#either way I love him and I’m glad I finally finished this so I can update a tupper on discord lol

[jaredthebc]

Revamped that one N doodle I did like a month ago to make some Three Houses AU refs look at my boy :D he finally has a post time-skip design yippee!!! (Reminder he’s 17 pre timeskip so if you need to thirst for the love of god make sure it’s the right design)

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

meet the in-laws | s.r. x liaison!fem reader

“would-would you like to meet my mom?” spencer stopped in the middle of your hotel room, he shoved his hands nervously into his khaki’s pockets.

you slowly set a pair of folded clothes into your duffle bag, a slightly surprised expression on your face. “i- i’d love to. would she be comfortable with an unfamiliar face?” your fingers twisted around each other, “i don’t want you to force this since we’re dating. only if you’re okay with this.”

spencer took four long strides closer, his fingers delicate near your wrist. “she already knows about you. i’ve- i’ve been mentioning you to her after our first encounter, she’s the one insisting to meet you on her good days.” he seemed embarrassed, shy at the slipped information.

you felt yourself brighten, “really? i’m already in her good graces!” joking just a bit, but relieved to know that spencer hasn’t kept you hidden from her.

spencer rolled his lips, “so would you like to join me for a visit?” perking up at the prospect. you nodded, “absolutely.”

luckily since your finished case was in las vegas and the team was given an extra layover day, it was the perfect opportunity to finally meet your boyfriend’s mom. you texted hotch that you and spencer were going out together in case he needed either of you to contact, everyone else seemed to head for the slot machines or tables.

the drive was about thirty minutes. it felt weird to see spencer behind the wheel, but it was a refreshing sight to behold. he kept his hands safely at ten and two, always used his blinkers, and he only went about five miles over the speed limit. but many cars sped past him, so he was still probably driving at the speed of an elder.

“she’ll probably be in the community room at this time. she enjoys doing sudoku and crosswords.” he linked a hand with yours and walked through the building with ease. many of the nurses and doctors waving, saying a quick hello as you both passed.

standing at the threshold you took notice of the scattered people filling the brightened space. “there she is,” spencer tugged you along as he walked more to the back were a couch sat. a women with short blonde hair had her head bent as her lips moved while looking at her book.

spencer pulled up a chair and let you sit first then dragged another beside you. “hey mom. it’s me, it’s spencer.” his mom looked up, “oh crash, hi honey.” then her eyes moved to you, “and who’s this lovely lady?”

“mom this is y/n. the girl i always mention, she’s my girlfriend.” you stretched a hand out, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, ms. reid.”

she took your hand gently, “call me diana, hon. is my boy treating you well?” raising a brow spencer’s way.

you couldn’t help the slight laugh, you looked over to him with a delicate smile, “raising the bar everyday. and i’m glad he chooses to put up with me.” giving his knee a loving squeeze.

diana hummed, “so when do i plan to hear about some grandbabies?” you heard spencer give a choking noise and your neck instantly warmed. “we’ve only been dating a month, mom.”

she shrugged, “oh, i can tell this will last. she’s all you can talk about in your letters.” and threw a wink at you. you had a feeling she’ll be right in the end.

[pathologicalreid]

you can wait if you dont want to do another smut right now but id love a fic where spencer has been helping reader study for her finals and after last exam is over she thanks spencer for all his help if you know what i mean 😉 (this has been stuck in my head all day)

ofc he is like no!!! you dont have to thank me but obviously reader just wants to finally celebrate being done with finals with her mans

i liveeee for your fics! im so happy youre doing requests again!

earned it | S.R.

when you finish your college course work, you only have one person to thank - your tutor

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: oral sex (m receiving), borderline ass play, fingering, established relationship, mild manhandling, i think that's it. word count: 1.46k a/n: so this request is definitely from when i reopened my requests last but i wanted to let y'all know that I'm probably gonna close them again soon so like get ur requests in ahahaha thank you for requesting please don't worry if this is incoherent

“How do you feel?” Spencer asked over the phone.

Smiling into the receiver, you made your way up the steps to the second floor of his apartment building as you answered, “I feel liberated,” You answered, balancing your phone between your ear and shoulder so you could knock on his front door.

He cleared his throat over the phone, “Hold on, someone’s at the door,” he told you, moving to open the door. “Hey,” he said, obviously surprised to find you at the door, “I thought you needed to pick your parents up at the airport?”

You shrugged, ending your phone call and stepping inside his apartment, “Their flight was delayed, so I’m now free as a bird for the rest of the day.”

“Most people want to relax after finishing their final exams,” Spencer suggested, setting his phone down before reaching out to you, pulling you closer to him by your waist, “How do you think it went?”

Beaming up at him, you slung your arms around his neck before pressing a soft kiss to his lips, “I think I aced it, and it’s all thanks to my tutor.” Slowly, you ushered him in the direction of the couch, hoping to coax him to the supple leather.

Following your lead, your boyfriend hummed thoughtfully, “Well, as your tutor, I’m glad to hear that.”

With a careful touch, you settled your hands on his shoulders and pushed him down, “And now that I’m done, I figured it was time to return the favor.” You offered, settling yourself down on the couch next to him and smoothing out the skirt of your sundress.

“I’m not in classes anymore,” he reminded you confusedly, tilting his head to the side so that he was closer to you. That much you remembered, he finished his philosophy degree rather unceremoniously last year, not even willing to humor you by putting on a cap and gown.

You nodded, adjusting yourself so that you could lean over until he pulled you into his lap, one knee on either side of his hips. “Yes, but I needed to figure out some way to express my gratitude,” you said, cocking your head to the side as you gave him a knowing look.

Spencer raised his eyebrows at you, “I helped you study because I love you, not because I expected anything in return.” This, of course, you knew, Spencer was too much of a gentleman to outright accept your offer of sexual favors in exchange for your study sessions.

“No, I know, but I don’t believe in unpaid labor,” you informed him, intertwining your fingers at the back of his neck, catching some of the hair at the nape of his neck, forcing him to lean his head back. Taking the opportunity that had presented itself, you attached your lips to the side of his neck, placing gentle kisses as you felt his grip on your hips tighten. “I just finished school and maybe I want to celebrate a little,” you murmured against his skin, reaching your hand up and fiddling with the knot of his tie.

Another thing that you knew was that Spencer was too much of a man to turn down head, so you weren’t surprised when the next thing he said was, “Then let’s celebrate.”

Moving away from him slightly, you giggled, “You’re so easy to convince.”

He rolled his eyes in response, “And you’re so pretty,” he mumbled, dragging your lips down to his as you grinned, letting him touch you everywhere he wanted as you moved to palm his half-hard cock through his slacks.

Getting him hard was easy, you had been so stressed during finals that the two of you hadn’t done much more than make out, but now that all you had to do was cross the stage, you each had a lot of pent-up hormones that needed to be released. You tried to undo his belt without pulling away from him, but you eventually needed to see what you were doing, leading you to pull away before undoing the belt buckle.

Desperate for more contact, Spencer ducked his head and kissed your shoulder, leaving open-mouthed kisses around the thin strap of your dress as you continued undoing the button and zipper of his slacks with ease. You let out a soft moan in response to him moving to your neck, watching the way his cock twitched beneath his boxers.

You gently slipped your fingers under the elastic band, taking his entire length in your hand, just holding him caused his head to fall back and lift his hips from the couch to move his pants and underwear down, giving you more access. You crouched down on the couch, ducking your head so that you could press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock, continuing your motions by pressing similar little kisses down the shaft until you hit the base.

Skimming your fingertips down his member, you smiled at the way his hips bucked off of the couch before wrapping your lips around him, taking him as far as you could without gagging and staying like that while Spencer gathered your hair at the nape of your neck and secured it with his fingers. You bobbed your head slightly, resting one hand on his hip and moving the other to hold his free hand before you lifted your head to swirl your tongue around his bulbous tip.

“You’re so good at this,” he murmured, his hand holding your hair gripping tighter as you bobbed your head again, “fuck, baby.”

Even as he let go of your hand, you continued bobbing your head even as you felt Spencer’s hand fiddling with the skirt of your dress, letting out a gentle moan when you realized what he was doing.

Spencer pulled your panties down your thighs by the gusset, giving him perfect access to your pussy as you kept your lips around his cock, “My pretty girl,” he praised while gently pressing his index finger at your entrance, circling the wet hole before pushing it in. Because of the angle you were at, he couldn’t get his fingers very deep, but it did enable him to press his thumb against your clit.

You moaned around his cock, the vibrations causing him to hiss and leading you to reach your newly freed hand to gently cup his balls, squeezing them as you bent your finger and pressed the knuckle to his taint, massaging the sensitive area that always made him finish.

He slipped another finger into your cunt easily as he released a shuddering breath, “I’m close,” he let you know, grip on your hair tightening as he did.

Humming, you just continued your ministrations until he let you know that he was going to come, the white, hot liquid spurting directly into your mouth while you continued to work him through his orgasm, your movements slowly coming to a halt so you didn’t overstimulate him.

Swallowing his cum, you released him from your mouth as he pulled his hand from your wet hole. Careful not to get anything on your dress, he maneuvered you so that you were facing him, his hooded eyes had a hint of determination as he pushed two digits into your pussy, you whimpered at the depth he got at this new angle.

You rocked your hips so that you were riding his hand, placing your hands on his shoulders for support while he used his thumb to stimulate your clit. “Spence,” you whined, breath hitching as he curled his fingers inside of you.

“What is it, baby?” He asked without pausing his movements.

Opening your mouth to respond, only a high-pitched noise came out in place of words, causing your head to fall forward onto his shoulder. “Come,” you mumbled.

Continuing to curl his fingers inside of you, he gently kissed your temple, “Come on my fingers, baby. You earned it. You can let go,” he encouraged.

You gasped as you did just that, feeling your walls clench around his fingers as he continued moving them, “Fuck, yes, thank you,” you babbled into the crook of his neck, lifting your head and looking him in the eyes.

His cheeks were flushed pink as he leaned in to press a kiss to your lips, instinctively, you pulled back.

“I have cum dribbling down my chin,” you explained to him when he frowned at the rejection.

Shaking his head, he leaned back in, “I really don’t care,” he said, kissing you chastely – as if to prove a point – and placing his hands on either side of your waist before settling you on his lap. “When does your parents’ rescheduled flight get in?”

You hummed contentedly, “Not until tonight.”

“Perfect,” he responded.

[silvermarley]

can u do Sanemi or giyuu fucking reader stupid because she said his scar or eyes were beautiful

Love this idea 🫶🫶 this seems more on the Sanemi side of things, so I’m gonna do him!! :)

Beauty in Your Scars

Sanemi x Reader

Warnings: smut, rough (but passionate), cursing, unprotected sex, fem!reader, modern-ish but demon slaying is still a thing, a hint of a breeding kink, dirty talk

WC: 2.8k (I got carried away)

Sanemi isn’t the type to receive compliments often, as his appearance intimidates most resulting in him not getting used to them. Even when he got with you, he became a flustered mess.

His scars were something that pushed most away. He was by no means ashamed of them, but he didn’t exactly find them the most appealing either.

Sanemi did like the fear that came with them though, and how even some demons would hesitate to attack just looking at them.

You two have been together for over a year, and you hadn’t yet talked about his scars. You didn’t know if it was a touchy subject or anything, so you never pushed.

Even so, you couldn’t help but admire the way it makes him look so much more masculine. Something about them never failed to attract you more. That being said, it wasn’t good seeing new ones when he would come home from a particularly difficult mission.

You were a retired demon slayer, so you understood getting injured comes with the job, even if it wasn’t ideal. Although, it’s not too often he gets injured because of his immense power and skill in wind breathing.

You were “retired” because after Sanemi had gotten attached to you, he quickly began insisting you leave the corps. Saying “it’s for your own good,” or anything he could think of to get you to leave. Eventually, you did. And he couldn’t be happier (he would never tell you that though).

Now, he gets to do the dirty work while his beloved stays at home and greets him when he comes back. Although you two have been together for a long time, he still struggles at expressing his love, so he can come off as strong sometimes. Not that you mind.

One afternoon, he comes home after a stressing mission. “I’m home.” He calls out as usual.

You peek from around the corner of the hallway and walk to him. “Hey, ‘Nemi! How did your mission go?”

He grunts, placing his katana in its place on the wall. “Fucking stressful.” He sighs, his voice laced with frustration.

Though, he couldn’t stay upset when he was finally home. When he finally gets to see you. The one who then kiss his cheek in response, “Ah.. sorry to hear that. Do you want me to make your favorite?” You grin.

The corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly as he nods. When he’s upset, he becomes more quiet as to avoid saying something he would regret to you. If there was anyone he would never want to hurt with his attitude, it’s you. He finds his way into the living room and with a (what felt like a) heavy body, he plops onto the couch.

You happily go into the kitchen to gather the materials for ohagi. You knew the recipe like the back of your hand at this point. It was your favorite thing to do for him after his missions.

After making it, you place them on a plate and make it look presentable. You hum to yourself, before carrying it to where Sanemi was sitting.

“Here you go!” You hand it over to him and then sit yourself next to him.

He quickly takes a bite and sighs contentedly. He can’t help his small but noticeable smile as he chows down on the food. You just cuddled up next to him, occasionally looking up to admire him. The show on tv wasn’t all too interesting to you now as you were enamored by his beauty even while eating.

Once he finished his meal, he placed the plate to the side table. “It��s always good.” He remarks as he moves his hand to your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

“‘m glad you think so.” You manage to snap yourself out of it as you reply.

He looks down at you as you stare at him. “Something wrong?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Just admiring you.”

His cheeks turned a rosy hue. “..Is that so?” He cleared his throat.

“Mhm,” you say as your hands trace some of the scars on his arm, “I was just thinking about how beautiful these make you look.”

There’s silence from him for a moment. As you glanced up once more to see if you said something wrong, you see something in his demeanor had changed. “..’Nemi?”

His grip tightens on your waist. “Don’t say things like that all of a sudden..” he muttered.

You caught on to his tone, how it was warning you, not just telling you. “Why? It’s true.. they’re pretty.” You assured.

He mumbles a “Fuck..” as he is suddenly on top of you, breathing heavily with a prominent blush on his cheeks. “I warned you, didn’t I?” His eyes were cloudy as he spoke with a sensual voice. Hearing your praise for his scars did something to him.

With a bite of your lip, you stare up at him. “Mhm.. but I really do think so.” You shuddered as his rough palms grazed your sides.

His lips quickly met yours in a heated kiss. Your tongues danced with passion as he pushed his hips into yours. Your words were playing with fire. He wanted to hear them over and over. Something about you saying that made him feel hot all over.

As soon as you part for breath, his lips are latched on your neck. Dark hickeys were made in every spot he kissed. After properly marking your neck, he makes quick work of your shirt, to which he takes the new exposed skin into his mouth to make more marks. While doing so, his hands glide to unclip your (f/c) bra. You lifted yourself slightly to allow him to so.

He groans at the sight of your perked up nipples. He throws your bra across the room, turning his attention back to you. “Perfect..” He murmurs.

His tongue swirls around one nipple, before sucking and repeating the process. Then he pays some attention to the other. The stimulation just from this made soft gasps escape your mouth. That only fueled the ever growing fire.

A few minutes pass, and he pulls away from your chest. His fingers skillfully pull down your pants with haste. His cock twitches in his pants at the sight of your panties, and the patch of your desire that was making it stick to your pussy.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy.. you know that?” He inquires with a lustful stare, but he wasn’t expecting an answer. Especially when you know it.

His thumbs rub your waist as he studied your already dazed expression. He hums, as his gaze falls back to your clothed core. He’s hit with the urge to taste you, to make you come undone with his tongue. And he’s not a patient man. He takes what he wants. And right now, he wants nothing more than to taste your essence.

He was already patient enough to take everything else off of you, but he couldn’t stop himself from tearing the panties you still had on off of you. He wouldn’t hear the end of it later, but he didn’t care. As soon as your wet pussy is exposed to him, his tongue begins to explore it.

Just the taste of you has his mind reeling. He licks and sucks at your clit messily. Pulling whine after whine from you. It was almost like he wasn’t doing this for you anymore. Your hands tug at his wild white hair as you mewl in pleasure.

“Just l-like that ‘Nemi—ah..—feels so good.” You moan, slightly bucking your hips up to get more friction. From the stimulation of his tongue alone, it has your back arching.

Soon, he pushes a thick finger into your entrance, pumping it in and out in tune with his actions on your clit. You couldn’t control your voice as it increased in volume, especially not when he adds another. His mind felt fuzzy as he lapped at you and fucked you with his fingers.

Sanemi still had your compliment in mind as he brought you to cloud nine. He didn’t care how messy he would get from this, he just wanted you to cum on his face. Your sweet moans only encouraged him to bring you to the brink faster.

Your pussy tightens around his fingers as you feel yourself coming closer and closer to the edge. A few more movements of his hands had you cumming all over his face and fingers. He greedily licked you clean as you twitched in overstimulation.

He lifts himself up once more. You see the bottom half of his face covered in your juices and his own saliva, causing you to blush more from embarrassment. He notices, smirking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Still think I’m beautiful?” He questions. You look away from him, in a sudden sense of bashfulness. His eyes never leaves your face as he demands an answer. “Look at me. Tell me baby, do you think I still look pretty?” His breathing quickens once again at his own words.

Your eyes slowly return back up to his as you nod. “Mhm.. so pretty.” Without a doubt, he was prettier in your eyes now than before. Even with the bottom of his face still glistening with your essence.

He mutters a few curses before undressing himself as fast as he could. You ogle his well built figure, scarred and sculpted from years of slaying demons. No matter how many times you see it, you’re still just as enamored.

Normally, he would poke fun at you for staring at him, but he wanted to be in you, and he wanted it badly. He hovers over you again, peering down to grab hold of his leaking cock. He rubs himself against you a few times, until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He needed to feel the warmth, and he needed it now.

He slips inside you, which is made easy by his prep and the wetness seeping out of your cunt. He lets out a husky groan as he slowly pushes in. The delicious stretch as he filled you up made you squeeze around him. He hisses, and grips tightly underneath your knees to gradually push them to your chest. This only made him push deeper into you, almost making you forget to breathe.

A mutual moan is shared as he bottoms out. After a moment, he pulls back his hips to slam into you again, knocking the air out of you once again. Your hands frantically move to his shoulders.

“Fuck.. pussy’s squeezin’ me tight..” he groans. His mind felt foggy from lust and the feeling of you around him. Never has he felt this pussy whipped. Did your words have more of an effect than he originally thought? Of course it did. Such a compliment coming from your pretty lips; Moreover about his scars, had him reeling from the start.

He continues to thrust deep into you, hitting places you didn’t think he could reach. Everything felt.. different this time. You’d never seen this man act like this over something so simple.

Each thrust had you letting out whines and moans, and you could feel every bit of his cock as it slid in and out of you. Each movement was deep and fast. As if he was a dog in heat. As if he were in a rut, and you were the only person who could help him through it. The pleasure you felt from it was almost too much. Your nails dug into his scarred shoulders, earning a grunt from him. His lip was tucked under his teeth, though he wasn’t going to let you hear just how desperate he was. But god, did it feel so good.

“K-Keep going.. plea—ah! Please, ‘Nemi!” You whimper, your back arching more as you felt yourself get closer by the second.

“Yeah? Just like this?” He smirks as he was loving the sight underneath him. You losing yourself in pleasure, face contorting into an expression he adores after a long day like this.

“Fuck! Y-yes..” you respond in broken moans, clenching on him.

He bit his lip harder. It wasn’t normal for him to get close already. But your pussy was gripping him like a vice each and every time he hit that one spot that had your eyes rolling back.

Before you could warn him of your incoming release, you saw white as you made a mess on his cock. Sanemi growled and let out a few low moans as he pushed into you a few more times before cumming himself. He kept his dick in you and bent down to catch his breath on your shoulder. “Shit..” he says between his scattered breaths.

The orgasm you both felt was powerful. And he wanted more. He wasn’t going to be satisfied with just one round. He craved to feel that again. Your hands fell to your sides as you recovered from cumming that hard.

That was, you were recovering from it. Because now, he was pushing you over on your stomach. You knew what he wanted so you braced yourself on your forearms and knees. You arched your back temptingly, which wasn’t missed by him. He slaps your ass, you were just too tempting and so pliant just for him. And he couldn’t wait to plunge into you again.

His cock forces its way into you again, and he wastes no time in fucking you again with conviction. He was once again fast and desperate in the way he moved his hips. “C-Can’t get enough of this..” he murmurs into the back of your neck just as he pushes the top of his torso against your back. This, in turn, made him go further into you. His voice, still occasionally cracking from the intense overstimulation, continued to murmur dirty sentences into your ear.

You were still feeling sensitive from your last orgasm, and so was he, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to keep going. Your drenched and quivering hole sucked him in so perfectly, almost like it never wanted him to leave, so why would he stop now? “Fuck.. I can never control myself with you—shit— you’re fucking addicting..” he nearly whines in the back of your neck, as he sucks a purple hickey into it.

His words only helped to sink you further into euphoric depths of desire. It seemed like that little comment earlier took away any filter he usually had when you two fucked previously. Something about this really was different. More eager, and full of need along with an overwhelming sense of desperation.

Sanemi’s sloppy but deep thrusts, in addition to you already being sensitive, pushed you surprisingly quickly to the brink. To the point you couldn’t even warn him about it, just like before. He growled loudly as he felt you cum again. His mouth spilled out endless curses and downright nasty words as he bucked into your twitching pussy.

“T-Too sensitive, ‘Nemi!” You practically screamed as he kept hitting the same spot that has been making you see stars.

“Just a b-bit more.-agh..come on baby..” He leans further down on you, his firm chest hitting your back completely. His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head as he rolled his hips into you wildly. Your eyes watered, feeling his hips stutter in their thrusts until he bursts inside you for the second time. It warms your insides as it fills you to the brim, and then leaks out down your thighs.

The both of you catch your breath for a few minutes until he pulls himself out. This causes more of his seed to drip out from your hole at the emptiness. You fall flat on your stomach out of exhaustion. Meanwhile, his eyes were enraptured by the view of it all. He was tempted in that moment to go again, but he held that back for now. Maybe at a later time would he do it, but jesus, was it tempting..

