#gritting my teeth YOU COULD HAVE BEEN AMAZING. WHY DO YOU INSIST ON SUCKING

[dandelionjack]

vanquishing abaddon and then coming back from the grave after three days to say “i forgive you” to the sinner who shot you … now that’s what i call Chibnall Subtlety™️. somebody went to religious imagery and christ allegories 101 class and got a C+

this could have been sooooo good. i can see it in my mind’s eye — the life-draining force jack would have faced up against could have been an abstract portal-type threat, an elemental pillar of light, the visual representation of the vortex, hell (pun apologies) it could have been virtually anything apart from the godawful cgi demon creature that immediately sucked any pathos or seriousness out of the atmosphere which had been building up so well over the course of this episode. it would have been perfect and fulfilled the same narrative function — drawing all the life energy out of jack so he’d take far longer to resurrect than usual. that’s it.

one neat little solution all tied up with a ribbon! but hey that’s not how we do things around here, pal. every time we create an almost perfect episode we just HAVE to ruin it with some shoddy visual design for the main villain so that none of it gets taken seriously. surely we are not shooting ourselves in the foot by doing this? damn!

^my reaction

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Never Too Late 4

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (later in series)

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re turning forty and life seems to be forging ahead on its one way track, that is until you meet Steve Rogers.

Note: So I wouldn’t say I’m back just yet. I was just getting ready to answer more of your amazing asks and I’ve been sitting on this chapter forever so I decided to edit and get it out between my original stuff. I won’t be posting regularly just yet but I just wanted you guys to know I appreciate you!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Series Masterlist

It was a bad day. Well, only morning so far. You woke up stiff. Work, your mother, life. It all piled up and wound a knot just beneath your shoulder blade. As you sat up, you realised it was more. Not just your shoulder but your neck and all down your sides; the muscles stiff and unyielding.

You barely managed to grab your phone from the bedside table. You whined as you fell back onto the pillows and dialed your manager’s number. It was early enough that all you got was her voicemail. You sucked in all your breath and quickly left your message. A sick day ticked off your yearly tally. You hung up and stared at the ceiling. Ow.

You turned your head and that hurt too. Just inside your dresser were your freshly washed capris and the dark blue tank just waiting for you. Well, you didn’t imagine a run would do you much good. Or be possible. You sobbed in frustration.

It was an hour of agony. You tried to fall asleep but the pain was too much. You groaned as you pushed yourself up. A yelp escaped you as you hung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood. You hobbled to the bathroom and caught yourself on the sink. You opened the cabinet and used one hand to break two capsules free of the packet. For emergencies only.

You tossed back the muscles relaxers with a handful of water from the faucet and grumbled as you made your way back to bed. You could have fallen onto the mattress but even the thought made you hurt. You lowered yourself carefully and laid face down. You stayed like that until your phone vibrated against you.

You felt around beneath your side and answered without looking. 

“Hello?” You croaked as your eyelids began to droop with the weight of the medicine.

“Hey, you okay?” Steve’s voice rose from the speaker.

“What? Steve?” You rolled onto your side and wheezed in pain. “Yeah, I’m… fine.”

“I’m at the park.” He said evenly.

“Oh, I--” You tried to relax and urge the tension from your back. “Sorry, I hurt my--ugh, back.” 

You couldn’t get comfortable. Every which way only made it worse.

“Your back?” He asked.

“I’ll be fine. I took some relaxers. I just need to sleep it off and-- urg, call my chiropractor.” You balled your other hand around the corner of your pillow. “Ow, ow, ow.”

“What did you do?” He asked. “Did you lift something or--”

“You really don’t need to worry,” you gritted through your teeth. “It happens. It could be from just sitting in the same chair for eight hours or you know, just father time. Ahhhh.”

“I’ll come check on you,” You heard him walking and then a car horn. “Um, I just realised I have no idea where I’m going.”

“Steve, really, I can take care of myself.” You insisted. “The pills are already kicking in.”

“I can help. I have some experience with physical therapy.” He replied. 

“No, no, it’s--” You tried to sit up and almost screamed, instead muffling it in your throat. 

“You can text me the address. You don’t sound fine.” He urged. “Please.”

You sighed. Then gasped as it sent a pang through you.

“I can’t--” You were tired and your head was fuzzy from the meds. “Alright.”

You hung up without awaiting his response and keyed in your address before you dropped the phone. You closed your eyes and let yourself float away in the static, the knot in your back still thrumming in your subconscious.

