#fastening his shoelaces

[bobbie-robron]

He’s fastening his shoelaces. His shoes came off and he’s just been putting them back on.

17-May-2018, episode 2

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron (+18) - part iii (final)

warnings: angst; smut; word count: 6.3k (sorry)

what the fuck. 

as soon as the words left his mouth, you wondered how many hits to the head soccer players got each match, because there was no way in hell rafe cameron was in love with you.

suddenly hyperaware of your nakedness, you stood up, almost falling off his bed in the process.

in a frantic scramble, you reached for your clothes, tugging on your jersey inside out and hopping around on one foot trying to pull up your shorts.

"what's wrong with you?! we just had sex!"

rafe blinked, still dazed from your anything but innocent activities.

“uh, yeah, that's kind of when these feelings hit me.”

you paused, one leg in your levis shorts, the other still “bare”, and shot him a look. 

 "you don't just drop the l-word after sex! are you insane!" you managed to get your shorts up and fastened, albeit a bit crookedly, “jesus christ.”

“i didn’t mean to freak you out, it just came—"

“yeah, well, maybe lead with something less dramatic” you snorted, tugging your shirt the right way around. "i mean, who does that?"

he laughed, the sound rich and warm, and for a moment you were torn between being annoyed and charmed, “i’m sorry. i meant it tho.”

“no, you didn’t.” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you fumbled with your shoelaces.

“i did,” he insisted, his voice earnest, but you were too busy wrestling with your stubborn converse to look up.

“you don't even know me."

"course i do," he looked offended, like you insulted him, "your birthday is on october 8th, and your favorite color is blue. your favorite food is picanha and kimchi ramyeon. you do this thing when you're happy where you just speak really loud, all the time and when your favorite song comes on, which is all of them really, you always squeal—"

you think you lost at least three brain cells as you stood there, jaw dropped to the floor, listening to him list all the things he knew about you.

correctly.

"y’know what sherlock?” you said suddenly, standing up, finally fully dressed but still feeling exposed. “i need some air. a lot of it.”

“what?”

“i’m leaving.”

“wait—" you hear the sound of sheets ruffling, “wait a sec—dammit!”

you didn't look back as you hurried out of his room, the sounds of the frat party thumping from downstairs, music seeping through the walls. the hallway was packed with people, and you pushed your way through the crowd, your mind racing. oh my god. everyone was seeing you leave rafe cameron’s room in a hurry. there was no way in hell you’d have a peaceful week after this.

you were almost reaching the door when you felt a hand grab your upper arm. you turned around to see rafe, now dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, “can we talk about this?”

the music was deafening, forcing you to practically scream to be heard. “what part of 'too much' don’t you get?”

“why?” he asked, his voice barely cutting through the noise. “why does it have to be too much?”

“because it is!” you shouted, then softened your tone just enough to be less harsh, “just let it go.”

he let go of your arm, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “’m not asking you to say it back, okay?”

you felt the weight of curious eyes on you. the partygoers’ stares only made you want to leave even more. desperation clawed at your chest.

rafe closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly, “did that really feel like only sex to you?”

you bit your lip, the regret hitting you immediately, but you couldn't stop now. you needed to get out.

“yeah.” you replied, even though your heart screamed at you to take it back.

he stepped back, letting go of your arm completely. “fine. go on then," he said, his tone flat and lifeless. “just go.”

“i’m sorry—" you started again, but rafe's expression hardened. he’d never looked at you like that and you hated every single second of it.

he stepped back further, creating a physical distance, as if to save himself the hurt, “leave.”

you didn’t have to be told twice, you wanted to be anywhere but there. you couldn't delete the image of his face when you rejected him from your brain. 

as soon as you were outisde, you pulled out your phone, and dialed pope's number. he picked up on the third ring, his voice laced with excitement.

"the dick was that bad? i could've sworn—”

tears were already threatening to fall as you tried to steady your voice. "pope, can you... can you pick me up?"

“huh?”

"i just... i need to get out of here," you managed, voice cracking as you wrapped an arm around yourself, feeling strangely exposed.

"shit. okay. i'll be there in ten minutes.”

you found a quiet spot near the edge of the campus, too embarrassed to sit outside rafe’s frathouse with so many people coming and going. leaning against a tree, you sank down, hugging your knees to your chest.

what the hell were you doing? had you just permanently ruined your friendship with rafe? let your little mommy issues get ahead of you?

when pope finally pulled up in his car, you climbed in wordlessly, unable to meet his eyes. 

“what did he do? you want me to punch him? cause y’know i’ll call jj and we—"

you leaned your head against the cool glass of the car window, “this was such a fucking bad idea.”

he glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road, “what? why?”

“because.”

pope's brow furrowed in confusion. "what did he say?"

"that he loved me.”

“what the fuck?!" your body jolted forward, your heart racing from the sudden stop. the motherfucker accidentally slammed the brakes.

“pope, what the hell?”

“my bad, fuck,” he muttered, regaining control of the car and easing back onto the road, “he dropped that shit on you?”

“yeah.”

“okay, that’s kinda fucked, but—“ pope glanced at you again, concern etched on his face. “look, cameron might be a lot of things, but he’s not a liar. man, he’s the complete opposite if you ask me. too fucking honest for his own good.”

“he picked the worst time to be honest,” you muttered, wiping away a tear, “i literally had his dick in my hands!”

“dude!” pope faux-gagged, “i don’t need the details, jesus.”

“sorry,” you said, half-laughing through your tears. “it’s just... how can he love me? he doesn’t even know me! that’s what’s pissing me off the most.”

that was a lie.

pope sighed, shaking his head. “i don’t know, but it sounds like he’s really into you. you spent a lot of time together, right? maybe he knows you better than you think.”

he does.

“don’t get smart on me pope howard. i need your support right now, not this sentimentalist bullshit.”

pope chuckled, “you’ve got to talk to him. y’know that, right?”

you groaned, lifting the palms of your hands to your eyes, “why?”

“because you care about him, you dumbass. that’s fucking obvious.”

“stop making sense,” you mumbled, sighing heavily. “i need you to be angry with me, pope.”

he shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "i'm your best friend. my job is to tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear.”

you slumped further into your seat, “this is your fault anyway. you planted the stupid idea in my brain.”

“me? this is all you.”

your mouth dropped, “be fucking serious. you told me to sleep with him! for sports!”

“yeah, okay, i’ll take the blame but…”

“but?” you narrowed your eyes in warning, “but what?”

he shrugged innocently, “you never listened to me up to that point. i didn’t think you’d do it. that’s gotta mean something.”

“stop making me think,” you muttered under your breath, letting your head fall back against the seat. “i just want to forget this whole night happened.”

“maybe you just need some time to figure out how you feel.”

“i don’t feel anything,” you lied, staring out the window at the passing lights. “he’s just rafe cameron.”

pope sighed again, the kind of sigh that said he didn’t believe you for a second. “whatever you say."”

he dropped you off at your dorm, waiting until you were inside before driving away. you made your way to your room, collapsing onto your bed. why did you feel like such a terrible person?

you grabbed your phone and scrolled through your contacts, stopping at rafe’s name. your thumb hovered over the call button before you shook your head, tossing the phone aside.

you needed time. time to think, time to breathe, and time to figure out what the hell you wanted.

the next morning, you woke up with a headache and a sense of unease that settled deep in your chest. you dragged yourself out of bed. pope had texted you, a simple “hope you’re okay <3” that made you smile despite everything. you quickly replied, assuring him you were fine, even if you didn’t fully believe it.

you weren’t.

not when your first class of the day was with rafe. but you could do it.

you walked into class just in time, like you always did, only this time you were dreading the inevitable awkwardness of being sat next to rafe.

you hadn’t thought this through. he usually got here before you, real heavy on being on time for everything he did. you tried to keep your eyes locked on the professor, who was gathering the material for class, but you still took small peeks towards the door, expecting to see him stroll in at any given moment.

except he never did. as the lecture progressed, he never showed up. 

when the professor eventually asked about his whereabouts, kelce, his friend who sat a few rows behind you, raised his hand casually.

“rafe’s not feeling well today,” kelce spoke up, his tone nonchalant. he glanced over at you briefly, a knowing look in his eyes that made your stomach twist. 

oh great, so now you were the witch of the wicked west to all his friends. 

the professor nodded sympathetically. “alright, thank you for letting me know, kelce. make sure he gets the notes from today’s lecture.”

kelce nodded in acknowledgment, and the class moved on, but your mind was racing. rafe skipping class wasn’t like him. the timing felt deliberate, almost as if he was avoiding you after last night. 

as the lecture continued, you realized rafe wouldn’t be the only one needing notes. all you’d done for two hours was scramble down a few words, none of them making any sense. you struggled to focus on the material. every glance towards the door was met with disappointment.

maybe this was serious. maybe he hated you now.

after what felt like an eternity, the class finally ended. packing up your things, you hesitated before deciding to approach kelce, who lingered near his seat. you’d only spoken to him a handful of times, mainly when you and rafe studied back at the frat house.

kelce was nice. but the look he was giving you now, was anything but.

"hey, kelce," you began, trying to sound casual.

"hey," kelce replied cautiously, eyeing you up and down. 

you swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny.

"um, is rafe okay? is he sick?”

he nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering, “the flu. got it last night."

"l-last night?” 

“yup.”

“oh.”

kelce's brows furrowed slightly, “look, i don’t know what happened. but, he’s…not doing okay.”

your stomach sank. it was clear rafe was avoiding you, and the guilt gnawed at you even more. "i just... i didn't mean to..."

kelce cut you off gently, his voice softening. "that’s none of my business.”

"yeah," you murmured, feeling utterly inadequate.

"he'll come around," kelce reassured you, though his tone lacked conviction.

you nodded dumbly, unsure of what else to say. part of you wanted to apologize again, but...you’d done nothing wrong. there was no need to explain yourself.

"thanks," you managed weakly, offering a half-hearted smile.

kelce nodded in response, his expression remaining neutral. with that, you turned and hurried out of the classroom, feeling the weight of kelce's gaze on your back. the hallways felt suffocating, with whispered conversations and curious glances that only amplified your discomfort. did everyone know? was there a journal column telling everyone who got laid last night? fucking hell.

back in your dorm room, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. this was worse than what you’d expected. you couldn't stop seeing the image of rafe's hurt expression, his quiet insistence that he meant what he said.

your phone buzzed beside you, and you hesitated before picking it up, sighing in realief when you saw it was a text from pope.

"baaaabeeee, how did it go?"

did he really want to know the mess you'd made of things?

after a moment's hesitation, you replied with a simple, "not great. think everyone hates me lol"

pope's response was almost immediate. “shit. you wanna to talk about it?"

you bit your lip, undecided between wanting to unload everything and wanting to bury it all deep down. in the end, you settled for a brief reply. “later."

that went on for a week and three days.

you avoided rafe’s usual hangouts, keeping your head down and focusing on your classes. you still hadn’t seen him, and it was starting to drive you crazy. you needed to talk to him, but you were scared. like, shitless scared, of what he’d say, scared of what you’d feel.

it was hours later when you finally saw him again. you were in the library, buried in your notes, the ones who’d stolen from pope because you hadn’t been able to focus properly in any class and you hated that you’d let a boy have so much control over your brain, let alone a jock.

when you looked up and saw him standing at the entrance. he looked a little too good. the typical shorts hitting just above his knees, a loose sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscles way too much for your sanity, and his hair peeking out from under a snapback. 

good enough to eat.

he spotted you almost immediately and then quickly turned his head to side, ignoring you. 

ouch. okay, fair enough all things considered.

your heart skipped a beat. it was now or never. for a moment, you considered hiding, but you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever. taking a deep breath, you stood up and made your way over to him.

“hey,” you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to sound as casual as possible.

rafe looked up for a second, then returned his attention to the phone in his hands, “hey.”

“can we talk?” you asked.

he shrugged, and it took everything in you not to punch him in the face. “sure.”

you swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “sorry about the other night. i-i didn’t handle it well.”

he nodded, but his gaze remained on his phone, fingers typing away. “yeah, i get it.”

you frowned, sensing that something was off. he’d never ignored you before, he wasn’t even giving you the dignity of looking at you as you spoke to him. 

“are you okay?”

“fine,” he replied curtly.

before you could ask him what the fuck is problem was now, a girl approached, her smile bright, almost blinding you. she was ridiculously pretty, with long braided hair and sparkling brown eyes.

a literal doll.

she looked between you and rafe, “hi, are you ready to go?”

your heart sank as the girl slipped her arm around rafe’s arm and he finally put his stupid phone away and smiled down at her.

heavy on the ouch.

“yeah, let’s go,” rafe said, his voice softening, but then he turned to you, his expression blank again, “see you around.”

you stood there, watching them walk away feeling like a complete fucking idiot. like you were being pranked. what the hell was that? was he trying to make you jealous? or was he moving on that quickly? was there even something to move on from?

you returned to your seat, barely registering the world around you.

is that what he meant by telling you he loved you? you’ve been feeling bad over a boy who clearly only said what he said because you fucked him too good? wow.

you tried to focus on your notes, but your hands were trembling. without realizing it, you started tearing at the pages, ripping them apart. by the time you looked down, half of your notes were in shreds, scattered across the table.

“dammit,” you hissed under your breath. you gathered the torn pieces, stuffing them into your bag. there was no salvaging them now. 

with a frustrated sigh, you pulled out your phone and dialed pope’s number. 

“what’s up?”

“i need to get fucked up tonight.” you said bluntly, not bothering to hide the frustration you were feeling. 

“buy a guy a drink first?”

you could hear him snicker at his own joke, “shut up. are there any parties?”

“yeah, heard there's a big one at the delta house. everyone’s going.”

“okay. we’re going too.”

pope sighed, “i don’t remember signing up for this.”

“shut up and pick me up at 9.”

you decided that tonight was the night to go all out. no more hiding, no more feeling sorry for yourself. you rummaged through your closet, tossing aside clothes that were too plain, too boring, or just not the vibe you were going for. 

finally, you found it—the perfect outfit, and possibly the sluttiest thing you proudly owned.

you slipped into a sleek, black leather mini skirt that hugged your curves perfectly, hitting just the right spot on your thighs. you paired it with a cropped, red satin top that showed just enough skin to be daring but not over the top. the top had a deep v-neckline, accentuating your collarbones and drawing attention to the delicate gold necklace you wore. the outfit was completed with a pair of knee-high black boots, giving you an edge and adding a few extra inches to your height. you never wore them out, too worried that your feet would be killing you after a couple of minutes, but tonight, if you got drunk enough, you wouldn���t feel shit.

you looked at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the top and smoothing down the skirt. 

your makeup was bold, different from what you usually did—a smoky eye that made your eyes pop and a deep red lipstick that matched your top perfectly. you left your hair loose, allowing it to fall in soft waves. satisfied with your look, you grabbed a small clutch and headed out.

when pope arrived to pick you up, his jaw practically hit the floor. he stared at you, eyes wide, as you strutted towards the car.

“i'm sorry—are we going to a strip club or to a party?” he blurted out.

"are you slutshaming me?"

"no, but be real for a second."

you rolled your eyes, but a small smirk played on your lips. “don’t be dramatic. just wanted to look good.”

“look good?” pope repeated, still in disbelief, “sweets, you always look good, okay? but this? you look like you’re about to rip someone’s heart out.”

“good,” you replied, sliding into the passenger seat. “that’s the goal.”

he shook his head, muttering something under his breath about needing to keep an eye on you all night.

“you’re gonna tell me what happened?”

“nothing happened.”

“right.”

the delta house was already packed when you arrived, the music thumping so loud you could feel it in your chest. you walked in with pope by your side, determined to leave all your worries at the door.

“alright, let’s get some drinks,” pope clapped his hands, rubbing them together before leading you to the makeshift bar. you could feel eyes on you as you walked through the crowd, whispers and stares following your every step. you ignored them. 

so what if people knew you fucked rafe? that was your business, not theirs.

you grabbed a tequilla shot, downing it quickly and feeling the alcohol warm you up from the inside. pope handed you another, and you sipped it more slowly, trying to steady your nerves.

“easy. ‘m not holding your hair back if you throw up,” he warned, nudging you gently. “just relax and have fun. cleo’s joining later.”

“awwww, look at you being soft."