Sanemi’s hands rub your lower back and ass comfortingly, which he then stops after you speak. “..I take it you like what I said earlier, huh?” You chucked breathlessly, watching as he laid beside you.

“Maybe a little too much.” He murmured, and you could see a hint of a blush on his cheeks. Totally different from the man who was just rearranging your insides.

You lips meet his in a short and gentle kiss. “Who knows, I might just say it more often..” you suggest playfully when you pull away.

His breath hitched for just a second. “I suggest you be careful with what you say..” his voice tinged with a teasing but demanding tone.

You giggled, your head moves to lay on his chest. Even with his attempted serious expression, his hands told a different story. They weaved through your hair softly. It was then that he wished this could last forever, a peaceful time where he’s not out there fighting. No demons, no annoying slayers to bother him, just the two of you in post-sex clarity and tranquility. And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi hiii its my first time ever asking anyone idk how this works ( ;｀Д´)

i rlly love your writing, i often find myself staying up late reading through your blogs!! funny bcs u were the one who got me into jason todd (ФωФ)

anyways!!! i was hoping you could pls pls pls pls plssssss write smth about Jason Todd who has a lover thats a sleep-deprived uni student having a hell week and jason is like "bitch put google docs down and get some sleep, ur ass has been awake for 48 hours" all worried and wanting them to rest and reader is like "correction, 50 hours."

i hope it makes sense (´ 3｀)

tyyyyy!!! woopee woopee

Sorry this took so long to get to anon, I hope you liked it either way. And don’t stay up too late reading fics but I truly appreciate you reading my stuff, I’m glad you like them 🦦🐿️

A week.

An entire week Jason had noticed you have been forcing yourself to stay up at the dead of night, glued to your laptop all the while chugging energy drinks and cups of coffee as though they were going out of style, and for what? An assignment that determined your future at uni should you not get straight marks.

Jason thought it ridiculous that you made yourself sleep deprived over this but he knew that if he didn’t do anything about it, then you’ll continue this habit until you were well out of university, struggling to come to terms that you had well and truly burnt yourself out before you could properly start living.

So when Jason couldn’t fell you next to him in bed one night, like you promised him you would, and groaned as he got himself out of bed before making his way towards the kitchen where he’d knew you’d be.

‘What time do you call this?’ Jason asked when he saw you in your usual spot at the kitchen counter, hunched over your laptop with a thin blanket frapped over your shoulders and a can of energy drink on one side of the laptop and a cup of coffee on the other side. He hated what this stupid university has made you do just in order to get good grades, it was harmful, damaging and it would inevitably lead to health complications later on in life; If he could Jason would more then gladly march down there and threaten the professors to stop shoving a boatload of work onto their students, but firstly he has to get you away from that damn laptop and learn how to take a fucking break.

‘Mid-afternoon?’ You asked, not looking up from the bright screen of your laptop, where the words scrawled across it in an incoherent mess for your overworked brain to comprehend.

‘It’s actually 3:30 in the morning.’ Jason replied unamused as he crossed his arms over his chest and you winced when you saw that he was indeed right about it being three thirty in the morning. ‘Don’t you think it’s time that you shut the laptop off and get some sleep?’

‘But I-‘

‘Actually sleep.’ Jason cuts you off as you slumped back into your chair, unable to come up with a decent enough response to defend yourself with because deep down you knew Jason was right, you’ve hadn’t had a decent sleep in a long while and it was definitely taking it’s toll with how lightheaded you’ve become as of late.

You sighed and ran your hands down your face. ‘Jason I can’t, I’ve got-‘

‘An assignment to complete for tomorrow I know.’ Jason cuts you off again as he crossed the room to put his hand over the top of your coffee cup upon noticing that you were intending to take another drink from it. ‘But I look at you and can tell you can barely keep your eyes open for more than five minutes.’ He adds and upon your silence, he puts the cup aside as far as he could before doing the same with the half empty energy drink, and then finally shutting the laptop close despite your weak protests for him not to.

‘No, Jason my assignment, I need to finish it.’ You told him with slow, sluggish movements as you tried to pry his hand off of your laptop, all the while biting back a yawn. ‘Just give me five more minutes please and I’ll come to bed, promise.’

Jason had enough of this habit of sleepless nights, it ends now, the professors will have to understand and extend the due date for your sake as he remembered how often you had harped on about how important this assignment was for your overall grade; However Jason didn’t take neglecting your bodily needs lightly and would prioritise that over anything else,you could hate him all you wanted but he was only looking out for you and your wellbeing.

‘Sorry chipmunk but I can’t watch you do this to yourself for any longer than I already have.’ Was all Jason said as he then lifted you out of your chair suddenly causing you to yelp in surprise and cling onto him for dear life, now being more awake then you ever have been five minutes ago, as he then proceeded to carry you back towards the bedroom before unceremoniously dropping you onto the bed.

‘Jason, I seriously needed to get that assignment-‘

‘We are going to sleep, end of discussion.’ Jason said with finality as he crawled under the covers and quickly held you against his chest as tightly as he could, rubbing his hands up and down your back soothingly. ‘I know how important this assignment was for you sweetheart but I’d much rather have you well rested, clear minded and healthy than to ever to have you pass out in my arms from exhaustion. I want my baby happy and healthy and you are neither of those things right now.’ Jason whispers into your ear, kissing the side of your head a couple of times before resting his forehead against yours so that he was looking into your weary half lidded eyes.

‘Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open.’ He spoke with worry laced in his words.

‘You’re really warm and comfy jay birdie.’ You murmured, feeling the need for sleep grow ever stronger the longer you stayed in his arms as it fogged your mind.

‘I know, so please we can talk to the professor in the morning and sort something out, but until then no more late nights understand?’ Jason said firmly as he held you a little tighter, he just wanted you to get a decent nights sleep and be looked after properly but all these late nights weren’t cutting it and were making your situation worse, how were you meant to get anything done when you were half out of it due to overworking and lack of a sleep schedule? Were the professors at your university thinking they were teaching robots instead of humans with breaking limits?

‘Okay I understand, I love you.’ You replied sleepily as you burrowed your head into his neck, falling asleep in record time as Jason stayed awake a little longer as to make sure you were properly asleep before following suit, watching over you in the dream realm as he did the waking one.

[starlightseraph]

finished dead boy detectives!!! (spoilers ahead!)

quick disclaimer: i haven’t gotten around to the comics yet but i’ve been very interested since the sandman came out and i do plan on reading them eventually lol.

- edwin is my new blorbo cutie and i too would go to hell for him. also, his style is immaculate, exactly how i want to dress all the time.

- i am SO sad about niko. but i’m glad that it seems like she’s not totally gone? i hope she’s not an antagonist in the next series (the ending was a touch ominous), but i’ll honestly be happy either way. it’s so rare to find good western-japanese characters. it made me incredibly happy when she switched into a japanese accent when saying “osaka” because it’s something i recognise in my family and in me. i know people from lots of different backgrounds do that with words from their own languages, but i’d never seen a japanese character do it before so i was very tickled.

- charles. man. please fall in love with edwin. how tf are you quite literally dragging him out of hell and he confesses to you and you look him in the eyes and say that you love him but you’re not in love with him. i mean that’s the best possible way he could’ve gone about it, but if i were edwin i might just have gone back down to the doll face spider thing.

- i hope that crystal’s past doesn’t land her in jail or anything. i really like her dynamic with the others but i’m not sold on her and charles romantically, mostly because edwin is so fucking sweet and i don’t want his heart to be broken. he’ll be happy if charles is happy, but i cannot stand see him get hurt even the tiniest bit.

- jenny is amazing. she’s literally me fr. also i love how she just hands people cleavers.

- i found the night nurse’s breakdown when she was in angie’s stomach very relatable. i feel like that a lot lmao. and i love her accent. i will go to bat for my own weird ass culchie irish/valley girl hybrid, but if had to pick another accent…

- i need a wise and eternal south asian man to talk me down from the ledge. it’s almost finals week and a ring from kashina would be a big help.

- tragic mick (top tier wordplay name) is a sweetheart and i hope he gets to be a walrus again eventually. my first reaction when i saw the cat king was “oh my god, it’s the piss kink guy from You!” but that aside, he was ok in the end. so was monty. i hope the night nurse can help crystal drag david the demon back down to hell.

[froggiewrites]

i love your writing so much and im so glad you opened requests!! :) i would love if you wrote a fic about zoro being dominant (maybe some spanking/spitting?) him having a dirty mouth, and perhaps some edging? i have another idea that i'll send in a diff message too! even if you dont choose this one i look forward to reading the others <3

I've never written anything with a lot of dirty talk or dominance before, but I tried my best, and I hope I did it justice! 😊

Playing Rough

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You're being terribly stubborn, insisting on fighting battles you can't handle. Zoro decides to put you in your place. Warnings: Smut, Dom Zoro, Spanking, Dirty Talk, Slight Edging, Begging Word Count: 2.4k

It was a stupid argument, one that shouldn’t have happened.

The battle you had been through was rough, sure, but you didn’t take any damage that wouldn’t heal. Zoro had insisted you not fight on your own, not take on any challenge you couldn’t handle, and you had insisted that you were more than capable of handling it. And you were. You came home, didn’t you? And the bruises might be nasty and the stitches weren’t terribly fun either, but you were in one piece. You had managed to hobble your way back to the ship on your own, and you didn’t even collapse before making it into Zoro’s arms.

You were too out of it to comprehend the words he said, though you understood the panic and fear in his tone well enough. And you certainly understood the words he spoke when you first woke up.

“Are you stupid?”

“Excuse me?”

Before you could truly get angry, his arms were around you, crushing you against his chest. You can feel a slight tremor as he takes a deep breath, nose buried in your hair, taking in your scent, your warmth, any evidence that you are here with him and alive. He takes a shuddering inhale, the closest thing to weakness you’ve ever heard from him, before his voice comes back again, rough and absolutely furious. “You almost died.”

“I didn’t almost die.” You try to say it sweetly, soothingly, but his fingers tighten in a way that is less than kind.

“You almost died. You went even though you knew you shouldn’t, and you almost died. I almost lost you.” His voice isn’t shaking, not quite, but you swear you feel the tremor anyway. Zoro is not a man easily rattled, yet somehow you have shaken him to his very foundation.

“You could never lose me, Zoro. I knew what I was doing, I promise.”

“You knew the risk you were taking?”

“Yes. But I had to do it.” You bring a hand up to run through his hair. “I knew I would come back. I knew what I was doing, and I knew I was strong enough. I promise.”

You’re suddenly devoid of his warmth as he pulls away, glaring at you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Chopper said if you got back even a few minutes later…” He trails off, clenching his teeth.

“But I didn’t,” you insist. “Everything turned out fine, Zoro.”

“Do you think that’s all that matters?”

“Kind of!”

He huffs. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He stalks out of the room, slamming the door as he leaves. You throw yourself back onto the bed, wincing as you realize your ribs are very much broken. Every inch of you is bruised, and it hurts to breathe. But it was worth it. He would understand that eventually. Not every fight has a pretty ending, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t finish them.

He did not understand, as it turns out.

He still helped you as you healed, your dear protector always carrying you so gently, so purposefully. But you could feel the distance, the tension. Neither of you acknowledged it, focusing on your health first and foremost, but it haunted every moment you two were together. Touches were fleeting, conversation was sparse. But finally, finally, today you have been officially given a clean bill of health by Chopper.

“You’re cleared for everyday activity, but I still want you to stay out of fights for a while. And don’t do anything that reckless again!” Chopper’s words are law when it comes to your health, so you’ll do your best, but you can’t help but think of how no one else on this ship would follow such instructions.

“I’ll try.” No promises you can’t keep, and Chopper purses his lips a little when he realizes, but after a moment he simply nods. He’s used to patients even more stubborn than you, of course.

As you leave the office, ready to get back to your regular life, you’re instantly met by Zoro’s broad chest as he pulls you into him.

“You’re fine now?” There’s a tension to his voice you don’t fully understand.

“I–yeah? I guess?”

“Good.” He throws you over his shoulder, not exactly gently, now that he knows being rough with you won’t open your stitches.

“What are you doing?” You try to pull yourself up to see where he’s taking you, but he gives you a quick swat on the ass that makes you squeak as you fall limp again.

“You’ll see.” He jogs down a hallway you only recognize right before you reach your destination: his room. When the door slams shut behind you, enclosing you in darkness, it almost sounds like a death knell.

He throws you onto the bed carelessly, pushing a hand onto your stomach to keep you from bouncing. His other hand makes quick work of your pants as you squirm, not out of fear but out of pure confusion.

“Zoro? What’s going on?”

“We have a conversation to finish.” His voice is flat. You don’t need to ask him which conversation. You know damn well which one. He’s finally rid you of your pants, throwing them carelessly to the floor, and he begins to work on the buttons of your shirt.

“Is that what this is going to be? A conversation?”

He hums. “No, I guess not.” His callused hands are rough against your bare skin as he unhooks your bra and grabs your breasts. “You aren’t going to be doing much talking, today. It’s finally time for you to listen.” He kneads your chest for a moment, pinching harshly, before he moves to slide off your panties.

“Listen?” Your voice is a little strained as you feel his fingers slide against your bare skin for the first time in weeks.

“Yeah, listen. You weren’t willing before, so I have to try something else.” He flips you over before pulling you onto his lap, ass in the air. “Make you remember our roles here.”

“Our roles?”

“Yeah. I’m the protector of the ship, of our crew. That’s my job.”

“Oh? And what’s mine?”

“In general? To survive. Right now? To take what I give you.”

“And what are you giving me?”

“Do you think you’re in a position to interrogate me right now?” His hand grabs one of your ass cheeks, an attempt to remind you exactly who’s in charge. And you know, of course, who’s in charge here. But that doesn’t mean you can’t push him.

“You’ve been answering, haven’t you?” You can’t keep the mischief out of your voice.

He chuckles in spite of himself. “Yeah, I have. I’m being too nice, aren’t I?” His voice gets a little deeper, an intensity creeping in. “I’ll give you one more, as a treat. I’m giving you exactly what you’ve earned, for acting so fucking recklessly. And then, if you’re good? I’ll give you my cock. I’m sure you want it, hm? All cooped up in the infirmary for weeks, thinking about it, knowing you can’t have it. I bet it’s been driving you insane.”

With that, you feel the sharp sting of his hand as he brings it down. It makes you cry out as it connects with your soft flesh, but you know he isn’t using even half of his strength, holding back, somehow taking care of you even now. You feel him harden when he does it, though you can’t tell if it’s from the sound you make or from the action itself. Maybe both. His hand gently caresses the growing handprint, a moment of tenderness, before he raises his hand again and you tense.

“Just relax, sweetheart. It can’t be any worse than what you put us through.” Another smack, this one on the other cheek, and another, and another, alternating each time. You can’t help the small squeaks and whines you let out, and Zoro can’t hide the effect they have on him, breathing growing heavier and smacks becoming more intense as you both lose yourselves.

“That’s it. One more. You can take one more.”

“Ah!”

“That’s right. Another. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You’re practically dripping.” You clench your thighs together, trying to hide the fact that he’s right, about this, about the fight, about everything here. When you try, he tuts, bringing his hand down yet again, making you jolt. “Don’t go hiding yourself from me, pretty thing. You’re mine, every inch of you. You can’t hide a thing from me. Can you say it for me, sweet thing? Admit that you’re mine?”

“I’m yours, Zoro!”

“And that I was right?”

“You were—ah!” His hand comes down again, but you force your way through. “You were right, Zoro!”

“There we go.” His hands finally stop, coming to rest on your red and stinging ass. “Was that so hard to admit?”

You keep silent, your stubbornness still carrying you through.

He laughs at you. “You know, I could add a bit to your punishment for not answering. But,” his fingers find your entrance, wet and waiting, “I think you’d probably like that, huh?”

You hum, pushing your face into the bed, trying to hide your red face and ears. He lifts you up, pulling you up into a sitting position, holding your chin and forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Hiding again? You really liked your punishment, didn’t you? As much as I’d love to continue, that’s not all I had in store. So eyes on me.”

He quickly strips off his shirt before easily lifting you with one arm so he can slide off his pants. As he does, you can see a wet spot where you were resting. It’s a little mortifying, realizing how easily he can turn you to putty in his hands, literally dripping wet for him. Your embarrassment quickly subsides when he frees his cock, red and twitching, and you realize you hold just as much sway over him as he does over you. He lines himself up with your entrance, ready to give you exactly what you want.

As he slowly slides you down on his cock, you let out a moan, and he groans in response. His eyes are locked onto where your bodies meet, taking in the sight of you stretching around him. “Fuck, you take me so perfectly. Like you were made for me.”

Once he’s fully sheathed in you, you both take a moment to breathe in, enjoying the feeling of this first sweet stretch. The second you breathe out, he begins to bounce you roughly, making you squeak. “Oh, you thought I was going to go easy on you now?” He laughs, continuing his fast pace, fingertips digging into your hips. “Fuck, you feel so good, pretty thing. Bouncing on my cock just like that.”

One hand leaves your hips, moving up your body, finding its place at your chest. He pinches your nipples, making you squeal, before he leans forward, breathing heavily in your ear. “God, when you squeeze around me like that…” he squeezes your chest again, moaning. “You kill me, sweetheart.”

His hips continue to snap harshly into yours, pounding relentlessly as the sounds of slapping skin fill the room. His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and leaving a mark that clearly defines you as his. You can feel the heat rising as your orgasm builds, your sounds growing more wanton and desperate as Zoro begins to pound into you even faster, and faster.

And then it stops.

“Wha–”

You can feel the rumble of his chest against your back as he laughs. “Oh, did you think I was going to just give it to you?”

“I–But–I was good,” you say petulantly. Your voice is still a half whine as you try to ground yourself, the tension in your body slowly unraveling and leaving nothing but a cold dissatisfaction.

“Hm.” He presses his cheek to your shoulder, humming as though he’s thinking. “Well. Maybe if you beg you can cum on my cock. If you’re real sweet about it.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly the frantic cry leaves your mouth. “Please, please, please Zoro can I cum? Please?”

“Hm. I think you can do better.”

“Please, can I cum on your cock, Zoro! Please, I need you, please!”

“Alright. Since you asked so nicely.”

His fingers find your clit, rubbing circles around it. He enters you again, pace slower this time, but strokes deep and deliberate. You can feel every inch of him as he pulls in and out, feel the heat of his breath on your ear, hear his quiet moans as you clench around him. He will give you your release, but not as quickly as you want it. You’ll get it on his terms.

Even still, you reach your precipice quickly, and he whispers huskily in your ear. “Are you ready?”

You’re beyond all practical thought at this point, but you still manage two simple words. “Yes! Please.”

“Alright then, pretty thing. Cum for me.” With one final thrust, one final movement of his fingers, you do, gushing around him as the world shatters. You’re panting, desperate for breath, but you can’t seem to make your lungs listen to you over the symphony of pleasure you’re drowning in. Right as you manage to regain some control of yourself, you can feel Zoro go tense beneath you before you feel him spill inside of you, filling you to the brim as he quietly moans out your name. 

You both sit together a moment, you limp in Zoro’s arms as he falls back onto the bed, before he speaks up.

“Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again. Really.” His arms wrap around you a little tighter. “I…I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.”

“I won’t do it again, Zoro, I promise.” Your voice is weak, but you look up to see a sincere smile creep onto his face and you know he heard you. “...Are there other things that might get me punished like this? Less deadly things?”

He laughs. “Oh, there are plenty. And I’m sure you’ll do them all.” His hand runs through your hair affectionately. “But I’ll find more excuses to spank you later. I think you need some rest.”

With that, you two simply lay together, the only sound in the room your quiet breaths and the sound of Zoro’s heartbeat, growing slower and slower as you both drift off.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY FOUR

in which you and eddie win the bet.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7k+

→ a/n: oh, holy fuck. holy fucking shit. i have no words, because i know it's not really over yet (we still have an epilogue, friends! don't forget that!) but... i did it. i finished another fic. that's just... insane?

thank you to everyone who has been so very kind and supportive of this fic. i owe you all the world. i'm sure i'll either make a sappy post between now and thursday, or i'll get extra sappy in the a/n on the epilogue, but for now - please know you have all my love. <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

24:00 ─────────────── ㅇ 24:00

DINGUS: hey, i facetimed them for last hour’s proof. had to work out when they wanted me to head over and pick her up. 

BIRDIE: both still alive? both still well? 

DINGUS: so it seemed. 

ARGYLE  😎: what a relief! I knew they had it in them

JOHNNY BOY: They still have to last one more hour. 

NANCE: They’ll last the hour. Have a little faith, babe. 

JOHNNY BOY: Still don’t like the fact we’ve just started calling them instead of requesting the photo proof. I mean, how do we not know they’re lying? Did you talk to both of them when YOU called, Nance? 

NANCE: Yes, I told you guys that.

NANCE: Besides, you guys already know that Eddie hates having his picture taken. We’re lucky we ever got picture proof to begin with.

DINGUS: also i JUST facetimed them??? physically saw them?? your lack of trust in me and nance kind of hurts jon

BIRDIE: @NANCE hey can you call ME babe next? 

HOUR TWENTY FOUR – 4:00 PM

“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”

Steve. 

You wait for Eddie’s arm to leave you, for him to put space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. He keeps you pressed flush to his side as if the sudden arrival of a friend doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. 

“Hey, Harrington,” he even casually greets first. 

He’s making no move to get up off the floor. 

Just a little bit longer. Let me sit here and live in this moment a little bit longer.

“Munson,” Steve nods to Eddie before setting his sights on you, “Doll. Nice to see you, kind of glad I’m not having to fish you out of the canals.” 

You feel it — Eddie’s arm tenses behind you ever so slightly at Steve’s nickname. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him to work through. 

“I was feeling generous,” Eddie shrugs as if he hadn’t just revealed a flash of jealousy to you. You’re not even sure if he knows that you felt it. But it was there, in the slightest tightening of his grip and the flexing of his bicep behind your shoulder.

“Generous? I think you were feeling friendly,” Steve waves his hand between the two of you, as if he thought he was pointing out the obvious. 

If he thought this was close, he’d faint at the imagery of you on the kitchen counter, Eddie’s face between your legs as he begged for you to let him touch you. 