Your phone kept you from sinking entirely. It shook again, this time without pause. You answered and Steve’s voice came over the garbled buzzer.

“Hey, I’m here.” He said.

“Here?” You blinked at the phone.

“It’s Steve. I’m downstairs.” He said.

“Why?” You asked.

“Oh, never mind,” He replied. “Thanks.” You heard before it cut off entirely. The line went dead and you slung your phone down beside you.

Then the knocking came. You were annoyed. You got up, with an effort that made your entire body throb. You ambled into the living room and neared the door. You peeked through the little hole and slid the chain free. You leaned heavily on the door as you opened it.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked and you just bared your teeth at him. “Wow.” You stumbled back and hit the closet behind you. You winced and your legs threatened to crumple. “Here.”

He closed the door and wrapped his arm around you as he pulled you away from the closet. You whimpered as he led you back into the living room. He hesitated as he looked around then continued to the bedroom door. He peered inside before he angled you within and towards the bed. He was warm. Hot against you.

“Oh, I can feel it.” You mumbled as he lowered you down to the mattress. “The relaxers are hitting.”

“Good,” He carefully laid you down and turned you onto your side, your back to him. “Where does it hurt?”

His hand started at your neck and you groaned. He brushed down and you got louder as he touched your shoulder then your lower back. His fingers tickled your hips and he lingered along your pajama bottoms before he retreated. He pressed his palm more firmly to your back.

“Definitely tension,” He said.

You hummed and bent your arms in front of you. He let you fall back and your eyes slowly closed. 

“What did you take?” He asked.

You pointed to the bathroom and your arm quickly dropped beside you. You opened your eyes as you heard him. He frowned and left you. He re-entered with the package of capsules and read it.

“How many?”

You held up two fingers and he shook his head.

“It says you should only take one every six hours.” He turned the box in his hands. “These are extra strength.”

“No, regular,” Your lashes fluttered and you let your eyes close again. “I only get regular.”

“No, these are extra strength,” His weight settled on the mattress. “You should be fine but no more for today.”

“You go,” You grumbled as the drowsiness rested over you like a shroud. “I told you… I’m okay.”

“You need someone to keep an eye on you.” He said. “You took a double dose.”

“Tired,” You yawned. “Go.”

You didn’t register his response, only his tone. Stern. You were dragged deeper into the dissonance until all was black. Until all that remained was the distant pain along your spine. The whisper of the worries which had turned your muscle to stone.

💊

You woke as the pain needled into your neck deeper than before. Your head was cradled between your pillows and your arm bent beneath you painfully in your drugged sleep. You groaned and pushed yourself up, vaguely aware of someone else moving around in your apartment.

You touched your forehead and tried to clear your head. You remembered calling in and taking the relaxers but after that, it was all fuzzy. You rolled over with a squeak and carefully sat up. Your eyes welled and threatened to overflow from the sheer agony down your spine.

A count of ten readied you for the torturous effort of standing up. You staggered and caught yourself on the nightstand. Your shirt was twisted around your torso and your pajama pants were rumpled from your heavy sleep. You moved slowly and stiffly to the door and eased it open as you listened to the activity on the other side.

You followed the steady chop of a knife against the cutting board and leaned inside the kitchen doorway as your shoulder twinged sharply. Steve was focused on chopping a cucumber as low jazz floated up from his phone. You gripped the wooden frame beside you and rubbed your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice scratched in your throat.

He looked over at you and placed the knife down. He wiped his hands on the dishcloth and neared you. “You shouldn’t be up. You’ll only make it worse.”

“What-- I don’t--”

“You took too many relaxers.” He said flatly. “You’ve been sleeping it off for the last… six hours.”

“Six hours?” You muttered as he guided you around and into the living room. You hissed as another jolt rattled your bones. “Ahhh.”

Steve caught you before you could collapse and scooped you up in his thick arms. He sighed and sat you down on the couch softly.

“What were you doing?”

“Making a salad.” He answered. “I didn’t want to just leave you here alone.”

“You didn’t have to come in the first place.”

“I think I did.” He brought his hands to either side of your neck and you winced. A blinding pain ran from the back of your skull, down your neck, along your shoulder blade, and all the way to your ankle. “Do me a favour.” He dropped his hands. “Turn your head to the right.”

You squinted at him and reluctantly did as he said.

