ever had. This is in the early 1940s some time. After this fever he becomes strange. Well, stranger than he already was. He speaks of men with golden dog masks, their necks chained to the sun, tulips growing from their eyes, all of that shit. He never goes outside again. He becomes fearful of the sun. He does not let it touch his skin. 

He writes intensely for the next three years. I have seen his original notebooks and they are stained with sweat. This man is not well, but he writes. He does not get help, because he is very good at analyzing agricultural output. I believe it grounded him some how, to spend days without sleep, reading spreadsheets about grapes and wheat and so on. 

He is no longer christian. He throws out all of the crosses in his home, and replaces them with grape-cutters. They are similar to a sickle, but with a long handle, for reaching up and cutting off high bunches of grapes. He becomes obsessed with this idea of the grape cutter, and he begins to paint. And this is where many first learn of him. He influences a group of artists who become famous in the southern soviet union, though they are occasionally derided as being “mystical.” I personally? I love the drawings. Many figures reaching up to pluck grapes from the sun. It becomes the central theme of his work.

Here people discover his strange writings. But first he is considered a strange mystic. His early writings are still very christian yes, and this influences how he is read in the west. Many think he is speaking of hyper-economics or whatever fetishistic bull shit the americans are calling it. But I do not think so. His work is very soviet. There are stories yes, of good soviet men drinking coffee and loving spreadsheets like a man loves his wife, and in this they become a little bit like Jan Kargad. They are –you do not have an English term for this– cutting grapes from the sun. But this is not a serious phrase you understand. These men are perverts.

[heartsriki]

ALWAYS YOU ⌇타박상

pairing ᝰ jungwon x fem!reader — featuring.. hyuka mentioned | word count: 2.7k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ fluff, angst, school au, misunderstandings, bullying, physical fights not between reader and jw, bruises mentioned, kissing, cussing.

synopsis — after a misunderstanding two years ago you have lived your school life in solitude. At least you tried too but yang jungwon just won't give up! will he continue to cling to you or will another misunderstanding take him away?

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊I really loved writing this :( I can't seem to write fics without misunderstandings lol.. I'm also trying to write longer fics slowly, I can't believe I wrote 2.7k words I got carried away.. also tysm to my moots and non-moots! the reblogs and comments make me giggle :)

For a girl who barely spoke a word, you had a reputation that clung to you like a shadow—dark, persistent, and nearly impossible to shake. Around the school, your name was passed around in hushed tones, tethered to stories people wouldn’t normally want attached to their identity.

The rumors swirled, painting a picture of you that wasn’t entirely fair, but you never bothered to correct them. The “incident” two years ago was the foundation to all of this— a fight you didn’t start but somehow took all the blame for, thanks to a girl who played the victim flawlessly in front of a crowd. From that day on, you were the one to avoid. And you didn’t mind. Solitude came easier than the tangled mess of trying to prove yourself innocent.

But, of course, there was one person who clinged to you despite of all of this.

Yang Jungwon.

The boy who seemed oblivious to the rumors. The one person who approached you time and time again. He was everything you weren’t—loved by everyone, a model student, and the poster child for perfection. So why, of all people, did he keep showing up like right now?

“Hey, Y/N, what are you up to?”

Jungwon’s familiar voice broke through your concentration, and before you could react, he was leaning over your shoulder to peek at your notes. His smile was so casual, like he belonged there, completely ignoring the bubble of isolation you carefully maintained.

You nearly jumped out of your seat, glancing around frantically to ensure no one else noticed him. “Go away, Jungwon,” you hissed, your voice low but firm.

Instead of leaving, he sighed dramatically and walked around the table, dropping into the chair across from you. “Why? Are you waiting for a friend?”

You gave him a sharp, unimpressed look, one that he immediately understood.

“Right, sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with an apologetic smile. For a moment, he looked genuinely sheepish, but then his expression brightened like he’d just remembered something important. “Oh! I had something to ask you.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Ask me, and then go away.”

His grin widened, and for some reason, you didn’t like the look in his eyes. “Do you have a partner for the Valentine’s Day event?”

At first, the words didn’t fully register. You stared at him blankly, too preoccupied with figuring out why he was even sitting here. But the second it clicked, you choked on your breath, launching into a fit of loud coughing.

When you finally recovered, you stared at him in disbelief. “Jungwon, are you crazy?” you whisper-yelled, leaning closer to ensure no one overheard. “You do realize that’s for couples, right?”

His reaction was unreadable. His throat bobbed as he gulped, and his gaze dropped to the papers scattered in front of you. “Oh? Is it? I didn’t notice… My bad.”

His voice was soft, his words almost too casual, but the faint pout tugging at his lips gave him away. Without waiting for your reply, he stood abruptly. “Well, sorry for bothering you.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving you frozen in place.

Your mind raced, replaying the scene over and over again. There was no way Jungwon didn’t know. He was on the committee that planned these kinds of events. He had to have known.

“He’s so irritating,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head and trying to refocus on your notes.

But even as you went back to studying, you couldn’t ignore the warmth creeping up your neck, the undeniable heat spreading across your face.

Not even two hours later, you were at the same spot.

The library was quieter than usual that afternoon, with only the occasional rustle of pages and soft whispers floating in the air. You had taken refuge in your favorite corner by the window, hoping for some peace after the strange interaction with Jungwon earlier.

But, as if on cue, a shadow fell across your table. Again.

“Hey,” came his familiar voice, soft but somehow still startling.

You looked up, already narrowing your eyes. “What now, Jungwon? Seriously you don't take a hint.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Relax. I come in peace.”