“shut up. don’t embarrass me in front of her."

you placed your hand over your heart, “i would never!”

the night wore on, the party growing louder. you danced, laughed, and mingled, trying to keep your mind off rafe and the mess you'd made of things. pope stuck by your side, and cleo, the girl of his dreams, joined you eventually, her energy infectious. 

you were happy he’d found someone. 

you were at the bar, grabbing another drink, when you saw rafe walk in.

your heart nearly dropped out of your ass, but you forced yourself to stay calm. he was with the same girl from the library and seeing them together made your stomach churn. he hadn't even noticed you yet, too busy talking to her.

"pope," you called, nudging him. "look who's here."

pope glanced over and sighed. "ignore him, please. we're here to have fun, remember?"

you nodded, drowning another shot, "right. fun."

it was easier said than done. every time you glanced their way, you wanted to storm up to him and punch him in that stupid perfect face. why did it bother you so much? he was just a guy. just rafe cameron. you downed another drink, hoping the alcohol would numb the emotions swirling inside you.

“goddamn mama, are you drinking yourself to death?”

jj’s presence barely phased you, “yes.”

“what’s got you so worked up?”

you groaned, not really in the mood for his antics. “nothing. just havin’ a good time.”

“yeah, right,” jj snorted, stealing your drink and taking a sip. “try again. this shit is 95% vodka by the way.”

you snatched it from his hands, “don’t drink my shit. don’t wanna talk about it.”

“alright,” he held up his hands in mock surrender, “dance with me then?”

“no.”

“pleaseee,” he begged, jutting out his bottom lip in a ridiculous pout, “c’mon.

despite your best efforts to stay frustrated, his infectious energy made you crack a smile. "fine, but just one song maybank."

jj whooped, “atta girl.”

he grabbed your hand with a mischievous grin and pulled you onto the crowded dance floor. you laughed as he twirled you around, his movements were surprisingly graceful. one time he made you faceplant the floor, so this was an improvement. 

his energy has always been infectious, jj was a literal golden retriever in human from and soon enough you found yourself letting go of all the worries that had been weighing you down. you moved in sync with him, your hips swaying, and your arms following the flow of the music. jj’s playful antics kept you entertained—he'd throw in a spin or a sudden dip, making you laugh even harder.

but then, he leaned in close, his voice barely audible over the music.

“guess who's watching?"

you raised an eyebrow, trying to catch your breath between giggles.

"who?"

jj nodded towards the edge of the dance floor, where rafe stood with a group of his friends. “my number one fan. been eyeing us since we started."

“uh,” you glanced in his direction, catching rafe’s gaze briefly before he looked away, “that’s weird.”

“i know you two fucked.”

your hand instantly reached out to shove jj’s shoulder, “shut up.”

“i'm serious. you’re gonna let him watch or show him what he's missing?"

on one hand, you were furious at rafe for bringing another girl to the party so soon after whatever had happened between you two. after telling you he was in love with you. sure you were a bitch after, but that didn’t mean you didn’t care for him. on the other hand, jj’s always made you go off the rails, in a way that stoked your pride. 

“fine,” you said with a defiant grin, “let’s give him a show.”

jj’s smirk widened, and without missing a beat, he spun you around and pulled you in closer, moving with even more enthusiasm than before. the music pounded around you, you couldn’t even tell the lyrics apart. every twirl, every dip, every sway of your hips was a message to rafe—whether he was watching or not—that you were done feeling sorry for yourself. as the song reached its peak, jj dipped you low, and you laughed breathlessly. you glanced towards where rafe had been standing, but he was gone.

then, without warning, from the corner of your eye, you saw a commotion erupting nearby. before you could react, the crowd around you began to murmur and part, revealing rafe. what the hell? what was this? a coming-of-age movie?

his usually friendly composed demeanor was gone, the glare in him was enough to scare anyone in his way. he stormed towards you, his eyes locked on jj. and then it clicked.

“oh for fuck's sake,” you groaned under your breath, knowing that nothing good would come out of it.

"hey, what the—" jj started, but before he could finish, rafe swung a punch at him.

yep, there it was. 

the blow caught jj off guard, knocking him back a step. the music seemed to stop, or at least fade into the background as chaos erupted around you. people gasped and shouted, some pulling rafe away while others checked on jj.

you pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance as you watched jj touch his jaw gingerly. 

“what the fuck, cameron?” jj groaned, “watch the pretty face.”

rafe’s chest was heaving as he glared at the other blonde, fists typically clenched by his side, looking as if he was ready to pounce on him again. before he could take another step, you placed yourself in front of him, blocking jj’s figure sitting on the ground.

“upstairs. right now,” rafe opened his mouth to spit something, but you cut him off, “now.”

he moved silently, following you up a flight of stairs to a quieter area. you could hear his breathing from miles away, he was still worked up. you found an empty room and stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

“what the hell was that?” you demanded, turning to face him.

rafe ran a hand through his face, frustration evident in his every movement. “i don’t know, okay? i just—i saw you with him, and i lost it.”

“oh, so you’re a caveman now?”

"god, you can be so fucking infuriating," rafe exploded, throwing his jacket into a corner of the room, "i saw you. touching him like... like none of this matters!"

"none of what matters?" you shot back, incredulous. "you show up with another girl after telling me you love me, and now i‘m not supposed to move on? what do you expect?"

"me?!" he jabbed a finger into his chest, his face flushed with anger. "that was my damn tutor! i wasn't trying to—shit. you think i'm trying to move on? i told you i loved you. that shit doesn’t just disappear because you don't feel the same way."

now you just felt stupid.

"your tutor?" you repeated, trying to wrap your head around the new information.

“we weren’t exactly on speaking terms and i needed help with calculus,” he muttered, “didn’t think you’d want to speak to me. and i was still sad.”

rafe shifted uncomfortably in his place, his expression now softer. you felt the sudden urge to hug him, but you didn’t. 

“you said you were supposed to move on,” he says carefully eyeing you.

“i did?” you lied, suddenly feeling like the room was closing in on you, “i don’t think so.”

“you did,” he said firmly, taking a step closer to you. "i meant what i said that night. did you?” 

you looked away for a moment, “rafe—“

“i don’t care if you don’t love me, you don’t have to, not right now. i just need to know if you think you can, one day.”

this wasn’t the rafe who punched jj, or the rafe who stormed through the crowd in a fit of jealousy. this was the rafe you were used to. 

your ears were ringing as he closed the distance between you. his eyes searching yours, desperate for an answer. the anger had melted away, replaced by a raw, aching need. fuck, he was good.

“listen—” you started again, but this time your voice was softer, trembling. he was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath mingling with yours, “can you back up? jesus. can’t think properly with you close.”

“don’t want to back up,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. he didn’t move, instead leaning in even closer, his lips brushing your ear, “yes or no?”

“cameron,” you breathed, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

but he wasn’t having it.

his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “tell me you don’t feel this,” he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “tell me you don’t want me too.”

he held your face by the jaw before leaning forward on instinct to kiss you but stopped himself right before he did. eyes on his lips now, completely entranced, you leaned forward to finish what he started but he was stopping you with his thumb. you stayed close though, gaze still fixated on his bottom lip and when his eyes flicker up to yours again, they’re wild and dark.

“you gonna make me fuck it out of you?”

you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted to him, the way your pulse quickened every time he was near, “and if i do?”

he didn't answer immediately, instead closing the gap between you in a heartbeat. his lips crashed against yours, his hand sliding from your jaw to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it as he squeezed you deliciously. 

all of a sudden, you were pressed against a wall, his body firm against yours, pinning you with his weight. he got a groan out of you, tilting your head as his grip tightened on your hips to keep you there, secured to him.

“this isn’t fair,” you pushed at his shoulder with your palm so that he pulled away to look at you, “you’re playing dirty.”

“so what?” he breathes out, jaw relaxed as his hips start to grind against yours.

your hand reached out to grab his shoulder for purchase when your hips started to move on their own, “oh fuck.”

rafe arched his hips sharply, teasing your clit, eliciting a gasp as you leaned your head against the wall, your chin tilting towards the ceiling. he kissed your neck, where sweat-dampened hair started to cling at your nape.

when did it get so hot in the stupid room?

“you’re—oh, gonna f-fuck me in a stranger’s room? real romantic,” you tried to sound casual, but it came out all wrong when his fingers pressed into the plush of your ass. 

he laughed against your skin, the sound making you tighten your legs around him. you were glad his hands were currently busy because a single touch between your thighs would expose how wet you were. 

“you can say it.”

your arms slided past his shoulders and loosely locked behind his neck, “no.”

rafe shook his head, “you asked for it.”

“rafe.”

he was poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek looking at you as if he was ready do destroy you whole, “told you i was gonna get it out of you.”

you blinked slowly, savoring the sight of his face, then your wrists, still crossed behind his neck, tugged gently, drawing him closer, craving his threat, “you’re gonna fuck me until i confess?

he lowered his head until his forehead met yours, your fingers could sense the rapid throb of his pulse beneath his jaw, his eyes tender, holding an adoration you never knew was possible. no one had ever looked at you that way. 

you pulled him by the fabric of his shirt, hard enough to make him understand he needed to do something. you moaned against his lips, fingers threading through his hair as he trailed kisses down your neck, sucking and biting gently at the sensitive skin.

your skirt rode up as he rutted into you, and his hand slipped under the fabric, fingers grazing the edge of your panties, teasingly close to where you ached for him most. you gasped, arching into his touch, silently begging for more.

“rafeee,” you whimpered, “please."

he pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, eyes dark with lust. “say it,” he demanded, his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh, driving you crazy with anticipation.

“no.” you managed to choke out, feeling a flush of heat spread through your body.

he raised a brow, “no?”

his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric of your panties, finding you wet and ready. he groaned at the feel of you, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you moan his name. you clung to him, hips bucking against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was giving you.

“you sure?” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and full of promise. 

you barely had time to think about changing your answer before he plunged two thick fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made your vision blur. your back arched off the wall, your head falling back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. he pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb never leaving your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“rafe, i'm—” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, your body trembling as you felt the orgasm build, ready to spill over.

but then he was pulling back just as you were about to fall over the edge. it was maddening, the way he seemed to know exactly how to bring you right to the cusp of pleasure and then deny it. you’d only fucked once before, and it felt like he’d memorize every single thing you liked. every spot that made your toes curl. 

“please, let me—”

“you said no, baby” he interrupted, a mocking smile curling on his lips. “you’re not ready.”

his fingers moved with practiced precision, slow and deliberate, stoking the flames of your desire without allowing you any release. every time you felt the pleasure building to its peak, he’d ease off, bringing you back down, only to start all over again.

you clawed at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but he held you firm against the wall, his body a solid, unyielding barrier. “please,” you begged again, “i can’t take it.”

“oh, you can,” he scolded, lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “and you will.”

his thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, while his fingers thrust inside you, curling just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. you bucked against his hand, your body pleading for release, but he kept you balanced on that knife’s edge, never letting you tip over. motherfucker.

“I need to come,” you admitted, your voice cracking with desperation. “please, baby. i need to come.”

rafe’s pretty blue eyes darkened with satisfaction at your words, but he still didn’t relent. 

instead, he slowed his movements even more, drawing out the pleasure until it was almost unbearable. you writhed against him, your body trembling, every nerve ending on fire.

“you want to come?” he asked, his voice a seductive purr, “that bad, huh?”

“t-this isn’t f-fair.”

“awww, sorry baby."

“fuck, fucking—"

“that’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with approval. “just a lil more, yeah?”

he increased the pace of his fingers, his thumb rubbing faster against your clit, and you felt the pleasure building again, higher and higher, until you were sure you couldn’t take it anymore. but this time, he didn’t stop. this time, he pushed you right to the edge and then, finally, let you fall.

your orgasm crashed over like a train wreck, your body convulsing with the intensity of it. you screamed his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, riding out the waves of pleasure that seemed to go on forever. rafe held you through it, his fingers never stopping, drawing out every last bit of your release until you were a boneless, panting mess in his arms.

“good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with affection. 

he kissed you tenderly, his lips a gentle contrast to the intensity of what you’d just experienced. as you came down from your high, he held you close, his fingers still inside you, his thumb gently stroking your clit, sending aftershocks of pleasure through your body.

you couldn’t find the words to answer, your mind too foggy with pleasure. instead, you just held onto him, your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in the crook of his shoulder.

rafe’s fingers slowly withdrew from you, leaving you feeling empty and aching for more. he lifted you gently, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with his casual tenderness. he climbed in beside you, pulling you into his arms, his body warm and solid against yours.

“i love you,” his voice was a soft caress against your ear. “i meant it.”

you looked up at him, “i know,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him, “i think i love you too.”

“i know.”

[op1umlust]

౨ৎ Shoelace

๑ Toji Fushiguro | Spoiled!Reader

tags: Toji is a gentleman (surprisingly), Reader is using the term "you", Reader is hyperfeminine, tooth-rotting fluff

The day Toji entered your life, you were spoiled rotten. He always did everything for you: hold your purse, brush your hair, and especially tie your shoes. 

You've never tied your shoes the day you started dating Toji, when you were all dressed up and doll'd up from head to toe, getting your pretty shoes from the shelf, and sitting on the couch dangling your legs while waiting for Toji.

Kneeling in front of you as you rest the palm of your feet on his toned abs while he slips your heels on the other foot, fastening and securing them, he will gently lift your other leg up, leaning down to kiss your ankle before slipping on the other heel.

 

"All done, Sweetheart."

 

Before he got up, you tugged on the collar of his shirt, bringing him close to you, passionately kissing against your soft pink lips.

 

"Thank you, Lovie"

 

You said in a loving voice while happily smiling. Toji stood up while reaching his hand out, helping you to stand up from the couch. You hummed in response as you happily accepted his offer to help you. You dusted your skirt off, fixing it before the two of you went out.

[sinsofbeauty]

Red Stained Sunflower Pt.2

Fandom: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Game

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Use of Pet Names, Suggestive Nsfw content, Mentions of Kidnapping, Obsessive/Clingy Johnny, Jealous Johnny, Small mention of murder

Requested?: Yee

Overview: Looks like you bailed on the little invitation Johnny had asked of you. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to, you actually got quite intimidated. Though that doesn’t stop him from seeking you out and making his intentions clear

A/n: So many of you wanted this to be a series, so here it is!! This is part 2 of 3!

Please comment if you would like to be tagged for part three!!! Enjoy!

Minors DNI!!!!

Part 1 - Red Stained Sunflower

“Hey Daddy?” You asked your father with the turn of your head. “How long are we gonna be in town for?”

He took a quick glance over to you before shrugging, “Oh maybe an hour or two. Just meeting with some old friends.”

You nodded your head and moved to look out the window. “I was talking to Maria on the telephone, she wanted to see if I could stop by the roller rink.” You replied to his comment. “Hope you don’t mind if I take a little detour.”

You were supposed to accompany Johnny out to the fields last night, but you decided to remain home instead. Now you were making arrangements with friends as though you weren't worried about the entire situation. You felt terrible, but you also couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the circumstances. Yes, Johnny was appealing, and his words would make you want to explode. But LORD! Johnny Slaughter was intimidating.

Your only concern on the trip into town with your father was the fact that you had essentially abandoned one of the Slaughter Brothers. How were you going to justify your absence because you were anxious? Private moments with him... Ugh!! You weren't sure how you would be able to face him after abandoning him in that way. Like, seriously. How were you going to explain to a man like him that the reason you didn't appear was because you're a virgin…?

Your heart was racing when you arrived to the roller rink. Even though you were still troubled by thoughts of Johnny, seeing the group at the rink's entrance helped you feel less concerned. Even if you weren't close to them, you had Maria there to keep you company, so it was well worth it to slip away from your father and his group of friends to spend time with your own. You immediately identified their faces. Connie, Julie, and Ana were all grinning and laughing as Leland and Sonny stood to the side. When Maria's eyes finally found you after searching, they completely lit up.

“Hey! Y/n over here!!” Her delighted voice echoed from across the street.

As you approach everyone, you wave and smile. They all appeared to be happy to see you, which gave you a strange feeling. Can't hold yourself to blame, though; you haven't been able to leave the house much because you've been so cooped up inside helping your father with his work.

“Hey guys!” You say, greeting them happily.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it!” Maria gave you a nice warm hug in return. “You remember Ana don’t you? We brought a couple friends along if you don’t mind!”

“Oh no of course not! It’ll be fun!” You shrug your shoulders, waving your arm to brush off any doubt about more people. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

Some of the group had their own skates, while others had to rent them when they entered the rink. Since you didn’t own any skates, you obtained a pair that fit you and sat down. Though you found yourself stuck tying and untying your shoelaces. Simply said, they weren't secure enough, and you didn't intend to break an ankle today. Before you notice someone roll over, you sigh and wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans.