“Left.” He demanded and when you tried the other side, you cried out and reached up to grip your neck. “Hmm, raise your arms.” You did that but your left didn’t get as high up as your right. You gasped in pain again and he sat beside you. “Turn your back to me.”

“I should call my chiro.” You said. “You shouldn’t--”

“I know what I’m doing.” He insisted and squeezed your hip. “Turn.”

“Steve.”

“I’m trying to help you.” He poked your arm and you relented and shifted until you were sideways on the cushion. He bent his leg up and faced you.

His large hands settled on your shoulders and he ran his thumb up your neck. You whimpered and he slid his hands lower, feeling your muscles.

“Tell me what hurts most.” 

He touched your left shoulder blade and paused as you cried out. He poked along it and your voice rasped even louder. He continued down your back and sides and the weight between your hips made you shake as it felt as if your entire body would dissolve from the pain.

“I don’t know what I did,” you whined. “I just woke up like this.”

“Anything happen yesterday? Something stressful?” His hands crawled up your back and he grasped your shoulders again. He began to stroke the back of your neck lightly with his thumbs. You went rigid as he coaxed the muscles. “Just relax, you’ll only make it worse.”

“Ah,” you did your best to let go of the tension but you weren’t comfortable with him touching you. In fact, you weren’t entirely fine with him being in your apartment.

“So, what’s going on?” He asked.

You exhaled deeply and he moved to your shoulders, a surprised groan escaped you as he hit a particularly tender spot.

“Definitely a pinched nerve.” He said. “So tell me, what’s go you all knotted up?”

You shook your head and that only jarred you again. You couldn’t help but lean back as he kneaded your flesh. The pain was unbearable and overwhelmed your caution.

“My brother’s birthday is coming up. I’m supposed to go to my mom’s--” you sucked in air as you resisted a moan. He definitely knew what he was doing. “She called me last night and--” You couldn’t hold back the next and the long whine escaped you. You closed your eyes in embarrassment and searched for your voice. “You know, she didn’t do anything for my birthday but she wants me there and I love my brother but-- ughhh, oh my god, Steve.”

You covered your mouth as your wispy tone sent heat through your body.

“I told you, relax. Keep talking.”

You tore your hand from your mouth. “You don’t have too--”

“I want to, now what’s going on with your mother?”

“The usual. She’s disappointed in me. She… wants me to bring a date but even if I had one, I wouldn’t want to bring them around. I wish she’d just accept me for just me but--” You pressed your lips together and dug your nails into the couch as his hand got lower. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“I don’t think so.” He continued to work your muscles and you leaned back against him without thinking. “Your mom shouldn’t be pressuring you like that. You’re doing so well. You’ve been running, you work hard, and I think she should be proud.”

You dropped your head back against his shoulder as your eyes rolled back. His hands were on your hips, kneading and gripping in turn so that your right leg slung down limply over the side of the couch. He didn’t seem to mind as you pressed against him and your voice swirled up into the air in relief.

He was quiet as he continued to massage your lower back and along your sides. He repeated his course up and down until he was focused on your hips again. The remnants of the relaxers rested on your eyelids and your breath slowed as you were tempted to fall back asleep.

He rubbed your hip bones lightly as you floated in a haze and all was quiet but for the beating of his heart against your back. His hands moved around your front and his fingers crawled over your pelvis. You were startled by how intimate his touch was but could do nothing but remain as you were.

He retracted his hand as if surprised himself. He cleared his throat and eased out from behind you, lowering you onto your back as he stood. He sniffed and his jaw tensed as he forced a smile.

“You stay here. Don’t move, I mean it, you’ll hurt yourself worse than you already are.” He took a pillow from the other side of the couch and slipped it under your head. “I’ll go finish lunch. You need something in your stomach.”

He turned and took the slender black remote from your low coffee table. He placed it beside your hand. His blue eyes flicked across your middle and you pulled down the hem of your shirt as you realised it had ridden up. He shook his head and backed away.

“After you eat, you should take a hot bath. Liquid heat is good for tension.” His voice faded as he strode back to the kitchen. “And I think you should take tomorrow off too. That’s not going away overnight.”