You weren’t convinced, but you knew he wouldn’t go away. To your surprise, instead of hovering or leaning over your shoulder like earlier, he pulled out a chair and sat down next to you this time, placing a small brown paper bag on the table.

“What’s that?” you asked, nodding toward it suspiciously.

He slid it toward you. “An apology.”

“For?”

“For, you know, earlier. Asking you something dumb and making it weird.” He avoided your gaze, scratching the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you opened the bag to find a small container of chocolate-covered strawberries inside. Your eyebrows shot up. “You bribing me with food now?”

“Is it working?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep a blank face but a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips before you could stop it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied expression.

For a few moments, the two of you sat in an unexpected but comfortable silence. The sunlight streaming through the window cast a golden glow over his features, and you hated how your eyes lingered on him longer than they should.

“So,” he began, breaking the quiet, “why do you keep pushing people away?”

His question was so abrupt, it caught you completely off guard. Your head snapped up, and you stared at him, wide-eyed. “Excuse me?”

“I mean,” he said quickly as if trying to soften the blow, “you’re smart, funny—well when you’re not threatening to kill me—and honestly, you’re kind of cool. But you keep everyone at arm’s length. Why?”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. No one had ever asked you that. Not like this. Not with genuine curiosity in their voice.

“Surely you've heard things about me by now,” you said finally, your tone clipped as you looked away.

Jungwon seemed confused with your answer, but he didn’t push. Instead, he reached across the table and tapped the edge of your notebook. “Mm. I don’t think I have, tell me? Maybe?.”

You frowned, meeting his gaze. His eyes held something you couldn’t quite place—something soft, warm, and persistent.

“You should just stay away,” you muttered, trying to dismiss the subject.

“Don't do that…” he said, his voice quieter now, almost tender.

You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. Because the truth was, you didn’t know what to say.

Jungwon leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m not going anywhere. So, you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, but you couldn’t stop the warmth blooming in your chest—or the way your heart betrayed you with its quickened pace. “You’re such an idiot for a top student,” you mumbled, but the words lacked their usual bite.

Jungwon only grinned, his eyes sparkling with something that made your stomach flip. “Yeah? Do you like idiots?.”

And for the first time, you didn’t have a comeback.

The gym field buzzed with activity, laughter, and the rhythmic pounding of feet against the track. Today was the outside gym event—a day you had been dreading for weeks.

As you trudged toward your assigned group, whispers followed you like a persistent echo. You tuned them out, keeping your head low until the coach’s voice rang out like a firecracker.

“Alright, this activity requires duos! Everyone, find a partner and line up!”

Panic surged through you as you looked around. Pairs were forming fast—friends clasping arms, strangers locking eyes and nodding. Everyone but you. It didn’t take long for the coach to notice you standing there, alone and staring at the ground.

“Ah, Kai is absent,” he muttered, scanning the field. “Jungwon! Over here!”

Your head snapped up at the name.

Jungwon jogged over from the track, his face glistening with sweat but still managing to beam like it was the best day of his life.

“Hey, Coach, what’s up?”

“We need you to partner with L/N for this activity. Can’t do it solo.”

Jungwon’s gaze flickered to you, and almost immediately, he grinned. “Sure thing.”

“Shit.” You said under your breath.

He made his way to you, his grin never faltering, though his breath came in short bursts. “Hey, Y/N. Ready to crush this thing?”

You sighed, still refusing to meet his eyes. “You should’ve said no.”

The whispers around you grew louder now, all focused on the odd pairing of you and Jungwon. You knew this wasn’t good for him—not for someone as well-liked as he was.

Jungwon, oblivious to—or maybe just indifferent to—the stares, shrugged casually. “Why would I do that? Can’t let you be on your own.”

His words made you glance up at him. His ears were red, and he was pointedly not looking at you. You assumed it was just from his earlier run. Before you could retort, the coach strode over, handing out supplies.

“Alright, teams, grab your bag and rope for the duo beanbag relay!”

Jungwon’s face lit up with amusement as he looked at the gear, and then at you.

“Oh,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching into a mischievous smile. “This is gonna be fun.”

You could already feel the awkwardness seeping in as the realization dawned on both of you. The proximity was about to get really awkward.

As expected, you and Jungwon lost. Not because of Jungwon, but because of the proximity between you two. The way his hand rested over your shoulder for momentum, the way he whispered in your ear to calm your anxiousness, and the constant stares and murmurs from everyone around you—it was too much. It all ended with both of you falling at the last minute due to your distractions.

When the event ended, you bolted from the crowd, heading to the courtyard to be alone.

You felt like crying. That was so embarrassing—not just for you, but for Jungwon too. What would people say about him? Would his reputation be affected because of you?

You didn’t stop running until you found a water fountain tucked away in solitude. Brushing the strands of hair from your face, you leaned over to drink. Just as you felt the cool water hit your lips, you heard footsteps behind you. You turned around quickly.

“What the hell was that pitiful shitshow?”

Of course. It was Jungwon’s so-called fan club—a group of delusional girls who were utterly infatuated with him.

You muttered a curse under your breath, already knowing what was about to happen. “Not now.”

The leader of the group scoffed, turning briefly to her posse for approval. “We’ve told you time and time again to stay away from Jungwon. And now you injure him because you couldn’t run a few yards? Do you think I’m a fucking joke?”

You stared at her with a plain, uninterested expression. “I told you, I want nothing to do with him.”

She smirked mockingly. “Right… sure. One more chance, or you’ll regret it,” she said, turning to leave.

Something about her words struck a nerve. The way she thought she could control him—or anyone, for that matter—was too much for you. You couldn’t hold back.

“You’d think after all this time you’d stop being delusional and get yourself a real boyfriend.”