Just as you had noticed Eddie’s jealousy, he notices the way you suddenly heat up, shifting in your seat ever so slightly. That pull on the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. You kind of hate how easily the two of you can finally read each other. You kind of love the way he’s looking at you as if he’s thinking the exact same thing. 

“Do I get my free punch now?” you finally speak up, tone flat as you muster a glare in Steve’s direction. You’re forgoing all polite and pretend oblivion. 

Every single one of you here knows what happened. The bare bones of it, at least.

Eddie looks at you curiously, “Excuse me?” 

Steve only grins, holding out his arms as if welcoming you, “Take your best shot.” 

You stand quickly, and Steve even flinches. He clearly had thought it was all a bit, but you were deathly serious. After the night you’d had, you wanted to punch something, anything. 

“Hold on,” Eddie fumbles to follow you as you stand in front of Steve, your eyebrow cocked as you pause, “Hold on, why are you punching Harrington?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. ‘She’d never go for me, why would she go for you?’” you remind him, and fully expect for hurt to flash across his face. Instead, merriment continues to tug on his lips, “That ring a bell?”

“It might,” Eddie drawls, slowing down his movement to stand more casually, no longer in a rush to break up the fight. His eyes flash with something, with some sort of affection as your hand curls into a fist threateningly and you continue to glare daggers at Steve, “‘S cute to see you defending my honor, sweetheart.” 

Your knees almost physically wobble. The nickname that once struck such anger and irritation in you has become your favorite thing, something that can so easily elicit such a physical reaction. Any taunting has dissipated from his tone when he falls from his tongue now. Adoration takes its place.

Steve looks between you two for a second before his face twists up, “God, I think I liked it better when you two hated each other.” 

“Never really hated each other,” Eddie corrects Steve, but his eyes never leave yours. 

“Right, must have slipped my mind.”

One of the questions that had been torturing you has now been answered — Eddie would, in fact, be acting differently around your friends. It’s almost enough that you feel no need to punch Steve.

Almost.

“Where do you want it?” you tear your gaze from Eddie, looking back to Steve now expectantly, “Cheek? Nose? Chin? Jaw?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “My God, have you just been dreaming of this moment for the last hour?”

“I have.” 

Eddie leans back against the wall, still watching and still smirking as he crosses his arms. 

“I know Eddie’s your boyfriend now but-“

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct him quickly, but something inside of you twists at saying that.

He wasn’t your boyfriend. You two had just agreed you’d need time apart before even thinking of exploring what this new chapter will bring you two. So why does it feel so wrong? Why do you suddenly feel like a pathetic teenager, desperate to bestow some cheesy title upon her crush? 

Eddie nods when you suddenly look at him, as if he can read your mind, “I’m not her boyfriend. Just… her scary dog.”

Scary dog privilege. And God, does that moment feel light years in the past now. Years ago rather than hours ago. His promise to protect you suddenly rings truer now. If you ever did find yourself in trouble, you knew he’d answer your call. You knew now why his protection only extended to you. You finally, finally understood.

“Scary dog?” Steve squints at Eddie, and his judgmental demeanor has fully returned, “What the fuck does that even mea-“

He doesn’t get to finish the sardonic sentiment. The slap of your palm interrupts him.

“Ow!” he yelps out, head snapping from the force of the hit and hands already coming up defensively. 

Eddie pushes off the wall the moment Steve’s hands are up in the air, “Lay a hand on her in retaliation, Harrington, and I’m breaking your arm.” 

All the joking, cocky demeanor has faded. Like he had said — scary dog privilege. It applies to more than just pricks at the bar.

“I’m not,” Steve grumbles, rubbing at the red imprint now singing his cheek, “Jesus Christ, I said a punch.” 

You fight a smile, “I don’t know how to throw a punch.”

“I can teach you,” Eddie pipes up, now standing beside you, hovering in your orbit. 

“Don’t-“ Steve puts out a warning finger, “-encourage her. I only said you could punch me because I knew you couldn’t throw a punch!” he continues to cradle his face, now pouting at you, “Do you feel better now?” 

You only answer with a triumphant smile. Because your palm is stinging, and you know violence isn’t the answer, but yeah. You do feel a little bit better. 

“I don’t,” Eddie hums. He only has to take one step forward for Steve to back up, throwing out defensive eyes as he narrows his eyes, “Think I deserve to get a slap in, too, Stevie.” 

“Fuck that,” Steve spits, eyes wide with genuine fear that makes you want to giggle, “You do know how to throw a punch. If I’m letting you get a free one in, I deserve twenty four hours notice.” 

“Then consider this your notice.” 

Is this what I had always been missing out on? 

You always knew Eddie was playful with everyone, had witnessed how he joked with friends, but you’d never been included. The thought that this was the new normal makes your heart nearly burst. To be on Eddie’s side finally, to be in his good graces properly, makes you feel as if you belong more than any private movie night with Steve or impromptu dinner date with Robin. More than any night out with Nancy. More than any smoke session with Argyle, and more than any literature debate with Jonathan.

It’s as if Eddie was the missing link. You never felt you belonged, because you’d always ached for your rightful spot at his side, not just amongst the group.

The three of you stand in a makeshift circle and every single one of you smiles. Even Steve, through his slipping pout and swollen cheek, is grinning. 

Suddenly, it’s not quite as heavy as it once felt.

Everything has changed. Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

“I’d pay to see that,” you comment, taking a daring step to bump shoulders with Eddie. His eyes meet yours, his dimples come to life, and suddenly — you’re home, “Think I can get a front row seat to you beating Steve’s ass?” 

Steve starts to protest but Eddie only nods eagerly, “I think that can be arranged.” 

“I am once again reminding you two that I liked your screaming matches more than whatever this,” his hand flails, motioning to the way you two are standing closer to one another than you are him, “whole teaming-up-against-me bit is.”

“We’re not dating,” you’re reiterating as Eddie laughs out, “Stop being a crybaby.” 

You look at one another again. Another foot in the door of your newfound home, another look into your new place to rest your head. It’s as if you’re just now realizing you’ve spent the entire year missing Eddie, even as he was right there in front of you. 

“Well, God save us all when you two are finally dating,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head.

“If-“ Eddie starts to correct, but you stop him.

It’s not an if when it comes to you two dating, you decide. It’s a when.

“I’ll send a gift basket when the day comes,” you snark. The look that Eddie sends you could heal every wound ever left behind, right then and there. 

You’re home. When Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders and Steve rolls his eyes at you two (affectionately, even if he’d deny it), you know you’re home.

—

But then, you actually do have to go home. 

You try to put it off. The three of you occupy Eddie’s living room for a while, Steve complaining about the way Robin woke him up endlessly throughout the night and how he never did finish that assignment due in his English Literature class. It reminds you that life will continue on; you have to go back to work and school, deal with daily annoyances that should seem bigger than all that’s happened with Eddie tonight, but they don’t. They all seem minuscule now, really. 

“Do we still have to send photo proof?” Eddie asks once Steve’s tirade has waned. You’re sat between the two boys, Steve’s body turned almost completely to face the two of you while you and Eddie slowly sink back into the cushions. 

You’re sure if Steve knew the activities that had taken place on this couch, he would not be sitting so comfortably. If at all.

Steve sighs at the mention of the bet, “You probably should. Jonathan’s been antsy about it the entire time. Me and Nance tried to cover for you guys, lying about calling and stuff but-“

“Why would you lie?” you inquire, uncurling a bit from your overly comfortable position to stop from falling asleep and actually participate in the conversation. 

“Because, unlike the other idiots,” Steve gives a pointed look at you and then Eddie, “We had a hunch about what was going on here. And it’s about time, by the way.” 

You think over his words for a second before you look at Eddie with sudden embarrassment, “Have you- Oh my God, have you been telling Nancy what we’ve been doing?” 

“What?” Eddie sits up straighter, looking just as panicked, “No. No, absolutely not, I-“

“What have you guys been doing?”

Both of you ignore Steve as Eddie continues on.

“-just spoke to her on the phone once or twice. But I didn’t give her any details. Have you been telling Steve what we did?” 

Steve, still being ignored, repeats himself, “What have you guys been doing?” 

“Absolutely not,” you scrunch your nose at the thought of being that honest with Steve. You loved him, truly, but not enough to tell him about those kinds of things, “I’d rather sleep in the canals than tell him.” 

“What have you guys been doing?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mockingly stabs himself, “Ouch, sweetheart.”

“Not like that,” you backtrack, but more casually as the worry of Steve and Nancy knowing the truth, “I just meant-“

Eddie interrupts with a hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “I know what you meant. I’m just fucking with you. I feel the same way with Nance.” 

“Guys?” Steve grows further impatient, “I- What the fuck did you guys do? Oh my God, is it even safe to sit on this fucking couch right now?” 

“You don’t wanna know,” you say.

“No, it isn’t,” Eddie says. 

It earns him a slap on his stomach as he leans over in laughter at the way Steve launches out of his seat.

“You guys- No. No fucking way,” Steve brushes at the back of his jeans, as if they’re contaminated, “Nope. No way. You’re just fucking with me, Munson.” 

“Am I?” 

Another slap lands on Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs harder. 

“Steve,” you turn to your friend, trying to smile sweetly, “Sit back down.” 

“No.”

“You just said you don’t believe-“ 

“We should get going,” Steve insists through his blush, “You two should take your final picture and we should get going.” 

Eddie finally stops chuckling, leaning back up and against the armrest, his ankle cross in front of your shins as he stretches his legs out and sighs, “God, you should see your face right now, Harrington.” 

Steve’s scowl deepens, “It’s not funny. Take the fucking photo so we can go.” 

You make no move to dig out your phone, because you know. You know once you take this photo, you’ll be leaving, and this will all be over. Once you step foot back into that hallway, time apart begins. Learning how to navigate this new unknown with Eddie begins. It terrifies you, it saddens you, it exhausts you. You hadn’t been prepared for this part of the night.

Even before the confessions, you hadn’t given much thought to the ending of the twenty four hours. You’d assumed it would end in bloodshed and a larger than life fight, probably before the clock even ran out. You’d never assumed it could end in laughing, inside jokes between you and Eddie, in something not only bitter but also sweet. 

“Phone, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers as he leans forward and holds out his hand with the palm up, “Before we traumatize the poor guy any further.” 

“I will wait in the car, I swear to God-“ Steve starts to protest as you finally dig your phone out of your pocket. 

You’re looking down, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze in fear of him picking up on your faint sadness, as you mumble, “Get your panties out of their twist, Steve. Jesus.” 

Eddie snorts at that, right as you pass your phone over. 

Steve doesn’t comment when you willingly tell Eddie the code to unlock your phone, or the way you let him hold it rather than you. He doesn’t comment on the arm that Eddie seems to constantly keep around you now. 

He’s doing it while he can. Cherishing being able to hold you at any capacity before you leave and the distance begins. The time apart you two agreed upon won’t be for forever, but it still kills a buried part of him that had just begun to sprout roots again. A thing made of hope that he planned to tend to this time around. 

“So, how do we wanna do this?” he asks in a strained tone, as if asking that question and throttling you two closer to the finish line physically pains him.

You hope it pains him, selfishly, because it pains you. “No idea.”

“We’ve gotta make it a good one.”

“We do.” 

Eddie suddenly lights up with an idea as his thumb sweeps across your screen, opening your photos’ app and scrolling up to the first picture you two had taken at the beginning of this night. 

“Up for a trip down nostalgia road?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he holds the phone up for you to get a clearer view of the picture.

Eddie, flipping off the camera and scowling. You, hardly smiling with a pathetic thumbs up. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding slowly. 

It’s unspoken, what happens next. The camera app is opened and Eddie returns your phone to your grasp. The two of you resituate to mimic the photo as closely as possible while Steve fiddles with some of the items on Eddie’s entertainment center. 

You stretch out your arm, put your thumb up into view, blink away any tears burning the back of your eyes. Eddie’s hand has taken position as well. 

You snap the photo before you can think too hard on it. 

“Think that’ll be the winner?” Eddie curiously asks as you immediately bring the phone close to your face, swiping to view the snapshot just taken. And when you do, with the refreshed memory of that first photo, your heart physically aches. 

Almost an identical image. At a quick glance, it’s the same Eddie and the same you from the first one. But the similarities fade the moment you look closer. Eddie isn’t scowling, not genuinely – those damn dimples are even making an appearance as his eyes were squinted up in a valiant effort to fight off the smile he wears now. And your smile, your smile, is no longer half-assed. It’s something real, something full, something even a bit sad. The same face you wear when saying goodbye to an old friend and trying to hold back any tears until their train has long since left the station. You can almost physically see your vines in this photo wrapping around the two of you, clinging so desperately to avoid any separation. Time apart. You’re regretting suggesting that now. 

It’s a cute photo. A photo of two friends, if you could call yourself and Eddie that now. 

“All done?” Steve interrupts the moment, both of you and Eddie only staring at the photo. You take a peak at him out of your peripherals, and you can see it written plainly on his face – he’s feeling all the same emotions as you. Something sad, something nostalgic, something reluctant. “Not to rush the process but… I may or may not have a hot date tonight to get ready for.” 

Eddie tears his gaze from the photo, “A hot date?”

“A hot date,” Steve nods, a boyish grin gracing his lips, “And I’m picking her up in… t-minus…” he pauses, checking his watch, “Three hours.” 

“Smart move. Charm her before I rearrange your face and all.” 

Steve throws his head back in a groan, “You two won’t be letting that go any time soon, will you?” 

“Nope,” you chime in as you swipe to open up the groupchat, not offering Steve a single glance until you’ve sent off the final addition of photo proof to the rest of your friends. You consider adding some sort of sarcastic comment, some well earned bragging and a boisterous told you so, but you don’t. 

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won. Leaving this apartment, this battleground, with all the new bruises and healed wounds you’ve acquired over the span of the twenty four hours doesn’t taste like victory. Really, it tastes like… nothing. 

There’s no victory, no solid ending for you to cling to. It’s simply ending and there’s still thousands of words you have to say to Eddie. You need more time, another twenty four hours, to fill with every single thing you never told him. More casual confessions of honesty, more hours wasted in his bed, more insignificant bickering to partake in. It’s all on your tongue and desperate for attention, and yet, you know you can’t succumb to it. 

You have to go. It’s the last thing you want to do, but you have to. 

Steve checks his phone when it buzzes with the notification of your message you sent and opens his mouth, no doubt about to comment on your lack of words with the message, but you’re already standing. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. You need to get it over with, get out of this apartment before you decide you’d rather sink right into these couch cushions and decay just to ensure you never have to really leave. 

Eddie’s quick to follow. 

“Let’s go,” you say to Steve, grabbing up your bag, not looking at Eddie at the risk of losing all composure. 

Neither boy fights you, following you right up to the front door. Steve leads, opening it back up as reality slams you in the chest. As if there’s an invisible barrier here, and you know that in crossing it, you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind in apartment 2C. 

Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

But it sure does feel like it. 

Steve awkwardly looks over your shoulder at Eddie, some silent communication you only see his half of as he shrugs and does a timid wave, turning to leave. 

One foot hangs midair, your toes beginning to push through that barrier, when Eddie grabs you. 

“Hey,” he breathes as he wraps his fingers around your bicep, forcing you to turn to face him. You let him, your body moving to his accord but your eyes still not meeting his, “You good?” 

You take a deep breath in through your nose, “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. I’m… I’m good.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive?”

“Will you look at me, then?” 

Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, your eyes meet his. Big, brown doe eyes. This close to them, you can see the way they shine to match yours. You both probably look insane to Steve right now, but you don’t care. Between the sleep deprivation and all the emotions you’ve had to experience over the last day, the tears are well earned.

You almost reach out and kiss him. You almost press up onto your toes and put your lips on his, almost pour every emotion you’re feeling in the moment into a far from innocent peck. 

But you don’t.

“We did it,” you croak blandly, “We won the bet.” 

As if the Universe is screaming in agreement, you can hear a chime in the distance signifying the hour. Probably the church you recall passing in the middle of the night when the two of you had ventured off to the parking garage. It almost feels as if it’s mocking you. 

“We did it,” he echoes as his grip on your bicep loosens. You expect him to let it fall back to his side, nearly begging out loud for him to retract his touch from you so you don’t do something stupid like stay.

You swallow down thick emotions, just like molasses, “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

Time. You two needed time apart. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, as he does the one thing you had somehow hoped he wouldn’t yet yearned for ardently – the hand that had wrapped around your arm now cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin so softly, you nearly melt in his doorway, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.” 

It doesn’t taste like victory, yet it doesn’t taste quite like loss. It’s bittersweet. 

You still don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you, even as his touch against your cheek lingers so heavily before he pulls away. 

You cross the barrier and find you were right. You feel that piece of you tear off and flutter to the ground, and you begin to wonder when you’ll have the chance to come back and reclaim not just it, but Eddie.

—

Steve didn’t speak much on the drive back to your dorm, and you’re sort of grateful. 

If you were a good friend, you’d ask more about his date. You’d get him giddy as he spills the details about this girl and his plans for the night, chastise and tease him all in good fun. You’d be smiling and making plans for coffee tomorrow morning so he could tell you all about how the date went. 

But you’re not a good friend.

You sit in your silence the entire drive, and you pick at your nails, and you selfishly stay focused on Eddie. On all of your own qualms and all your own issues, worrying about what comes next and already feeling your chest tighten the moment you start to think about when see you around will come.

The two of you never discussed that, did you? There was no discussion of just how much time was needed apart. 

Steve shifts the car into park in the west lot, right outside your building, “Alright, stop making your cuticles bleed for two seconds and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Your hands pause exactly as he requests, caught red-handed. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Something’s obviously wrong. I told you to go get him – and yet, he’s still not your boyfriend.” 

“It’s complicated,” your voice finally breaks. There’s no tears this time, just confusion and desperation clawing at your throat. 

Because, was it complicated? Was it really?

The last year was what had been complicated. All the pretending and the fights and the tension. All the false beliefs and all the lies overlapping with one another. That was complicated. But this? The feelings you harbored and finally acknowledged for the boy you just left behind? 

That wasn’t really complicated. 

And Steve knows this, you can hear it in his sigh, “I think that’s the issue.” 

“What?” you turn your head towards him, scrunch your brows, even your breathing and try to shoo away the image of Eddie’s wet eyes. 

You wish you would have kissed him. 

“Look, i just think you two keep making things complicated when they should be simple-” 

You didn’t want to hear it. Childish as it might be, you do not want to have to hear this speech. Because you know Steve’s right.

“I’ll see you later, Steve.”

“Wait-”

You don’t wait. You slam the door in his face once you’ve got your footing outside of his car, truly earning your title of bad friend.

Awful. You weren’t just a bad friend, you were an awful friend. 

And yet you can’t think on it, leaving it be until you had the time to properly dwell on how you’d apologize later. All you care about now is getting inside your dorm, moping and being miserable on your own. Your strides are longer and faster than they were even when you’d backtracked to Eddie’s apartment, determined to get behind closed doors and to properly mourn all that had been gained and all that had been lost in the last twenty four hours. 

Twenty four hours ago, you were reluctant to even step foot in Eddie’s apartment. And now, it’s the only place you really want to be. 

Luck refuses to be on your side as you slam into your dorm room, sweaty and tired and just fucking emotional, only to find your roommate there. There will be no dramatic crying, no cinematic scene with your back pressed to the door as you fight back sobs, it seems. 

“You look rough,” is all she notes, sparing you a second glance before she returns to whatever she was tasking on at her desk. Her makeup, you think.

Good. Maybe she’ll be heading out, leaving you to suffer alone like you wanted. 

“Yeah,” is all you can answer her as the door clicks shut behind you. 

Rough’s a good way to put it. 

“Think you’ll be here tonight?” she asks, still distracted, “Troy and I are hanging out today – he spent the night here last night, by the way – and if you’re gone again, I was thinking about inviting him back over. Only if you’re cool with it, or already have plans, though. Our RA has this final and I didn’t even have to sneak him in last night-”

She continues on her rambles, never looking your way as you drop your bag onto your bed, and quickly lift yourself to lay right next to it. 

Normal. You were having to go back to fucking normal. Your worries were no longer revolving around Eddie or making it through the next hour, no longer preoccupied with keeping your friends up to date in order to ensure a payout of five hundred dollars – now, you just had to worry about boys named Troy and possible room checks by your RA. Finals to be taken, essays to be finished, shifts to be covered at the diner so you’d have enough cash to go out with your friends next weekend. 

You should be relieved. But it all just feels impossibly heavy. 

Your roommate catches on quickly, and when you only reply to let her know you’ll be here tonight, she stops talking. She focuses on finishing her makeup and gathering her things, hardly even offering you a goodbye as you shift to curl up more comfortably in the center of your mattress. 

You should also know better than what you decide to do next. You can’t help it, though, as you tug your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. You don’t listen to the voice inside your head that screams stop as you click on your photos’ app. Ignore the animal inside that whines as you scroll, and you click on the very first photo of you and Eddie. 

It’s painful, but you have nothing better to do in your solitude. You don’t linger on the first photo too long, still being fresh in your mind, before quickly swiping along. 

The set of matching photos you and Eddie took of one another, black and white socks covering touching toes visible in each one. You nearly laugh at the Darth Vader figurine both of you took turns holding. You nearly cry when you realize you were, in fact, smiling in your photo. A small one, a forced one, but there nonetheless. 

The selfie from the bar, your amaretto sour and Eddie’s whiskey & coke lifted towards the camera. The way both of you had tried to look annoyed, over exaggerated and furrowed brows paired with pouting lips. Your thumb swipes subconsciously over the photo for a second too long, and you’re startled when you realized it was a live photo. The moment after the photo was taken, Eddie’s eyes had moved to look at you. And in that live photo, you watched every ounce of annoyance evaporate. Leaving behind something you recognized now. Leaving behind eyes sparkling with a brief glimpse of adoration. 

There’s something else you better recognize now in the next photo. The picture you’d taken when Eddie had locked himself into his room, only opening up long enough to insist you took the photo, the one that guaranteed you your money. You had been right – there was a flood of regret on his face. You hadn’t imagined it. But you had also been wrong; he was never looking at your own rotted vines and mourning them; he was looking at his own, tethered and shredded, regretting that he had ever taken an axe to them. You don’t press down to see this live photo. You don’t want to witness that door slamming in your face again. 