[xxreader-writerxx]

Already Won

Word count: 2.1k

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Warnings: Cursing, angsty, Cheating Mentioned, Blood Mentioned, Knife Kink Mentioned, Reader nearly cuts finger off, Panic Attack-ish (Fred), Poor Plot, Snogging at the end, and Abandonment Issues

A/n: This isn't amazing it was just to kick my arse into writing again lol, fighting writers block atm

Y/N= Your Name L/N= Your Last Name Y/H= Your House

I'm cutting vegetables in the kitchen for dinner when I hear the door unlock. I smile to myself and grab the coffee I made, reheating it with a quick spell. "Baby! Did you get the creamer while you were out?" I ask, turning the corner. "I was supposed to?" I hear a different voice than what I was expecting respond. "Oh its you." I say plainly, annoyed by the sight of my ex boyfriend Draco. "Hey darling. I missed you." He says, walking to try to give me a hug but I push him away disgusted. "Didn't I dump you like what five months ago? After you cheated on me with Pansy?" I ask, turning to go into the kitchen. "Your still on that? I'm back so everything can go back to normal!" He says and I scoff. "Nope." I say when I hear the door open.

"Baby, the witch down the street ran out of creamer but, I got coffees down the street. Then I dropped them on myself trying to get inside." I hear Fred ramble. I walk out chuckling and see him stripping as he walks into our room. "The coffee burns." He says, still distracted by getting clean clothes on. I walk over with Draco tailing behind me. "Honey, someone's here." I tell him and he whips his head around, grabbing his shirt to cover himself. "Shit. Sorry sorry.... Not sorry what the hell is he doing here?" He asks, seeing Draco. "Figuring it out myself- Oh my god Freddie, how hot were those coffees?!" I ask, seeing a burn mark forming on his shoulder.

"I wanted them to be hot enough to make it home." He says sheepishly. I walk over, grabbing the burn medication I conjured after discovering having Fred Weasley as a boyfriend means a lot of burns to heal. I pull down the sleeve and rub the ointment on. "Ow..." He moans and I nod sadly.

When I finish I put a bandage on him and take his hand. I bring him to the fridge and grab a lolly. "Suck on this while it heals, it'll cool your body." I say and he winks, placing the lolly on his tongue. "While I suck on this why don't you- Why are you still here." He says, breaking his flirty behavior to look at Draco who is glaring at Fred. "Name's on the lease." He says with a smirk. "You're kidding. He's kidding." He says looking at me upset. I freeze trying to think of a solution when I finally sigh. "He's right..." I say, I shove my face in his chest and he glares at Draco angrily. "You are going to leave." He says through gritted teeth. "Where would I go huh?" He asks, still cocky. "Do I give a shit? No. Now your things are in the hall closet, take those bags and leave." He repeats, keeping me against him.

"I don't remember your name on the lease." He says with a smirk and Fred nods. "Yeah but I have my initials on-" He says as he start to raise my shirt trying to reveal the initials he cut during an exciting night two days ago. I slap his hand and he looks at me cheekily. "Anyways, I guess you can stay in the guest room and I'll go unpack." He says and I grab his jacket before he can leave the kitchen. "Fix it." I say sternly and he groans. "I'll stay in the guest room." He mumbles and I nod promptly.

***

I wake up next to Fred and look for whatever woke me. I get up realizing its 5:37 and shake Fred softly. "Baby we need to get ready for work. I'll go make breakfast." I whisper and he nods into the pillow, golden ginger hair surrounding his freckled face softly. "Baby, if we told George what happened he'd understand, let's sleep in." He offers and I sigh. "If I had another owner to take care of my shop then I would jump in your arms but..." I say and he groans nodding.

I make my way into the kitchen to make us omelets when a figure makes me jump. "Fuck." I mutter as Draco takes a sip of his coffee. "Honey?" I hear from behind me and I turn to see Fred fiddling with his tie. I walk over smiling to myself at his loose tie and messy hair. "Stupid Blood Traitor can't even tie his own tie." I hear Malfoy mumble as I tied Fred's tie, getting angry I nearly behead Fred on accident but he stops me with a soft hold on my hips. "Here's the thing, Malfoy, I'm doing this... To do this." Fred says smirking pulling me in for his signature kiss. I sigh into the kiss almost forgetting about my troubles until they cough to signify they're still there.

"I'll make our breakfast, you work on tea?" I ask and he salutes cutely. I start chopping up onions when I feel myself get enveloped in a hug, Fred's face snug in my neck. His lips threateningly close to my neck, butterfly kisses every now and then. "What are you up to?" I giggle as his hands tickle my sides. "I just love you..." He whispers and I smile. "I love you more." I whisper and he kisses my cheek. "I'll cook the omelet, you go watch your program. It's on." He whispers and I turn, placing my hands on the counter behind me. "I can take care of the food. Don't worry about me." I whisper back and he kisses my lips softly. "Please? When else will your show be on this early?" He asks and I smile. "If you insist. But at least let me cut the peppers." I say and he nods.