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face you, her expression morphing from shock to rage. Before you could react, she lunged at you with a punch.

Instinctively, you defended yourself and fought back. Within moments, students turned the corner and formed a circle around you, chanting and screaming.

You were so focused on the fight that you didn’t notice Jungwon pushing through the crowd until he and a few others separated you from the girl.

When your vision cleared, you realized how battered she looked. You hadn’t even noticed the stinging pain in your own hands and face, still numbed by the adrenaline. Looking up, you expected to see anger on Jungwon’s face, but instead, his eyes were filled with sadness and worry.

He grabbed your hand, ignoring the whistles and murmurs behind you as he pulled you away.

You didn’t say anything as he led you toward the infirmary. You didn’t need to—your thoughts were loud enough. You knew what was coming. He was going to be angry. He was going to misunderstand you, just like everyone else. He was going to leave you, like everyone else.

When you reached the infirmary, Jungwon guided you to a bed. “Sit and wait,” he said curtly.

You obeyed, glancing at him briefly before turning your attention to your bruised hands. As you brought them closer to inspect the cuts, you winced at the burning sensation.

Jungwon returned with supplies and sat beside you, placing them down. He was quiet, his face unreadable, and the tension was unbearable. You hated this. You hated how upset he seemed.

And yet, you hated yourself more—for pushing him away for so long, for the possibility that he might finally leave. The thought of never seeing him pop up at your desk unannounced, hearing his one-sided conversations in the library or even his stupid flirty remarks was enough to make your eyes well up.

Before you could stop yourself, tears spilled down your cheeks.

Jungwon looked up from cleaning your knuckles, his eyes widening at the sight of your tears. “Y/N? Hey, what’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer, unable to speak through the sobs.

Setting the supplies aside, he cupped your face gently, his thumbs brushing away the tears. “Why are you crying, gorgeous?”

You blinked up at him, your voice trembling. “I’m so sorry. I swear, she—it wasn’t me, I promise.” Your sobs grew louder, breaking his heart further.

Jungwon’s chest tightened as he took a tissue and wiped your face. “I know it wasn’t you,” he whispered softly.

Your head snapped up, meeting his gaze. “What?”

He smiled faintly and continued tending to your injuries. “I was there from the beginning. I saw her hit you first.”

You stared at him in shock, his words sinking in.

After a moment of silence, he spoke again, his voice tinged with frustration and concern. “I also heard about what happened two years ago. About all the things you’ve been through since. Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped you.”

You looked away, guilt washing over you. “Nobody believed me. Why would you?”

Jungwon froze for a moment, then tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “I’ve always believed in you. From the moment we met—it’s always been you.”

His words left you breathless. For the first time, you wondered if it was finally time to stop running. To stop hiding from what you wanted. You watched him as he took care of you gently, maybe you doubted him.

You were dragged out of your thoughts when he locked eyes with you. The air between you shifted, charged with something unspoken. Jungwon leaned forward, closing the gap, and kissed you gently. You were too shocked to respond at first, but soon, you let go of your fears and kissed him back.

It felt foreign but right. He held you carefully like if he was afraid you’ll go. The room was quiet with just the sighs and soft breathing from the both of you.

When he pulled away, his eyes were full of affection. “How about we hop over the fence and go somewhere hm? Just us.”

You laughed, hitting his shoulder lightly. “You? Skipping school? Don’t make me laugh.”

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

After the fall, Jungwon watched you run off, his instinct to follow immediately thwarted by the crowd gathering around him.

People offered him water and words of praise, but his attention shifted when he overheard a conversation nearby.

“I bet she did that on purpose. Ha, what a bitch.”

Jungwon’s head snapped toward the source of the comment, his jaw tightening. “What did you just say?”

The boy hesitated, startled, but eventually smirked. “Y/N. I mean, everyone knows about her, right? Acts tough, but I bet she’s just a slut looking for attention.”

Before he could think, Jungwon punched the guy, the crack of his fist silencing the crowd.

Ignoring the shocked gasps around him, Jungwon turned and bolted in the direction you had gone. His heart pounded, not just from the run but from the overwhelming need to find you.

He needed you to know. No matter what anyone said or what happened next, his choice would always be you.

[inexplicifics]

Hello! I’m pretty sure I haven’t even mentioned on the AWAU server how much I adore when you drop snippets for ask games, much less told you directly, so I’d like to tell you now: I love it when you do this, I adore all the speculations they prompt, and all the ideas they’ve prompted, (even if I rarely write those down and haven’t finished any of the ones I did.)

Could we get a bit about the Gen Post tournament school merger please?

I'm so glad my occasional snippet flurries bring you joy, and I hope the plotbunnies they create are cooperative with being put down on paper! Have some School merger:

Guxart ostentatiously spreads his hands wide, fingers held apart to make it clear that he’s not trying to form a Sign. “Vesemir.” “Guxart,” Vesemir says calmly. “I did not expect to see you here.” Guxart shrugs. “It seemed like the best of the available options,” he admits. “I have a proposition for you - for all the Wolves.” Vesemir raises an eyebrow. “What sort of proposition?”

[inkandguns]

I used to have a side gig where I did papers for college kids. I tried to get my clients early, but it didn’t always end up that way. For shorter deadlines I charged more, if I had to read a book I had to charge more. I charged more if I had to leave my house and go to the library for references. I charged more for forms of citation I hated, like APA.

My favorite gig of all was “defense”. Many times kids would pay for their last paper of the term - a really dumb idiot move. Almost always they would be caught. Going in to my arrangements I explained to them that I’d be providing original work - actually writing the paper and doing all of the research and citations. So when teachers and administration would accuse them of plagiarism, they were just fishing for a confession. No plagiarism had occurred, they had just bought their work instead of doing it. I consented to the use of my work in academic settings, like a journalist would consent to having their article published in the paper.