The two photos taken in his bed. The one in which both your faces are scrunched from the flash, in which you can see the physical wall between you two.  And the one in the dark, where you both wear tired smiles, unaware of the night to come.

The photo on the bike, a helmet mostly covering your blushing cheeks, but not Eddie’s. 

The photo from the parking garage, meant just for you two. 

The photos from Betty’s. You don’t linger on the one of you; you do linger on the one of him. 

Each swipe only makes your heart ache more viciously, painful and sharp reminders of the night you had had. You don’t have to press down on another single photo to witness the live outplay of it – each memory is running through your mind in real time as you retrace your steps of the night. Twenty four hours, twenty four steps. With each photo, you watch yourself grow more relaxed, watch smiles come easier without your awareness and finally pinpoint all the care Eddie had been looking at you with the entire time. 

You notice the lack of photos from the last few hours. You nearly scorn yourself for it, but there had been no time. There was no time for memories frozen in time amongst all that hard honesty and those sacrilegious revelations.

Except there was one more moment in time frozen for you. You’re quick to exit the photo app finally, leaving behind that picture of Eddie with full cheeks only to open up your text messages.

Your text thread with him. Filled to the brim with bad pastry jokes and underlying need. You remember that urgent want to comfort him, to remind him he was enough. To erase all the hurt and all the old scars caused by a life from before your time with him you still hadn’t become fully privy to. 

You’re still rereading the last message, bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, when suddenly a new message appears. 

EDDIE: Make it home okay? 

Space and time. They are the last things you want, that you need from him right now. 

YOU: yep. my roommate just left. 

EDDIE: Is your dorm bed as comfortable as you remember? 

YOU: like sleeping on a cloud. 

You wish you were still in his bed. You wish you were back at the beginning, with him rather than all alone. 

EDDIE: Oh shit, you’re trying to sleep? Sorry

EDDIE: I’ll stop bothering you and leave you to it. Sweet dreams. 

No, you nearly scream at your phone screen, come back and bother me. Bother me for the rest of my days for all I care. 

You’d never sleep another wink if it meant having him. You remember what you told him about starting over, starting fresh. And maybe taking a much needed nap would offer that. Maybe sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time would be the smart choice, letting you awake with a clearer mind and better intentions.

But you don’t want that. The animal inside still clings to all that has happened. 

Something about that makes you brave.

YOU: i never said that, and you’re not bothering me.

EDDIE: Didn’t you say you wanted a nap earlier?

YOU: that was earlier. i’m wide awake now. 

An internal battle continues to take place. Your mind whispers liar, knowing damn well that if you put down the phone and turned your cheek to bury into your pillow, you’d be out like a light within seconds. 

EDDIE: Ah. I see. 

You fiddle with your thumbs for a second, stomach churning as you try to come up with a response to keep the conversation going. Technically, when you had said the two of you needed time apart after all that had happened, it should have meant interactions like this as well. Texting each other was not offering each other space.

But he’d started it. That was on him.

YOU: do you remember what i said about space? and starting over? 

EDDIE: I do. I’m not very good with giving you space, it seems. 

YOU: well, considering you’re on the other side of town, i’d say we’ve got the physical sense of space down. 

There’s a pause in his replies that causes you to sit up. A falter. You curse him for not having a smartphone as well, for not having the privilege of being notified whether he was just taking his time typing or if he had put the phone down. You really hoped it was the former, practically wished upon every star that that was what was happening. You hoped he was glued to his phone as you were yours. 

Maybe he still had that photo he’d taken a few hours ago, the one you swore you’d heard him take as you dozed off. Maybe he was still staring at it like you had done with all of your photos. 

EDDIE: About that…

You stare at the message, the hidden meaning behind it completely lost on you. 

YOU: About what? 

EDDIE: I’m not home right now. 

Your heart clenches. 

YOU: You’re not?

EDDIE: I’m not. 

YOU: Eddie, where the hell are you right now?

Your mind reels with all the possible choices. He could be at the bar, at the parking garage, at Nancy’s place. He could be anywhere. 

But then he only sends a picture in response, and you know where he is. 

You nearly topple into three other students from how you sprint down the hallway. You don’t even grab your key to your dorm room, skipping the elevators and nearly throwing yourself down the few flights of stairs in haste. You don’t care how your lungs cry out, you don’t care how your thighs burn, you don’t care how your shoulder aches from how roughly you slam open that front door of the building. You don’t care about the strange looks you get on your way out. You don’t care about the odd angle you twisted your ankle in on that last step. 

The only thing you care about is the boy standing there, helmet off and balanced on the seat of his parked motorcycle that he leans on, arms crossed as his eyes light up at the erratic sight of you. 

You don’t even check for any traffic in the parking lot as you make your way to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he calls out once you’re close enough to hear him, “I know we said give it time and shit, but you left, and I just-” 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. 

When you make it to Eddie, you’re in no business to carry anymore regret with you. This time, you don’t just yearn to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to pour out all those emotions you were feeling across tongues. 

You do it. You kiss him, uncaring for all the stares of fellow students. He nearly falls backwards into his bike from the force of you colliding against him, but he’s quick to catch himself as his hands find your waist. 

“You-” you pull back, gasping a bit to start to scold him before his lips follow and interrupt you, “Fucking-” Push and pull. You retreat, and he follows, “Idiot.” 

His hands squeeze around you, tugging you a stumbling step closer so that your chests are flushed against one another.

“I am,” he mumbles against your lip, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheek as he refuses to let anymore distance be put between the two of you, “I am a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” 

His hands cradle your face and he kisses you this time, reaffirming that he felt everything you had. All those words you hadn’t said, all his own admissions he’d withheld, spill between clashing teeth and eager lips. He takes your breath away, shamelessly, greedily. And you let him. You offer all the air that’s left in your lungs up to him on a silver platter. 

When the two of you finally pull apart, eyes opening wide and foreheads pressing tightly to one another, he’s grinning like a fool. 

“So, I had a better idea than time apart,” he murmurs, “What if we just… start over?” 

“Start over?” you question wearily. 

He nods, “Yeah. Just… Just pretend this last year and all our bullshit didn’t happen. Start fresh. Let me not be a massive dick this time.” 

His hands drop from your face as he takes a step back, taking you in fully. You want to shy under his gaze, but instead you can only melt. His fondness is a warmth like no other, capturing you by the crown of your head and pouring down over you in waves. 

“Okay,” you finally agree, feeling your own cheeks spread and ache in a lovesick smile. Coming home, that’s what this felt like. “Okay, we can start over.” 

“Great,” the homecoming warmth only spreads as he straightens up his posture. A very serious look overcomes his face, laced with determination for a brief second until he relaxes it into a friendly smile, doleful eyes meeting yours as every single flower he had ever planted in your chest blooms like a spring morning. He sticks his hand out, nearly making you snort, “Hi, I’m Eddie.” 

You can’t help it. His front door is open, a warm glow within welcoming you. 

You ignore his hand entirely as you impulsively reach up and interlock your fingers at the nape of his neck, tugging him into you for another kiss. 

He pulls back far too soon for your liking, but his hands have also found their spot against the small of your back, “Do you greet all the new strangers you meet like this?” 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.” 

He pulls you back in for a chaste peck, and it tastes like home. 

“I like you,” you whisper into the limited space between the two of you, “I mean it. I like you so fucking much, Edward Munson.” 

He grins, cracking your chest wide open with hope, “The feeling’s mutual.”

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[extinctlesspains]

HEYYY!!!

OMG I LOVE YOUR WRITING, IM VERY EMBARRASSING TO ASK THIS BUT LIKE…

Is it ok if you make a Yandere Sensei Wolf x Reader?

I don’t know why I just see him as a yandere, but anyways.

I don’t really know what plot but like I have an idea that the read is in another team and Sensei Wolf took an interest with them?

You can decide from there, thank you!

A/n: OH MY GOSH THANK YOUU im so glad u liked the yandere fics and ideas 😭💕

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠: 𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒! 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑦𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒! 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝑤𝑜𝑙𝑓 𝑥 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖! 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑎 𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖, 𝑜𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑥𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑢𝑖𝑡.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑜𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑦𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑟, 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑐𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟.

■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■

The crowd erupted into cheers as your team landed the final blow, securing yet another victory in the Sekai Taikai qualifiers. You stood at the edge of the mat, clipboard in hand, giving a sharp nod of approval to your students. They’d worked hard for this moment, and every drop of sweat and hour of training had paid off.

As you turned to make notes on the match, a shadow loomed over you.

“That’s quite a team you’ve got there,” a low, gravelly voice remarked.

You glanced over your shoulder, startled to find Sensei Wolf standing much closer than you’d expected. His sharp eyes studied you with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Thanks,” you said, your tone neutral but guarded. “Your team’s not bad either.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, though his expression didn’t quite soften. “Not bad, huh? High praise coming from someone as disciplined as you.”

The way he said “disciplined” made you feel like a specimen under a microscope. You shifted your weight, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. “Discipline is what wins tournaments,” you replied curtly, hoping to end the conversation.

“Wins tournaments,” he echoed, as though savoring the words. “Yeah, I can see that. But discipline like yours? That’s rare. You lead like you’ve got something to prove.”

You frowned, not appreciating the comment. “It’s called doing my job,” you replied, turning your attention back to your clipboard.

Wolf didn’t respond immediately. When you glanced up again, he was still watching you, his smirk gone, replaced by something darker. “Well, good luck out there, Sensei,” he finally said before walking away.

But the weight of his gaze lingered, unsettling you more than you cared to admit.

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

The next few days passed in a blur of matches and training sessions, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every time you looked around, you’d catch a glimpse of Wolf—always on the periphery, leaning against a wall or sitting in the stands, his eyes fixed on you.

At first, you tried to ignore it. Rival senseis often observed each other, studying techniques and strategies. But this wasn’t just professional interest. It felt personal.

One evening, as you finished packing up after practice, you found him waiting outside the arena.

“You’re here late,” he remarked, his voice casual, though the intensity in his gaze made your skin crawl.

“I could say the same to you,” you replied, gripping your bag tightly.

Wolf chuckled, a low, almost menacing sound. “What can I say? I’m dedicated. And you…” He paused, letting the silence stretch. “You’re fascinating.”

The statement caught you off guard, and you stiffened. “Sensei Wolf, if this is about the tournament—”

“It’s not,” he interrupted, stepping closer. His presence was overwhelming, and you instinctively took a step back. “This is about you. You’ve got something no one else does. Something I can’t stop thinking about.”

Your heart raced, not with flattery but with unease. “I don’t know what you think this is, but I suggest you keep your distance.”

His smirk returned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Careful, Sensei. You don’t want to make an enemy out of me.”

You didn’t reply, brushing past him and walking quickly toward the exit. But his words followed you, a sinister promise that sent a chill down your spine.

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

It only got worse from there. Wolf began orchestrating matches to ensure your teams would face each other, his students suddenly employing tactics designed specifically to counter your style. When you confronted him about it, he cornered you in an empty hallway.

“Why are you doing this?” you demanded, your voice sharp.

“Doing what?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Sabotaging the tournament. Fixating on my team. On me.”

His expression darkened, and for a moment, you regretted your boldness. “You think this is about the tournament?” he growled, stepping closer. “This is about you. Don’t you see it? We’re the same, you and I. You belong with me.”

Your stomach twisted, but you held your ground. “You’ve crossed a line, Wolf. Stay away from me and my team.”

His eyes flashed with something dangerous—rage, desire, maybe both. “You don’t get it, do you? I’ve been patient. I’ve tried to let you come to me on your own. But you’re so damn stubborn.”

Before you could respond, he grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “But I will if it means keeping you safe. Keeping you…mine.”

You yanked your arm free, heart pounding. “You’re insane,” you spat, stepping back.

Wolf’s lips curled into a smile, but there was no humor in it. “Maybe I am. But that doesn’t change the truth. You’ll see it eventually, Sensei. I’ll make sure of it.”

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

The tournament finals were a nightmare. Your team defeated his in a hard-fought match, but instead of conceding gracefully, Wolf snapped.

After the match, he confronted you in a secluded corner of the arena, his composure shattered.

“You think you’ve won?” he snarled, his voice trembling with rage. “This isn’t over. It’ll never be over.”

Before you could respond, he slammed his fist into the wall beside your head, his face inches from yours. His breathing was ragged, his eyes wild. “You can’t keep running from me. I’ll always find you. Always.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You need help, Wolf. This obsession isn’t normal.”

“Normal?” he laughed bitterly, his voice breaking. “You think I care about being normal? You’re all I care about. You’re mine, and I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you away.”

It took intervention from tournament officials to pull him away, but the damage was done. As they dragged him out of the arena, his eyes locked onto yours, a final, chilling promise in his gaze.

“This isn’t goodbye, Sensei. You’ll see me again.”

And deep down, you knew he was right.

[iznyangwoni]

EASY TO LOVE | chapter nineteen !

You’ve been working all day on the outfits for the festival and honestly it’s been great at taking your mind off of Jungwon. This last week all you did was ignore him, thinking of how you should talk to him, what to say, how to say it. But all your overthinking did was just making you distance yourself from him, as if fighting wasnt enough.

You sigh, finally finishing one of the hundreds sketches you need to do before sunday. Its already getting late, but you need a few more people to come in for you to take measurements, so its gonna take a while before you can go home, not that you really mind, you like doing this after all.

You hear a knock on the door, so you tell them to come in, not really looking towards that direction since you’re busy choosing a color for the skirts. The door closes and you raise your head only when a grocery bag stops your vision. Your heart drops when you see Jungwon, you cant really read his expression, he looks both annoyed and relieved.

You take off your headphones and glasses, your ears getting red. “Sunghoon told me you haven’t eaten all day.” You gulp, not really knowing what to say, your eyes fall on the bag, then on Jungwon again. “You spoke… with Sunghoon?” “You’ve been avoiding me for a week, i did what i had to do.”

You bite your inner lip, you cant really imagine the two of them having a normal conversation, but you’re glad they’re growing. Jungwon sits in front of you, his eyes never leaving you, you’re trying to be tough, but its hard when your mind is going a thousand per miles and your heart is about to explode.

“I’ve been busy with the festival.” “Don’t bullshit me.” His cold voice makes your back shiver, and then you see it, that angry look he’s had since the fight, you run a hand through your hair, and then start tidying up the desk, you know he’s not going until you eat, so might as well get this over soon.

“I don’t like your attitude.” You say, and he laughs sarcastically, taking the ramen off of the bag, he already put the hot water in it before coming, the thought of him doing all of this for you makes you sigh. “Just eat and dont complain.” You roll your eyes and finally sit down again to eat, you only left your sketchbook on the table, just in case you get any ideas.

“You’ve been hanging a lot with Minji..” “Mh.” Jungwon didn’t think twice before digging into his ramen, meanwhile you’re still playing with your chopsticks. “Riki and Jake say that she’s been weird lately. So they dont hang much with us anymore.” “Ah.” This whole thing is awkward, the way you’re talking, the way he either looks into your soul or doesn’t look at you at all.

Still, maybe this is the right time to tell him the truth, to finally express how you feel and actually tell him what happened, but you’re still scared. Jungwon basically doesn’t hang out with his best friends only because of her, how delusional do you have to be to think he would believe you? “Jungwon… I’m scared.”

Finally his eyes meet yours again, your hand is slightly shaking, and you cant really stop it now. You bite your inner lip once again, meanwhile he completely stops eating just to hear you out. “Of what?” “Of you not believing me. Or of you choosing Minji instead of me.” “Y/n you can’t make me choose.”

That’s exactly what you were afraid of. Of course he doesnt want to choose, he’s known you only for a few months, meanwhile him and Minji have been friends since ever, he’s never going to pick you. “You’ll have to once you know what happened.” “Then tell me.” You take a deep breath, you really cant find the words to tell him, he’s looking at you patiently, but you dont know how long he can wait.

Just thinking back about it makes you feel ill and dirty, you want things with jungwon to work out, you want to be able to date him and call him your boyfriend but god is it hard to just say it. You look at him, your throat already hurting meanwhile he seems to be getting disappointed. “That video minji mentioned to you…” your mouth feels dry, meanwhile your eyes are the complete opposite.

You shake your head, you dont want to say it, you dont want him to think of you as low as you think of yourself for what happened. Jungwon hand reaches out to yours, wanting to soothe you. “Jiyoon was in Minji’s friend group last year, and we… we weren’t really friends.” You decide to start like this, its really now or never.

“And i was kind of dating this guy, Ricky.” “Kind of?” You give him a bad look, its not really the time to joke now, but you’re glad he’s making it less awkward.

“Well, turns out, Ricky was cheating on me with her, and they wanted me out of the picture.” You take another deep breath, you did have a little crush on Ricky last year, but it was nothing like what you feel for Jungwon, but thinking about what happened still hurts you like crazy. “So they.. they decided to take a video, something that could ruin the reputation of my family if it got out…i didnt know the phone was there when it was recording.”

Jungwon is listening carefully, caressing your fingers with his thumb, going through your jewelry so gently. “What was in the video?” You look at him again, you really dont want to say it, but you have to. “It was me, at Ricky��s house. And we were alone, and.. things escalated and we were-” “Y/n.”

The way he calls you makes you scared, is he mad at you? Does he think you’re disgusting? You dont even want to look at him in the eyes out of fear.

“Y/n, look at me.” Your bottom lip is trembling as he interlocks his fingers with yours. “Why didnt you tell me earlier?” “I was scared..” Your voice is breaking as you speak, Jungwon gets up and hugs you, you hide your face in the crook of his neck, you didnt expect him to act like this. But your friends were right at the end. Jungwon kisses your forehead before speaking, cupping your face.

“You’re safe with me.” You nod again, your eyes are watery, but you’re happy he doesnt hate you. You feel like you finally got a rock off of your back and you can finally breathe. You look at the table, the ramen is cold by now, but thats the last of your problems. “I cant believe she would threaten you with something like that i’m so sorry Y/n I-“ “Wonie you couldn’t know.” “Let me take you out to make up for it.” You giggle at that, and nod happily.

“yes, yes lets do that.”

prev | masterlist | next

author’s note we really are reaching the end 🥲 but dont worry i wont vanish, i already posted the masterlist for my next smau! it would be great if you can check it out hihi ily

TAGLIST @unhakki @firstclassjaylee @en-verse @mxxninthesky @onlyhyunjin @heeseungmyman @jiamini @yoonzns @wonswondrland @50-husbands @leaderwonim @aloloveswonie @f3rraribabez @jwonistic @ribbioniki @kyanmeai @ilovejungwonandhaechan @nat123c @yjwsgf @gyuvision @realrintaro @glxzillx @qettalos @rairaiblog @sakanelli-afc @onlyjungchan @haohaoshoe @vixensss @terryfiedgyu

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banner made by: @thursdaygxrls

(yes, i reposted this. i needed to edit the dates. thank you to those who will re-reblog and re-like.)

it's finally here. a major quick thank you for all the love and patience everyone has shown me over this series. i hope it's worth the wait.

word count: 11k.

it's getting real now...

CHAPTER TWO: MASTERMIND

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Chistine Kiko just handed you an eighth of mushrooms and you weren’t one to disappoint. Even if it was your first time. “My fucking dad wouldn’t let me do anything in the Hamptons. I literally only had my dab pen and coke. Like, what kind of person does that?” 

They taste like fucking shit, Christine licked her pudgy fingers dry while you were gagging between chews. “He sounds,” baby barf, “like a monster.” She doesn’t pick up on your sarcasm, “thank you! Everyone said I was being dramatic too, glad to know I can rely on you.” 

You cough on the last swallow, Christine patted at your back, a red solo cup pushed in your hand. “Drink. I mean, he bossed me around all summer too. He thinks I wanna be like him, like, try that with your other kids?” You pull the cup down, “you’re an only child?” 

Christine shrugs, “it’s never too late.” You hum while you finish the mixture, it was ultra sweet, you assume it was full of booze. “So, basically, you’re gonna have a super fun time and I will totally be here for you if you need me, but I have friends to see, ya know?” 

It’s a nice way of saying she will absolutely not be around if you need her. You stop her with a hand on her wrist, “wait, how long until this hits? Will I know?” Christine smirks, “about an hour, give or take. Ride the wave and pick a bed to land in.” 

You’re alone for an entire two minutes, just enough time to get your own cup of jungle juice, the same mixture as Christine’s, before an arm drops around your shoulders. The voice alone makes you want to eat sand, you just know he’s about to say something stupid. 

With his girlfriend in tow, blonde hair whips towards you, a snotty smirk, “did you see Harvey yet?” It takes everything in you not to wack his arm. “No, not yet.” 

“Well, I’m sure he’s going to love your top.” You huff at him, “this wasn’t even the shirt Ally wanted me to wear, so, fuck you!” Matt holds a hand to his chest, “I am in a committed relationship, and even if I wasn’t, ew.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, blondie. I’ve seen cuter rats.” He narrows his eyes, “I will pray for evil to find you.” Ally gasps, “Matty, no.” 

Holding a middle finger up, your eyes wander around the room until you zone in on Harvey resting against the staircase, a gleam of light hits his wrist, silver dances in your eyes. 

Harvey must have felt you, his chin rises in a poor excuse for a nod. You flash a four finger wave, raising your cup to your mouth when he starts laughing with a friend. Matt pokes your elbow at the interaction, “what kind of dress are you wearing to the wedding?” 

You grin, “I’m not sure yet, I don’t wanna clash with Ally.” You turn to her, “we both can’t wear white, right?” 

“Hey, hey, hey, if anyone’s going to marry Ally it’s me, and it’ll be in a church so you’ll either sit it out or burn.” 

Checking your phone you nibble at your lip, thirty eight minutes. Trent’s nowhere to be found, you need to start looking. And subtly. You take a step back, pretending to be interested in a fake text. “Give me five minutes, I need to make a call.” Ally’s quick to give the go ahead, “okay, text me if you can’t find us!”

Thirty seven minutes. Your shoulder hits a freshman’s, jungle juice splashes on the hardwood; spilling out an apology you step over the puddle. A boy you haven’t seen before smiles at you, if you weren’t on a mission, you’d be saying hello. 

You loop by the garage, heart stuttering when you capture Peter and Ethan playing a game of beer pong. Trent wasn’t there, your last hope and prayer was in the backyard. 