***

I'm cutting dough in my café when I hear the door open. I smile warmly, keeping my eyes to the counter. "Hello! I'll be with you in a moment." I say when someone pushes my chin up softly. "Hey darling." Draco says and I groan. "Malfoy, I'm not your darling anymore. I'm dating Fred." I state, my entire body growing warm with anger. "I know, I know... But I wanted to try and win you back." He states, holding up a gold necklace. "You think I can be bought?" I ask, seething with anger. His face looses color as he shakes his head. "N-no! I meant this as a sorry-" He begins but I slam my knife down. "Get out."

I walk into the twin's shop, unusually tired, I see George and walk over lazily. "Hey- What the hell!?" He asks and he grabs my arm, tugging me to Fred's office. "Where are we going?" I ask lazily. "FRED." He yells banging on the door. Fred opens the door angrily but the anger turns to worry when he lays his eyes on me, or to be specific my finger. I cut it, deep. "Oh look at that..." I say and he scoops me up. "Oh god oh god..." He mumbles as I lay my head on his shoulder. "You smell nice." I whisper and he shakes his head. "What the hell happened?" He asks and I frown. "Draco came to my shop and gave me this." I say and I show him the necklace and he looks at it upset as he buckles me into the car. "You've lost a lot of blood..." He whispers, tearing up a bit. "I'm fineeee." I tell him and he kisses my forehead softly. "Just stay awake..." He whispers and I nod softly.

I wake up in a hospital bed and Fred is holding my hand. "Baby?" I ask roughly, my throat burning from sleep. "Thank god." He exclaims, holding me close to his chest. "Are you alright? Do you need anything?! You don't understand how happy I am to see your eyes open." He tells me, clutching my shirt tightly.

***

Ever since the accident Fred kicked Malfoy out and I got someone to take over the shop while I heal. Fred's been clingy since because he says he nearly lost me and every time I remind him it was only a bit of blood loss but he always responds with "same thing". Malfoy has been sending flowers, expensive gifts, and baskets each with a note begging me to take him back. I laugh at every package because they come from Pansy's apartment. Now its two months later both me and Fred going strong, and Malfoy hasn't given up.

I walk into the house back from groceries with Fred nowhere to be found. I hear shaky breathing from our room. I walk in and see Fred in the corner crying silently. "Freddie?" I ask and he hides his face in his arms. "I'll be out in a minute." He whispers and I sit next to him on the floor. "What's wrong?" I ask and he cries again. "Nothing, don't worry about it." He whispers and I tug his hand to wrap around it. "Tell me..." I whisper back and place my free hand on his cheek. He leans into my hand, closing his eyes happily. "I love you..." I tell him and he sighs. "I'm sorry." He tells me and I furrow my eyebrows.

"Did you break something?" I ask and he laughs, wiping his nose. "No... I'm sorry I can't provide for you." He tells me and I finally am able to sit on his lap, his hands resting on my hips as he places his forehead in the crane of my neck. "What?" I ask and he digs his head further. "Malfoy gets you all these fancy gifts and I know I'm not enough. I don't have diamond necklaces, my flowers are always picked, and he has so much to offer... And I'm here being the idiot who has a joke shop instead of a stable job. Its a matter of time before he finally wins you back and I would understand, who'd want me over Malfoy..." He cries into my neck and I run my hands through his hair softly.

"No... Baby I don't care about jewels or money. I love your flowers, how you tell me why each one reminded you of me... I love you Freddie.... I could never be won by Malfoy wanna know why?" I coo into his ear softly. "Why?" He asks, looking up at me with his soft hazel eyes. "Because you've already won. A million times, you've won. When we became best friends at 8, when I saw you on the bus, when you left school, when you moved in with me after my break-up, not letting me ignore help by saying you needed a place to stay because George and Angelina were moving in when we both knew you could live at the burrow... Every day you have won me. How can I prove that?" I ask and he smiles sweetly. "You just did... I love you so so much." He whispers and I smile, kissing his nose.