I charged $200-$400 for an evening of “defense” tutoring. It took a few hours, but I’d tutor them on my research methods and prep them to meet teachers and administration. I sent about a half dozen kids marching in to the admin offices with this advice -

“you’ve done nothing wrong and broken no law. It is impossible to prove their accusations. Explain your content, your research, and your methods. Make counter-accusations that undermine the credibility of the teacher in the eyes of the administrators. you’ve been accused of a crime you have not committed, defend yourself aggressively”.

I had a 100% win rate against the college. By my second year at it, I was lurking around the school and selling my wares like a heroin dealer would. Hook them early, carry them through their associates, and my financial situation could be improved. It’s how I ended up studying Marx. College profs fuckin’ love them some Marxism.

so in the end I have no degree and a bunch of people that don’t know jack shit just paid for theirs. I don’t feel that a college degree has any value at all. Peer review is absolutely worthless. The real shit is buried inside boring ass science papers where the damn abstract puts you to sleep.

[wonder-mei]

The days to come are ours ( Honkai : Star Rail’s Sunday)

@Taogg_collect on X

Thanks for the voting this as the top 1 in the poll! I'm so happy with this one-shot, probably my most favorite!

Reminder : I do not write accurately to the lore of the world I am writing. I write whenever there’s an idea

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

‘The universe is a void,

Every souls has been plotted,

It is the soul need to discover, 

And my soul seek for answer,

I am seeking for…” 

The grayish-blue haired man lays down his pen with a sigh. Sunday did not finish this poem for hours, he was fine upon hours; excited to be finally alone after long weeks but he received a letter from a pigeon through his office. He was half way finishing the poem but the letter. The letter stops it all. The time, the emotions, his heart.

His yellow eyes drift to the torn white envelope. The card decorated with flowers behind and front made his eye hurt from the absurd decoration. The front card is laid on the desk hidden from his view but his mind wants to read back to re-read if what was written true at the first time reading them. His fingers tremble, reaching the card, he closes his eyes tightly lifting and flipping the card. 

Upon opening his eyes. The context is the same as before. Her name is matched with another man. The word ‘You are invited to our another chapter of love. We are excited to invite you to our lovely wedding’. 

‘Wedding’, Our and her name shouldn’t be in the same sentence. Not without his name in them. This shouldn’t happen at all. Call him selfish but this really should not happen. But it is happening and will happen if he likes it or not. Sunday slumps into his chair letting the card fall to the ground. He doesn’t know what to think. Should he be happy that she is getting married? He should, right? That is what a sane person should do when someone is going to be married. But he is not a sane person if he doesn’t do that.

Sunday rubs his face out of frustration. Then his eyes fall onto the frames on his desk that have been there forever. Pictures of her together with him and Robin when little. Then three of them went to school. And lastly the picture only shows the two of them together; dressed in a gown and suit for playing Romeo and Juliette at a school play. 

“Do I look pretty?”

“Of course you are! Always pretty!” 

“When we get married. I want to wear this dress. You promised to marry me right?”

“You know I won't break a promise. I will marry you when we are older!”

“I will be waiting for you,Sunday!”

People said kids do not know what the world is. All they know is when they are older everything they dreamed of will come true. It’s like they all will magically happen without any effort. Now that they are all adults. The dream is still there but the only thing stopping it from coming true is the effort. 

Everything was fine. They start to understand love between two people. They cherish each other’s love and effort but something happened that made them dull. It wasn’t her fault at all. He knows she tried to make it work but his family situation made him cut everything off with her.

“Sunday, we can make this work. I know your family makes you frustrated but– we still love each other right?.... You do love me,.....right?”

Her red eyes from crying begs Sunday to say anything. To say ‘Yes, I still love you’ came out from his mouth. But nothing happened. Only the wind fills the silent void between them “Say something please…” 

“....There is nothing more to say. I have important things to do. My family wants me to take over the business. I don’t want any distraction…. We have to stop seeing each other”

With no empathy nor giving her a chance to say anything. He left

They never speak to each other after that. His sister is still friends with her, which is why the letter came to his house. It is for Robin. He wasn’t supposed to receive it but that dumb pigeon has bad navigation. 

“Here” Sunday lift up the envelope to Robin in the living room watching the TV 

“Thanks”, when she holds it she knows he already opened it from the envelope is not tightly glued “Oh my” Robin gasps reading the card “Brother–”

Sunday lifts his hand, stopping her to say anything further “Don’t say anything. You can go if you want”. He turns to leave but Robin grabs his wrist.

“Brother, you can stop this!”,Sunday doesn’t even turn around to face his sister. Then she continued “I know you still love her. And she still loves you,brother. She’s waiting for you even until now… You can stop this. She doesn’t even love the groom. This marriage was arranged”

“She is a grown woman. She can just refuse” With that cold response. Sunday pulls his hand away from Robin’s grip and leaves.

Robin knows Sunday and her is still madly in love. A love where that will last forever. A love where they are meant to be but with the stubbornness of her brother, it creates a barrier between the two lovers. Robin sighs. Her sad eyes read the card. She dislikes that her name is matched with another man. She has to do something. To make her own brother to take courage to sweep her friend’s away from this marriage. She can’t convince him too because her words will be meaningless in his eyes. She needs to have a plan. She has a few weeks to make this happen. To reunite them both once again and tie them together forever. 

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

“Please,brother! I need to give her that present! Pleeease come and drop it here!”Robin begs again on Sunday on her phone. She has left the wedding present in the living room “I was so rushed because the taxi arrived! Please come!”