“Need some help?”

In his sky blue shirt and navy blue jeans, which were fastened by a brown belt, Leland stood in front of you. The skates he had rented took the place of his shoes, and he was able to move around in them with ease. He was on the wrestling team in high school, and you somewhat recognized him from there. He also hung around with this little group of people. He was really kind to say the least, tall, strong, and fairly attractive for a young man his age.

Your eyes look up at the man who you nodded at with a smile. “Please, I’m having trouble tying them tight enough.”

The Texan smirks and bends down, taking one of your feet and pulling at the strings. “Let me know if it’s too tight, okay?” You nodded once more at his voice as he started tying your skates. Before moving on to the next, he questioned as to whether or not they felt snug enough for you. You felt good about it, and he was very considerate in making the gesture. “Alright, how do they feel?” He asked standing up.

As you rise up, you circle your feet before nodding your head in appreciation. “Perfect. Better than I could ever do. Thank you, Leland.”

His eyes squint when he gives a genuine smile, a gesture to your thankful remark. “Anytime. Say, I don’t see ya’ around here often. Do ya’… know how to skate?”

Oh dear God, you can't recall the last time you entered that rink. You probably haven't done it in months, and you weren't doing it frequently to begin with. You chuckle nervously while rubbing your hands together behind your back. “Uh… kinda? It’s been a while.” You admit to him. “I’m not the best skater but it’ll come back! I just get nervous when other people go fast past me.”

Just standing there made your legs feel like jello. You tried to move closer to Leland but all you did was sway back and forth. He chuckled at this, the male moving forward to grab your shoulders and prevent you from toppling. “I can teach ya’, practice makes perfect.”

“Says the one who was in the wrestling team.” You roll your eyes at him, making the man laugh in response. “I’d be on the ground more times than you’d like.”

“Hey! I’m a good teacher! We can go nice and slow at first, and you’ll still have a great time… in the rink, I mean. That sounded so weird…”

You giggled at his words, making his cheeks dust a soft pink. He was such a dork… cute.

“Come on guys! We’ve been waiting!” Exclaims Julie from the rink, making you and Leland look over.

“We’re coming,” You said, shifting past Leland with your wobbly legs as you made your way over. “I’m trying not to die. You guys are much more experienced at this.”

You almost went over with just one foot on that surface, but once you were stable, everything was good. Leland swiftly followed after you as you joined the others with a sigh of relief. Getting acclimated to the people and the surroundings took some time. You were still unable to go as quickly as Julie or Maria, who frequently sped by you.

“I’m gonna go around a couple times. Think you can handle it on ya’ own?” Leland asks, that genuine smile making you give one in return.

“For now. Go ahead, I’ll catch up eventually.”

After hearing your response, he quickly speeds away while teasing Maria and Julie about catching up. You chuckle, enjoying how this afternoon will play out. It was lovely to see everyone enjoying themselves. Being outside of the house felt wonderful. The gang laughed and joked as they skated around the rink. Leland was always there to catch you even if you were a little awkward and nearly fell a few times. He gave you a comforting smile as you both laughed despite how embarrassing it was. The group stopped to acquire some food after some time spent skating. Even though your heart was still beating from all the excitement, you were happy that you and your friends were having such a good time.

After a few hours, everyone departed the rink exhausted but content. You said your goodbyes and thanked them for an amazing time. You were relieved that you had chosen to go out with them as opposed to staying home or being barraged by your father’s older friends who wanted to talk to you.

“Hey Y/n,” Leland had said, catching you before you left. “I was wondering, I usually come around here at this time of day. Did you… wanna skate with me next week?”

You thought about it, and it didn’t hurt to meet some new people around. Even though he was closer with Maria, maybe a new group of people would be nice to hang around with. “Sure. Are you busy next Friday?”

“Great! Uhm… No, that should be fine. I’ll see ya’ then?”

You nodded your head, grinning as you left, feeling satisfied with the events of the day as you made your way back to meet with your father.

——

After a long, productive day, you were just finishing your shower at home. You check that your hair isn't excessively dripping before stepping out of the restroom while you're wrapped in a towel. No one was awake to bother you this late in the evening since your father was asleep. Your room was upstairs, turning left down the hall and another left past the bathroom across from it. Your father was immediately up the stairs to the right of the hall in his own room.

You entered your room and turned to lock the door behind you before turning on the lights. Despite the events earlier, your mind still wandered to Johnny. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Once more, you were unable to remove him from your head. Another day without communication meant that you would have to make an effort to avoid having to give an explanation. You sigh and close your eyes before turning to head for your dresser. In spite of this, as soon as you open them, you jump and cover your mouth to stifle the surprised sound that escapes from you.

“Johnny!” Looking at the man who was idly sitting on your bed fiddling with his hair, you blurted out. Your heart was pounding furiously. What the hell was he doing here? How did he get in here? What is he doing here??? He just sat in the dark, waiting for you to come in like… like a weirdo!! “The fuck are you doing? Why are you in my room?!”

His clothing caught your attention because it was a little different from what he typically wore. He appeared to have just taken a shower because his hair was moist and combed back. His navy blue jeans were fastened to his hips by a brown belt, and his dark gray long sleeve shirt was rolled to the dips of his arms just above his elbows. He wore his worn-out boots, without gloves to protect his calloused hands, and grinned endlessly.

“Should really keep that back window locked. So much easier than havin’ ta’ lock pick my way in at night.” He spoke quietly, as if he knew your father was in the room next to him. Low, as if he knew what trouble sneaking in here could get him into. “Ya’ don’t look happy ta’ see me sweetpea. Did I do something~?”

“Well for one, you’re in my room… uninvited.” You drew closer to the man who was lounging on your bed, your brows furrowed at him, your nose flared. “And I’m in a towel…naked! What if I started changing because I didn’t know you were here??”

Your face instantly turned red as his smile grew larger. He wasn't even required to respond to the question. You snort before turning around and returning to your door to lock it. The worst-case scenario would be your father interrupting you two. Yes, you were a grown woman, but technically speaking, sneaking someone into the house would not look so inviting. Especially if it was the Slaughter boy.

“Jesus… just— why are you here?” You ask, turning back to the man who you didn’t realize stood in those moments you were turned around. He appeared... distracted. It seemed as though he was thinking about or bothered by something.

“Oh me? I jus’ wanted ta’ see ya’!” He said with the slight wave of his hands. “I wanted ta’ know whatchu were doin’, cause��� obviously, it wasn’t me.”

“Yeah about that…” You trailed off, looking at the floor for a moment. It was… a nice floor. Maybe staring at it would help you think about how to tell him without feeling like a total idiot. “I just got… a little nervous.”

You looked up at the man as he surprised you with a chuckle. His facial expressions were unpredictable. He appears disturbed one second, then happy the next. Even just looking at him made you feel conflicted. Your hands were holding onto the towel that was about to fall down your body as he started to approach you. “Nervous hm? About what?”

You sighed as you cast a glimpse his way and fiddled with the towel covering your body. “I don’t know how to explain…”

“Come on now, ya’ don’t have ta’ be scared ‘round me,” Johnny gave reassurance while smiling oddly relaxed. Observing the shit-eating grin that emerged on his face, you gave him a little glare. “Okay maybe a lil’ bit~. But come on, it can’t be that bad!”

He makes you huff and shrug your shoulders in response. Why did talking about this seem so embarrassing? It was Johnny… In any case, he didn't have much to say about it. Right? You grumble, your mouth twitching slightly as your nose flares once more. “I didn’t come because… I was nervous about being a virgin.”

The last few words were mumbled, but it appears like Johnny heard them right away. At that instant, Johnny's lips curled into a wicked grin, which his hand moved to conceal right away. You shivered, a chill running up your spine at the laugh that burst forth from his throat seconds later. “That’s the reason? Cause, nobody’s taken yer lil’ cherry yet~?”

“It’s not funny!” You exclaim slapping his bicep, only to obtain another silly laugh from him. “It’s a sensitive thing! I have a right to be anxious about it!! Especially if… those intentions were indicated.”

“Oh honeybee, ya’ think I’d feel any different?” Johnny said with the shrug of his shoulders. “I mean— I’m a lil’ surprised! A pretty girl like you? I would’ve expected it to be long gone by now.”

“Well it’s not so you can stop teasing me about it,” You pout, crossing your arms with the shake of your head.

At that very time, Johnny was getting closer to you and dipping his head slightly. His eyebrows dropped, his gaze became unreadable, and his hands, which fiddled with his belt, twitched in anticipation as his voice abruptly shifted to a low tone. “How cute, and ta’ think, I’ll be the one takin’ it from ya’~.”

“Eh- You-…” You turned in defeat as the sentence that attempted to form failed miserably. You scowl and head to your dresser to look for something to wear. “God I hate you sometimes. I can just imagine how much it would hurt.”

Johnny smirked as he approached from behind you and gently grabbed your shoulders. “Oh I won’t hurtcha, much.” He replied. “I’ll go nice and slow for ya’ darlin’.”

“I doubt that,” Smiling, you respond before shutting the dresser door and turning to face Johnny. His eagerness was evident from the little shudder of his shoulders as his hands were now in his pockets. “You’re thinking about it too much.”

“Maybe I am~.” He says, slyly smiling while momentarily averting his gaze. “Ya’ know I can’t help myself doll. Even now, just lookin’ at ya’ makes me excited.”

You rolled your eyes after moving around him to your bed, placing your clothes on it with a soft pat. “I’m in a towel with nothing under it, of course you’re excited.” You say sarcastically.

“Well, ya’ did look good earlier today,” Johnny stated, making you freeze in place. He had a menacing smirk on his face when you turned to face him.

“You were in town today?”

“Jus’ happened ta’ be,” Responded Johnny with a shrug. “Saw ya’ walkin’ ta’ that lil’ roller rink on the side of town with ya’ lil’ friends.”

“Yeah, I had planned to go out with them that morning.” You spoke to him, fiddling with the towel.

Johnny moved a few steps closer to you while humming and tilting his head. “Oh I know! Ya’ looked like ya’ had fun, especially with pretty boy touchin’ up all on ya’.”

As much as how he seemed, his vocal tone also appeared to shift. He appeared agitated, as far as you could tell. You didn’t even have to mention Leland, he had been watching you that whole time. The encounters you had with the other young adult in question. He absolutely despised it. Just having the idea of how furious he would have been as Leland assisted you in any way he could. Was he… no, he couldn’t be.

“So, you’re telling me that you followed me and watched me with my friends today?”

The man's mouth twisted in annoyance as he let out a little giggle. “Curiosity got the best o’ me, I will admit.” Johnny said, his half lidded eyes looking away. He clenched his jaw and pursed his lips before turning to face you.

“Well, we’re just friends if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Sure– I mean, I have no problem with it! I mean if ‘e touches ya’ again,” Johnny lets out a laugh. “He never will, let’s jus’ leave it at that.”

“Oh? Is that so?” You ask with a smirk. “And to think, Johnny Slaughter is jealous of another man.”

“Jealous?! AHA– I’m not jealous!” He makes an effort to justify his obsessive tendencies, but it simply serves to highlight it. His eyes widen, “I jus’ didn’t like how ‘e was feelin’ up on ya’, how’s that bein’ jealous?!”

“You’re getting all defensive.”

“When??”

“Right now?”

“I’m jus’ sayin’ I’m not!”

You couldn't help laughing, which made the man snarl. It was cute how obvious he made it. Observing his vulnerable side manifest itself in this way due to someone else? Johnny's jealousy wasn't anything you anticipated. He was a man who frequently showed little regard for the actions or words of others. However, it was a different story when it came to you. He seems a little uneasy when his family would speak to you. The man appeared to be extremely possessive of anything he so claimed as his.

“Come on now, you don’t have to be scared around me,” You spoke.

Johnny's cheeks had turned a delicate shade of pink. He rolled his eyes at your remark and scoffed while shaking his head. “I ain’t scared sunshine,” He replied with his smile coming back. “If I was, I wouldn’t have snuck into ya’ house.” Your eyes widened in shock as the man grabbed your arm and drew you up against him. “I wouldn’t tell ya’ righ’ now, that yer my girl.”

“You don’t have me just yet.”

“Oh, I don’t?” Johnny lifts your chin and lowers his face to meet yours only a few inches away. “But ya’ want me, no? Jus’ lookin’ at those eyes ya’ want me.” Your eyelids flutter closed as he rubs his nose against yours. He was well aware of the fact that he had you. “I’ll treat ya’ like a princess darlin’, I’ll spoil ya’ so rotten that ya’ can’t get enough of me. Cause I want ya’, I need ya’.”

If this was a way for Johnny to swoon you over, he sure was doing it. However, you were curious to see how much further he would swing. He draws back his head and lets go of your chin as you open your eyes in order to tuck a hair behind your ear.

“You should tell me more.”

“Really?” Johnny says as his brows begin to converge. When he senses your seriousness, he smirks and lets out a tiny chuckle. “I’d kill for ya’, I’d die for ya’, I’m sooo head over heels.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re so funny.”

“Amused?” He hums, making you giggle in response. In return, pleased by the remark, Johnny snorts. “Needy lil’ thing aren’t cha’? Makin’ me all soft.”

“I thought you were excited.”

“Cheeky lil’ brat ya’ are darlin’,” Johnny scoffs. “If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be so damn close! Y’know– I wouldn’t be talkin’ fa’ someone who’s so red in the face.”

“You’re just as flustered as me,” You roll your eyes. “You should’ve seen your face when you got all jelly~.”

“Eh– I wasn’t–... sh-shut up.”

“Make me~.”

Johnny's eyes appeared to be playing cat and mouse with you. As if it wasn’t the third or fourth time he licked his lips this evening. His teeth were exposed in a ferocious smile, giving him an almost feral appearance. “Oh I could– but actually, it probably wouldn’t shut ya’ up sweetheart.” He takes your hips, making you softly gasp. “You’d be loud– no you’d be screamin’ honey. I’d make sure of that– oh I’d make sure, the only thing on your mind is me~.”

Johnny made a sound of interest as you placed your hands on his chest. The excitement he felt then was much greater. The way his hands drew you in his direction and the way they tightly grabbed your hips caught you off guard. Once more lowering his head, Johnny first brushes his cheek against yours before moving his lips toward your ear. His hands shifted, reaching your waist.

“Is that what ya’ wanted ta’ hear? How I’ll make sure those legs of ya’s are shakin’ when I fuck ya’ good? Hm? How I’ll make ya’ cum, over, and over on my cock? I can only imagine.” Your body tenses up in response to his comments, and he grins as a result. “Feelin’ ya’ squirm under me. That cute lil’ pussy clenchin’ so tight you’ll make my head spin. Ohhh darlin’, I wanna feel ya’ nails diggin’ in my back as I take ya’. Inch. By. Inch~.”

A subtle sound came from you. Considering that it was subconscious, you weren't sure if it was a whimper or a moan. Your thighs drove together as you made an effort to hide the sudden jolts that surged up through your abdomen. He... really did have a way with words.

“Awwwe~. Are ya’ gettin’ excited now?” Johnny had moved his head away from yours, taking one good look at your reddened face. His tongue ran over the top row of his teeth as he took one good look at your body. The rise and fall of your chest, your gaze struggling to meet his, and the mere sight of your thighs clamping together. Heh. How could he not notice? “It looks like ya’ are.”

You were startled, or perhaps more accurately, flustered. In that instant, Johnny made you feel just how you'd imagined when you'd read about getting hot and bothered in books. You were completely in shock as you stared at the man with your mouth open and nothing coming out of it. How could you respond to that? Could you… even respond? Observing his every move while remaining motionless, nothing came out of your lips, not a single word.

“Gotta question for ya’ doll,” He said, glancing at the wall for a moment. “Don’t have ta’ be shy now, I know what ya’ want. How about ya’ come down ta’ the fields like we planned, yeah?”

You swallowed thickly, seeing as he removed himself from you entirely. What a damn tease. “Tomorrow?”

“Preferably,” Responded Johnny. “Or ya’ plans with pretty boy can go bye bye next Friday, and ya’ can spend it with me instead.”

“You're still on that?” You say with a raised brow. “How do you even know we made plans?”

He growled and clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, his eyes moving away from you. “I heard ya’.”

“Heard me? Or you were eavesdropping?”

You and Johnny exchanged looks, and that glare gave you all you needed to know. Let’s be real, it’s a little odd knowing that he had been spying on you, but seeing him jealous was like seeing a spoiled little boy now getting what he wanted.