Surrounded by rose bushes, the chapter president had his lips wrapped around a cigarette. The red glow lit his cheeks up on the inhale, two girls and another guy with him, you think you shared a class with one of the girls last year. 

Trent catches your eyes, it’s clear you both don’t want anyone to know what’s going on. He directed his gaze towards your phone, a hand moved around in his pocket before he produced his own. 

You stare at your home screen, expecting the message any second. It comes when you move back inside. 

‘Use the backstairs, my room is on the left at the end of the hall.’ 

‘Give me five minutes.’ 

Thirty two minutes, you don’t have any time to waste. Your feet hit the stairs. 

Trent’s room is messy and terribly decorated. Clothes covered the floor, empty bowls and plates scattered across his desk, a still sweating, sealed water bottle makes you smack your lips. How tempting. 

A string of flags, a political one that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, a ‘Saturdays are for the boys’ one, and a black and white american flag. The trio makes you roll your eyes, it seems very fitting for his personality. No shoe has a matching partner in the entire room, you’re scared to think of what might be under his bed. 

You don’t feel safe or comfortable enough to sit on it either, it’s unmade and with a noticeable and questionable looking stain. He does have a couch though, and it looks very, very comfortable. It feels like you’d sink right in. It’s not enticing enough, you don’t trust it. 

You check your phone again, it’s been five minutes and it could be the liquor, but you feel a slight wobble. Twenty three minutes until blast off Trent slides through a small crack in the door, your arms cross defensively.  “I know you’re not fucking me, but you can at least pretend to care about my time.” 

“Wrong. I wouldn’t care about you, even if you were fucking me.” He proudly takes a seat at his desk, he offers you nothing. A smug look rolls over, “you’ve built it up long enough, what do you need from me?” 

The sooner it’s over, the better. “My friends and I have a bet on your potential new members, if the person I pick makes it through recruitment, I win. I need you to make sure I win.” 

Trent’s facade slips, even just for a millisecond. “One more time, and I need you to be very clear on it, alright?” 

Were you slurring your words? You try to speak clearer. “I know someone who’s going to pledge, and I promise you he has no involvement in this, but I need him to be recruited so I can win some money. All I need is for you to make sure I win and they don’t.” 

A brief pause, Trent looks sympathetic. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that.” You cut him off, he accepted the terms last Friday, and again when you sent over copies of your- Noa’s hard discoveries. 

“No, no, Trent, you did. You said anything I needed, and I need this.” 

“If you would’ve told me what you needed, you would’ve known I couldn’t help you.” 

“This is bullshit, I’ll start singing from the rooftops about your payoff.” 

“No, you won’t. I’m the president, so I get final say on who we fully recruit-” You roll your eyes, “I know.” 

“- but I don’t get to choose who makes it past rush, you need a member to bid on a pledge. You need someone to big brother him, I can’t do that. If I get involved it becomes dirty rushing, and that is the biggest ‘no no’ to exist.” 

You slump, everything comes crashing down. “So… you can’t even pull rank here?” Trent shakes his head, “absolutely not.” 

“So this was all for nothing?” 

“If you can find a member to bid on him, you have my promise he’ll make it, and I’ll cut whoever you need so you can win. That’s it.” 

You’re at a loss, you have no other member you could ask. Matt could never keep a secret, you didn’t know Ethan well enough and there was no way in hell you’d ask- “Want my advice? Parker is your best bet.” 

You shake your head wildly, it takes a moment for your mind to click back into place. “You really want to involve someone else into this? You know what’s at stake, right?” You’re hinting at his secret, Trent shrugs. 

“If anyone is going to know about it, I’d want it to be Parker. He can keep a secret and has no issue in playing dirty if he’s in on it.” You’re suddenly very thirsty, you keep licking your lips for moisture. 

“He doesn’t know who I am.” Not a total lie. 

“Then introduce yourself.” 

You shouldn’t have to do anything, he’s the one not making good on his promise. You made good on your end and in return he’s barely lifting a finger. Maybe it had something to do with not wanting Peter involved due to fear of judgment. Or, maybe he’d be impressed like Trent. 

If you wanted Peter to be a conquest, it couldn’t start by you asking for a favor. That was friend behavior, and you wanted to be anything but friends. This was Trent’s problem, not yours. He doesn’t understand that you can make things difficult for him if he backs out. 

Your tongue is thick and you need water. You have no time for this. 

“Listen, Trent. This is your problem. I held up my end of the bargain, and you have to do yours. I don’t care how you do it, but you’re going to pledge Isaac Barns. If you don’t, I’ll turn shit around and make this the dirty frat, the frat that cheated for first place.” 

Trent held a clenched jaw, you saw nothing but fury in his eyes. “We’ll figure something out. No need to get mouthy.” If you had more time you’d entertain his comment, but it’s clear he’d figure something out. 

You eye the plastic water bottle next to him, snatching it from the side. “And I’m taking this, talk to me when you have a plan, Simpson!” When his door slams shut, it rings in your ears. 

You feel every muscle in your legs move while you walk, and within minutes it seemed like everything got brighter. A vibration washes down the back of your thigh, you slap around, it’s your phone. A single text. 

‘friend?’ 

You’ve been missing too long, one way to stop the questions. 

‘Finding Harvey…’ the response was a keyboard smash. 

Blinking harsh, the room feels like it’s blending together. You’ve never felt this way, it’s like the entire house is moving underneath your feet. The floor waves you into the crowd, everything feels like it’s slow motion, yet sped up at the same time. 

“Hey!” You don’t know who it is, it’s a stranger, his voice sounds distorted. You shake your head clear, and step right by him. You’re on a mission and can’t be sidetracked, things are hitting quickly and you need to find Harvey to explain plans have taken a very sharp left. 

A spin of bodies, you find one that stands out. You catch her shoulders. 

“Lindsey!” You fight for the words, they’re like butter. “Have you seen Harvey Guyn?” 

She’s fucking plastered, a slur of letters string out. “... hall.. wine… yeah! haha…” A gasp when she sees a friend across the house, you’re forgotten in a second. Putting your faith in her, you take careful steps, slapping your hands on the wine closet and tugging it open.

“Harvey! You in here? Lindsey said you were-” there was no chance to finish, Harvey was busy doing it for you. His head was thrown back on the wall tiles, a guttural moan ripped from his throat. Wrapped around his fist was a tight hold of black hair, to help Christine Kiko keep his dick swallowed down.

“Oh shit,” you slam the door on them, standing in shock for a few seconds. It wasn’t about him hooking up with her, he could do what he wanted. But it wasn’t everyday you saw something like that in person, and you had to give credit to Christine, she was taking it like a champ. 

It gave you an out for the night, you were too high for anything but breathing. 

Thank god for Christine Kiko. And really bless her for catching up with you in record time spurting apologies while wiping her mouth clean. “I know, I know, you guys were hooking up, but-” 

You stop her sorry, “how’d you know?” She rakes her long nails through her hair to untangle it, it comes out clean instantly. “My dad is super simping for his dad and we vacationed together this year so he had me try and make Harvey happy so he could tell his dad they should do business.” 

Christine has no idea how fucked up that sounds, “what would he have done if you were his son?” She doesn’t miss a beat, “Harvey swings both ways, doesn’t he?” 

Music shakes your feet, Christine’s hair looks soft. It’s black and pin-straight, you reach out, you comb your fingers through without a hint of struggle. “Wow, you take such good care of your hair.” 

“Rice water, you’re welcome.” She looks back at the door, “I need some things to finish up, but um, you feeling alright? It looks like it’s settling in.” It is. You’re busy twisting the cap on your water bottle, the small ridges skate across your thumb to create a soothing repetition. “Yeah.” 

It makes her smile, “yeah? You should go outside, the trees look fucking awesome, even when it’s dark.” You thank her for the idea, and stand still for a little too long after Christine retreats back to the wine closet. You think it’s your brain trying to remember how to walk, you blame the bass reverberating off the flooring. 

The second you’re able to actually pick your feet up, you move three steps before noticing it feels like you have lead boots on. You clomp towards the couches, perched on the side, sitting pretty, was your best friend. 

Making eye contact, you replay what just happened. You can’t stop it, it’s uncontrollable, bubbling from your throat, you laugh. Loudly. The longer you laugh, the more intense it gets. Ally has no idea what’s going on, but you assume the giggle is contagious. 

“What! Tell me!” You’re trying, but you can’t catch your breath. Each time you try to push more than two words out, you’re back to laughing so hard your shoulders shake. There’s only one reason you’re finding this so funny, you try to collect yourself. “I…” Another round, Ally’s right with you; you think she’s just excited to see what’s got you so giddy. 

“Okay, okay. Christine Kiko gave me some shrooms, and they, like, just hit. Also, I just caught her sucking Harvey’s dick.” Ally sputters, “what?!” A hand covers her mouth, the imagery catching up to her. “Oh my god!” You nod, she said it better than you could. “And you saw this?!” It’s like the idea is unbelievable to her. “Uh huh, right in front of me.” 

Ally presses the hand covering her mouth, to her cheek. A moment of silence, until she starts to laugh just like you did. You almost copy, until she stops and gives you an ironclad look, “wait, did you say mushrooms?” 

You pretend your mind is exploding. “I’m experiencing things I couldn’t explain right now.” Ally’s hair looks almost as soft as Christine’s. You grab a thick piece, breaking it into thirds and start to braid. It feels like rope, your fingers turn into a ball of yarn, fumbling into one useless clump.

“Are you okay? Matty and I were about to go upstairs.” Your eyes flash towards the stairs on instinct, then you're back at her. “Coming back down?” Ally grins and sends you a wink, “not if I give him a reason not to.” She drops her grin, “unless you need company, in that case, I’m here for you.” 

Just because you chose to spend your night tripping, it doesn’t mean Ally has to ditch bedtime with her boyfriend. Wouldn’t that be an incredibly selfish thing to do? “I don’t need a trip sitter, I have myself. And Christine. Also, have you seen Prince?” 

“Uh, no. He went off with Rocco the second we got here.” Rocco, the second you hear his name, you think of his hair, how does one achieve an afro? Would it be wrong to ask?

“Cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt.” Ally eyes you, she’s trying to make sure you’re fully okay before she pulls Matt upstairs. You flash a smile, it’s enough to have her drop her shoulders in relief. “You always have me, you know where I’ll be.” 

“And I am so, so grateful for you, Ally Storm.” Because, you are. In your opinion, mushrooms make you emotional. You went from laughing to appreciative in one minute, suddenly you’re hugging your best friend while holding back tears. “You are so kind, and patient, and nice, and, like, so super supportive to me.” 

Ally squeezes you right back, “you should do drugs more often, I’m loving the praise.” You pull back to wink at her, “it’s only cause you’re so great. Go do your boyfriend, since I can’t get any tonight.” 

“You think sex on shrooms would be good?” The idea hadn’t occurred, but thinking about it makes you agree with her. “Sex on hallucinogens? That’s boyfriend behavior.” Ally pats your arm, “next time, invite me. I’ll let you know how it is.” 

A twinkle in her eye appears, you dread what’s about to happen. “Sup, slugger?” The arm around you is entirely too heavy, but oddly comforting. Like a weighted blanket. “She took mushrooms.” You nod, Matt rubs your shoulder, you almost purr. “Having fun?” Normally, you have a love hate relationship with Matt. You both love to hate each other, but not seriously. Not that it’s been said, but you know Matt would protect you with anything in him if needed. 

Tonight, right now, Matt is a solid force. “Permission to hug?” Ally’s eyes widen, she almost doubles down on the sentiment of doing drugs more often. “You wanna full on, front touch me?” Nevermind, Matt just ruined it, like he ruins everything. “Not anymore, you ruined it.” 

“Oh, no, no, no. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Before you can try and dodge it, Matt’s got you in his hold. It’s very obvious he’s doing it for the pure enjoyment of annoying you, it’s almost endearing. Almost. You’d fight better at shoving him away but he’s got a warmth radiating from his chest and into yours. 

Peter watches you bump hips across the room with Paul’s girlfriend, your fingers pull at her hair. A wild look crosses her face, two of you giggling.

“I didn’t know she was Ally’s friend.” Ethan scratches at his arm, Peter’s guard goes up. He knows why he’s surprised to know you were the friend in question, he doesn’t know why Ethan thinks so too. 

Ethan shrugs and asks Peter about something, he can’t focus. “You know her?” 

“Yeah, that’s my bio girl.” 

Peter felt constricted, he doesn’t know why. “Wait, what? That’s my freshman.”

Ethan stares at the side of Peter’s head. “She’s not a freshman.” Peter sneers at his friend, “yeah, no shit.” Ethan kisses his teeth, “I invited her to the party.” He doesn’t know why, but Peter feels slightly challenged. 

“So did I.” His arms cross over his chest, he mumbles the rest. “On the first day.” 

“Funny. When I asked she said she had no plans.” 

Peter can feel his jaw clench, he wants to kind of fucking punch him, if he’s being honest. And that makes him even more upset, because why is he so threatened? Ethan may have an inkling that his best friend wants you more than he does, but he also wants him to know he could have competition. 

“Funny.” It’s clear Peter did not find it funny. 

“She’s cool. You know, witty, kind, pretty…” Peter’s doing what he can to keep himself from walking away, he wants to scream that he had eyes on you first. But that’s an insane thought, only one that could be casted by a witch. 

“She’s difficult and entitled.” 

All Ethan hears is ‘she’s fucking perfect for me.’ And his mind was made up, you were no longer someone he’d pursue. You’re all Parker’s, because he wants you. Even if he won’t admit it, yet.

“So, you have no issue with me moving in on that?” Peter’s a little too quiet, choosing to nurse on his beer in hand. “Do what you want, man.” He finishes his drink, he looks back up at you, sharing a warm embrace with Paul. 

“Cause, I don’t mind leaving it alone, if you want.” It takes a second, but Peter lightly shrugs. No words needed to be said, it told Ethan everything he needed to know. “You saw her first, it’s only fair.” It’s tiny, and it’s a microflash, but Peter grinned. What was understood, didn’t need to be explained. 

Heavy steps found themselves at a familiar face.

“My roommate ditched me and this floor looks like a pirate ship.” You point down for good measure, Ethan’s a good sport and looks with you. “Is it moving?” 

You nod quickly, glad he too can see the shifting boards. Ethan’s sweater catches your attention, it looks soft. By default he looks like a teddy bear, you can’t hold yourself back, latching yourself to the cashmere you run your hands over his back. 

“It’s so soft.” 

Ethan laughs, he has no issue returning the love. You melt under his touch, everything is so warm. “I can feel your hands.” Your lab partner knows exactly what’s going on, “yeah? What’d you take, X?” 

You pull back to spread pixie dust from your fingertips, “magic mushrooms.” Lights flash in cohesion with the music, you’re awe at the sharp beauty. Swirls of color cloud your vision, loud bass rings your ears. Vibrations flow from your toes up to your knees, a circle of laughter around you is contagious. 

You can’t stop the giggles, you weren’t sure who was laughing or why but it seemed so fitting. 

You throw your head back, the room spins and you squeal when your waist is held tight. 

“Ethan!” You hug him again, you can’t stop patting his sweater. “Wanna do some shots?” Ethan shakes his head, “no, you want some water.” You stop, “oh my god, yeah, that sounds so good.” Your lower back is nudged, you’re guided into the kitchen where you see a blur of motion. 

Stumbling, your back collides into another body. You spin quickly, you can’t believe it’s taken this long to see him. 

“Peter, hi!” 

Your arms loop around his back, you pull him tight to you and sigh. He’s broader than Ethan, but his shirt can’t match Ethan’s sweater. Peter feels oddly frozen, you shuffle into him further, an awkward pat is granted to the middle of your back. “Hi.”

“No, no, like this.” You fix the placement, it’s like he’s never given a hug in his entire life. Peter’s offering no warmth, it feels like he’s just allowing you to have this moment. You give him an unsure glance when you pull back, “I’ll make you better, don’t worry.” 

You’re stopped before you could try and teach Peter a proper hug. “Let’s not hug, Parker.” You blink wildly at your lab partner, before looking back at Peter, he has an unimpressed gaze on Ethan. “No hugs? You don’t like hugs?” 

It’s unacceptable, you pull at Ethan’s arm. “Here, show him how it’s done.” Ethan tries to shake his head, you loop around his waist tightly. “See, Peter? This is how you hug.” 

“I know how to hug.” 

You smile and nudge away from the cashmere, your arms open wide. “Okay, show me.” 

“No.” 

A frown takes over, since he’s being mean, you can too. 

“Fine. I don’t like your haircut, how about that?” Peter lacks the reaction you want him to give, “thank you.” You narrow your eyes at him, “Christine should’ve given you the mushrooms instead, you’re kinda grumpy.” 

Ethan pushes you back, “okay, D.A.R.E. Water.” You took the bottle and looked between the two friends. “Be honest, did you guys know they were hooking up?” 

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, you had the urge to rub it out. Ethan slapped your hand down. “Who?” You hold a finger up to pause the conversation, water has never tasted so clear. 

“Mmm…” you blink awake. “Harvey and Christine. Did you think he wasn’t planning on me finding out? Was he fully prepared to try and bang me after he got head from another girl? Cause, I don’t think so.” 

A song you haven’t heard before plays, it sends waves of warmth over your skin. 

Ethan shrugs, “sounds like Harvey, yeah.” 

You jeer around the plastic bottle, “boo.” Peter’s short circuiting in his brain. You were hooking up with Harvey? The pieces were muddling. His Harvey? That guy sucks. Peter reacts subconsciously, grabbing whatever you handed him. An empty water bottle, you smile, “thanks!” He grunts before tossing it in the kitchen sink. 

“This party would be so much better if Taylor Swift was playing.” 

It takes everything in Peter not to roll his eyes, Ethan one ups him in a second. 

“Which album?” 

You gasp, Peter swears he sees a sparkle in your eyes. For a split second he regrets not asking you the same thing. “Any of them! Do you like her too?” 

Peter thought his best friend read between the lines from their earlier conversation. He assumes he didn’t.  

“She’s alright, I have a few of her vinyls.” Record scratch, Peter just lost you. Your hand grabbed Ethan’s shoulder, you leaned in closer and gave him doe eyes. “No way, I don’t believe you. Which ones?” 

Ethan laughs, “I have them in my room, swear to god. I like her sister albums.” 

Peter watches your hand slide down his sleeve until you latch around his wrist, “show me.” Ethan shrugs, “alright, we can-” Peter steps in front of him, the path blocked. 

“Keznek.” As in, you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, right?

“Parker.” As in, do you really think that low of me?

A third name is brought into the mix, Peter looks down, you’re smiling big at him and for a second he feels like he’s smiling back. 

“Who’s that?” 

You point at yourself, “me.” 

He finally has your name, it’s fitting. He doesn’t think he’s ever thought a name could fit a person, until he heard yours. A weird urge to compliment it tugs at him, he buries it down. Witch. 

Attention back on Ethan, “you swear you have them?” He’s almost offended you’d ask, “promise.” You look to Peter, “can you confirm?” Peter sucks in a breath through his teeth, he shakes his head slowly. “I can’t.” 

The answer is obvious, “I have to verify, if you’re telling the truth you’ll win cool points forever.” Plan impeded, the chapter president just walked through the kitchen, a gleam in the wolves eye. His hand clapped Peter’s chest, the light abuse caused you to frown. 

“Nice to see you’re making friends with Parker.” 

You flip the script, a fake smile. “I’m sorry, who are you?” Ethan laughed behind you and was immediately silenced with a harsh glare from Trent. “Watch it, Keznek.” Peter’s face hardened at the tone. 

“You’re taking my advice, I love to see it.” 

Peter has his eyes on you, it takes strength to ignore it. “Wanna talk about advice? You should play some Taylor Swift.” Trent scoffs, “get fucked.” Peter speaks up before you have a chance, “hey, woah.” The head of the house wasn’t about to be talked to like he was a chapter officer, even if he was. His response was pushing Peter back and walking away. 

“I understand why he’s the president,” you watch the room swirl together. “He’s super mature.” Smacking your lips, you blindly reach for Ethan. “Do you see these fucking lights right now?” Peter glances around, it’s the same party lighting they use each time. 

“Are they dragging?” You focus in, when you move your head slow trails of light follow. “Yeah, woah.” Peter clears his throat, the sound cupped around your ears. “Your friend here, freshman?” You spin, “who’s friend?” 

Peter looks at Ethan for a second, you’re busy trying to pull at a loose thread on Peter’s sleeve. “How are you getting home tonight?” You twirl the strand around your finger, the tension snaps it. When the blood returns to your fingertip, it warms your entire hand. 

“Dunno yet. I’ll figure it out later.” You look down at your feet, they seem like they’re a million miles away from you. The floor shifts underneath you, it makes your knees shake, you clutch Ethan’s arm to balance yourself. “Pirate ship?” You nod, “ahoy, matey.” 

Peter shifts when you take him in, more or less just focused on his face. He stands a little taller, then questions it, because why would he care about how tall you perceived him to be? “Peter,” he waits. Pointing behind you, “wanna do a shot? Ethan refused, like he hates me or something.” You can’t stop looking at him, the lights dance over his face, casting him in an angelic glow like no other. 

“You think mixing shots with mushrooms is a good idea?” You move around, like your body couldn’t stand holding still. “Just one.” One wouldn’t hurt, and it’s not like he’s doing it for you or anything, he planned on having a shot anyways. You were just another person to pour for. 

“Sure. Pick the poison.” You answer quickly, an honest response. “Rat.” Ethan starts to laugh and it’s contagious, you start giggling too. You don’t know why he’s laughing, but it feels good to have someone to laugh with. Peter tilts his head to the ceiling with a heavy sigh, “no, freshman. I meant booze.” 

“Oh! Not vodka, I hate vodka, I can taste it in anything, even when Ally mixes it with Hawaiian Punch. So, please never give me vodka. I hate it.” 

Peter smirks at Ethan, “so, vodka?” You sputter, you wonder if you confused love and hate in your speech. You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no, Peter. I hate vodka, please don’t give me any.” 

Ethan slides a bottle down to Peter, it’s a party classic. Peter waits on you, “this good enough for you, princess?” It was sarcastic as all hell, but it still made you feel warm and fuzzy. “Yes, prince.” Peter just shook his head while he poured them up. 