Sunday sighs in annoyance “I’ll be there”, he ends the call slumping in his chair “You gotta be kidding me,Robin”. He then opens his closet to look for a dress that is appropriate to church. His fingers stop on a new tailored white attire that Robin gave him as a gift the other day. He thought for a minute hesitate to wear it but eventually he made up his mind that he should wear it. 

The weather was nice today; not too hot or cold. Sunday has stood at the church gates for 5 minutes. Robin is probably inside due to her not being in sight outside. He enters the building, the church is well designed. He looks around admiring every carving and painting. The ceremony hasn’t not started because of the lack of people and few staff still decorating. But Robin is still not found, she also hasn’t replied to his text asking her whereabouts. 

He doesn’t know anyone here. Everyone seems busy with chatting and decorating, it is up to himself to find his sister. He went to the back opening each door to find Robin, nowhere to be found. But there is one room left at the end of the hallway. Maybe she is in there. 

Sunday grip tightly on the knob. Why is he feeling nervous suddenly? He twisted the knob, opening the door widely “Oh…” his yellow eyes widened seeing her standing alone in front of a big mirror in the middle of the room. After years of avoiding her. She looks so beautiful in white. She always does… “My apologies. I’m looking for Robin… Is she here?”

Her eyes never left him. She stands up straight making her veil fly gracefully that makes Sunday’s heart beat more intensely “Robin??? She hasn’t arrived yet”

“When i get you,Robin–” 

“Ah” Sunday holds the gift tightly “She said to give you this” he lifted up the pink wrapped gift “She left it at home… Where do I place this?” 

“There” she points at a long table full of gifts and flowers that is placed near her. Sunday hesitated at first for being near her but he has to do it to end this quickly. With shaky legs he approaches the table and drops the gift. So near, so close to her. The sunlight that enters the room shines perfectly on her glittering her white dress

“You look…beautiful”, Sunday gasps himself not realizing he thought out loud “Sorry” 

“It is fine” 

“Congratulations. I am praying for your—” he stops mid sentence. The word ‘for happiness with him’ stuck in his throat “Congratulations on your marriage”

“Thank you” She has been staring on the floor emotionlessly “I’m glad you came” her eyes lays on him. Those eyes. He knows she is in sorrow. “It is nice to see you after a long time. You being this healthy already makes me so happy,Sunday”

His heartache upon hearing she calls him by his stage name. She used to call him by his real name. This tells him he has broken his trust. Lost her love. “I—” he says her name “Are you…happy with him?” 

The question shocked her. Is she? 

She turns around hiding her face “Of— of course I am. I’m finally getting married… I do am happy” 

Sunday frowns, she wiped her tears hiding her sadness “Are you sure?--”

She face him again “I—” 

The door swings open and interrupts them. Her confession “The groom is ready,miss!” the dresser and her assistant approaches her tidying the bride “Oh you are crying! No need to worry. I cried out of joy at my wedding too!” 

Sunday stares at her. It is time for him to leave. Letting her get what she always wanted. Each step leaves the room. Leaving her again but this time forever feels like he is walking in a mud screaming for him to stop and think. He glances at her. Their eyes finally meet, now her eyes speak words that he understands. With a deep breath, he walks out the church in a rush. 

With the bells ringing, the wedding has started “I’m so excited! Come, it is time” 

“Can you give me some space for a minute?”

The dresser and her assistant look at her then smiles “Sure, you are nervous. We’ll be outside” 

With a nod from both of them, they gave the bride some space to calm down. After a few minutes, they both open the door again.

Every wedding guest has arrived and sat excitedly in their chairs as the wedding has started. The groom has already arrived near the altar waiting for his bride. The heavy running echoes the hall to spread the news;-

“The bride! The bride is missing!” The news made everyone gasp. The groom took the news heavily. His heart stops suddenly and he doesn't know how to breathe. Her family ran to the room where she was getting ready and to be greeted with nothingness other than the window was wide open.

Wheres and whys question fills in the building trying to grasp the reason the bride has run away. But only one person isn’t shocked at this news. Robin sits calmly in the long chair smiling. She knows the why and where the bride- her friend is. 

The moment she was left alone. She stands in front of the window, as her heart told her so. There he was. The man who has had her heart since they were children. The man who made a promise for their happiness together finally kept his promise and now he wants to make it come true after years of denial. 

The frowness from her finally smiles in joy seeing him waiting for her. The bride jumped down from the two storey building and he caught her. Without wasting time, he carries her to the car he brought. 

The bride at last finally feels the emotion of getting married. The joy,the happiness, the love she was supposed to feel when with true love finally ignited. As the car drives further and further leaving everything behind for their new chapter together. Holding hand to hand as they leave the city where they grew up and to leave to seek new adventures together. 

At sunset, the sun witnesses their vows together. They finally get the kiss they’ve been craving for. And finally get the touch they’ve been desiring for. 

“I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart for leaving you. Now I won't do that again. I’m stuck with you as you are stuck with me. The eons has made us together, to love and to cherish together until the end”

“And i love you too” the moment she spoke his real name fluttered his heart. It is what was before and what was meant to be. Sunday now has completed the poem he had troubled with finishing; 

My soul has been sewed to you,

Since the birth of me and you,

With the blessing from divinity,

We are bound for eternity.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You can just imagine they did the boombayah in the car, You are welcome. I listened to Call out my name for 3 hours on loop for this

[sams-butt-dem0n]

love the gang breaking up with reader hcs!! could we get hcs of them getting back together though😔

A/N: Hey guyssss! So sorry that i haven't posted in a while, I was enjoying some time off before the dreaded work ethic takes over haha. I have had SO MANY people ask this (by that I mean like 5) but that's a LOT fort me. I love this idea so i hope you like my writing of it :)

---

DARRY would take such a long time to realise that he regrets breaking up with you purely because he is such a busy man that he barely has any time to think about something other than work work work. He wouldn't know where to begin, what to say, when he was gonna have the time to even speak to you properly.