Johnny’s eyes fluttered closed with a sigh, crossing his arms in defeat. “Y’know— you… I— yer really gettin’ on my nerves!”

“Good,” You say with a small smile. “And I’ll think about coming tomorrow.”

“Oh there’s no thinkin’ honeybee,” Johnny said with a mischievous smile. “I’ll make sure yer there, I’ll steal ya’ if I need ta’— hell! If it means I need ta’ kidnap ya’.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe if ya’ wait long enough, you’ll find out~.”

Part 3 is up!! >>> RSSF PT.3

@optimsluv @chernayawidow @yixxes @marriedtoeddie

[justwinginglife]

hello! i love love love reading your fics so much that it gives me the soshiro brainrot everytime i scroll thru tumblr <3

can i request the reader (who's a platoon leader and secretly a simp for their vice captain!) catching the vice cap training at night and leaving them shocked because of the vice cap's physique? (LIKE YKWIM HE'S HANDSOME AND HOT IN THAT COMPRESSION SHIRT)

you can add some spice to the story bc i know you can write it beautifully <333

thank u so much for the soshiro hoshina sustenance <3

I'm so happy you like my fics omg. I'd do anything to support the Soshiro brainrot lmao. This is your captain speaking, we are heading into NSFW airspace, please fasten your seatbelts and prepare to get fucked.

Impatient

Your relationship with Soshiro Hoshina had been progressing at a rather slow and steady pace, but you were fine with it; this was your first serious relationship and you refused to do anything that would jeopardize it. You loved him after all, you could wait for him to love you.

But then you passed by the training room and -you blamed your next thoughts on it being 2 am- suddenly you wanted to throw all caution to the wind when you saw him standing there, stretching, his muscles rippling against his compression shirt.

Soshiro- the man that had asked permission before even holding your hand, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. You wanted to hold more than his hand now. Watching him train, you wanted to run your hands along every contour of his body. You wanted to know if he'd squirm under your touch, if he'd stiffen, if he'd melt.

Soshiro- the man with the silliest, most adorable laugh to ever grace the air. You wanted to pierce the silence with his moans, with his whimpers, with his gasps. You wanted the room to echo with sounds of his arousal. You wanted the whole base to hear how obsessed he was with you.

Soshiro- the man who always bends over to tie your shoelaces whenever he notices they're untied. You wanted to bend him over, you wanted him to bend you over. You wanted to test the limits of his flexibility, of yours. You wanted to explore every position with him in every square inch of this room. Every square inch of this base. You wanted to sneak sessions in supply closets, in the bathroom, in the locker room, in the med bay. Anywhere and everywhere. You wanted to stain the carpet in his office with your pleasure, wanted to drag your handprint down the fogged up glass of the shower doors, wanted to break a lunchroom table from the brutality of your rapture.

What was it about this man that had you biting your lip, blushing in a corner, your lewdest thoughts hungrily claiming every corner of your mind?

You told yourself over and over again that you were okay with the way things were. You were okay with stealing glances, with shy compliments, with passing touches. Any part of him was better than nothing.

But, as you continued in your observation of him as he swung his swords and sliced through the air, you found yourself consumed by your desires. You found yourself greedy for more of him. You wanted to selfishly lay claim to him over and over. You'd never felt such raw, intense urges before and it overwhelmed you. The proof of your love and your yearning was pooling in your underwear, and you had to adjust yourself so as to not just orgasm right there, as you feasted on the sight of him.

You'd never found your release in just mere thoughts before, but watching him now, you thought that you could come with nothing but the idea of him, nothing but your imagination.

You inhaled sharply and it caught his attention.

He smirked as he found your gaze, your longing made evident in your eyes. He admired the way the voluptuous swell of your breasts made themselves obvious as your chest heaved with shaky breaths. And there was no mistaking the way you’d crossed your legs as you leaned against the wall, attempting to hold back the flood of lust that was currently soaking your panties. 

His hum of approval reverberated in his chest as he set his swords aside and made his way to you. 

“How’s my darling girlfriend this evening?” He grabbed one of your hands and pressed his lips firmly against it. 

“Good. Great. I’m great.”

He began kissing up your arm. “Just admiring the view tonight?”

You gulped. So he had noticed you watching him. “It’s a nice view,” You shrugged, trying to come off nonchalant, but your words came out a mere squeak. 

He chuckled against your skin, still trailing his love up your arm, his hungry kisses quickly approaching your shoulder. 

You sucked in a breath as the delicious sensations flooded your body. “H-how’s your night?” 

He smirked against your neck. “It just got even better.”

As he continued his love trail up your body, nipping at your ear now, you reminded yourself that you loved him, and you could wait for him to love you. But you weren’t sure if you could wait for him to make love to you. The way it felt when he touched you, the way his whispered intentions filled your ears, the way you were completely enamored with him, leaving no misunderstanding about who your heart belonged to- it was all too much and at the same time, not enough. You needed more of him. You needed to know just how much he was yours and just how much you were his. 

You knew he wouldn’t dare go much further without your explicit consent, the way he was tasting every inch of you with reckless abandon was already significantly more than he’d ever done to you. Maybe 2am was getting to him too, maybe he needed this just as badly as you did.

So you gave him the permission he’d been seeking. “Soshiro- take me.”

His eyes widened. You knew he’d been desperate for those very words, but he still hesitated. “Are you… are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Don’t wear that shirt around me if you aren’t prepared to face the consequences.”

Your flirtatious banter seemed to somewhat ease the uncertainty in his mind, his relaxed features now forming a smirk, but you knew he was still waiting for extra confirmation. “I’m sure, baby. I need you. And I know you need me too.”

Then he pounced on you, his hands pushing your hips against the wall, his lips devouring yours in a fiery passion. “Damn right I need you.” 

The force of his tongue invading your mouth felt ravenous, felt rushed. Like the taste of you was payment that he was owed, payment that he was in a hurry to claim. You were overloaded with pure pleasure, your mind unable to decide if it wanted to focus on his moans seeping into your mouth, or his hips grinding into yours. His hips won out- his ever growing erection the most delicious distraction, as he kept thrusting against you, devouring any semblance of space between you, his enormous bulge taking up position between your legs, knocking against your entrance. 

For a minute, you thought you would just come in your clothes; his dry humping proving itself most seductive. But you wanted your first orgasm with him to be from his cock splitting your cunt open. 

Apparently he couldn’t wait that long. He came in his pants already; the pure perfection of you shivering under his touch was too much for his throbbing erection to handle. He’d spent his whole relationship with you holding back, and he had no more patience left, at least not for tonight. So he gave in to his feelings, gave in to the satisfaction of finding his release against you, his back arching as he finished thrusting himself into you, shuddering.

When his moans receded down his throat, you knelt down to peer at his pants. You poked at the wet spot and he groaned. “And we barely did anything too. Imagine how you’re going to feel,” You started to slide his pants down and he sucked in a breath, “When you’re inside me.”

You choked down his cum-soaked cock, feeling smug as it rapidly hardened again in your mouth. You’d never tasted him before but now that you had him right where you wanted him, his arousal dripping down your throat, you didn’t ever intend to stop tasting him. You wondered just how much cum he’d saved up for you, just how many times you could pry a release from him. 

He gripped your shoulder tight as he fucked into you rapidly, his cock eager for the slick of your saliva. “Fuuuuck, baby, you’re perfect. So goddamn perfect.” It wasn’t long before your mouth was flooded with his ambrosia, his lust sweet and sticky against your tongue. He bit his lip to hold back the flow of his moans, but they cascaded out anyway, filling the training room with the melodic sounds of his love for you. 

He pulled away from you and collapsed to his knees, his pulsing member still in the process of recovering. You guided him down to the training mat, pushing him flat against it. He thought you were allowing him respite. Allowing him to pull himself together, to clean up the mess of a man you’d made him. But you hadn’t got off yet and you felt it was your turn. 

You made a show of stripping yourself for him and he groaned into his fist, feeling his desires pump blood into his cock yet again. You wondered if it was painful to be so hard so frequently in one sitting. But as he began to stroke his cock while he watched you, you knew he had to be enjoying himself too. The way your fingers curled along the rim of your panties as you inched them down and the way they traced the contour of your chest before pulling off your bra, he enjoyed it all immensely. 

And when you claimed his cock in your hands, pumping it up and down a couple times before grinding your clit against the swell of his erection, and then running it along your slicked entrance, he thought he might be in heaven. Before he could stop himself, before the dream could end, he took hold of his dick again and shoved it deep inside you, eager to feel you clenching around him. You settled yourself firmly on top of him, your depths swallowing every inch of his cock. 

His lips found yours again, his kiss needy and hungry, as he began to thrust into you relentlessly. “So perfect, so wet, so mine. I can’t get enough of you, darlin.” 

Every moan tumbling out of your mouth sent him into a frenzy, his thirst eagerly quenching itself with every sweet sound, desperate to hear more. 

He begged you to come for him but he didn’t have to, your release had been building with every plunge in your pussy, and you were ready to explode.

“Say my name baby, I need you to cum with my name on those gorgeous lips.” 

“S-Soshiro... Soshiro, don’t stop. Ah, fuck, Soshiro!” Your ecstasy erupted inside you as you came on top of him. 

He felt the gush of your arousal drenching his cock as you clenched around him and he let himself go, let himself join you. He moaned your name as he buried himself in your hair, thrusting deeper inside you before filling you up. 

You dropped to the floor beside him, panting and sweating. 

“If you’re tired, it’s the shirt’s fault.” You joked in between breaths. 

He chuckled. “Then I’ll make sure to wear it more often. Tire me out as much as you like, baby.”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: I am aware all my sex scenes are starting to sound the same and that is because I am self indulgent and like the same stuff LOL. I will eventually write us doing different things, but if it ain't broke why fix it, ya know? I am impatient, I need us to be fucked by him, I ain't got time for all this other stuff. Please forgive my self indulgence and my horny impatience.

[prettybean]

Older boyfriend!Keegan is rotting my brain

I keep imagining him w his lil passenger princess and she gets full control over the music ofc ofc, so she's connected to the Bluetooth and then Cola by Lana Del Rey starts playing and he's like "Oh really🤨"

I absolutely love it, I imagine Keegan as a kind and thoughtful boyfriend, especially if he's older than you! 🦮 <- me rn

Older bf Keegan

He treats you like a princess, often using the excuse of your youth. You are his sweet spot, and you naturally take advantage of it. Keegan loves to pamper you and take care of your needs: he will tie your shoelaces when they come undone, he will gracefully kneel on the sidewalk to help you with a cute bow. If you feel a sneeze coming on, he immediately hands you a tissue. When you're too weary to walk, he won't hesitate to scoop you up in his arms and let you rest.

You don't have to lift a finger! Simply sit back and be pretty for him.

Keegan goes above and beyond to make sure you're well taken care of. If you're riding in the car together, he always opens the door for you, playfully joking that you still haven't gotten your license yet and how he always has to drive.

He genuinely loves it, particularly the expressions you make as you hop into the car and fasten your seatbelt.

"Are you ready?" he playfully asks, his laughter filling the air. As you both settle into the car, Keegan expertly navigates the radio buttons in search of the perfect song, attempting to find one that suits your taste.

“All these songs are old as fuck!”. You jokingly complain and he defends himself “I listen to them to go to work”. But his concern becomes evident when he notices you pull out your cell phone. Not wanting to miss an opportunity to make you happy, he doesn’t say a word and you quickly connect the Bluetooth, announcing that you'll play a fantastic song for him “Trust me!” you say noticing his scared expression.

Turning on the engine, Keegan tries to divert the situation and places a comforting hand on your thigh, just as he often does. "You're going to love this," you whispers as you select Lana del Rey's 'Cola', unable to contain the excitement and he can't help but chuckle when he hears the first verse of the song along with you,

"Your pussy tastes like WHAT?"

[avatar-anna]

first time harry sees prof all dolled up maybe for a fancy date or something and is just lost for words. and then maybe prof gets a little hurt that he doesn't find her natural self that attractive but he explains that he was shocked?

First Date Jitters

The Professor Series

this takes place right after the series ends (after part V)!

*.*

Standing in front of the mirror of your Manhattan apartment, you weren't quite sure if you were satisfied with the reflection staring back at you.

"What do you think, Trajan?" you asked, looking over at your cat, who just stared back with a bored expression. Narrowing your eyes at the Emperor, you said, "I'll remember your lack of support in this moment, you know."

The cat just continued with his cool indifference, clearly not worried about your potential grudge. When you determined that your conversation with your cat was just toeing the line of insanity, you turned back to the mirror and sighed.

Objectively, you would say you looked fine. Your dress nipped your waist just so, and you liked the way the red string tieing the bodice contrasted the sweetness of the garment's pattern. It was sweet and romantic, but there was something mature about it too that couldn't be ignored.

The dress was fine, and the socks with the ruffled ankles matched perfectly, so that was a plus, but as you looked yourself over for the twenty-seventh time, you couldn't help but feel like your reflection was an imposter.

You'd had the dress for a few months now. It had called out to you on a rare shopping trip in SoHo, and you bought it on impulse. It hadn't left your closet since, but when Harry left your apartment the morning after you reconnected and said he wanted to take you on a proper date, you knew it was the perfect dress.

You watched mirror-you's frown deepen as you remained flummoxed by the situation at hand. You didn't think you looked bad, but something was just...

"Missing. It's missing something."

Style and fashion weren't things you didn't pay much attention to. You had a particular style that made you comfortable, a small circle of interesting but not out-there that you thought matched your personality quite nicely. You had your comfy sweaters with cute patterns, your corduroy pants and mismatched socks and the clips and headbands and colorful scrunchies you used to keep your hair out of your face so you weren't constantly annoyed by it.

But the dress just seemed out of place in all of that. You liked it enough not to take it off, but you needed something else to make it feel like it was actually you wearing the dress, not the other way around.

Not enough color, you soon realized. There was a pop of red from the laces, but other than that, you were just wearing white, something you rarely ever wore. You liked color, and decided that if you were going to confidently wear this dress, it needed a little more whimsy.

You rummaged through your things—shoes, shoelaces, earrings, colorful eyeshadow shades—searching for just the right element. It took about three minutes, but when you found a forgotten jewelry box stashed under some old files, you remembered what lay within.

In seconds, you were fastening the necklaces around your neck, knowing that Harry would arrive at your apartment any minute. As you struggled with the clasp, your mind flashed to all the times Harry had shown up on your doorstep in Cambridge, ready to talk about just about anything with you.

Things were so much easier then, you recalled. You never second-guessed your attire, never once wondered if Harry would notice that your shoelaces didn't match, or find your sweater with dancing mushrooms on it bizarre, or question the strand of beads that held your glasses like a necklace. Even now, you knew Harry wouldn't mind if you were dressed up or down, and yet you found yourself fretting over your appearance tonight anyway.

As you layered the last of your necklaces, a mix of colorful beads and stones with a gold heart-shaped locket at its center, you heard a knock on your door. "Shoot," you muttered, fingers slipping now that your nerves were kicking into full gear. Pausing your battle against the tiny brass clasp, you left your room to get the door, words tumbling out of your mouth before Harry could even make a sound.

"I'm not ready yet, I'm sorry. I got so caught up in going over the conversation topics I picked out that I forgot I actually had to physically get ready for tonight, which took much longer than it should have, and now I can't get this infernal necklace to clasp because my hands won't stop sweating, and every time I think about you or tonight my mind quite literally stops working for a minute and I forget what I'm doing. And all of that is to say that I'm not ready. Yet. I'm not ready yet."

Harry blinked as he processed everything you'd just said, and your face flushed because, really, did you have to reveal how nervous you were the nanosecond you opened the door?

"That...was all in one breath," he finally said. "I'm impressed."

Your whole face felt like it was on fire, but even though it had been a year since you'd spoken, you could tell that Harry wasn't teasing. He really was impressed.

"Do you mind helping me? With—With the necklace? I don't think I'll be able to get it, and it'll probably be easier if you just—Edward?"

Shoot, you thought. You hadn't meant to call him that. "Harry, I mean. Sorry. I don't know why I said that."

Even after messing up and correcting yourself, you still hadn't managed to garner his attention. Well, you had, he just wasn't looking at your face.

Harry's gaze was thorough as he took you in, his eyes lingering on your hips, then your chest, which was tastefully on display due to the cut of your dress. You felt his stare, almost as intensely as if he was actually touching you, though you knew that was quite literally impossible. But you still felt it, your stomach flipping around giddily as his gaze became heavy-lidded.