Raised glasses, you wait for the toast. “Here’s to A’s, C’s, and double D’s.” The words made you send a glare to Peter, it seemed like he was waiting for it. “You know, like grades?” It’s not what he meant, all three of you knew it, but you couldn’t fight him on it either. It still works, a cheer is a cheer.

Normally, you’d find Fireball warming, tonight, you find it burning. You almost choke on it, holding it in your mouth for longer than you should’ve, the instant sting had caught you off guard. “Jesus Christ, freshy. Swallow.” It’s like you need a reminder, you’re able to take it down; a shutter takes over your body. 

You turn to your lab partner, a sour look on your face. “Why did you let me do that? You’re supposed to be smart.” Ethan holds his hands up, you’re not about to throw him under the bus. “Hey, I tried. You’re the one that only wanted Parker’s opinion.” 

SATURDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 9TH. CATHEDRAL HALL. 

Peter was dragged out of his bed a little too early for a saturday in his opinion. He woke up to Trent hanging over his bed, poking him harshly on his shoulder. “The fuck do you want, Simpson?” If Peter had to guess what time it was by the shadow in his room, it was pushing early morning. 

“Get up. We need to go somewhere.” Peter blinked quickly, dragging a heavy hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Now?” Trent started to stab, Peter slapped his hand away. “The fuck, man?” His president wasn’t playing around. “Get the fuck up, Parker.” 

Only when Peter sat up did Trent back away, “don’t wake anyone up. I need you downstairs in five.” When his door was shut, Peter squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself to taste the idea of sleep one more time. Then, he got up, tugged on sweatpants and a hoodie, and silently crept downstairs. 

Peter tried to ask what was going on, and where they were going, but Trent just kept saying, ‘you’ll see,’ and ‘shut the fuck up and trust me.’ It wasn’t until he was walking up the steps to Cathedral hall, he had an odd feeling, a slight buzz in his stomach. It heightened when they took a turn for the girls section. 

“Hey, Simpson, if this is a planned parenthood thing-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Parker.” Out of nowhere he stopped, Peter almost ran into him. Trent banged on an decorated door, a whiteboard with Ally’s name, the other one had been swiped, the name unclear. “I thought Ally was at the house?” Trent beat the door harder, “she is.” 

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, he was about to ask, yet again, why they were there. The answer came when the door flew open, eyes squinting at the hallway lighting, stands you. “You’re not Ally.”

Peter’s slightly surprised you’re home, he had no idea when or how you left last night. He also doesn’t really care. 

“No shit,” you lightly scoffed when Trent shoved his way in, your shoulder hitting the doorframe. “Good morning to you, too, dick.” Peter gently walked in, making sure not to bump against you. It made you smile lightly, “good morning, Peter.” He nodded back, “morning.” Trent bounced on Ally’s bed, it produced a loud creak. “No wonder she’s always at the house.” 

You sat on the edge of your own bed, gesturing to the spot next to you or your desk chair for a seating option for Peter; he chose the chair. Peter looked over your face while you woke up, your eyes puffy from being rubbed at, you stretched with arms over your head, a peek of skin showed your stomach. 

“You look sick.” It snapped you from your daze, you frowned at Trent. “Thanks, it’s my natural beauty.” Trent pulled a sour look, “that’s what girls look like without makeup?” Peter doesn’t really notice a difference, and that’s not a bad thing. “It’s too early for your shit, Simpson.” He looks towards you, you poke your tongue out at Trent, a childish moment to prove you had someone on your side and not his. 

Peter watches you lean back, velvety thighs on display. A hand goes behind your back, a plush resurfaced. Spider-Man sits on your lap, arms wrapped tight around his waist. He thinks it’s a squishmellow of some sort, he remembers he hooked up with a girl last year with at least twenty on her bed. She didn’t have a Spider-Man one though. 

“How are you feeling?” You look tired, maybe a little hungover. Little to no energy. Peter thinks it’s the comedown of your previous night's choices. You grin, holding Spider-Man a little tighter. “Like a champ, you?” 

Trent scoffs, “enough bullshit, wench. You know why we’re here.” Peter feels the hair on his neck stand up, Trent can be a prick, but he really has a vendetta against you. “Jesus Christ, Simpson. She’s a human being.” It’s the bare minimum, but it still makes you feel warm and fuzzy. “It’s okay, Peter. He’s just mad he can’t satisfy women.” 

Trent flies up, “fuck you! I’m doing you a fucking favor and-” Peter stands up just as quick, pushing Trent back down with a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, Simpson.” With Peter as mediator, you don’t worry about standing up for yourself. 

“You’re not doing me a favor, I’m doing you a favor! You’re the one that couldn’t hold up your end of the bargain, you asshole!” Trent fights against Peter’s hold, “you’re the one that came to me!” You throw your Spider-Man to the side and step up, Peter backs up against your chest, literally using his body as a barrier. “You’re the one that involved Peter!” 

Peter shoves hard on Trent’s chest, it sends him flying back into Ally’s bed. You step back, Peter’s doing his best to look between the two of you. It’s exasperated, “involved me in what?” It goes silent, you weren’t going to say anything, you were the one who told Trent to fix it. Trent’s the one that brought in Peter, Trent’s the one to surprise you with a visit. 

Trent’s breathing is harsh, he’s more worked up than you are. You don’t know if it’s the situation or your comments, but you’re not saying a word until he does. “Look, your friend here, she’s the one that got us the intel on the other frats.” Trent’s a lot more gentle this time around, you think it may have something with the way Peter’s looking at him, daring him to try and make a move. 

Peter glances back at you, you look away, a poster more interesting. “She needs something in return and I can’t help her. I told her to ask you and I’d look the other way, but someone had to be difficult.” 

“I held up my end, Simpson. You do the same.” Trent huffed, “I fucking told you-” he lowered his voice at Peter’s glare, “- that I couldn’t do anything. I told you to ask Parker and you were the one that stormed out all pissed. I brought him here, isn’t that good enough?” 

Your arms cross, no, it wasn’t good enough. “I never wanted to involve Peter, I told you that last night. I just wanted you to figure out a way to fix it.” Trent throws his arm out at Peter, “I did! He’s fucking here! He’s gonna fucking fix it!” 

Peter feels like he’s going crazy, “fix what?” His chapter president rubs at his forehead, a heavy sigh. “You need to pledge… Fuck, what was his name?” You roll your eyes, you have little to no hope. “Isaac Barns.” Trent nods, “yeah, him. Parker, all I need you to do is pledge him and this-” an allover gesture to your body, “-goes away.” 

Peter takes a second to let it sink in, he almost laughs, but it seems a little too real to be a joke. “Dirty rushing, really? You do know what’s at stake if I say yes, right?” Trent’s jaw looks like it’s about to break into a thousand pieces with the tension it’s under. “Yes, Parker, I know what I’m asking.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “right, so you understand why I have to say no.” 

You jump in, your hand on Peter’s arm, pulling him to face you. He’s staring at the placement, it’s sending a burn up and down, radiating heat. You pull away before he can shake your hold off, “please?” Peter steps away from Trent with a final warning glance, “tell me, freshman. Are you in a sorority?” You frown, “no.” He nods, like he already knew the answer. “Right. And are you aware of what could happen to me if I agree?” You have an idea, and it tells you it wouldn’t be good. “That’s if you get caught, you have Trent’s go ahead.” 

Peter laughs, he doesn’t give a shit Trent’s right there. “You think I trust him to have my back? He’d throw me under the bus in a second.” Peter doesn’t know what you know, you look in Trent’s eyes when you respond, making it clear that that would never happen. “Then trust me, and trust me when I say he won’t.” 

Trent looks away from Peter, he makes the connection in a second. 

“What do you have on Simpson?” You sputter, you feel a flush of warmth coat you. “I’m not like… some blackmailer or anything.” Trent shouts out from the bed, “ha!” Your eyes flash to the same poster from before, nothing has changed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. President. Do you want to share with the peanut gallery?” Peter raises his hands, displeased, “don’t insult me and ask for a favor in the same breath.” 

“Look, Parker, just fucking pledge the kid, alright? It stays between us. Don’t think I don’t have shit to lose by letting this happen. I have the same risk you do.” Peter disagrees, “you’re not the one pledging.” Trent stands up, “but I’m cutting whoever she tells me. We’re both playing dirty.” 

Peter’s trying to think about it logically, he just doesn’t understand why. You have all the answers, they’re only there because of you. “Why?” You pause, “what, this guy your boyfriend or something?” You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no. Not at all. He doesn’t even know I’m doing this. He’s just a person I know who’s rushing, that’s it.” 

Peter kisses his teeth and shakes his head in disbelief, “yeah, I don’t know about that.” Total defeat, you were at a loss. Your answer was Trent, if Peter wouldn’t do it, Trent needed to find someone who would. “Trent,” it comes out as a whine, a defiant toddler pointing at Peter. 

“C’mon, Parker. Think about this. You’re smarter than your own good.” Peter sizes his president up, he really doesn’t like what he’s implying. “And I’m supposed to trust you?” You push on Peter’s arm, “no, you’re supposed to trust me. Trent won’t touch you, no matter your answer. Even though I really wish it was yes.” 

Peter’s doing his best to push down all emotion, because if he wasn’t, he’d find out that he wanted to say yes. Just because you asked him. And that’s not who he is, or what he does. He’s known you for a week and he’s about to put his entire academic career at hand, it’s dehumanizing to himself. Witch. 

“Fine.” You cheer, Peter’s whipped into a side hug. He claws your arms away from him, “I didn’t say yes. I’ll think about it, okay?” You nod, it’s enough for you, “thank you so much, Peter. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

Trent throws his hands up, “hello? You’re welcome.” You sneer at him, “you did nothing but put it all on Peter.” Peter tilts his head, he didn’t think about it like that, but you’re right. “You’re insufferable and will never find a man to put up with that.” That was a blow, a harsh one at that. You’re pretty good at brushing things off, or firing back, but Trent went a little too far. He hit that deep down, hidden, insecurity. 

You just really wanted to go back to sleep, the thought of Peter in your room no longer slightly excited you. You just wanted to be alone. “Jesus fucking Christ, Trent. Who the fuck says shit like that?” You shrug, “it’s obvious he was just giving me constructive criticism.” You try to joke, it doesn’t really work. 

Peter looks down at you, it’s like you sunk down into the floor. Trent made you feel small. “It’s not funny, nothing about that was funny. That was fucked up, Simpson, the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s not an ounce of remorse on his face either, “sorry.” Peter wants to break his arm, instead he shoves him towards the door, nothing near gentle. “You’re a fucking dick.” 

“Yeah, and you just wanna stick yours in her.” If he wouldn’t be at grounds of expulsion from the frat, Peter would’ve laid him the fuck out right then and there. “Shut the fuck up, Simpson. Just leave it alone.” He does, and throws the door open before parting you with a middle finger. 

Peter pauses at the door, his eyes on your figure. It’s not like he cares about you or anything, Trent was a dick, an uncalled for amount of mean. “Don’t listen to him, he’s still reeling from that ‘can’t please a woman,’ comment.” You give a small smile, “thanks, Peter.” 

Peter’s hand holds the door handle, a tight lipped grin. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he just has to tell you. Clearing his throat, “hey, freshman?” You perk up, he finds himself looking down at your mouth, eyes trailing towards your collarbone. Peter stops himself, it’s not about that right now. 

“You’re not… you’re not totally insufferable.” 

Something about it makes you explode, you can’t stop the cheek hurting grin. For a second, Peter matches it. “Are you saying I’ll find a man to put up with me?” Peter shrugs a shoulder, “the world is pretty big, freshman. There’s gotta be at least one.” 

At least Peter won’t think you’ll die alone, he might even be at your side. “Thanks, Peter. For everything. And for thinking about it, it means a lot to me.” Peter closing the door on himself, he briefly pauses, “just because I said I’d think about it, doesn’t mean I’ll do it.” You nod, “I know.” 

“Good. I just didn’t want you to get disappointed.” Your eyes brighten, “you care about disappointing me?” 

It goes unanswered, instead, Peter takes a deep inhale. “I’ll see you around.” With that, you were alone with Spider-Man once more. 

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12TH, ESU DINING HALL.

The plastic chair next to Peter slides out, nickel legs scratch the tile underneath them. 

“So, how are we feeling about a verdict?” 

Peter doesn’t even flinch, he takes a bite of his sandwich. It was better before it was ruined by the presence of a demonic presence. Your hands drum on the table like you’re building yourself up for a yes, Peter thinks it’s funny you find him so easy. 

“It’s been two days, freshman.” You huff dramatically, “not a freshman.” 

“You act like one.” 

This is the part where you question your attraction towards him, it’s proof to the saying ‘you can’t pick who you love.’  You lean closer, it’s not about semantics. Peter pulls back when you get too close, he must be scared of another hug. 

“It’s a pretty easy answer, Peter. If you won’t do it, fine. But your president better figure out another way and quickly. We already have the PNM list, you make the choice sunday.” 

It isn’t his problem but the more he knows about it, the more it becomes his. Peter can’t deny the curiosity, for a witch you have no real magic, beyond what you’ve casted on him. 

Peter sighs, “alright, explain it to me. Sell it to me.” You sit straighter and fix your hair, clearing your throat you interlock your fingers on the table and begin to pitch. “I’m going on the ski trip this year, yay you.” You pout dramatically, “I needed money because my boyfriend isn’t a member of the frat and I wasn’t budgeted in.” Your words were a nod towards Ally, as if she couldn’t pay for it herself if she needed to. 

Peter wants to bang his head against the table, there’s no fucking way he had to spend a week with you in a house. That’s constant communication. That’s hell. 

“We bet every year on a member that makes it in, if we win, we get the money. I upped the stakes this year, and I know someone who signed up to rush.” You smile and poke at his arm, it’s solid. Peter looks down at your finger, you pull back and finish. 

“That’s where you come in. You pick him.” 

Peter crosses his arms over his chest while he tilts his chair back, he’s mulling it over in his mind. He looks over your face while he pokes at his cheek with his tongue, if that’s his concentration face, you hope to make him think a lot more. 

“What do I get out of it?” In Peter’s mind, it’s a bit unfair. He’s putting his reputation, spot in the frat and possibly academic probation on the line. And he gets nothing out of it. He doesn’t even want anything in return, or nothing he can think of at the moment at least. It still feels like he has to bargain for something, he’d regret it later. 

You try to hide the shock, you didn’t think Peter was that kind of guy. You didn’t know him, but you didn’t take him for a sexual favors type of person. You wanted to hook up with him, sure. But when he felt like it was owed to him, it felt icky. 

“Oh,” you look around the room, your voice lowers. The deal took a dirty turn. “What, um…” You look back at him before escaping eye contact, you don’t feel as bold. “What did you have in mind?” 

You didn’t hide the shock well, Peter’s chair is back on four legs with a slam. “No, god no.” Okay, he wasn’t asking for sex, but god no? Peter worded it wrong, you took it as a personal offense. “Not…” He’s not even going to try and explain that one out, he ditches the part where he would try to say ‘not that I wouldn’t have sex with you, because I would, but…’

“I’m not asking for you to fuck me, I just meant I’m putting a lot on the line for a girl who assaulted me and a guy I barley like.” Assault is a harsh word, you’d fight him on it but the last part mattered more. You could give him the dirt on Trent, he said if anyone knew he would prefer it to be Peter. 

“Wanna know what I have on Trent?” You have his attention, suddenly Peter looks very interested in what you have to say. He nibbles on his bottom lip for a second before nodding, for this part, you really lean in. 

“He failed out. The school sent him a letter saying he was dismissed, he had a fourteen average.” Peter’s trying to connect the dots, for once, he truly had no idea what was going on in the frat house. “His dad donated eighty-six grand, anonymously, and the next day? Bam. Reenlisted and all roles reinstated, like nothing ever happened.” Peter’s not surprised one bit, it’s very on brand for the Simpson family, to pay their way out of trouble. At least he can say you didn’t leave him empty handed, it’s good ammo to have in the back of his pocket. 

“I’ll consider your request more seriously.” It’s something, and you’ll celebrate it, you pull him into a hug, just for a quick second to squeal in his ear. You’re shrugged off in a second, you don’t care. “Thank you! See, I just knew I picked the good one!” 

The good one? 

You’re up and pushing the seat in, your bag hung over a shoulder. “I’ll see you friday?” In relation to the weekly party, he nods slowly, like you’re an idiot. “I do live there, yes.” You’re unfazed, you’ve come to realize he’s just a mildly grumpy person. It’s mostly cute. 

“Will you let me know then, is that enough time?” Peter will do anything to have you leave, he wants five minutes of peace with his lunch before he has thermodynamics. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” Your eyes sparkle, he has to look back at his plate. “Thank you, Peter. You’re the bestest.” 

You really, truly are a witch. Because his sandwich tasted a whole lot sweeter when you walked away. It turned into sog the second you placed yourself at Ally and Paul’s table. Ally’s eyes flashing over to his, a grin when he was caught looking your way. He finished in record time, he needed to get out of the room, it was starting to get a little too warm for his comfort. 

Ally started in the second you placed yourself across from her, eyes flashing to where you previously were. “Hanging out with Parker?” You shrug, if it helps getting her off your back, it helps. “He’s cute.” A squeal, she pulls at her boyfriend's arm. “Did you hear that? Matty, ask Parker if he’s into her.” 

Matt crushes a coke can, a burp follows. “No.” Ally’s face scrunches up, “why not?” Matt’s swiping at his phone, you can’t tell what game he’s playing, the glare from the lights are too bad. “Cause it’s not my business, or yours.” Ally pulls away from him entirely, her arms crossed over her chest in a huff. Uh oh, she’s mad. 

“Babe, can you get me a water? My wallet is in my backpack.” When she makes no move, he peeks over, “please? I can’t pause this level.” It’s a huff from his girlfriend, “what? You’re mad at me now? Look, I can’t even ask him if I wanted to, he’s leaving.” You look over your shoulder, Peter’s walking out with headphones stuffed in his ears, blind to the outside noise. How lucky. 

“Yeah, good thing you don’t live together or anything, Matt.” It has his total attention, “no need for that hostility, honey. If you want me to ask, I’ll ask.” It’s the right move, and he played right into Ally’s hand. A cluster of kisses to his cheek, “thank you, Matty. Love you.” A smile’s back on his face, his reward was his request being honored. 

The second Ally’s out of earshot you laugh at her boyfriend. “She plays you like a fool.” 

Matt doesn’t care one bit. “Yeah, love makes you do that. You’ll find out, she-devil.” 

You just hope you’re not the fool.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13TH, QUEENS, NEW YORK.

A six car pileup on the bridge caught Spider-Man’s attention, adrenalin courses his veins, any traces of that six egg omelet from Linda weighing him down vanishes. A screech of his name, he clocks it instantly. A woman, barely fourty. Spider-Man knows who it is, it’s the reporter that called him a Spider-Menace last week. Oh, how the mighty fall. 

A head tilt at the woman, she’s panicking. Thrashing in her seat, crumpled between glass and leather. She’s begging him for help, he watches for a moment before speaking over the screams. “Calm down, I’m gonna help you. Just felt like being a menace.” Tears, she speed runs apologies, tells him it’s just a job and her son loves him. 

“Alright, alright, come here.’ A grown woman, clinging to his hip is almost comedic. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Spider-Man doesn’t need to hear it a million times, it doesn’t mean much to him after the first one. “You’re alright, just wait over here for the fire department, okay?” 

There’s countless other shouts, he’s already running back up the freeway. Spider-Man has no plans to stay in the city after this, no, instead Peter is going to take the long train back and listen to a podcast. But right now, Spider-Man has a job to do. 

CATHEDRAL HALL. 

Three copies of the same page, everyone calls a name.

Ally starts, “I call Conner Frise.”

 Prince next, “Sam Mason.”  

Ally pokes your shoulder, “c’mon, what’s your pick?” 

You pretend to think about it, two pairs of eyes waiting expectantly. You grin, “Isaac Barns.” Confidence spills, “and I’m gonna win.” 

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter’s clouded in infatuation. If he was animated, he’d have hearts and stars swirling around his head. Maybe it was the booze that had him feeling so loose, for once dropping the urge to push you away, and to pull you closer. Or maybe it was you. All he could smell was your perfume, it choked him in the right ways. Something he’d be smelling long after you were gone, something that made him want to breathe in against your neck. 

You haven’t left him alone all night, circling back over and over until all he could think about was you, you, you. 

He didn’t know a neck could be so pretty, how he’d kiss over your pulse and hope it would race as much as his. And he never really noticed hair, until it framed your face. Peter was never much on picking up sounds, but now he’s heard your laugh, the one he pulled from you, he’d never be able to unhear it. 

And your voice. It whispered a song into his ears, it sent him leaning in, begging for more of the inflections. Peter didn’t care what you were talking about, as long as you were speaking to him, he’d listen. He wasn’t one to notice clothes, only when they fit just right or left little to the imagination. But on you, everything was your color. 

Peter can’t think of anything else but your lips, they’re puffed while you spin words. Velvet tumbles produced, hints of a smile around your ‘S’s. It’s like you don’t notice him getting closer, as he steps forward, you step back. You weren’t trying to escape, it was subconscious, you were making more room for him, you don't realize he doesn't want space. 

“It was really kind of sad, because the whole time you were rooting for the main character,” he’d asked you about a book he saw in your room. He doesn’t really care about it. 

“Right,” one step closer. 

“But then it all comes down at the end and you realize he really wasn’t a good guy,” Peter takes another step, your back brushes the brick wall. Little pricks dig into your shirt, it doesn’t stop you. 

“And then?” 

You smile, “this is where it gets good,” Peter leans his hand on the wall next to your head, you make no notice. “It is.” It’s more of a statement than a question, he’s relaying it to his own situation. 

“You find out he set up his friend,” it was the twist, you’d been setting it up, but Peter has no reaction. You wonder if he was even listening to you, maybe it would’ve been better if he had read it himself. 

“Are you listening to me? Cause I just kind of just spoiled the whole thing.” 

Peter can’t stop himself, he leans in. His head hangs low, you raise your chin to look in his eyes. How have you still not picked up on his hints? “Why’d he set him up?” You hum, a sparkle forms in your eyes, he was listening. 