Luckily for him, you just so happened to be passing by the store he works in on weekends and he caught a glance of your figure walking past.

"Y/n!" He shouts, catching your attention. You roll your eyes as soon as you see him.

"What, Darry?" You say, standing still in the middle of the sidewalk. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with me, huh?"

"Look, y/n, please can I just talk to you," he says. "Give me five minutes."

"Five minutes. Max."

He takes a deep breath, looks down at his feet, and begins. "Look, y/n, I've been a real dickhead."

You nod. "Good start."

"I just want you to know that I never meant anything that I said to you. I was going through a lot of stress, you know how I get. I'm so beyond sorry. What is it gonna take for you to have me back?"

You chuckle and look up into his eyes, those eyes you had missed so much. "Oh, Darry," you say. "You don't need to beg for me back. I'll always be yours."

You pull him into a kiss, your arms around his neck and his around your waist.

"I love you."

SODAPOP would be running back to you the literal next day. He would sleep on what he had said and accused you of and immediately regret it in the morning. He would race out of bed, throw a comb through his hair and put whatever shoes he could pick up first on his feet before sprinting to your place.

He would bang at your window, most probably waking you up as it was about 8am on a Sunday and there was no way in hell you'd be up before 10.

"Soda? What the hell are you doing here?" You ask, anger layered in your voice.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," he says, tears rolling down his face. It killed you to see him like this. "Please forgive me. I know what I did was wrong and I'm so sorry that i fucked things up but please baby I need you to realise that I was just beating myself up for no reason. I would never think of you as a cheater I just-"

You needed to cut off his rambling. Soda, stop. Just get in here before you freeze to death."

PONYBOY doesn't even feel any form of regret until a good couple of moths later, the pressure of school had worn off and he was exposed to the harsh reality of what he had done. Of course, it's typical of a man to only realise what they have lost months too late but it was worth a shot. Within an hour, Ponyboy was stood at your door with a bunch of flowers, a personalised poem he had written just for you, and all of your favourite chocolates.

"Ponyboy, what are you-"

He cuts you off. "Y/n please don't say anything until I'm done. If you're gonna kick me off your porch, please just wait until I'm finished."

You nod and he begins to read out his poem, causing tears to gather in your eyes and roll down your cheeks. Just like they had been doing for the past 73 days. He hands you a bunch of your favourite flowers halfway through his speech and continues, capturing your heart in a moment you shall never forget. How could you not forgive him after this?

DALLAS would take forever to even think of apologising to you and that's purely because of his bad boy ego he has going on. Like, what do you mean apologise? Do you know who he is? However, after about four months, Dallas finds a picture of the two of you from when you were together. You were sat beside him at the drive in, your legs laid over his and you had the largest beaming smile he had ever seen. God, he missed your smile. It was that moment where he realised he had thrown everything away.

And that's how you ended up in this moment, a beaten up and bloody Dallas Winston stood at your doorstep, begging for you to forgive him.

"please, y/n, I need you back," he says, spitting blood from between his lips. "I need you to say that everything is okay."

You weren't going to give in. Not until he said it.

"Please," he says, looking at you with such desperation in his eyes. Those eyes you had come to love endlessly.

He needed to say it. He still hadn't said it. Please, say it, Dallas, you thought.

"I'm sorry."

Without hesitation, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips against his; his arms finding their way around your waist, pulling you close. He had finally got you back.

JOHNNY would be exactly like Sodapop, realising he made a huge mistake immediately after he made it. However, due to his home life and lack of confidence in any scenario, Johnny would have no clue how to apologise or even approach you. Because of this, he asks Dallas, his best buddy, for help. Why on Earth you would ask Dallas Winston for relationship advice is anyone's guess, but he did it either way.

Surprisingly enough, Johnny's effort was very much appreciated by Dallas and he genuinely helped him develop a plan that wasn't completely offensive. Johnny obviously recognised and cut out the parts that were. And so, he knocked at your bedroom window after climbing up the gutter, and you welcomed him in, your eyes still sore from all of the crying you had done.

"Johnny? Why are you here?" You ask, sitting him down on your bed and pacing around your room, not knowing how to feel about the situation. Relieved? Happy? Angry?

"I missed you," he says. "and I'm sorry."

STEVE would spend weeks upon weeks mulling over the fact that he had not only ended things with you, but ended them over the phone. He didn't get to hug you one last time. He didn't get to kiss you goodbye. He didn't even see your face when he had told you that it was over. He didn't have to see the hurt - he heard it. He could hear your heart sink to your stomach; he could hear the tears spill down your cheeks, your sweet rosy cheeks; he could feel the anger running through your blood. He hated himself for it. So much so that he was pushing everyone away as punishment to himself, even Soda.

Fortunately, Soda had had enough of Steve being so depressed about what he had done that he went to fetch you himself. You were minding your own business in your bedroom when your mother came to tell you that someone was at the door for you. Expecting it to be one of your girlfriends, you ran to the door to greet her but when you were faced with Sodapop Curtis, your smile dropped.

"Oh, hey Soda," you say, coldly.

"Y/n, I know you want nothing to do with Steve anymore but-"

"No." You say. "I don't care what you have to say. That asshole deserves whatever is coming to him."

"Pleaser, y/n." Soda begs. "Just talk to him for five minutes."