"Am I...dressed appropriately?" you couldn't help but ask, which seemed to get Harry's attention.

"Huh?"

"You never actually said what we'd be doing, and I read this article about the top nine date activities, and going to a restaurant was number one. Nine and ten were bike rides and amusement parks, but I took my chances. Hedged my bets, if you will."

God, did you sound like this all the time? You told yourself that you were rambling more than usual because of the added stress of going on your first-ever date with Harry and told yourself you would stop once you crossed the threshold of your door and officially started your date. But one quick look at Harry's tousled curls pushed to one side and the cozy sweater that made him look adorable and sexy—a winning combination if there ever was one—you knew you'd be tongue-tied for a while.

"You're perfect."

Your eyes widened, surprise and delight taking over your entire body. Smiling, you offered him a quiet thank you before asking him to clasp your necklace again, turning around before he could see the blush on your cheeks.

Harry's fingers were delicate as he draped the necklace over your collarbones and fastened the clasp into place. You could feel his shallow breaths on the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps on your skin and making your toes curl. You know you and Harry agreed on a proper date, which meant, you actually had to go on said date and not just skip to the end. But as the pads of his fingers began to glide across the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your arm, his lips puckering against the rapid beating of your pulse point, you wondered if you could just skip all that.

His hands came around your waist and felt along the front of your dress and squeezing appreciatively where he pleased. It made you feel molten inside, like clay that could only be shaped by his hands. You sagged against him a little, taking pleasure in his admiration of your body.

A breathy sigh escaped your lips as Harry continued to knead and squeeze and pinch, cold air biting at your neck as he dragged his lips across your skin.

Every thought, every topic of conversation you'd prepared, every worry you had, evaporated into thin air, like it never existed in the first place. You couldn't feel anything but serendipitous pleasure as you both indulged yourselves on feelings that had been locked deep in your hearts for perhaps far too long. There was logic that needed to be considered—your tornado-stricken room, the cats, the actual date itself—but logic and reason seemed to have retreated too far into your mind to grasp.

"The—The date," you managed to say, though Harry practically swallowed the words with a kiss, his nose nudging yours playfully before capturing your bottom lip with his teeth. You hissed, but leaned in closer so he could do it again.

Harry didn't answer for a moment, two moments, three, not in any rush to go anywhere but further into your apartment, do anything but suck your tongue into his mouth. You whimpered, struggling to hold it together both physically and mentally.

"You're exquisite," he murmured, like he hadn't even heard your measly attempt at bringing up the date you were supposed to be on.

Your heart raced at the compliment, but a seed of doubt flickered irritatingly in your mind. You willed it away, but it was as stubborn as a splinter in your hand or a piece of fuzz in your eye. You wouldn't be able to focus on anything else until it was gone.

"I—"

"Don't think for one second it's just the dress," Harr said calmly but firmly. You had no idea, but he could feel you tense at his compliment and knew exactly where your mind drifted. He knew you. "You came up with things to talk about on our date? Research before our date? Fucking hot, Professor."

You couldn't help but giggle, especially when the nips to your skin became more playful. "Don't tease."

"I'm not," Harry insisted. For the first time since this impromptu kissing-and-feeling took place in the middle of your apartment, Harry tipped your chin up so he could look you in the eye. You saw nothing but sincerity there, his lips swollen and a deeper shade of pink than usual as he grinned. "I told you before, Y/n. I find every little thing about you mesmerizing."

You knew it wasn't physically possible, but you felt like your heart swelled in your chest from just those words alone. Any minute doubts in your mind turned to dust right then. Harry knew you, knew all of your quirks and odd habits and tendencies and behaviors, but he never once faulted you for it or tried to change you.

Kissing him once on the cheek, you said, "I know the last four and a half minutes might have proven otherwise, but I really would like to go on our date."

Not a single flicker of disappointment crossed Harry's face at that. His eyes just crinkled as he released you from the circle of his arms, but not before kissing you one last time. "Me too. I have something pretty interesting planned and I would hate to let it go to waste."

"What did you have in mind?"

"A place called the Russian Tea Room," Harry said, offering you his arm once you'd straightened out your dress and fixed your hair, both of which had been thoroughly rucked up by him. "I figured a little Eastern European history with our date couldn't hurt."

You resisted the urge to jump on him right then and there.

For a whole year, you'd gone without talking to Harry. That came with its own slew of pain and regret and resentment, but above all of that, you really just missed his companionship. It wasn't that you just missed talking to someone in general about history and novels and astronomy, but you missed talking to him about all those things. And to think that he picked out a date that would capture the essence of your old "book club" sessions, it made you love him all the more.

Harry was just so...Harry. Because of course he would pick out something that would have educational value. You loved to learn and share knowledge, loved discussing history, and he loved to listen and engage with you like no one else ever bothered to before.

"We should probably call and tell them we might be late to our reservation," you said as you walked down the streets of New York toward the subway. You figured with all the time you spent fooling around in your apartment, you'd definitely be late for any reservations Harry made in advance.

"You might have to call," he said, sounding the slightest bit sheepish.

"Why?"

Harry grinned and patted his pockets. "I was so nervous about tonight that I left my phone at the hotel."

Unable to stop yourself, you snickered, leaning against Harry's arm to try and muffle the sound. "You? Nervous? I don't believe it."

"I'm serious!" he insisted. "I kept changing my clothes and my shoes, not realizing that I was running late to pick you up, and I just left. Without it."

You laughed, and Harry did too. It was comforting to know that Harry had been just as anxious about tonight as you'd been, to know that you scrambled his brain as much as he scrambled yours.

You kissed his arm, running your thumb up and down the thick knit of his cardigan. He felt so cozy, looked so handsome. It made you want to kiss his cheek until a dimple appeared and run your hands beneath his shirt at the same time.

But even so, the idea of a Russian-themed tea room was too intriguing to not talk about. There was too much to talk about, in fact. It would probably be for the best if you started on politics now so you could talk about the fun stuff like architecture and art styles when you got there.

When you asked Harry how much he knew about the Tsars and Tsarinas of Russia, he shrugged and said, "As much as the next person, I suppose. I did a little research beforehand so I could at least try to impress you, but go ahead. Tell me about it."

You squeezed his arm excitedly began, trying to decide on the best course of action. "Well, you see..."

[shadowthief78]

Lyney/Reader

Genshin spoilers under the cut, for 4.0 Fontaine Archon quests.

Containes unexpected kissing and the barest slightest tiniest slight yandere Lyney, might not be canon compliant bc I got stuck halfway through trying to do quest stuff and came to write this instead.

I thought I was in a bit of a dry spell but it turns out I just needed some catboy coded manipulation to get back in the swing of things. I think all three of them would be subtly manipulative like this and I love it. Hopefully I can write more of them soon :D

This came out a lot cuter than I pictured. I don't really think Lyney would be an overtly violent or threatening lover.

The first time Lyney kisses you is right after Crowell dies. Your eyes widen, still focused on Lynette's, while her brother presses his mouth against yours in a kiss decidedly not appropriate for someone the prime suspect in a murder trial. The basket of food you brough knocks awkwardly against your knees, tilting you forward at an uncomfortable angle.

The supervising garde coughs. Lyney releases you. You steady yourself against him.

"I brought you food. Freminet was worried you would get hungry," you say, uncovering the dishes. Lyney's little brother had practically thrown bowls at you while you struggled to fasten your cloak. "Some might be a little wet. It's pouring out there."

"Thank you," Lynette says, taking the basket. "I'm going to the dressing rooma to share."

"Sorry it's mostly leftovers," you say, watching her bow bob as she leaves.

Her exit leaves you and Lyney in the half-light of backstage, the spotlights casting eerie shadows on the props. The garde moves a few steps away.

Lyney seems to realize how stiffly you're holding yourself. "Sorry," he says, releasing your elbow. "Overwhelmed, I guess. Crowell..."

You knew Crowell—were the one to reccommend him for the job, in fact. You glance at the curtain covering everything.

"Freminet's worried about you. Says there's too many visitors for him to handle."

Lyney sighs. "Poor Freminet. He didn't have anything to do with this. I feel terrible about it all, I'm not there to support him..." He catches sight of you again and gasps. "Oh, archons, what am I doing? You're soaked through and through. I was so busy worrying about this I completely forgot my manners. I'll find you a change of clothes somewhere."

Someone in the dressing room offers you a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. Lyney continues hovering at your side, fussing. "I don't deserve you," he says, once his troupe has largely wandered off to rest. It's closer to dawn than sunset and you've mostly dried off. He sits at the edge of the pile of cushions you're propped up on, fiddling with his shoelace.

"I haven't done anything," you mutter, eyelids itching to close.

"That's not true," he says. "You keep the house in order, take care of Freminet, patch up all our costumes, organize the troupe, bring us food..." He trails off looking at you. "The kiss."

You look away. "Overwhelmed?"

He makes a frustrated noise. "Yes, but- Ah," he sighs, collapsing backwards closer to you. "I really did mean it. I just... probably should have waited for a better time. I hoped, after today's show, that, you know..." He dissolves into groans again. "Freminet adores you and so does Lynette. After this is all over, do you think maybe we could perhaps, ah, continue that?"

You see his face pressed to the cushions, rough fabric against his smooth cheek. He looks at you softly, like a dream, poised like a cat about to pounce.

Him. Lynette. Freminet. They all want to catch you somehow.

[inkheartedwanderer]

a tally on the left || s.h.

in which the most embarrassing moment of steve’s life leads him to you.

steve x fem!reader. 

content: tacky leotards, steve in a crop-top, a fitness class. summer of ‘85, instant crush, girly reader (kinda). not very good i’m sorry :( more steve-centric than reader-centric

word count: 4.2k

Steve Harrington never thought the most humiliating moment of his life would come at the hands of two fifteen-year-old girls. Pleading doe eyes, empty promises of never ever bothering him ever again and his own goodwill to blame, he agreed with barely a qualm, just a deep sigh followed by El’s skinny arms around his torso and a less vehement than usual pat on the back from Max.

If he had known what he was really getting into, he wouldn’t have acceded so fast.

It’s times like this, when he’s standing in the middle of the Starcourt Mall parking lot in very short shorts and a fucking crop top -courtesy of a very amused Dustin, and that he’s wearing god knows why-, that he deeply regrets having a soft spot for the kids.

Leaning against his car, hands on his hips and duffle gym bag on the concrete by his feet, Steve waits for El and Max to get out of the vehicle with their backpacks. He’s not exactly sure why Max wants to do this in the first place, it seems precisely like the type of activity she would hate, from the outfits down to the music; but El is very excited, has been since they asked the boy to tag along a few days ago, and has apparently talked Hopper’s ear off about it to a point of near madness.

“Okay,” Steve claps his hands and motions for the girls to get closer, “here’s the plan. We walk in fast, get over with this batshit insane idea of yours, and dip. Clear?”

While El is agreeable and nods, Max rolls her eyes, a smug smile gracing her lips.  Steve raises a questioning eyebrow and she snorts, “I can’t take you seriously while you’re wearing that.” Her eyes travel up and down his body, settling on the dark hair that covers his abdomen. 

It’s remarkably awkward to be ogled by a child. “It was the only clean t-shirt I had left.” Steve tugs at the end of his top, a muted blue monstrosity that he will burn as soon as he gets home, and pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers, eyes closed, willing himself to breathe deep and be a supportive friend. Babysitter. Whatever. “Let’s just do this, okay?” 

El squeals with joy and laces her arm through Max’s, the girls leading the way towards the mall in their bright, colourful attires and matching leg warmers. They whisper with each other, heads close, their giggles reaching Steve, who’s a few feet behind thanking whoever was in charge of this whole mess for scheduling it so early that the parking lot is virtually empty.

We need an adult, they’d said, no one else is free. He can pinpoint now, as he replays the conversation in his head, all the times he could’ve said no. But he didn’t, because he’s an idiot (a good friend if he says so himself, but an idiot nonetheless); and now he’s crossing the upper level of Starcourt in the dead of summer, peak season in full swing, about to spend his morning doing aerobics.

The name of the small studio glows in pink neon letters, mocking Steve with the promise of cheesy music and cheesier moves. It’s a modest rectangular space that someone painted in bright coloured stripes, painful to the eyes, with wooden panel flooring and a large window wall facing -much to Steve’s dismay- the inside of the mall. 

A small crowd of mostly middle-aged women is gathered on the left side of the room, all sporting leotards with tacky prints and tights. The only other man in the room is sitting down on a small bench, fastening his shoelaces. He’s very fit, all defined muscles and shiny hair, and seems delighted to be there. 

Max pulls El to the far end of the studio, the designated space for everybody’s bags, and both girls giggle as they stare unabashedly at the others. Steve drops his stuff in the corner and stands next to them, grimacing. “Will you tell me why you really wanted to come here?” He’s beginning to question the girls’ motivations for this early-morning adventure.

El looks at Steve with a mischievous smile and whispers “The inst-” Her face drops and she looks at Max, frustration crossing her eyes, then sighs. “Uhm, the teacher is cute.”

“Instructor.” Max offers her friend, then turns to Steve. “He’s like, the hottest guy ever.”

Steve huffs, ignoring the not-so-hidden dig at him in her words, and crosses his arms. “What about your little boyfriends?” 

“Mike is visiting his nana.” El’s hand fiddles with the yellow scrunchie holding her short hair up. She suddenly looks a little bit sad, her brown eyes clouding, eyebrows pinched together in the middle.

“I dumped Lucas last week.” The redhead shrugs nonchalantly at Steve’s bewildered look. “He forgot our seven-month anniversary. He’ll apologise soon. Meanwhile, we will enjoy the view.” She points towards the door, and Steve turns around.

The teacher can’t be much older than he is. He walks across the room with a powerful stride and too bright of a smile for this time of the morning, greeting the older, most likely regular attendees. His eyes land on the girls as he puts his stuff aside and takes his jacket off.

“Hey, you two,” he’s still beaming, a cheery tilt in his voice that makes Steve cringe, “aren’t you too young to be here?”

“We’re with him.” Max points at Steve, who gives the teacher a tight-lipped smile and a wave of acknowledgement, feeling entirely out of place.

That seemed to be enough for the guy, whose smile grew, showing two rows of perfect white teeth. “Well, alright. Some of the moves may be too intense, so just go at your own pace, alright?”

He claps twice, loudly, and motions for everyone to get into place. Like a well-oiled machine, every person knows their spot. Steve follows the girls to the back of the room, feeling all too exposed, and uncharacteristically nervous. 

At the press of a button, loud, synth-heavy music starts playing from a brand-new shiny set of speakers. It’s exactly the kind of songs Steve was expecting, the ones he loves to scream in the car when no one’s watching, but not the kind he wants to jump and dance to, surrounded by complete strangers and two teenagers who will never let him live it down.

Maybe, he thinks, he can make a run for it and hide somewhere until the class is over. The backroom of Scoops Ahoy, he thinks, is perfect. If only his new co-worker and personal nightmare Robin Buckley weren’t working the morning shift today… she would pay good money, Steve’s sure, to see him right now. Possibly take a picture and send it to the local newspaper. They’ve only been working together for a little over two weeks and she’s made it her mission to keep track (literally, on her whiteboard, the words you lose earning tally after tally) of every single embarrassing moment of his life. She would have a field day with this.

Now, Steve’s always been athletic. He was a great swimmer, regularly winning races and regional championships as a preteen. Then, in high school, he moved on to basketball, and he was the star player until he graduated. He’s fought monsters with nothing but a bat and adrenaline and made it out alive. 

This should be easy, right? Just moving around a little bit. That’s what he thought.

Fifteen minutes later, beads of sweat cover his forehead, light brown strands of hair falling over his eyes. Patches of perspiration stain his shirt, the cotton fabric hot against his clammy skin. To his right, El and Max are definitely going at their own pace, making up their own moves and laughing at each other.

Steve deeply regrets every single decision that’s brought him to this moment.

He doesn’t notice you, at first, too busy trying to follow the steps and not make a fool out of himself. It’s only when the instructor tells the class to grab a mat from the pile at the back of the room and sit down for the flexibility exercises that he finally sees you in his peripheral, to his left.

With your hair tied back in a ponytail that sways behind you every time you move, cascading over your shoulder when you crouch to settle on the floor; you’re a doll dressed in pale lavender and sunshine yellow, soft colours hugging your frame in all the right places as you sit down, legs apart, stretching your body towards your right, towards him. 