“Well, if we're talking about my personal analysis, I think it’s cause-” 

Your lips are pillowy, puffed under his mouth as they’re wrapped around your words. Your skin is warm under his hands, he can feel your hips burning his palms over your clothes. Peter tugs you closer while simultaneously pushing you further into the brick, when you hum into his kiss, he licks your bottom lip. 

Open mouth kisses, your hands tug at the curls on the back of his neck, he’s not one for girls playing with his hair. But you, he wants you to touch wherever you want. He can’t fucking breathe, but he doesn’t care, you’re enough of a breath of fresh air. Peter feels more alive in this moment than he has in a long time. 

You pull from him, puffs of air tumble. Peter’s desperate for more, you’re just so sweet. Wet marks dot from your jaw to your neck, your hands tug at the lapels of his flannel. “Peter,” it’s breathless, he wonders if it’s the kiss or him. 

Hands tuck under your thighs, you gasp as you’re pulled up to equal height on the wall. Your legs loosely straddle his waist, nails digging into his shoulder when he hums over the middle of your throat between gentle bites and smoothing his tongue over the attack. “Fuck,” it’s a whimper, you don’t mean to, but fuck. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have cornered you like this, but what’d you expect looking at him like that? 

Peter retraces his steps, all you can think is that he tastes as sweet as he feels. It was everything you’d been pining for, and more. You were screaming in color, each grip of his hands felt like water paint, soaking deep and spreading. 

Would it be selfish if you wished he felt the same? 

“Parker, you out here?” 

You squeak, your feet hit the ground. Peter’s head is spinning, his instinct to get as far away as possible. “Yeah,” it’s airy. He clears his throat, you look over his face, he’s avoiding eye contact. “Peter,” you feel a jolt when he backs away. A stab when he steps around the corner, you try to follow, he’s quicker. 

You feel everything crumble when you realize he doesn’t want anyone to know he was with you. 

“Where you at? We’re mixing everclear for the PNM’s.” 

“Peter,” it’s on deaf ears. He doesn’t even look at you, how could he kiss you like that and then act like it was nothing? Why would he kiss you like that if it meant nothing? 

“Right here,” you watch his back disappear. “Tequila if we’re evil, beer to make them puke.” His frat brother laughs, “you’re a sick man, Parker.” 

It really, really doesn’t feel nice to be left behind in the cold. Especially when he just made you feel so warm. And it really doesn’t feel right when you want to cry, and it feels humiliating when you give him a grace period, just so you didn’t follow him from the back of the house. Just so no one would see you, just so no one would know what just happened. 

Just so you could keep it to yourself. 

You feel nothing when a shoulder hits yours, your fingers feel hot from the contrast of the breezy outdoors to the crowded, humid room of bodies. Ally’s arm hangs over your neck, you want to scream. 

Peter’s eyes catch your frown, he should’ve done more. But if he doesn’t understand anything, how would his frat brothers? He feels bad, and a little more sober than he should be, a little too sober to have done what he just did. A line of shots, Peter adds an two extra, but he doesn’t add everclear, he chooses Fireball. 

A pink, plastic shot glass slid in front of you. You look up, Peter’s waiting and watching, he raises his own. “Cheers, freshman.” It’s something, he’s waiting on your call, you’re so close and you can’t blow it now. You plaster on a smile and shake Ally’s arm off, you raise it up. 

“Cheers, Parker.” 

Peter must’ve had more than he thinks, because wow, what a gross feeling. 

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter does his best to be a good person, part of that is knowing when you fuck up. And what he did at his party on friday, was a fuck up. It wasn’t that he particularly cared about you, or your feelings, but he could admit that he pulled a shitty move. So shitty he dodged you the rest of the night and left you high and dry with his answer about your favor. 

You didn’t even have a way to try and contact him, other than beating down his door but even you knew that would be a bad idea. Which leads him to now, standing on the front lawn, with thirty two potential pledges. 

Peter’s turn to bid. A terrible idea. But all he could think about was getting back in your good graces and how much it fucking annoyed him to want that. Peter can feel Trent’s eyes burning into him, he takes a step forward, boldness in his chest. 

“I bid Isaac Barns.” 

It would either be the worst or best decision of his life and for whatever reason, you’re worth the gamble.

CATHEDRAL HALL

its.parker requested to follow you.

Your eyes widened, suddenly you’re very awake. Peter’s the one that kissed you, Peter’s the one that walked away, Peter’s the one that ignored you. Peter’s the one that followed you. Mixed messages, but it proved something. It wasn’t his main with ten pictures, it was his personal, his finsta, the one full of his personality. 

You nibble on your bottom lip, it shouldn’t be that easy for him. Tapping on his account you hit the request button, just because you follow him doesn’t mean he gets to follow you. Mind spinning, you replay friday night again. 

The tension eased and multiplied in one action. Peter had made you feel butterflies in the deepest pits of your stomach, when he kissed down your neck, when he wrapped your legs around his waist, when he went in for more, when he kissed you first. 

Even thinking about it makes your cheeks hurt from a grin, you squeal out and kick your feet in your bed. Peter Parker kissed you, and it meant something. It had to, something tells you that Peter doesn’t jump without thinking. 

Peter’s holding his breath while refreshing his page, still no notifications. He’s worried he blew it that night, not that it matters, it was just a kiss. Everyone kisses, if you really think about it, kisses don’t mean much. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

spider.luvr66 requested to follow you. 

If he acts now, he’d be a bit crazy. You hadn’t responded to him, but he doesn’t care. He’ll wait a couple minutes, then respond. It feels like his brain is melting, he’s not supposed to, and doesn’t feel like this. It’s against who he is now. 

But, fuck, you make it difficult for him to not think about you. Peter swears you’re a witch. 

Accept. spider.luvr66 is now following you. 

Follow request accepted, you are now following its.parker.

You sit up, it was quick, you wonder if he was waiting for the notification. It doesn’t matter, you have the Peter Parker bible in your hands, and you were about to do some research. 

You finally had access to his posts, and you were about to scroll through every single one. But the most recent one was the most important of all. A picture of Peter, crossed arms back to back with a slightly familiar face. The caption told you everything you needed to know about Peter. 

‘big brother season.’ 

You had your bid and he posted the proof.

Whatever he did friday was forgiven. That wasn’t who he was, but this, putting himself on the line for you, this was his true character and whether he wanted you to notice that or not, you did.

And it was a bold act for a guy who pretended he didn’t kiss you breathless. 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Find Your Own Happiness

Requested Here!

Pairing: (initial) Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After a falling out with your family, you move to LA and meet Tim Bradford. When he breaks your heart to give his to someone else, you're left completely alone.

Warnings: angst! a tiny bit of fluff, r has a sister, familial reconciliation, only half of a happy ending

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Seven Months Ago

“You’re not listening to me,” you exclaim, failing to keep your voice level. “I’m just asking you to hear me out on why I think this is the right thing to do.”

“Your feelings don’t matter in this,” your mother snaps. “They are dangerous in police work, and if you can’t understand that, you’re more…”

“More what?” you challenge. “Different? Weaker? A failure? All because I want to move to LA and be an LAPD officer.”

“There’s more to it than that,” your dad says.

“There really isn’t.”

You look to your sister and cousins for help, but they sit silently at the table. No one will stand up for you, so you’ll have to give up and accept what your family thinks and wants, or you’ll have to do something for yourself this time.

“I understand wanting me to follow in Dad and Grandpa’s footsteps,” you begin, quieter and softer. “But aren’t I doing that by becoming a police officer? Why does it matter where I police as long as I do?”

“Because our family is here,” your father barks. “The people I, my father, and dozens of other family members have locked away, the victims we’ve helped through over a century are all right here. Running to Los Angeles guarantees that you’ll disappear in the sea of blue patrol cops. You’ll be meaningless there, but you can make a difference here.”

Your jaw drops as pressure builds in your eyes. “You think I’m meaningless? Following my dreams and what I think is the right thing to do makes me meaningless and I’ll disappear into the back of some LAPD directory, that’s what you’re telling me?”

“We’re only trying to do what’s best for you,” someone interjects.

“No!” you yell, turning to see everyone around you. “You’re trying to talk me out of something so that you can brag about me, control me, and make an even bigger name for yourselves! And-“ You pause to laugh, partly because you’re finally seeing your parents' true reason for supporting you for so long and partly to keep yourself from crying. “I’m glad to be the one to tell you this. A police station like the one you want me to waste away in? That is meaningless. This station isn’t big enough to make a real difference in the big picture. Los Angeles? There’s potential there. So, if you don’t want to support me unless you can control me, don’t bother calling.”

As you storm out of your parents’ house with only a day until your first day at the LAPD, you sigh and let the tears you held in roll over your cheeks. Walking to your car, you decide that if the people inside, the people who are supposed to love you no matter what, don’t care, then you don’t either. No one comes out after you, texts to check if you get home safe, and they certainly don’t tell you goodbye before you board the one-way flight to LAX.

Present Day

“If player two – that’s you - was in a TV show, what would it be?” Tim reads. He drops the card and looks at you before he asks, “What is this game?”

You shrug and write your answer on the board. “Lucy said it was fun.”

“Lucy thinks filming documentaries is fun, we can’t trust her judgement. I love you, but this game is stupid.”

You blink at him, then say, “We have to finish this round. What happened to Tim ‘finish what I start and break their spirits’ Bradford?”

“He’s tired of… whatever stupid name this game has.”

Laughing, you watch him write an answer on his miniature whiteboard. When the timer ends, you show your boards to one another.

“Blue Bloods?” you read incredulously.

“Game of Thrones?” he counters in a matching tone.

“I can fight,” you explain as if it’s obvious. “And even if I couldn’t, Oberyn Martell would teach me.”

“You have a boyfriend. I’m sitting right here.”

“A boyfriend who doesn’t wear golden robes, and who thinks I’d be in Blue Bloods.”

“You’re from a family of cops!” he exclaims. “It makes total sense!”

You try to hide how your smile drops at the mention of your family, and it seems to work because Tim checks his chiming phone rather than asking what happened. It’s been over half a year since you last spoke to your family. Close to a year since any of them told you they loved you. You know it’s over at least until you can think of a way to start a conversation without falling into the same argument as before. If you could make an arrest worthy of getting your name in the LA Times, maybe you would have something to show them you were right.

“Is everything okay?” you ask Tim.

He shakes his head, typing quickly. “That UC op I mentioned – with the guy who looks like me? Something came up.”

“Need any help?”

Tim stands, slides his phone in his pocket, and bends at the waist to kiss your forehead. “I have to go to the station and wait for Jake’s phone to ring again. I’ll keep you updated, okay?”

“Okay,” you answer, tipping your head up for a real kiss.

Tim pecks your lips, apologizes, and whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you,” you echo before the door closes behind Tim.

Looking around your empty apartment, you wonder why people who say they love you tend to leave before you’re ready for them to.

Five hours after Tim left, you get a text. Your heart drops at the noise because 2 a.m. messages and being a cop do not go well together. Reaching for your phone, you silently wish that everything and everyone is okay.

Tim Bradford Lucy and I are going somewhere with Dim’s crew. Angela has the info. See you when we get back.

 You know better than to reply, so you type Be safe. I love you and return the phone to its charger. Tim would have told you where they were going if he knew, so you roll over and try to sleep, even though you don’t know where your boyfriend is or what brought you to this moment.

Angela texts you when she leaves Las Vegas. Tim will have more to do, so you don’t expect to see him until tomorrow. Besides, it’s late, and Tim most likely hasn’t slept in the past two days. You open your text thread from him and see the unsent text, then decide to leave it. You can tell him everything in person tomorrow.

It’s after dark, but you’re not sure exactly what time it is when Tim knocks on your front door. He still has greasy gel in his hair and fake tattoos lining his skin. You smile when you see him, but he walks in with no readable expression, and his hands curled into tight fists.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, as you close the door. “Did everything go well?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine and we got the guys,” Tim mumbles. “I- I don’t know how to say this.”

“You can tell me anything, Tim.”

“Lucy broke up with Chris right before we left,” he says. You’re unsure how that’s relevant, but maybe there’s a point to be made. “When we got back, I took her home to drop her off.”

You nod, and Tim runs his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you whisper.

“I realized something in Vegas.”

An uncomfortable yet familiar pressure nudges against your eyes. Everyone who says they love you decides you are meaningless.

“And you’re leaving,” you finish for him, dropping your gaze to the floor. “For Lucy.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Tim defends, stepping toward you.

“But it did.” You shrug and add, “You can go.”

“I’m–”

“It doesn’t matter. Just go, Tim.”

Tim nods once before he opens the door. With one hand on the door, he says, “Goodnight.”

And then he’s gone. You press your hand over your mouth as the first tears break over your waterline. Stumbling back, you let yourself collide with the wall before you slide down it. With your knees pulled toward your chest, you drop your head and cry for Tim, for your family, for yourself, and for all of the things that you have lost. It seems impossible to keep the things and the people you care about close, and the last seven months have led you to this point too many times.

You wipe your face harshly and stand. “Not anymore,” you decide aloud. Gathering your things, you know you need a break. There’s a diner on the corner that reminds you of home, and you walk toward it as you replay every moment of your relationship with Tim. Every mention of Lucy, every moment he was distracted or seemed to enjoy double dates with her and Chris, and all the little things that should have alerted you to the fact that there was something wrong pop into your mind.

In the diner, you place your phone on the table with the keypad shining bright. You type in a number you remember even after seven months of not dialing it and press the green button.

Miles away, a cell phone beside an open case file rings, and your father answers it without reading the caller ID. He says his last name and waits for the person on the other end to speak.

“Hello, sir,” the man says. “I’m calling about your daughter.”

Your dad sits up straighter, his breath catching at the idea of anything bad happening to you. He’s dreaded this phone call since you decided to follow in his path and become a police officer. He should have kept you close, he thinks, so that he could help keep you safe.

“She’s okay,” the man adds quickly. “Physically, at least. I’m not in the position to tell you the details, but she may need someone to support her.”

“I…”

“I know the basics, I understand it has been a while since you last spoke to her, but if my daughter were dealing with this, I’d want to know.”

“I appreciate the call. I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Wade. Sergeant Wade Grey.”

The dial tone trills once before you end the call. You planned to call your sister, but the thought of telling her that you’re heartbroken is practically admitting that your parents were right and you should have stayed home. You feel lost, and though this diner once felt like home, you need a real escape. Glancing at your phone, you sigh when you see the time. Your shift starts in six hours, so you need to go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow night, you’ll get as far from the memories of Tim and the meaningless police work you’ve grown to love.

The air is clear tonight, and you trace a random shape in the dirt beneath you as you watch the lights of Los Angeles beneath you. It’s quiet, and you wonder why you never visited the Hollywood Hills before. Tim wasn’t one for romantic outings – though he probably would for Lucy, you think suddenly – and after your first day at Mid-Wilshire, you didn’t have much time to explore on your own. So, now that you’ve had your heart broken and are completely alone, you find a pretty place and breathe.

You’re not alone, you remember. Grey heard what Tim did and helped you have a good day at work despite that. Plus, he put you on patrol far away from Tim. Grey has become like a father figure to you in Los Angeles, but you find yourself missing your blood family more often than before.

Gravel crunches behind you, and you shift so you can reach your off-duty weapon. The headlights turn off just before the driver’s door opens, and your eyes widen when your father steps out.

“Dad!” you exclaim, scrambling to your feet and rushing to hug him.

He wraps you in a warm hug, murmuring apologies as he cradles your head against his chest. He held you like this often when you were young, but you find that it’s more comforting and needed now.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” your mother says, approaching from the passenger side and joining the hug.

“I’m the most sorry,” your sister announces, smiling as she brushes your hair from your face. “I should have stood up for you. I was looking out for myself, and it wasn’t right to let you take all of that. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you reply. “All of you, so much.”

“What happened?”

You pull your lip between your teeth and shake your head. “I started dating a cop. Stupid, I know. He was great, though, and I really loved him. Still do, even though he left me for his former rookie.”

“Scumbag,” your sister grumbles. Your mom taps her shoulder and sends her a scolding look, making you smile. You really missed your family.

“He wasn’t,” you reply. “I think he ignored his true feelings for so long because we were together. They went undercover together, and he couldn’t deny it anymore, not with it staring him in the face.”

“Don’t make excuses for people,” your dad reminds you. “If he couldn’t see and appreciate how amazing you are, he didn’t deserve you. Or your tears.”

You nod and wipe a tear, suddenly remembering you never told them where you were. “How’d you find me?”

“Sergeant Grey called me last night. And he gave me a few ideas about where you may be.”

“He tracked me,” you correct with a laugh. “He’s great.”

“He really is,” your mom agrees. “I can see why you picked his station.”

“So, Tim?” your sister prods.

“Grey is keeping us separated at work for now, which I understand. I just… It was a shock. It felt like everything was falling apart. I can’t lose anyone else.”

You’re wrapped in another hug as your family reminds you, “You didn’t lose us.”

As you drive back to your house with your sister in the passenger seat and your parents behind you, you feel like the hole in your heart is being bridged. Your phone chimes with an incoming message, and your sister is happy to read your messages for you.

“It’s a group chat with Wade Grey, Angela Lopez, Nyla Harper, and Aaron Thorsen. Aaron said, ‘I was team Chenford when I got here, but now’ and Nyla tagged you in a message that says, ‘Come over if you want to talk.’ And I’m not sure I should read the ones from Angela and Wade.”

“Threatening?” you guess with a smile.

“Moderately. Wade sent you a direct one, though. ‘He looks happy. Don’t let that keep you from finding your own happiness in your own time.’ He sounds like Dad.”

“He acts like Dad.”

“Then maybe you should let him set you up.”

You laugh, and when you drive by Tim’s house on your way home, you feel a tug on your heart that won’t go away anytime soon. Though you will have trouble looking at Tim and Lucy in the weeks to come, you got your family back, and maybe your relationship with Tim and the consequent broken heart was worth that.

"You didn't send the last message to Tim," you sister says.

"It wouldn't have changed anything."

"Maybe not. You can change something. Like Wade said, find your own happiness."

[popponn]

a long run. (isagi yoichi x f!reader)

notes: friends to lovers, hinted pinning, confession, post u-20 arc. this was a fit of madness at 2 am that i wrote in one sitting because isagi's spin off novels give me feelings. and then i look at manga isagi and sob lovingly.

Isagi Yoichi changed after Blue Lock—was a fact that didn’t exactly surprise you.

It wasn’t that he changed so much that he became unrecognizable too. In a way, he is still very much the Isagi Yoichi from middle school who you watched playing soccer from faraway. In many ways, he is still the more silent and timid Isagi Yoichi from high school who walked you home side by side with his bicycle.

He still stood close to you at the slightest hint of crowd, still offered you his outer and scarf whenever the air blew colder, and still smiled in a very different way whenever it was for you.

He is still Isagi Yoichi you fell in love with and jokingly give honmei chocolates for every year ever since the second spring of your middle school years.

“Hey, are you listening?”

You blinked at Isagi’s voice. Suddenly, you were not watching the past years you have spent with him, but sat across him inside of a quiet café near the neighborhood. Realizing you just spaced out right in the middle of his story, you laughed nervously, “Sorry, Isagi. Something went through my mind and I just… uh, got carried away afterwards.”

Isagi, who had learned to laugh louder and smile wider, raised an eyebrow at your response. He took a sip from his cold water and sent you a curious glance—still as familiar and friendly as ever, “Hm? What was it—that you were thinking about?”

For a moment, you wondered if you should be honest. Telling him you were thinking about his changes after the short time he spent away from home on that training camp and that match against Japan’s U-20 already sounded like either a complain or an admittance of crush. And you were not ready at all for the latter. So, in a light and airy joking manner, you gave him a teasing smile, “Well, it’s just Yocchan seems to have grown more mature while he was away from me…”

The moment you mentioned his childhood nickname, Isagi nearly choked on his drink. A hue of red bloomed on his cheeks, “What the heck does that mean?!”

“It means that you've changed, Isagi,” you answered him. At this point, you were certain you were smiling fondly at him like a lovesick fool. You hoped he was as oblivious as he was before Blue Lock, for your sake. “I mean it in a good way, though,” you added as you lightly stepped on one of his shoe as a friendly gesture.

Isagi scratched his cheek nervously, glancing away from you. Suddenly, he became nothing like the changed man you just said. You laughed a bit at that observation. To think this was the same guy who made the bold proclamation to be the one who will win the world cup—it was hilarious in a very cute way.

Then, Isagi finally replied to you after a long while, “I mean. Yeah, Blue Lock definitely changed me,” Isagi said, sounding as if he was reminiscing.

You hummed, “I can tell, if your mannerism and stories were anything to go by.”

“You didn’t even listen to my stories though,” Isagi piped up, lightly tapping your knees underneath the table with his sole.

“Hey, just because I spaced out for a second doesn’t mean I didn’t hear anything,” you protested, glaring at him.

“Kidding, kidding,” Isagi laughed, boyish yet still reserved in the way of the one you knew.

You laughed quietly at that, then continued, “But, you know. About you changing…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you do, in a way. I like it,” you finished as you let your gaze stray away to anywhere but Isagi Yoichi. Carrying the desire to say it as much as you could to him, you went on, “You look very happy and I like it.”

You didn’t mention it, nor you would ever point it out, but you knew how he was after he went to Ichinan. It felt bitter in a very selfish way, but you truly were glad that the Isagi Yoichi who talked your ears off with soccer news and trivia now had somewhere to thrive. In a way, it felt sharing something intimate to the world—but, he wasn’t even yours and he looked happier. If anything, you could felt only joy.

Sensing the sudden somberness your words brought, you immediately tried to shift the topic. “Eh, well. Sorry, did I weird you out?” you said, nervous and apologetic. “So, back to you story! What did Bachira said after—”

Not letting you finish, Isagi cut you off. “Hey, can I say something too?”

“Huh?” you made a dumb sound in confusion. Across you, Isagi met his gaze with yours. Determined and unshaken—seeing his eyes, it was impossible for you to reject him to begin with. “Uh, sure.”