And that's how you ended up sat on the Curtis's couch, alone in the living room with none other than Steve Randle. Obviously, all of the boys were listening at the door.

"Y/n, I've been such a fool," Steve begins, making you chuckle.

"You can say that again."

"I've missed you so much," he admits. "And I am so sorry for what I did to you. I know you can't possibly forgive me straight away but I'm begging you - give me one month to prove myself to you. Just one month, that's all I ask."

You sigh, look down at your hands and then back up at him. "Fine. One month."

You knew whatever he had planned was going to bring you right back. And that is why you said yes.

TWOBIT would win you back almost instantly. He was just the kind of person that you couldn't stay mad at. No matter how badly he had hurt you, the second he knocked on your car window at the drive-in, you knew you were screwed.

"I've noticed you avoiding me, you know?" He says, cocking his head to the side, looking around your car to see you're alone.

"Well done, Columbo," you say. "Do you want a gold star?"

He nods. "Yeah, that would actually be pretty beneficial."

You hated him. (You really didn't).

"Are you gonna let me in or what?" He asks. "I hope you know I'm not gonna leave until you let me in."

You looked at him in disbelief. "Are you crazy?"

He gives you a look as if to say 'Did you really just ask me that?'. He sighs. "Please just let me in."

You unlock the door and allow him to sit in the passenger seat beside you. You had never heard a silence so deafening.

"I'm sorry," he says. "You that I'm sorry."

It's true, you did know, because every time you saw him on the streets he would look at you with his pleading, begging eyes that you love so much.

"I know," you reply. "But how do I know you won't hurt me again."

I promise you with every inch of my being that I will never fuck you over," he says, grabbing your hand and looking into your eyes. "Please."

[yearsbecomingcool]

call me, beep me | simon kalivoda

donate to gaza here

pairing | simon kalivoda x f!reader

synopsis | you were an attempted overachiever, but alas your knowledge could only get you so far. your weak attention span was your enemy, the doctors refused to believe it was possible for a girl to have adhd so in an attempt to at least end up salutatorian you had to turn to drastic measures. the solution to your problems was 5’7 with a crooked smile and he just so happened to sit next to you in english.

warnings | drug usage/dealing, mentions of sexual harassment, f!reader, possibly ooc!simon, probably inaccurate drug prices, reader has adhd.

word count | just shy of 2k

a/n | i saw gladiator ii and instantly fell back in love with fred hechinger just like everyone else. i know the fear street fandom is dead but that won't stop me writing for one of my favorite characters in horror. the fear street films meant a lot to me when they first came out and i'm having a lot of fun revisiting them. i haven't written for men in so long it feels so weird lol. i didn't edit this because i got sleepy, sorry. requests are open btw <3

You were an attempted overachiever at best. You were vice president of nearly every club, you were on the debate team, you volunteered in the library during your free periods, but your grades just weren’t up to par. During elementary and middle school you had soared above the rest, finishing assignments with ease, blowing through tests like they were nothing. But along came high school and you had begun to struggle. You had never learned to study, you never had a need for it, that overlooked area of school had suddenly snuck up on you and knocked you to your knees. Kate Schmidt had begun to surpass you in…well everything. She was top of the class and you were barely scraping by with low A’s and high B’s. To anyone else it seemed like you were doing alright but to you and your parents it wasn’t enough. You’d be first in the family to attend college and they would only settle for the best. 

You were envious of her, cheer captain, valedictorian, president of every club in the goddamned school. You wondered how she had the time and hated how she didn’t struggle to study like you did. Despite your jealousy she had never been unkind to you, she was just perfect like that. She was for everyone in every clique, her best friends being a band geek and the school’s mascot. You had never really interacted with Deena, but Simon you were more familiar with. Every year without fail he had managed to end up in one of your classes and was always sitting near you. You had become friendly with one another, he’d go to you for homework answers every now and then and you hated to admit that it boosted your ego a bit that he’d come to you instead of Kate. 

He had this boy next door charm that made him so lovable to you and a majority of the school. He always greeted you so kindly when you’d see him at the grocery store, flashing you a crooked smile and asking if you had come just to see him. You’d play along, playfully flirting with him till he had finished ringing up your items. Every now and then when you knew you’d be staying up late to try and focus on your studying you’d head to the supermarket. You’d grab two energy drinks and a couple snacks and head to Simon’s register. You didn’t care if there were others open, you would go to him every time. After you paid you’d slide him one of the cans and tell him to pick his choice from your snacks. The first time you did it he refused bashfully and you decided to pick for him, leaving him a can and a bag of skittles on his register and rushing out the door with a smile on your face as you heard him call after you. After that he knew to just accept your gifts, he really needed them during his doubles. 

To many students he was known as the school's resident dealer, everyone from football players to the D&D club buying weed and pills off him at parties. Once you had even kept watch while your friends bought some weed off him, later that night when you toked up they had joked they should’ve had you buy. You rolled your eyes as they told you how he stared at you in your mini skirt and crop top as you stood in the doorway. You would never believe you’d be his type, he was kind and sociable enough to be popular in your mind, you doubted your debate skills would have him dropping to his knees. 

This year he sat next to you in English, you’d look the other way and scoot your paper over whenever you noticed him trying to glance at your answers. He had taken notice and would accidentally apply his employee discount to a few of your purchases. He was your best bet at actually getting the medication your doctor had refused to prescribe. 