Steve has to fight the urge to stare, failing miserably when you raise your head and your eyes lock. You smile, pretty pink lips curling upwards, turning your cheeks into round bright apples. He likes the way your nose scrunches, how you unintentionally try to hide behind your shoulder, shy under his gaze.

He can feel his face grow hotter, fire under his skin, a drum inside his ribcage. You’ve got the kind of face that makes him want to melt, the kind of smile that sends his heart into a frenzy; and he almost misses the small hi that leaves your lips. You blink up at him expectantly and stretch over the opposite leg. 

Steve is frozen in place, knees bent awkwardly, a sweaty, heaving mess. But he reacts, and he hopes you keep on looking at him the same way. “Hey there.” He reaches out to touch the tip of his right foot unsuccessfully, his muscles protesting the pull, and winces.

You’re leaning forward now, your chest almost touching the floor, and your smile widens at his words. “You doing well over there?” 

The boy inhales loudly and nods, a bashful smile across his lips. “I’m not very flexible, apparently.”

A chuckle floats between the two of you. “Here, let me help.” You crawl away from your mat and kneel behind him, placing one small hand on his back and another on his thigh. Your skin is warm as you press your whole body weight against him gently, helping him reach. He would complain about the sharp pain on the back of his legs, but he’s at a loss for words -it has been a long time since he felt the touch of a woman, and what once seemed as natural to him as breathing -chatting up pretty ladies, that is- is now nearly as scary as facing a hungry pack of demodogs ready to pounce at him.

"Hey, what's your name?" You whisper, close, very close to his ear, your breath hot on his nape, igniting his cheeks aflame. How he manages to mumble his answer is a mystery, but he does, and he can hear the smile in your words as you tell him your own name. A pretty one that suits you just right, he thinks.

Steve grunts when you lean back, relief washing over him as he sits up straight. It startles him,  how he immediately misses your body on his body, your warmth on his skin. He wonders if you can see the effect you’ve had on him because you immediately place a gentle hand on his shoulder and ask, “Are you alright?” 

“I- I think I just broke something.” A god, he wishes he doesn’t sound as profoundly mortified as he feels.

“Is this your first time?” Smiling, you sit back down on your mat and bring your tummy down to your knee. Although there’s genuine curiosity in your words, they come out low and raspy and they make Steve blush -again. 

For the first time since the class started, he’s happy to be sweating, thankful for the loud music that conceals the loud thumps of his heart against his eardrums, and he prays that the flush that tints his skin is enough to camouflage his reaction. He swallows the lump in his throat, coughs, and nods. “It might be my last.”

Your giggle makes his breath hitch. "You just have to get used to it. It took me a few weeks." 

Steve could tell since he first saw you you're not new to the class. As if it were muscle memory, your motions seem to flow from one to the next. It's methodical and easy; each movement calculated, almost innate. He forces himself to keep his eyes on yours and to answer with what little voice he finds. "I don't think this is my scene."

“And what is your scene, Steve?” You say his name with a lilt and a chuckle, like you’re hiding a secret and daring him to find it out. And maybe it’s the way you’re looking at him, a little bit shy and a little bit daring, or the strands of hair that have fallen out of your ponytail and now frame your face all pretty. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s too overwhelmed and not thinking straight and you’re the only girl who hasn’t looked at him like he’s a complete loser in too long, but he wants to find out.

The class is nearing its end, the music now softer, and the instructor moves on to stretching. He’s running out of time. It’s now or never. So Steve smiles that smile that used to get him both into and out of trouble, the one that’s soft and warm and a little cheeky and makes his eyes crinkle at the corners; and he rejoices in the way a deep pink blush graces your face this time. 

“Are you hungry?” 

You raise an eyebrow and a wide smile -certainly a little playful, maybe a little smug- stretches across your lips. “Oh, I’m starving! I haven’t had breakfast yet.” You both stand up, mats forgotten on the floor.

That smile and the obvious enthusiasm in your words take Steve by surprise, his brief surge of courage crumbling down like a house of cards. When you get used to rejection, much to his dismay (and he would never admit it), it’s easy to set your expectations low; but your eyes are shining, and all too pretty, and his smirk falters. 

Two loud claps from the front of the room signal the end of the session and a collective sigh of relief makes the corners of your mouth twitch in amusement. The instructor turns off the music, and Steve is sure he would feel ecstatic about the silence, finally, if he weren’t so flustered.

“I- Well, I…”  The boy can feel his brain freeze and turn into mush. He throws a thumb over his shoulder and clears his throat. “Wanna go? Together? For breakfast?” Well done, Harrington, you dingus.

Cursing Robin mentally for how her jabs have begun to seep into his own vocabulary, Steve braces himself for your rejection because why would you want to hang out with such a babbling idiot? 

To his surprise, however, you simply shrug one shoulder and say, “Now?”

Steve blinks once, then twice and, as if in a trance, he finally nods. “Yeah.”

You smile again, this time a wide, pretty smile that lights up your whole face, innocent and sweet. “Sure! Let me go grab my things.” 

As you turn around and head towards the back of the class, a spring in your step and your ponytail bouncing behind you, Steve lets out a deep sigh and rubs his eyes with the back of his hands. He wants to kick himself silly. His plan was to ask you out on a nice date -breakfast at the diner right outside of town, pancakes and coffee; ideally, after a shower, when he’s not sweaty and, he remembers suddenly, wearing the ugliest outfit known to man. 

A cough startles Steve. He turns around to find two sets of eyes fixed on him. Max’s eyebrows are furrowed, but Steve can see the barest hint of an amused smile tugging at her lips. El is giggling, hiding behind her friend’s shoulder, and the boy would buy the coy act if he didn’t know better.

“What?” He says, curtly, tugging at his shirt with a sour face.

“Pretty.” El states, voice soft, stealing glances at you while you stuff a small pink towel into your equally pink bag. 

“I know.” Says Steve, still wary about the girls’ intentions. “I-”

Max, never one to not speak her mind, cuts him off way too loudly for his taste. “Are you taking her out or what?” 

Steve huffs. He plays with the strands of hair that fall flat on his forehead, too damp to stand up in his usual quiff, then gives the redhead a stern look. “You cannot talk to me like that, alright?” The boy points his index finger at the pair of friends. “Not today.”

“You’re still wearing that,” Max says, waving her hand lazily at his outfit, “and I’m still not taking you seriously.”

“Ungrateful children…” Steve complains, throwing his head back with a whine. 

“So, are you taking her out or what?”

“Yes, I am!”

“Then what about us?”

Steve’s head snaps back down and stares at the girls with raised eyebrows.  Unbelievable. “What about you?”

“You said you’d drive us back home.” El giggles, her arm wrapped tightly around Max’s.

The boy’s mouth drops. “But… I can’t.”

“Is everything okay?” Your voice makes Steve turn around with a jump, and Max and El chuckle under their breaths. You’ve put on a soft-looking jacket and your bag rests at your feet, and you look lovely. 

Steve grimaces. “Everything is fine, I just…” 

You raise one eyebrow, eyes jumping from the boy to the two girls who now snicker unabashedly behind him. "I can just go home if you're busy or something-"

"No!" Steve waves his hands frantically in front of your face. "No! I just-" 

Steve is certain his poor neurons have never ever worked this fast -not when Nancy pointed a gun right at his face, not when Billy Hargrove beat his ass-, yet so slow.

It feels like a movie reel in motion in his head, Steve travels the mall mentally to find a place to keep the kids entertained, just for an hour or two.

And just like a revelation, a miracle, an oasis in the desert, the light bulb turns on and he's never been so grateful for his job before.

He smiles. You smile back. Max and El take a step back. "Do you ladies like ice cream?"

                                                             -

The way from the studio on the top floor, down the mechanical stairs and across the food court to Scoops Ahoy takes your little group a dreadfully long time. For Steve, it’s never-ending. He’s not used to feeling self-conscious, quite the opposite, actually, but he’s struggling to cover his midriff with his duffel bag. 

Steve leads the way, rushing towards the stairs, trying to avoid the families and groups of tweens that arrive early, hiding from the scorching late June sun inside the cool shade of the mall.

He sees Lucas Sinclair’s little sister, Erica, sitting on the steps across the big fountain and tries desperately to cover his face with his hand and stepping up the pace. She can be mean, has been mean before -when Robin refused to give her more free samples of cherry ice cream or whenever Lucas walks by, so Steve doesn’t want to risk being seen.

You’re happily chatting with the girls, who are bombarding you with questions about your outfit (from JCPenney) and your bag (Sears), where you live (on the other side of town, near the library), if you attend this class often (every weekend like clockwork). 

It’s almost cute, Steve thinks, how El’s eyes shine with curiosity when you answer, and the genuine smile that has replaced Max’s smirk. Maybe, if his plan doesn’t work, you won’t mind them coming along.

When you finally reach the ice cream parlour, the mall is buzzing with energy. The calmness from earlier this morning has been disturbed by loud voices and laughter, babies crying and kids running around. 

There’s a line already at the counter, and Steve can see his co-worker, Robin, a sullen look on her face, handing a chocolate cone to a young girl. He doesn’t really want to do this, because he’s certain her mockery will be endless.

But when he turns around, you’re standing there, so beautiful even after that workout, happy and patient, and he really, really wants to take you out. You’re looking at him with a smile so big your eyelashes touch.  There they are again, those red apple cheeks of yours. He could just take a bite.

So Steve Harrington swallows his pride, squares his shoulders and takes one step ahead. "Wait here." He tells you. “You two, follow me. And behave. Please.”

El and Max follow him into the shop, ignoring the line and the objections -and threats- of those waiting. 

“No-fucking-way.” Robin Buckley is already bending over laughing when Steve reaches the counter. Her eyes are settled on his top, a hand over her mouth to perfunctorily conceal her amusement. “Is this a dream, Harrington? Please, don’t pinch me. I love it.” 

“Don’t say another word.” He pleads, brown eyes wide and desperate, one finger up in weak command. “I need a favour.”

Robin bites her lips, torn between her need to cackle as loudly as her lungs will allow her, and the pity she feels at how utterly hopeless the boy in front of her looks. She coughs, barely hiding her delight. “I’m all ears.”

“See that girl over there?” Steve turns around, waving discreetly at your figure while you look up at the Scoops Ahoy sign, amused. When Robin, who’s leaning on the counter,  hums, but remains quiet otherwise, he goes on. “I’m taking her out. Like, right now.”

“Wow. You got a date with her wearing that? Right.” Robin takes a step back and grabs a cone from the glass display case by the cash register. She resumes her duties, scooping ice cream for the unhappy customers behind Steve with an even unhappier expression herself. “Comedy is not your forte, dingus.”

Steve rubs his face, sighs deeply and walks behind the counter. “I’m not joking, we’re having breakfast together.” He waves at you when you make eye contact with him, your smile perennial, your eyes bright. His legs are shaking, willing him to run towards you.

“And what’s this favour you need? Do you want me to go with you? Help you not mess up, Stevie boy?” She snorts, and so does Max from her spot, sitting on a boat-shaped booth. 

“Ha-ha, funny, Buckley, really funny. No, I need you to keep an eye on these two.” 

His younger friends smile, all fake innocence and girlish charm.

“You want me to babysit.” Robin deadpans, matter-of-factly.

“No.” Steve grimaces. “I mean, yes, kinda. But this is an emergency. Please?”

Robin looks at him, up and down, once, then twice. The boy can see the gears in her brain turning and plotting, and he knows nothing good will come from it. She stays silent as she grabs two cones and places them neatly on the metal holders, and as she takes two big scoops of chocolate brownie ice cream (Steve’s favourite, he notices with a sour look) and sticks a little plastic spoon on each one.

“What’s in it for me?” She finally says, placing a maraschino cherry on top of one of the scoops and looking at her work with a pleased smile.

“Anything.”

“Okay.” Robin takes the cones and hands them over to Steve, who looks at her, bewildered. “You’ll do the weekend morning shift the rest of the summer. Wait here.”

She walks into the backroom, leaving a perplexed Steve behind, and comes back shortly after holding her Polaroid camera and grinning maliciously. She’s too quick for Steve, the camera flashes before he even has time to react. The white paper rolls out from the front, and she snatches it and starts shaking it eagerly.

In any other circumstance, he would fight for that picture, he would tear it to pieces and burn them so nobody could ever see the Steve Harrington wearing a sweaty, ugly blue top.

But this is the nicest Robin’s ever been to him, the first time she’s agreed to help him without complaining, and Steve is not going to wait for her to start, so he shakes his head, still puzzled, and slowly walks back towards the door. 

“The rest of the summer, Harrington!” Her voice travels across the store.

Getting up early every day for the next two months to work at an overrated ice cream parlour is almost as bad as getting up early on a Saturday to take two teenagers to an aerobics class. But your face lights up when you see the ice cream, and you thank him earnestly when he gives you the one with the bright red cherry on top that matches your cheeks.

Even though he knows she doesn’t like him, and even though he’s still not sure he likes her that much either, Steve turns around and gives his co-worker a thumbs up in gratitude. He smiles when he sees her take out her blackboard and draw a thin, black tally on the left.

                                                  🌷 🌷 🌷

a/n: i’m baaaaaaaaack. this is probably one of my worst stories (i like my original idea, but i’ll admit i wasn’t sure where to go with it) but i am a bit rusty and need to fall back into it.

i’ve missed writing so much, but i needed to get out of the house really badly. i hope you don’t hate this one. as always, likes, comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. much love!

[theamityelf]

......okay this is getting out of hand

BUUUUT this time it's curiosity,how would kokichi deal with makoto's clumsiness

Tho I do imagine he would also say to nagito,peko and mukuro when he leaves them alone to 'make sure makoto is okay'or that 'make sure makoto doesn't fall in someone's cup again' mukuro and nagito would definitely keep a vigilant eye on him and peko too but not like them and makoto would be all thinking '...why are they treating me as if they're my babysitters?' if perhaps he doesn't know kokichi said that to them

(Mini Classmates AUs Masterlist)

All of this, and also Kokichi might tie a shoelace around Makoto's waist and fasten the other end to one of his upper shirt buttons, so he can still move around but he can't fall all the way down.

Before he moves from room to room, he always checks the shoelace to make sure Makoto is still tethered there.

Whenever he finds an empty loop at the end of the string, he'll first say Makoto's name (or one of the many nicknames he's probably devised by now) to see if he's still elsewhere on his shoulders, and then if he doesn't get an answer he grabs the first two of his minis that he can and holds them in front of him, asking, "Where'd Koneko go?"

"He almost fell down the back of your shirt. He's hanging onto your collar, and Ikusaba is trying to help him up."

(Kokichi reaches for the back of his shirt collar and helps Makoto up.)

or

"He fell onto your lap during lunch, and then I think he got stuck in the gum Iruma put under the dining table."

(Kokichi hustles back to the dining room and puts on a teasing smirk to cover up his relief when he finds Makoto stuck to the underside of the table. "There's my little shortcake." He yanks him free and drops him casually back onto his shoulder. Nagito helps get the gum off his hoodie, and Mukuro ties the shoelace back around him.)

or

"Trapped in the neckerchief again."

(Kokichi lifts up the bottom tip of his neckerchief to find where in the folds Makoto has gotten hopelessly cocooned.)

These situations don't happen as often, though. Mukuro and Peko are really good at keeping him safe.

[wintervalewritersecond]

bus and bed buddies - rowan laslow

masterlist

requested: yes! requests: open! HII!! If you can of course, can you make some some of rowan laslow fic where it’s like enemies to lovers and only one bed tropes!:)) Thank you so much and i love your fics🤍

A/N: OOOH MY GOOOD i never knew how much i needed rowan fics and especially one like this!! i hope i did it justice, thank you for your request and enjoy! its not proof read and i wrote this when i was kinda tired, but i hope its still good :)

wordcount: 3.796 warnings: she/her reader, reader has the same powers as xavier, one bed trope, xavier is mentioned, cursing

Having to go on a mandatory school trip is already bad enough. Something to make it worse is being stuck in a room with Rowan Laslow.

"All right everyone," Principal Weems smiles as she stands at the Nevermore gates. "We will all be taking the school shuttle, so make sure you have someone to sit with you! We will be leaving in fifteen minutes."

Some people around you groan. You didn't even know what the trip was for - maybe the principal will abandon all the students before driving back herself. All you knew was that it was going to be an hour and a half on the warm bus, then be at the destination, and then finally return. Once you turn around, you see that most people have already formed a duo, including Devina and Kent. Those sneaky Sirens.

"Ah, Y/N," Weems smiles sweetly. "I see that you do not have a seat buddy yet?"