“Thanks,” Isagi said, before taking a deep breath. Suddenly, it felt like he was about to drag you to a soccer match and you knew for sure you would be losing. Though before you could make a comment, Isagi resumed, “Right now, my focus is in soccer. And I will have to go back to Blue Lock too.”

Oh.

You knew where this would be going. You could feel a wet patch of heat grew from the back of your eyes, but this was Isagi Yoichi. So, like always, you listened to him to finish, even if it would be a rejection.

You would accept this as a punishment for being too obvious—you joked silently, spitefully, to yourself.

“So, you know, in the end,” Isagi didn’t stop, seemingly oblivious to your frozen state despite meeting your eyes. “I don’t think… I really had the right to ask this of you. But, you see—”

Isagi reached out for both your hands as he let your name fall of his lips. Once again, like a fool in love, you could only blink in confusion.

“—I really,” Isagi’s breath hitched. “I really want you to keep looking at me. I know this is like me asking you to wait for me until at least Blue Lock is over and say ‘no’ to everyone who tries to… you know. To you. With you.”

His hands were warm and you felt like the world was spinning. Your eyes grew wider as you slowly understood what Isagi meant by his words.

“This is really selfish of me,” Isagi chided himself with a chuckle, yet a smile that was familiar, gentle, and fond formed itself on his profile. “Still though, can I ask you to still only look at me, for now and for a very long time?”

At that time, inside that café, you realized many things in silence.

Across you, Yoichi waited for an answer that had been waiting to be said since long ago.

[breadbrobin]

the bet

part two

cedric diggory x reader — harry potter

[fem!best friend reader]

summary: the summer is going well. you’re not in love with cedric, and you’re so gonna win this bet. totally. right?

warnings: quite a lot of swearing, betting/gambling, underage drinking, cringey flirting (PLS i wrote this years ago), GOD they’re so in love it’s stupid, minor character death (sort of???), i think i’m a comedian (i’m not), switched from an x oc story so might have a few mistakes oops, mediocre writing (again i wrote this years ago and this is the worst part i think)

word count: 2.7k

(ok first of all tyyyy for the love on the first part i can’t wait for y’all to read part three! there is just one more part after this and it’s the best one imo)

part one

part three

——————————————

The Flowers

Cedric was splayed out on your bed. One of his feet hung off near your head and you was infinitely glad for his quality hygiene.

You were reading the Wizard of Oz again, and he was dutifully drawing something that he refused to show you.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I’m done.”

You finished your page and slipped the bookmark in, turning to him. “Can I see?”

“No, I drew this for you but you’re never allowed to look at it.” he teased, straight faced.

“Never?”

“Never.” He broke into a smile and shoved the sketch pad in your face.

It was a… Well, you weren’t exactly sure what it was. There was some interesting shading, a tuft of what could either be grass or hair and a strange egg shaped blob in the middle.

You hoped your face didn’t show your emotions as you quickly schooled your features into a smile. “It’s great, Ced.”

He had a wide grin plastered on his face as he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I know. Now turn the page.”

You did as he said and blinked in shock, your jaw dropping. “There is no way you drew this.”

“I’ve been practising.”

“Have you been taking classes from freaking Van Gogh in between Quidditch practise?” you gaped, looking from the sketch of sunflowers and daisies and his beaming face.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “An artist never reveals his secrets.”

“I think that’s meant to be magician.”

“Same thing.” he waved her off. “Anyway, I know sunflowers are your favourite, and daisies are my favourite. So I combined them.”

“This is honestly incredible.” you gushed.

“Oh, stop it.”

“No, seriously.” You stood up. “Can I put it on my wall?”

“Go for it,” he beamed, somehow even brighter than before.

You gently pulled the page from the pad and ripped a tab of blu-tack off, sticking it to the wall above your desk. Once it was hung, you stepped back to admire it. “Oh!” you gasped. “You need to sign it!”

Cedric stood up and brushed past you, scribbling his signature on the bottom right corner with a small heart. “Happy?”

“Mhm.”

That should have been your second sign.

They stood side by side and admired it for a moment.

Then you broke the silence.

“I can’t draw for shit,” you laughed. “And look at you. Mister Artist himself.”

“Oh, piss off,” he groaned, hugging your shoulders from behind and resting his chin on your head. “You can sing though. I can’t.”

“Liar.” you scoffed, patting his arm. “I’ve heard you sing. Besides, you’re practically perfect at everything you do.”

Just as he was about to respond, Cordelia burst through the lightly shut door, eyes still red and puffy. The two separated. “Lunch is ready.”

“Thanks, Dells,” he nodded. “We’ll be right there.”

As she left, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you out. “God, I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving.”

“Very funny.”

The Second Week

As with most summers, you and Cedric spent almost every waking moment in each other’s company.

Unlike most summers, however, you couldn’t chase the thoughts of a certain bet from your mind.

You knew, you knew, that there was nothing to it. That it was just your friends being annoying and messing with you and everything you’d started reading into was just in your head… But, God, was it hard to remember sometimes.

You were mostly worried that he’d find out. Maybe one of your friends would send you a letter mentioning it? (Not that he’d ever read your letters.) What if Liz came for a random visit? Or worse: what if she told her friends, the Weasley twins, and they came for a visit?

You chased your swirling thoughts from your mind as Cedric walked through the front door, performing the mental equivalent of shoving all of the mess in your room into the wardrobe and hoping it closed right.

“Hey,” you smiled, standing up with your bowl of milk that used to hold cereal. “You’re early.”

“It’s eleven o’clock.”

“Yeah, early,” you shrugged, setting the now empty bowl in the sink. “What’s up?”

“Wanna go into town?” he asked, leaning on the counter and gesturing to the fruit bowl.

You tossed him an apple. “Sure. When?”

“Now?”

You sighed heavily, half-joking. “A bit more warning would be nice. Lemme go get changed.”

“Yes!” he cheered through a mouthful of apple. “You’re the best, N/N!”

N/N? You wondered as she jogged up the stairs. Since when am I N/N?

If you’d been listening carefully, you would have heard Cedric bang his head against the kitchen bench.

The town was quiet as always.

A farmer’s market was dying down, most vendors packing their remaining wares and smiling sheepishly at you and Cedric as you wove your way through the stunted stalls. You purchased a fresh bread roll and split it between you as you walked, both surprised that it was still warm.

“You know,” Cedric said after a few minutes of silence as you left the market and strolled along the main street. “We should do this more often.”

You squinted as you looked up at him, the sun assaulting your eyes. “Really?” you asked dryly. “What, burn ourselves to a crisp and get blinded while we’re at it?”

“No, dummy. Do stuff.”

“What? You don’t like doing nothing with me?” you teased.

“No, no, I love doing nothing with you,” he stole a chunk of bread that you’d been eyeing up. “But I also like spending money.”

“I bought the bread. I was the one who spent the money.”

He gasped, as if he didn’t already know. “What? Really?”

“Shut up, Ced,” you smiled, pushing him and stealing the last chunk of bread from the packet.

You were awake uncharacteristically early, so when you knocked on the Diggory’s front door, Cedric looked supremely confused.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked. “Did someone die?”

“No, why would you— You’re an arsehole, you know that?” you pouted.

“Yeah, I know. Come on.”

He led you down the short hallway and into the living area. You sighed contentedly. The Diggory’s house always smelled amazing; a combination of vanilla, coffee and cleaning supplies that somehow worked. Cedric often smelled similar, you realised. The vanilla that clouded the house seemed to hang around him as well. You shook yourself out of it as he began speaking.

“My dad’s gotten obsessed with the TV,” he admitted, nodding towards the man who was watching with a rapt expression. “He doesn’t really understand it, but he’s addicted. He really likes cricket. Probably because he can’t figure out how to change the channel.”

“Oh, I used to play cricket! I love it so much!” you gushed, joining Amos on the couch. “Who’s playing?”

“England and India,” he said distractedly.

“ODI, T20 or test?”

“Test. We’re on Day Two.”

“So England’s batted?”

“Three-thirty-seven.”

“Not bad,” you squinted at the numbers on the screen, showing one-twenty-eight for six.

“I have no idea what you guys are saying,” Cedric cut in, looking blankly between you two.

“We’re talking sport,” Amos said, almost giddily.

You didn’t spare either of them a glance as the English captain went upstairs for a review. “Yeah, get back in the kitchen. Go make us a sandwich.” you teased.

“I thought you were coming to hang out with me,” he almost pouted.

You finally dragged your eyes from the screen. “But… Cricket…”

He shook his head with a smile. “Right, of course. Two sandwiches coming right up.”

The Moment You Knew

The days seemed doomed to repeat. Groundhog day, your mum had called it. So, when you found a way to rid yourself of the monotony of daily life, you took it without a second thought.

“Mum, please!”

“I don’t know…”

“I’ll even get petrol! I’ll… I’ll… I’ll pay for it myself too!”

“Y/N…”

“Mum,” you pleaded. “It’s just me and Ced. It’s a twenty minute drive and I’ll get petrol on the way back. We’ll be back by four and I’ll wear suitable shoes while driving.”

Whitney pursed her lips in thought. Then she sighed. “Fine. Don’t bother getting petrol, I’ll fill up on the way home from work on Monday.”

You squeaked in excitement, hugging your mum tightly. “Thank you! You’re the best! I love you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Love you too, hun,” she smiled.

True to her word, you did wear suitable shoes. The drive ended up taking around twenty-five minutes, but you supposed your mother couldn’t fault you for driving just under the speed limit all the way there.

There was a secluded lake you’d found out about from an old magazine in your mum’s collection, when you’d been looking for something, anything, to make your days less boring.

“This is awesome,” Cedric breathed as you broke through the treeline and onto the rocky shore of the small lake.

“Yeah,” you sighed contentedly, breathing in the fresh air.

You set up their towels and supplies in the shade of a tree and pulled off your sturdy shoes.

Cedric pulled his shirt over his head. You would be lying if you said your eyes didn’t catch on his muscles.

“Race you in,” he said as you had your own shirt halfway over your head.

“What?” you asked, hearing him run away. “Oh, you prick!”

You tossed your shirt on the ground, followed by your shorts, leaving you in your swim suit, pouting as Cedric splashed around in the cool, blue water.

You stomped over to the water’s edge, frowning down at him. The rock you were standing on was about a metre above the surface, casting a navy shadow over the rippling water. He waded a few metres out from you.

“You coming?” he asked.

“No,” you pouted, folding your arms. “I don’t swim with cheaters.”

He barked a laugh, swimming over to the edge and pulling himself out. Droplets of water hit your skin.

You backed away. “Cedric…”

He took a step closer.

“Don’t you dare, Diggory…”

He tilted his head, grinning widely as he continued to step closer to you. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Sure, you don’t,” you pointed at him. “Stay back!”

He laughed and pushed off his heels, springing towards you. Before he could reach you, however, you turned tail and ran, feet skimming over the rocks as you raced for the safety of the towels.

You only managed to get a few steps in before he caught you, his cold arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground. He spun around, carrying you back to the edge of the water and tossing you into the lake.

You yelped as the cold water hit you, but remembered to hold your breath, your hair swirling around your face in the water. You heard the telltale sound of him jumping in too and forced yourself up to the surface.

“I hate you!” you gasped, pushing your hair off your forehead. “I hate you so fucking much!”

“Liar!” he retorted, shaking his head and sending water droplets flying everywhere. “You love me.”

You didn’t respond for a moment, treading water and staring at him. “You wish,” you finally uttered.

He just smiled.

The days ticked by much faster than expected. Soon, Cedric was waving his parents off on their week-long trip and then hauling his bags over to your house, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What did you do?” you immediately asked when you were alone.

He closed the door gently before skipping over to the bed in the guest bedroom he was staying in. He sat on it cross-legged, still smiling, and patted the mattress ahead of him.

When you finally sat down, he leaned forward.

“Guess what I bought,” he said.

You waited.

“You’re meant to ask,” he sighed.

“Oh, my bad,” you cleared your throat. “What did you bring, Cedric?”

He didn’t answer, simply reaching down to his backpack and pulling out a bottle of firewhiskey.

“That’s it? Oh, you sweet, sweet child,” you teased. “I have three of those in my room.”

“Sorry, N/N, not all of us are casual rulebreakers,” he sniffed.

You pushed his shoulder. “I’m kidding, Ced. I mean, technically, I’m not, but I do appreciate the sentiment.”

He poked his tongue out at you.

The Night Things Happened

The day started like any other.

You and Cedric usually woke up at vastly different times, so when he woke up, he went for a run, had a shower and ate a light breakfast before going to wake you.

A lot of groaning and a few thrown pillows later, you were standing in the kitchen making pancakes.

As you flipped another one, leading to Cedric cheering as if you’d never done it before, Whitney entered the kitchen.

“Morning, you two,” she greeted, kissing your temple and patting Cedric’s shoulder. “Cords and I are going to that Girl Scouts sleepover tonight, remember? So you’ll have to make dinner yourselves.”

“Yup, we know, Mum,” you said, taking the pancake out of the pan and slapping it onto a plate. “We’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you burning the house down. Remember last time?”

“Mum.” You turned to her grimly. “We don’t talk about last time.”

Whitney raised her hands in surrender. “Right, right. But, on a more serious note. I shouldn’t have to tell you not to invite anyone else over and to be in bed by one, should I? And I won’t come home to drunk teenagers all over my house?”

“Nope, we’ll be all good, Ms Ridge,” Cedric shot her a winning smile.

She pursed her lips jokingly. “Mhm… Alright, I trust you two. I’m going to the shops, need anything?”

“We need more eggs.”

“Eggs, got it.”

The night was when things changed.

After Whitney and Cordelia were gone, at least long enough that it was unlikely they’d turn around and come back, you took your first swig of firewhiskey.

It burned its way down your throat, like it always did. Cedric coughed and sputtered, nearly spitting it mouthful out.

You held back a laugh. “You alright, Golden Boy?”

“Shut up,” he seethed, voice hoarse.

You raised your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I was just asking.”

You sat and ate the pizza you’d ordered already, taking sips of firewhiskey whenever you felt like it.

You closed your pizza box one slice after Cedric did, placing it on top of his on the coffee table. “You good?”

“Great,” he smiled dopily. It seemed the whiskey was hitting him harder than he was letting on.

You smiled back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You took a larger swig of whiskey, shaking your head at the strength. “I just wanna point out that if you get sick, I’m not cleaning you up. Got it?”

“Yeah, got it.” He nodded, looking a little bit more put together. “I’d clean you up though. If you got sick.”

You smiled again. “Thanks, Ced.”

The night was going surprisingly well. You’d turned on the TV, both staring, fixated at Friends reruns, leaning heavily on each other. The bottle was half gone and, as the advertisements came on, you each took another swig.

Cedric was looking at you weird.

You straightened up, frowning in confusion. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he slurred slightly. “You’re just… Fuck, you’re pretty.”

Your heart fluttered. “Oh. So are you.”

He blushed, looking down. “Yeah, I know.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “Yeah, I bet you do, Goldie.”

“Goldie?”

“Golden Boy. It’s cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“No, you’re cute.”

“You’re cuter.”

“No, you are.”

“You are.”

“You…” he was very close to you now, his grey eyes darting between you eyes and your lips. “You’re very pretty. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“No, I don’t think you know how pretty you are. Like… When you laugh your eyes light up, and… And when you do that thing when you’re thinking… Where your eyebrow twitches… Oh, and that thing you do… The thing when your favourite songs come on and you tap your legs really fast…”

You swallowed tightly as his hand brushed your cheek. His breath smelled of firewhiskey, but you were sure yours did too.

He wasn’t looking at your eyes anymore. “You’re incredible, Y/N. And you deserve to know that.”

“Cedric…” you started.

“Sh…” he cut you off. He was hardly an inch away now. “Don’t talk. Just…”

Friends came back on the TV.

“Just watch Friends with me.” He leaned back, looping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you flush against his side.

You tried with all your might to ignore your pounding heart.

You weren’t sure if you were going to win this bet after all.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hey, can you write something for Matt simmons? I love him. He and the reader are together, he never visits her apartment bc she a big nerd (actionfigures, books, DVDs, games,..) and she insecure about it (somesone said terrible stuff about it) but Matt is really interest in the stuff. Maybe with lots of fluff? I think that doesn't require a special season but i think the latest criminal minds seasons, where he is a part of the team is good! Thank you 🩷

plus size fangirl!reader, wc: 651.

a/n: slowly but surely getting around to my drafts!! this has sat in there for so long almost finished and i apologize for that! matt is a character i've never written for before, but i find that's easy to capture his personality. thank you for your request!! :]

Living by yourself meant that you could decorate your home with your most prized possessions, but you choose to surround yourself with your special interests instead.

You loved your apartment, it was your safe space, your solace. There wasn’t an inch of your place of comfort that wasn’t covered by your most treasured memorabilia; posters, funko pops, action figures, you name it. If there was a kind of merchandise, you have it.

That’s why it felt like you were living a double life when you were with Matt; by day, you were his super cute – albeit basic looking – girlfriend. By night, you were a fangirl.

Your boyfriend had never been to your apartment, most of the time you had chosen to either go over to his place, or be picked up outside of your neighborhood. He never really questioned it, just smiling and saying ‘Hi’ after placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

So that begs the question: What the fuck was he doing here?

Standing by your front door dressed head to toe in a mix of your favorite fandoms – the pants your favorite tv show, and your shirt the other – you stared out of the peephole at the absolute meal that was your man.

You took a moment to look around; your living room was in utter disarray! Oh God, when was the last time you did laundry or the dishes?

He’s going to take one step in here then hit the ground running!

Matt has already knocked twice, and you watch as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, tapping on it for a moment before the one in your hand begins to ring.

You could ignore it yes, but you really wouldn’t put kicking the door down past him if he thought that something was wrong. Gulping, you answer and hold the phone to your ear, your singular eye still trained on him outside.

“Hi.” You wish your voice wasn’t as breathless as it sounded.  “Hey.” You could hear the amusement in his voice, and with the way he had that cheeky smile on his face.

There was a moment of silence, “So… are you going to let me in?”

“...No.” He just laughed, and finally looked up at the peephole, causing you to move away from it.

“And why is that?”

“Because…” You spared a look around the room, “It’s embarrassing.” 

“How is me coming to see you embarrassing?”

“It’s not that! It’s just- I have a bunch of stuff like… everywhere. I don’t want you to make fun of me.” You watched as he sighed.

“Baby,” He began, “When have I ever made fun of you for anything?”

He was right, and you hated it. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With that, you hung up and unlocked the door.

Matt examined you from head to toe, his cheeky grin spreading even wider into a full blown smile. “Well, don’t you look cute.” He teased, pulling you into his arms to place a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“You don’t think it’s weird?” You mumbled into his strong chest.

You can tell he takes a really good look around your apartment before responding. “Nah, I’m glad you have hobbies, y’know?” Matt says. “You promise?” It was such a petulant thing to ask, but you knew that it would quell your anxiety.

His laugh is hearty, his chest reverberating due to the vibrations. “Of course sweetheart. Now, is there any other cool stuff you want to show me?”

You pull away and look at him with lit up eyes, “Yeah!” You tug him inside and lead him to your room where your other memorabilia lies.

Little do you know that Matt is taking note of everything you’re showing him, he’s even thinking about getting you guys matching pajamas. He thought you knew how much of a geek he was alongside you.

[yuesya]

The darkened screen lights up with a new incoming message.

Sunday immediately lunges for his cell phone, ignoring the scattered sheets of promptly-abandoned paperwork that go flying everywhere as they are knocked over in his haste.

Robin: I found her! Thank you for your help in narrowing down the facilities, brother.

An exhale of relief escapes his lips, and Sunday finds himself slumping down slightly in his seat. The heavy, constricting feeling on his chest finally lightens at the knowledge that his youngest little sister is safe.

Even though he knows that Lyra can take care of herself when it comes to physical confrontations, that does not mean Sunday is happy when his sister –either one of his beloved little sisters– is in danger. Especially not when she does so deliberately.

It also does not help that Lyra knowingly allowed herself to be kidnapped by slavers, because it reminds him of a certain time in their childhood.

A bloodstained warehouse. Dismembered corpses littering the ground. Lyra, blank-eyed and unaffected, standing in the center of it all –and oh, how Sunday’s heart ached for his dear little sister. How fiercely glad he’d been, to find her still alive and well amid the carnage.

Sunday closes his eyes for a brief moment to compose himself, then responds to Robin’s message.

I’m glad I was able to help, he tells his sweet sister. Is everything alright over there?

He sets his phone down to the side of his desk, and goes about the room regathering his paperwork. Given the tone of Robin’s words, the situation was most likely under control. And… all the way in Penacony whilst his sisters were elsewhere among the stars, there was only so much that Sunday could do.

Not for the first time, a sudden jittery, uneasy sensation flutters in his chest. Separation anxiety, was what others had jokingly named this feeling when Sunday described it to them, but–

His phone screen lights up again. Sunday hurries back to his desk, setting down the papers and picking up his pen on autopilot even as his eyes are drawn to his phone.

Robin: All good! Lyra finished things by the time I got here.

Robin: There’s actually very little collateral damage this time, too.

Robin: She also found all of the missing children!

Robin: Everyone is accounted for. [Smiley face]

Robin: [New Attachment: Image file]

Sunday pauses.

… The picture that Robin sent him is clearly one that she’d just taken on her phone. In the frame, there are several children curled up against each other in a small pile, some of whom are asleep, while others hold markers in their hands with mischievous expressions. But more importantly, beside the children–

Lyra.

Soft, silvery hair, and feathery wings. Lyra’s appearance is not elegant or enchanting the way Robin’s is, but no one –not even the other Halovians who incessantly wagged those tongues that they did not deserve to keep– would deny that she was lovely in her own right. His little sister’s beauty is one that’s precious and darling, which has its own charm.

There is a blond-haired young man leaning quite closely over Lyra’s shoulder, his arm reaching over her body to point at something that she’s holding.

Sunday’s eyes narrow at the ostentatious peacock–

Who is he, he means to type to Robin. But as he lifts his hand, Sunday suddenly realizes that he’s dripping ink on the table.

Slowly, he unfurls his fingers. Fingers that he does not recall tightening into a fist in the first place.

Pieces of a broken pen fall one by one onto the polished desk with a clattering sound, ink seeping deep into the wooden grains as dark droplets continue to dribble down from Sunday’s hand.