You had woken up early that morning to get ready, you wanted to give yourself the best chance at a discount. You slipped on a v-neck black t-shirt and tucked it into your most school appropriate mini skirt, the silky material just barely resting below your fingertips. You had thrown a black cardigan over it and added a pair of sheer plaid tights and your favorite pair of combat boots. You even recreated the makeup you’d worn to the party he had allegedly stared at you at. Soft shimmery silver eyeshadow adorned your lids, thick eyeliner going right over it. You worked to create a cat eye look before applying mascara and a dark burgundy lip gloss. It was much different than how you usually showed up to school but it would be worth it, at least that’s what you told yourself. 

You felt eyes on you as you got onto the bus that morning, you took your usual seat towards the back and pulled out a book, Crash by J. G. Ballard, and read it in an attempt to distract yourself from the stares and shitty comments. A few boys whistled at you jokingly, another asking when you decided to be hot. You ignored them, you just had to get through the rest of the day. Finally English rolled around and you walked to your seat, Simon already sat in this. His notebook covered in messy doodles sat on his desk, his elbow next to it as he rested his head in his hand. When he noticed you walk in, his eyes lit up, going from your face down to your short skirt. You sat next to him, sitting your bag on your lap as you retrieved your notebook and pencil case. He’s staring at you shamelessly. As you sit your bag down beneath your desk you turn your attention towards him, “Could we talk after class?” You ask, giving him a sweet smile. 

“Uh, yeah, of course. I-I’ll see you then,” Simon answers, flustered. He mentally face palms, what the fuck does he mean he’ll see you then? He feels so stupid for saying that. He tries to distract himself by digging through his bag for a pencil, he realizes he definitely left it in his last period. He bites his lip and turns towards you almost bashfully. He scratches the back of his neck, “Hey, could I borrow a pencil? I lost mine.” 

You smile and nod, “Of course.” You unzip your pencil case and hand him one of your pre sharpened pencils, your fingers brushing against his as he grabs it. You see his cheeks turn red and you smile to yourself. Simon has a hard time trying to focus for the rest of class, his eyes always wandering back to you and your short skirt. When the bell rings he breathes a sigh of relief, gathering his things and waiting for you to do the same. You stand and lean in to whisper to him, “You’ve got pills right?” When you pull away he’s smiling wide. He nods and grabs your wrist, leading you out of the classroom and down the hall. He looks around before pushing you into the out of order girls restroom. 

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d be looking to buy,” He laughs, going into one of the stalls and opening a vent. He retrieves his box, his candy store as he calls it. He comes back out and flips the top off, giving you a look at his supplies. 

“I can never focus long enough to study right, I just need some adderall to help. You have adderall right?” I ask, sounding a little more desperate than I meant to. I lean back against the sink counter as his eyes scan through the box. 

“How much do you need? He asks, retrieving a bottle out of the box before shutting it and setting it on the sink next to you. 

“I don’t really know yet…I guess like a week's worth for now? I need to make sure it helps me before I go all in, y’know?” You reply, you eye the bottle nervously, tiny blue capsules filling it to the brim. “How much would that cost me? I don’t have a lot of money to blow, but-”

“How much do you have?” Simon asks, cutting you off. 

“Uhh $15…I know it’s nowhere near enough but-” 

Simon cuts you off again, “It’ll do.”

You furrow your brows, “Really? You don’t have to give me a discount just because-”

He cuts you off a third time and you feel annoyance bubble up in your chest, “I want to give you a discount and you should really take it, I don’t do this for many other people y’know.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You ask. Sure, you had hoped for a discount but this big of a discount is the last thing you were expecting.

Simon nervously scratches at the back of his neck as he answers you, “You always buy me snacks when you know I’m working, you share your answers with me during English even if you’d never admit it…and you’re pretty so that helps too,” he chuckles.

“So I’m getting the pretty girl discount then?” 

“That’s the one thing you got out of that?” He laughs and shakes his head, “Y’know what, yeah sure, you’re getting the pretty girl discount.” 

You run your tongue across your bottom lip and cross your arms over your chest, taking a step towards him. “Would I get even more of a discount if I gave you my number?” His compliments have boosted your confidence much further than you’d expected. 

He looks down at you, having a great view of your tits in your v-neck. “I could take another $5 bucks off.”

“My number’s only worth $5 to you?” You joke, taking another step towards him, toe to toe with him now. You can smell his cologne from where you stand, it makes you want to bury your face in his chest.

“You’re lucky I’m giving you that, I could always look you up in the phone book, y’know.”

Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, “I’ll take that $5 off then.” 

He laughs, “I’m sure you will.”

You grab your notebook from your backpack and rip out a paper, scribbling your phone number across it as Simon slips seven of the pills into a bag for you. You hand him the paper and he hands you the bag. 

“Did you wear that hoping to get a discount?” He asks, pocketing the paper.

“I might’ve…did it help?” 

“You could’ve showed up in a sweater and sweatpants and I would’ve given you that discount anyway.” He reaches forward, grabbing the hem of your skirt, rubbing the soft material between his fingers. “This skirt’s cute though, you should wear it more often,” He looks back up at you, hand going to your thigh, “Do you really need to go to next period? We could always skip the phone call and just-”

You sigh, looking down at his hand and biting your lip. “I probably should, unfortunately. Call me after work, we’ll pick up where we left off…promise.” You say as you look back into his eyes. 

He smiles and nods, “I’ll call you, I’ll be off late. Will you be awake after midnight?”

“I will, just for you, Simon.”

Before he can respond the bell rings. “Oh fuck, we’re late!” You exclaim, grabbing your backpack off the sink. Simon kisses your cheek and runs back into the stall to hide the box back in the vent. Your hand goes up to where he kissed you and you speed walk towards the door, “I’ll be waiting for your call!” You yell before running off to class, starting to think up an excuse that’ll sound believable and keep your perfect attendance record untouched.