"Oh, no," you shrug. "Everyone I know already sits together."

The tall lady hums, looking through the crowd. She is certain that there is an even number of students that will go on the field trip. Her eyes finally fall on another lonely figure.

"Well, there is one more person!"

She calls Rowan over, and you immediately take a deep breath, closing your eyes before saying a quick prayer in your head. Everyone but Laslow.

"Rowan," she greets the boy. "As both you and miss Y/N have not found a bus buddy yet, I will assign the two of you together."

Before either of you can protest, she already walks off, leaving the two of you awkwardly standing next to each other.

For as long as you can remember, there was something going on between the two of you. There was never really a big fight that started it all - it just began one day. Rowan and you often disagreed on the smallest things, bickering about it until someone would finally split you up. He would use his telekinesis to cause minor inconveniences such as undoing your shoelaces or making your pen fall out of your hand as you were drawing.

"Everyone," miss Thornhill had also joined on the random trip. "To the bus."

You give Rowan a look before walking off. As long as you did not have to talk to him, it would all be fine. You really can't quite put your finger on when it started. You thought about it sometimes, but no answer came to mind. Maybe it started because he became your best friend's roommate, or maybe you once made a comment that didn't suit him well.

Whatever the problem might be, you aren't quite looking to resolve it.

Sure, you would not lie and say that he is ugly. To you, he is quite the opposite. The freckle underneath his eye, his neatly styled hair, and the way his fingers move when he flips the page of a book. It just sucks that he is an asshat sometimes.

"Are you going to get in, or what?"

You get pulled out of your thoughts as you stand in front of the bus, Rowan waiting behind you impatiently as his hand rests on the strap of his backpack. He looks annoyed.

"Jesus, ever heard of patience?"

You quickly step in, finding the last two bus seats before sitting in the window seat. Rowan looks at you blankly for a second before shaking his head.

"I want to sit in the window seat."

"Okay?" You shrug. "Too bad."

He debates if he wants to get into a fight now, but principal Weems tells everyone to buckle up, ready to drive to whatever the destination is. He plops down with a slightly defeated look, fastening the seatbelt as the bus turns on.

"I am getting the window seat on the way back."

You only roll your eyes, fishing your headphones out of your backpack before turning it on. If you were going to have to sit with him, then you needed some distraction. All the sound of the bus and chatter gets blocked out the second you turn your music on. Finally.

The ride was not that long, but definitely too long. The fabric of your jacket started smelling like the perfume that Rowan always wears. You hate how it smells. It smells like wood, flowers, and it even has some citrus and fruit undertones. It fits him - it's classic and elegant. You hate it.

When you glance at the boy next to you, you see that he has started wearing headphones as well, his eyes stuck on the book that he is reading. Reading in a moving bus? You wouldn't be surprised if he ends up throwing up. You would. After some short seconds, you avert your gaze to the window again, leaning your head against it before closing your eyes.

"Hey, idiot," you feel someone elbowing your ribs. "Wake up, we're at... Wherever we are supposed to be."

You rub your eyes. Have you fallen asleep? When you sit straighter, you see that everyone else has already left the bus, leaving you with Rowan. You give him a look before quickly getting your bag, following him out of the vehicle. Principal Weems stands in front of the crowd, a big smile on her face. Everyone only looks at her, asking themselves where they are and what exactly they will be doing.

"So," she starts. "Today we are in a place that once was a part of Nevermore grounds. It actually is the place where Nevermore was going to be built, but it got moved to Jericho. We are here today to go on a tour, see the beautiful nature, and there is a small assignment you have to finish."

Miss Thornhill hands out pieces of paper that have the instructions for the assignment. Of course, you couldn't just have gone on a normal field trip. Always some work that is attached to it.

"The building has now been transformed into a beautiful museum. Feel free to explore, but make sure to be back at five. Stick with your Buddy, as most of the assignment has to be made in pairs!"

You follow the rest of the group, trying to sneak in with others, but Rowan quickly calls you back. When you slowly turn around, you see him waiting with a grin, his arms crossed. He will do anything to get under your skin.

"You trying to get away from me, Buddy?"

"Shut up, Rowan," you shake your head. "I am not in the mood for your shit today."

"Well, you will have to," he shrugs. "Assignment is not going to make itself. I refuse to drop my grades just because you run off."

And so you were stuck with him for the entire day. You had tried to sneak off a few times, yet he always found you within thirty seconds.

"What is this?"

You stop after you see a small hallway, one that is barely lit. You had gone all the way to the end of the museum, kind of curious as to what every room had to offer. Now, you had ended up in an empty room. At least, empty of people except for you and Rowan. There are paintings on the walls and a big glass case in the middle of the room, showcasing some items.

Rowan follows your gaze, looking down the hallway. There is absolutely nothing - it must be an employee area. Maybe it leads to the exit.

"I see nothing special."

"Then you won't mind if I go check it out."

He looks at you blankly yet again.

"We are not going in there."

"Did I say we?" You raise an eyebrow. "I am going to check that little hall out."

The two of you are bickering again as you try to find reasons to go in there, but Rowan keeps pulling you back. You just want to be away from him for even one second. You have been stuck to his side the entire time, and most of the assignment has already been finished.

"There must be something there!"

You fish your phone out of your pocket, wanting to turn on the flashlight, but stop in your tracks when you see the time. 5:17.

"Shit."

You immediately push it back into your pocket, hurrying out of the room with Rowan following you closely. You had been arguing for so long, that you now were too late. Why is this museum so big? Where is the exit?

The doors finally come into view as you burst outside. The entire parking lot is empty, including the bus that had brought you to the museum. Did they really leave without you?

Rowan also exits the museum, almost dropping his bag as he stops next to you. He also noticed the bus missing as he lets out a groan.

"If you just had not tried to go into that stupid hallway, then we would not have missed the bus!"

"What? How is this my fault?" You point to the building behind you. "If you had just left me alone, then we would have been fine!"

Another ten minutes of bickering pass. The Nevermore bus had not returned yet, and the sun was slowly going down.

"Let's just walk," Rowan sighs. "The drive was like, thirty minutes. It can't be that far."

Oh, how he was wrong.

You had now been walking for thirty minutes, and the sun had hidden behind the trees even more. Clouds had collected above you, ready to burst open at any time. Your phone was on the brink of dying and there was no possibility of using Google Maps. Absolutely no service out here.

Both you and Rowan were quiet, saving your energy for the walk instead of just bickering. You are both tired and just want to sleep, but you feel like you are not even close to Nevermore yet. Why did they not check if everyone was there? You let out a sigh as a small drop falls on your nose. Shit.

A drizzle - not quite rain. But it was enough to make you feel even colder than you were before.

"Hey, look over there," you point. "Is that a town or something?"

"I think you might be right," Rowan mumbles. He had seen it on the way to the museum. "They must have someplace to stay and wait for the rain to pass."

The rain slowly gets a bit heavier as Rowan grabs your arm, pulling you with him as he starts running. The rain is now soaking through your shoes and socks, your hair clinging to your face. The town gets closer and closer, and you and Rowan hide under the very first place you can find. A closed grocery store.

You are quiet for a second, trying to catch your breath as you look up at Rowan. A laugh escapes your lips as he soon follows, taking his glasses off to clean them off. He barely saw anything - he just followed the faint lights he saw in the distance.

"That looks like a place to stay?"

At the end of the street is a small building which, you think, is supposed to say 'Hotel', though the H is not lit.

"Otel," you just nod. "Better than rain."

You quickly check your phone, seeing that the service is way better here. You type in 'Nevermore' as you gasp at the result.

"We are a two-hour walk away!"

"Jesus," Rowan groans. "Yeah, hotel it is."

The two of you run through the rain again, both annoyed at the feeling of wet shoes and sticky hair. The door of the 'otel' opens as you both step in, leaving a trail of rain droplets behind you. It is already close eight, though it is so dark outside, that it could be mistaken for three am.

"Hi," you smile at the person behind the desk. You barely get a reply, except for a lazy look and an eyebrow raise. "Uh, we would like to get two rooms, please."

"Okay?"

The man slowly starts tapping on his keyboard, clicking a few times before shaking his head.

"I only have one room available."

You look at Rowan for a second, raising an eyebrow as you await his answer. Bunking with someone who you dislike is not quite what you imagined, but neither of you wanted to walk through the rain for another two hours.

"Yeah, we will take it."

After paying, you both sling your wet backpacks over your shoulder again. Rowan leads the way, the key in his hand. He insisted on paying, not even reacting when you said you should at least split the cost. After all, you were both staying in the room.

"Room five," he mumbles before sticking the key in, unlocking the door. "I can't believe this place only has eight rooms."

"Small town," you shrug, flicking on the light switch as you walk inside.

The room doesn't look too bad. A bit cold, and the view might not be spectacular, but it's warm and dry.

"Hell no," you hear Rowan say.

You follow his gaze, seeing only a singular bed in the middle of the room.

"You gotta be kidding me," you react to him, dropping the bag on the floor. "This is a joke, right?"

"You heard him, dumbass. Only one room available."

You roll your eyes, shaking your head before pulling your jacket off and draping it over the chair.

"See, this wouldn't have happened if you didn't-"

"Oh, because it's always me, isn't it!"

"As a matter of fact, yeah! It is! It has been you since the very beginning," Rowan hisses.

The comment makes you quiet. What does he mean by that? He just sighs, placing his backpack on the floor before pulling everything out of it, hoping his notebooks and everything are still dry.

"I'll just ask for another room or sleep on the floor or something," Rowan grumbles, something that makes you confused.

He paid for the room, and now wants you to sleep in the bed? Sure, the bed is not huge, but it fits two people at least. Not only that, but you were not the one to pay for anything. And, as far as you understood, Rowan blamed you for missing the bus.

"You know that you paid for everything right? Why in the fuck would you let me sleep in the bed if I am the so-called reason that we are even here, to begin with?"

The boy shrugs, standing up straight before throwing his jacket on the ground.

"Guess my mother raised me well."

You stay quiet yet again, only nodding before sitting down at the edge of the bed. The room is deadly quiet, though it doesn't make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe.

"You should shower."

"Why? If you say that it's because I smell bad," Rowan walks closer to you. "Then it's a bad joke. Besides, you might smell worse."

"No, dipshit," you roll your eyes, almost regretting being nice to him. "You get sick if you even think about sneezing. A walk in the cold rain can't be too good for you."

It is his turn to be at a loss for words. He only nods, disappearing into the small bathroom.

He returns after only a few minutes, his hair now damp and his wet shirt still draped over his torso. That can't be comfortable.

"What if we get our own side?"

You look up from your sketchbook, looking at the boy.

"You stay on that side," he points to the bed. "And I stay on this side. Both get the bed."

"You know what," you shrug. "Sure. As long as you don't pull the blankets in your sleep."

You had turned the small tv on after he went to get a shower, filling the room with some background noise. All of this made you think. Where did it really start? When did the teasing and comments start? All the bickering? Him using his telekinesis to pull your chair away from behind you, or you animating a mouse to scare him during class?

"What are you thinking about?"

Rowan almost hits himself in the head. Why is he curious about it? You only shrug in response, shaking your head.

"I just..." You push the sketchbook away from you. "When did it all start?"

He sits down on 'his' side of the bed, pushing the blanket away a little bit before propping the pillow up, leaning against it.

"Did what start?"

"Us being shitheads to each other?"

"You don't remember?"

You shake your head, leaning back onto the pillow. You look up at the ceiling, the texture of it keeping your mind occupied.

"From all that I know, it just suddenly started one day and then never ended."

"I mean, kind of," Rowan hums. "I remember it clear as day."

"You do?"

You turn to face him, seeing him nod as he looks down at you. His eyelashes look even longer from this angle, and even though the room is only dimly lit, it still makes his eyes shine.

"Yeah," he lets out a breathy laugh. "It was during class once. You sat next to Xavier, and he asked you why you were staring at me and joked about you liking me."

The memories slowly return as you furrow your brows.

"And you only responded with, and I quote, 'I don't like him, he is ugly'. I guess it just kind of got to me," he mumbles softly, fiddling with his hands. "So, I acted like an ass as well."

Your head rested on your hand as you dreamily looked at one specific point in the classroom. Rowan Laslow. He has been your classmate for a while, though you never really spoke to him. He was not the most talkative person, but he was absolutely mesmerizing to you.

"Jesus, Y/N," Xavier let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Why are you staring at my roommate? Do you like him or something?"

You get pulled out of your daydream as you quickly shake your head, regaining your posture as you let out a cough.

"Who? Rowan?" You let out an awkward laugh. "No, I don't like him. He's... ugly."

You regretted the words the second they came out of your mouth. He wasn't ugly - you never thought he was. The opposite, actually. The way his eyes shimmered in the light, the freckle underneath his eye, the way his arms look when he rolls up his sleeve. But you couldn't tell Xavier. All he would do is just make fun of you.

"Oh, shit," you mumble, sitting up as you look at Rowan.

He looks so different. Not different as in his face or hair, but his body language has changed. He looks more... Open. He doesn't seem like the cocky asshole anymore but instead looks a bit more insecure. He doesn't even dare to look you back in the eyes.

"Call me stupid, but I actually used to have a crush on you back then."

Rowan Laslow. A crush. On you.

"No way."

"Yeah, yeah," he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he now looks up to the ceiling. "You can laugh about it. The outcast of the outcasts likes- liked you."

You almost fall off of the bed in shock. Rowan actually liked you? You barely remembered the comment you made of him before, but now, you remember it all.

"No! No, I-" You shake your head. "I- Oh, this is going to sound so dumb."

Rowan frowns as he does not hear any insult yet.

"It's just," you sigh. "Xavier caught me staring, and I didn't want him to find out I liked you. I said that to get him off my back, but then I thought you didn't like me back because you only made comments from then on."

All secrets have been spread out. They are laid out right in front of the two of you, open for both to read.

You and Rowan had stayed up for hours after that, talking about everything and everyone. You laughed, even shed a tear, and then finally laid down on your backs, the lights off, but the tv still on.

"Rowan?"

You sounded like you were already asleep. Rowan softly chuckles, laying on his side to look at you. There is still a distance between your bodies, but you were facing each other. Your eyes were almost closed, but there was something that needed to be said.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled. "You're not ugly. I'm sorry I said that."

"It's fine," he just whispers back.

"It's not. I-I lied and you aren't ugly at all."

Another laugh escapes his lips as he looks at the small clock on the bedside table. Two in the morning.

"Go to sleep, we have to catch the bus early tomorrow."

-

It is 7 am, and both you and Rowan are already waiting at the nearest bus stop. In only a few minutes, the first bus of the day would arrive, one that will stop right next to Nevermore. The bus ride is only thirty minutes, and though it isn't raining anymore, you would rather sit in the bus than walk for two hours.

Your eyes are almost still closed as you wobble on your legs, almost falling asleep while you stand. Rowan is surprisingly well-rested as his arm seems to be the only thing holding you up. His hand is resting on the small of your back, your backpack resting on the ground. You barely even notice getting on the bus until Rowan sits you down next to him.

"Weems is going to be so mad," you mumble.

"Yeah, well," Rowan shrugs, "Shouldn't have left without her students then."

This evokes a giggle out of you as you nod, rubbing your eyes. Man, it is way too early to be up already. You breathe in deeply as you contemplate getting your headphones out of your bag. Not this time. You want to actually talk to Rowan. Even more, than you did yesterday.

You barely get the chance. Your eyes feel heavy and before you know it, they are closed. Rowan doesn't notice as his eyes are looking outside. As promised, he is sitting next to the window. He jumps a bit when he feels something drop on his shoulder, but calms down when he notices it's just you. Your eyes are closed and your hand is clutching the strap of your bag.

Rowan does nothing except for let out a soft laugh, slowly undoing your hand from the strap before running his thumb over your knuckles. He would do it all again.

The museum, the rain, the crappy hotel.

All of it all over again, only if it meant that he would be with you.

[takiberry]

If there is one thing I'm legally skilled at, it's feeding delusions, and I got more where that came from. Enjoy getting your Yuma and Nicholas delusions on tonight.

Starting with Yuma, I said nonsexual dominance, he definitely has a thing for sexual dominance as well, but we're discussing nonsexual right now. He isn't going to be the type that needs to control each and every aspect of your life, he isn't going to the extent of telling you what to eat and what not to eat, but he's going to tell you to eat, would even feed you to make sure you eat, makes sure you never skip meals and you never feel hungry throughout the day, would immediately order in or start cooking if you say you are hungry or want something. The type to order for you when you are in a cafe or restaurant, and never lets you pay for anything, actually the type to remove your wallet from your purse before you go anywhere with him, so you have no choice but to let him take care of you. Will notice things around the house and replace them without needing to be told, like he notices you are almost out of eggs so he'd buy more, or he notices you are almost out of your favorite snack so he would buy you more. He would most enjoy the idea of you allowing him to do things like pick your clothing, do your hair, help you with your makeup, things like that. He's the type to brush your hair for you and put it up in a style he thinks is cute or that he thinks would look good. Fixes your hair if any of it is messed up or out of place. He would pick your clothing for you, often times picking something that will match or looks similar to what he himself is wearing. Would kneel down to help you tie your shoelaces, to do the clasp on your heels, and also to take your shoes off when you get back home. Puts your jewelry on for you and makes sure to kiss each spot the jewelry goes, like kissing along your neck before fastening your necklace, kissing your wrist before slipping a bracelet on, and kissing each finger a ring goes on. He would watch as you do your makeup, and would do something like taking your lipstick and putting it on for you. He would make sure your hands never touch a door when he's around, since his little one should never have to worry about things like that. Always has a hand on your back to lead you where to go, not one for extreme pda, but his hand would always be around your waist in some way. Always has to be touching you when he's sitting by you, it could just be his hand resting on your thigh, holding your hand, or playing with your hair, but he always has to be touching you; preferable you sitting in his lap though, he likes that more than anything. Wants to know where you are and if you are safe any time you are away from him, even if you were just running to the grocery store, expect text every 5 minutes to make sure you are okay. Helps you do all sorts of little things so your don't have to use your own energy. Like refill your cup, nope he's already on it. Buckle your own seat belt, nope he's already doing it. Daily reminder text, reminding you to do little things like drink some water, take a breath don't overwork yourself, remember to brush your teeth. Won't tolerate any sort of attitude you try to give him, would simply sternly tell you no, and you know you have no chance at whatever it was you wanted. If you are mad at him, he's the type to force you to make eye contact with him when he's talking, holding your chin with one hand and forcing you to look at him. Always makes sure to praise you, wants to always let you know how good you are for him, how good you treat him, and how much he loves you.

Nicholas would love to give his s/o prince/ss treatment, especially if they are shorter than him, which him being 183cm tall, being shorter than him is easy. Would call you his little prince/ss and make sure always keep an eye on you and take care of you. The type to always need to be touching you when out in public, would put his hand in your back pocket to help you stay by his side, and if the area was crowded, he would just wrap his arms around your waist and make you walk in front of him. The type of carry you over puddles or muddy places, doesn't want you to possibly fall or trip or get your shoes messed up. If your shoes start to hurt your feet, he would just carry you wherever you were headed without a second thought, like make you continue walking despite your feet hurting, never. Not the one to pick your hair or outfit, but would definitely check your outfit to make sure you are wearing something appropriate; the type to make you put on a cardigan since he knows you are going to be inside all night with your friends, but it'll be cold when you leave, and he doesn't want you to get a cold. Buys you clothing he wants to see you wearing, to the point your closet becomes only items he bought and his sweaters. The type to make you wear one of his sweaters if you are hanging out with friends, just so if any guys see you, they'll realize you're taken since you are in his hoodie. Puts things you need on high shelves so you have to ask him for help, charges for his help as well, each item is exactly one kiss, but you know that kiss will quickly turn into a makeout session, and now you have to ask him again since he never got the item you wanted down to start with. The type to remember little things you like, buys you that necklace he saw you eyeing the other day at the mall, buys you that album from your favorite group, always puts your favorite songs on a playlist to play when he's driving you somewhere. Does not let you drive anywhere, you are his passenger prince/ss and he will not have it any other way; the type to carry you out of the car and into the house, when you fall asleep on the way home. Plays games you like or want to learn with you, always lets you win the first time, but will absolutely destroy you the times after and tease you about it. The type to set you on the counter so you watch as he attempts to cook, usually you telling him what to do and him attempting to do it for you. Would know your favorite flower and makes sure to surprise you with a bouquet of them once a week, but always says you're his favorite flower of all. Will buy you anything and everything you like, you can't look at something while shopping without him asking which color you like it in, he would know your sizes in everything, so he could just grab it and buy it while you are telling him you don't need a fourth leather purse. Teases you about your height constantly, does things like rest his chin on the top of your head, rest his arm on your head, and definitely would kiss the top of your head. Despite how much he would tease you for your height, he would also always make sure to compliment you for something, whether it be how beautiful he thinks you are, how amazing he thinks you are, or just reminding you how much he loves you.

ANON WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME NOW IM IN YUMA AND NICHO BRAINROT :((

(if u dont open a blog rn.)

[therhythmafterthesummer]

I have *drumroll please* mitten thoughts. WOW who could have guessed?!?!

Minho has always taken extra care so that he knows kitten is safe in little ways. Her coat is fully fastened in the snow, he points out if any of her hair is escaping the ponytail or bun, he points out or just physically guides her around tripping hazards

a V unhinged idea but Minho either in a rut or insanely drunk state drafted mittens marriage papers. Like I’m talking high school/early college pre mitten scenario. And like he still has the papers…just in case. But like it’s hidden deep in his laptop

-🥝

screaming, crying.... cuz like, Minho would 100% do all these small things without even thinking since they were younger. wiping her makeup if it smudged, going "wait hold on" before he crouches on the floor so he can tie her shoelaces that came undone.... how cute is that???

the marriage papers thing is hilarious tbh KJDFJKSDHFSDKJFH if kitten ever finds them before he tells her, he's never gonna hear the end of it.

[kiwi2229]

Writing Patterns Tag

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (or however many you have) posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

Thank you for the tag @just--vi this was actually quite interesting. So let's see:

Between us: Parties in the Gryffindor common room are James’ favourites. Not the loud ones when the room is crowded, with music blasting loud and an ongoing string of drinks. Don’t get him wrong, those are also good. But this is better. Just his friends in the circle by the fireplace.

First warm summer: “I think that’s all." James said contentedly with the soft slam as he closed the car trunk, surprised they managed to fit everything inside.

Because I'm yours: Regulus is lying in his bed listening to what seems to be the most boring lecture on earth on his notebook.

By the wave of my hand: Barty is standing in front of the mirror in their walk-in closet. He fastens the last piece of the corset on top of his black shirt and lets his gaze roam over his body.

Deals and promises: James is tying his shoelaces over and over again. He needs them to be precisely tight. It is 10 minutes till the quidditch match Gryffindor vs Slytherin.

The dog and the boy: Regulus doesn’t know when it happened. He doesn’t remember the precise moment he noticed him. He knew in the back of his mind, that he just started to show up. He was aware that he was always near, behind the wall, in the distance on the field, lying in the shadow of trees of the forbidden forest.

View from the window: Sirius was standing in front of an open window in his and Remus’ flat. He finished his cigarette a moment ago and now was just enjoying the view. He did this a lot. He loved watching strangers go on the street.

Who would you choose?: It started really innocent. Music and a few drinks with friends in the Gryffindor common room.

Can I ask you something?: Regulus was sitting outside on the stone fence, smoking.

You are always fine, that's the problem: James Potter is the perfect friend.

I'm also adding the first sentence from a WIP I'm writing.

Where the current takes us: When Sirius and Remus told James that they wanted their wedding to be on a tropical island he didn’t doubt that it was Sirius’ idea.

[ladydarkey]

Once upon a Dream

Days ago I dreamed of this man. Since then he is haunting me. He has no name.However, the blury image of him in my dream was so beautiful, it forever imprinted itself on my mind. I couldn’t help myself, so I wrote it down and added some details for the context. Thanks to @kaagazkefool​ , who was patiently listening to my ramble about him.

Disclaimer: it was written in german and then translated

male/female, light smut, no fandom, you could say he is an OC now (?!)

I must have fallen asleep.

I woke up and I was angry. Like every Friday and Saturday I was with him. We hadn't had much time together anyway and I had to oversleep. It was just too comfortable in his arms.

When I opened my eyes, the door to the hallway was ajar and light poured into the bedroom.

He is still there.

It was the middle of the night, as so often, he was on night duty with the police.

A movement in the shadows drew my attention to the chair opposite the end of the bed.

There he sat, hunched over and turned slightly to the side to lace up his 10-hole boots.

A few black strands covered his face. The inverted cross on his earlobe, that swung back and forth with the movement, gleamed in the light.

Most of his torso was hidden in shadow.

In the dim light, I could only guess that the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. With tattoos adorning his arms from shoulders to hands, there was no line between shirt and bare skin in the darkness. Nevertheless, the play of the muscles was clearly visible. I was fascinated by the rapid and yet constant alternation of light and shadow.

My gaze wandered to his hands, busy pulling the laces through each hole. The movements looked deliberate and yet very routine. Skillfully and almost silently, the shoelaces wound their way up. His elegant, strong fingers wore heavy silver rings. They seemed to change their shape depending on how they reflected the light. While his matt black painted fingernails swallowed any light. Ever since we started dating, I've been painting his nails. It has now become our Friday night ritual. Before that, he painted them himself, which mostly resulted in messy and chaotic results. His fingertips were rough from his job, which often required him to wear gloves. But that didn't bother me when he let them slide gently over my body.

A pleasant shiver went through my body as I thought about how he had caressed me with them earlier in the evening. His fingers always found just the right spots, as if my body were telling him where they were needed most. How he later clasped me tightly in his strong arms, his hands slid down my back, his nails digging into my skin and my throat wet from his heavy breathing and kisses.

A sudden movement snapped me out of my thoughts.

He finished with one of the boots and rose to tackle the other. It was only seconds, but I still got a quick glimpse of his thighs, which almost threatened to burst his combat pants while sitting. At least the curved pocket flaps made it seem so.

The pendant on his silver necklace flashed briefly, drawing my eyes to his bare chest tucked between the button plackets of his open shirt.

On his slightly hairy and fully tattooed chest, shaped by hard training. The nipples were hidden behind the black cotton fabric. I've spent hours studying the paintings all over his body and yet I felt like I didn't recognize them all.

Again my thoughts drifted to the early evening scenes. His bulging, thick and strong thighs, which I held between my legs. His bare chest against mine. The sweet sweat of our bodies flowed together. His silver chain is a cold touch against my nipple. My arms were wrapped around his neck, my hands firmly anchored in his sweaty, shiny hair.

Just before I mentally relived the climax again, he got up. All he had to do was fasten his shirt and put on his gun chest harness and he would be ready to go.

I seized the moment and got up. It only took three steps until I was standing in front of him, covered only by a sheet. It was very fresh in the room.

"You're awake," he was visibly surprised.

"Please don't go yet," I slumped against his chest, one hand holding the sheet, the other resting on his chest. My fingers played lightly with his black curls.

"I'm sorry. It's always hard for me to leave you here alone. Unfortunately, I have to go to work." His muscular arms held me tightly in their grip.

I buried my face between his pecs.

“I'll be back for breakfast. Would you like me to bring you a croissant or a cinnamon roll?” He gently lifted my chin with his right index finger. First I saw his loving smile. It was the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I couldn't explain it, but my heart overflows with joy.

"Both?" I asked him with my best puppy eyes.

Then our eyes met and he nodded. As always when he left the house, he wore white contact lenses. I still don't understand why he did it. When we were at home he wore glasses. Behind them were the most beautiful, shining with passion, caring, calm, gentle and mystical auburn irises. They gave me comfort, security and trust. On the one hand, it saddened me that he hid exactly those behind the contact lenses. On the other hand, this beauty was reserved only for me.

"You know, every time I see you with your white eyes I imagine you're a vampire," I giggled at the imaginative and unrealistic thought.

"Is that so?" He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. A mischievous smile flitted across his lips, his long eyelashes swung briefly up and down.

Suddenly, he threw his head back, raised his arms slightly, and flexed his hands like he was about to dance at any moment in Michael Jackson's "Thriller" music video. He made a sound like a hiss and put one hand on my shoulder and gently pushed my head sideways with the other for easier access to my neck. bang! He bit! Not really. It was more of a gentle nibble. We both burst out laughing. I loved how silly he could be. He always made me laugh.

With a last kiss, he said goodbye and went out the apartment door.

I was still watching from the window as he got into his car. He turned around again, blew me a kiss and drove away. I stood there for a while, wondering how an average woman like me deserved such a wonderful, extraordinary man like him.

He will be home for breakfast and I will be here, longingly waiting for him. ~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

Please leave a comment <3

[envihellbender]

Envi and Rott meeting in TMA verse

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Rott (he/it), Envi (he/they) (OCs)

—

Envi saw Rott first. Technically he’d agreed not to steal from the earth, the items people kept with them for the afterlife were owned by Hezekiah and the Buried now. When anything was taken from the earth Hezekiah would go to massive lengths to make sure he got it back. If it had been shattered into a thousand pieces, he would find every piece. That didn’t mean Envi didn’t enjoying hanging around the graveyard, on occasion irritating Hezekiah was an entertaining bonus alongside the trinkets he might find. It was when they were exploring the tombs that the first saw Rott, a young man whose skin glowed a sickly grey colour in the moonlight. Envi climbed atop the mausoleum of a forgotten wealthy family, his pockets containing two lockets, a medal, some coins, and some animal bones. He perched on the top, sitting like a gargoyle and watched the stranger with curiosity. The young man’s limbs were looser than they should be, some fastened on with thread, his inky black hair a tangled mass atop his head. Occasionally he looked up at the sky, and two silver eyes stared at the moon and stars. Envi look at his face, and to his surprise he felt a yearning inside to wrap around Rott’s body and lick the blood, puss, and bile from his cold hard chin and cheeks.

It became a habit after that, once a week Envi would climb to the highest spot in the cemetery and watch Rott. Delighting in how it would feed on its victims and the residents of the tombs. Sometimes Envi would get to see Rott sewing its limbs back to its body, he always wore lose black trousers with straps around the legs and silver chains hanging down to his knees. The gave a clinking noise with every step, and his t-shirts always had horrific, grotesque imagery on them. Envi watched in fascination, so fixated he didn’t realise that the burning fractals of his hair was causing sparks and lights around the mausoleum. Green and orange fractals spread from where he sat, coming to an anxious crackle and shock when Rott looked up. At first it was bewildered, but when he saw Envi his body grew tense with anger. In panic, Envi jumped from the mausoleum, when he landed his legs bent backwards as if his joints were made of rubber. The momentum threw him forward causing them to fall into the pavement. He quickly tried to find his bearings, he had lost his way during his wandering tonight. He’d found himself in a new and foreign part of Hezekiah’s graveyard. Envi kept trying to run away but kept bumping into gravestones and finding himself being turned around again and again. He let out a reluctant, terrified gasp as he felt a cold, hard hand on his shoulder. It spun Envi around, causing their already pale face to grow almost white. He didn’t normally encounter people so directly, they usually struggle to find him.

“Who are you?” Rott said simply and curtly, his eyes narrowed and his sickly pink lips contorted into a snarl.

“Erm. I. Erm. I Am Apart of The Spiral. I. Just. Wanted to… Say Hi,” Envi stammered, his eyes widened and grew, every shade of green tangling in his irises as he looked everywhere but at Rott. Envi found himself looking at Rott’s feet, he was wearing two dark worn trainers, the soles coming away and shoelaces trailed on the floor.

“Did the Distortion send you here?” Rott asked, his frown evident in its voice, clearly confused by Envi’s sudden appearance. When Envi looked up Rott was watching him, staring at his strange, angled and broken limbs that had healed and could now be bent in odd ways.

“No. Papa doesn’t like it when we get too close to the earth.”

“I’ve seen you here before. Why are you disobeying your God?”

“I’m not… disobeying- it’s not a rule or a law. Just a suggestion.” Envi shrugged. He stretched, his loose green t-shirt lifting to show off his soft, freckled gut, Rott’s eyes drifted to Envi’s stomach, it’s eyes rolling down as if they weren’t secure in it’s skull.

“You- you consider your God’s instructions to be… suggestions? Rott asked disconcertingly. It nervously began twirling its hair in its fingers, the black waves grounding it somehow.

“There’s no certainty in the Spiral. No strict rules, is that so weird?”

“I- we serve the earth. The earth is constant, loving, and everything.”

“Yeah. Human minds in comparison are tangled, messy, and constantly changing. Hey, you’re not just the buried though, are you, Rott?” Envi’s face grew into a knowing smirk, and instead of angry at the accusation, Rott couldn’t help but be a little curious.