I hear the doorbell ring and he looks towards the door upset. I groan getting up and open the door. Draco is there crying holding flowers. "Please." He whispers and I go to slam the door but he stops me. "I know I don't deserve it but please give me another chance. Weaslebee could never care for you, not like I can. So please take me back." He says and I get angered by those words. I grab his collar and shove him back. "Do not talk of Fred that way." I say and he scoffs. "You know he won't. I have money we can land on, he doesn't. So cut the bullshit and take me back." He spits and I punch him right in the nose. "Leave. And I don't mean my door, I mean my life Malfoy." I tell him as he doubles over, flicking him off.

I walk back into my house and find Fred smiling at me, eyes still puffy but I couldn't care less, he's beautiful. "I love-" Is all he can say before I grab his collar, pulling him into a long kiss. He leans into it after recovering from the shock. I wrap my arms around his neck as he pulls me to wrap my legs around his torso. He sits on the couch, pulling me flush against his body. "I love you so much..." He mumbles as we take a second to get air. "I love you more." I say, diving to attach my lips to his. He pulls away after a while and smiles, moving hair from my face softly. I smile back, a giggle escaping my lips. "What?" I ask and he kisses me softly. "I guess I did win." He whispers and I kiss him again.

[phoenixblack89]

Secret Crushes

My second one shot is pure filth. Gotta warn ya. Might make a sequel... Dunno... But the lovely Travis is getting one next.... Then that amazing bad boy Mac.

@lilythemadqueen @fandomsaremykryponite enjoy sweeties!

Warning: Pure smut. Feels. Arsehole sibling. Underage drinking.

Fuck knows how many words this is cos ain't got a clue.

Edit: I've fixed the fucking errors I saw and added some to it. And got the read more to work! Yus! Enjoy sweetums

PART 2 Part 3

The party was in full swing and you hated it. Why your older sister had insisted on throwing a wild party while your parents were away was beyond your understanding. Must be a cool girl thing you thought as you wandered down the stairs to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. The house was packed to bursting with her friends and their friends. Hell, you're sure some of the teenagers weren't even from your town, not recognising the vast majority. Word of mouth had turned it from a small party for her classmates into a full on rave.

Sighing you pushed your way through to the kitchen your mother would no doubt be dismayed at seeing at the moment. Your mother was somewhat house proud and the kitchen was her pride and joy. Never ever letting dishes pile up in the sink, the shiny chrome polished within an inch of its life. You secretly couldn't wait for the fallout in the morning when they got back and saw the spilled alcohol, cigarette butt's and various other less savoury things spread from the party. Your sister was in soooo much trouble.

"Watch it fat bitch!"

You grit your teeth at the oh so creative insult as you shoved the jerk away from you. He glared down at you from his 6 foot height.

"What's an ugly fuck like ye even doing here?"

"I live here arsehole." You spat back, shouldering your way past and out the back door. Taking a deep breath you wandered the gravel path down to your secret escape at the bottom of the garden, hoping no one had tried to get in. Smiling as the old barn came into sight you felt the tension ease. As you neared you slowed, hearing two distinct and familiar voices. Your mouth suddenly felt drier as your heart pounded.

"Oh Connor!" Your sister moaned and you froze. 

She wouldn't... Would she? 

She knew you had a somewhat strong crush on the elder MacManus brother. His blue eyes and kind smile making butterflies in your stomach every time you saw him. Tears sprang to your eyes at her betrayal and you hurried your steps past the barn, hearing her shriek in shock. Connor and her eyes following you as you stormed past.

"Sis!"

"Fuck off Sara! Get back to the party!" You called after her, as you broke the treeline at the edge of the property. Tears fell slowly and silently as you pulled out a crumpled and almost empty packet of cigarettes. You slipped suddenly and fell head first down the bank to the stream running at the bottom of the hill. A shriek escaped as you braced for the very cold and surely sudden dip. You stopped quickly and waited for the impact against the icy water but it didn't come. Opening one eye you realised you were being held up by a pair of strong arms. A deep breath of relief came from you as the arms set you down on the ground gently.

"Ye alright?"

Your head turned and you gave a weak smile. Murphy's eyes were lined in pink hues, almost as if he, himself, had been crying like you.

"Could ask you the same."

"Aye... Just... Connor ye know."

"Yea... Sara."

He bit his lip and offered you a cigarette. You took it and shuffled to sit beside him. You both smoked and cried silently together. Both content to not mention the fact you were crying to the other, taking the comfort from each others pain and not judging.

"Older siblings, am I right?" You tried to joke, wiping at your eyes. "They sure know how to hit a sore spot."

"Connor's younger than me." Murphy laughed, wiping at his own cheeks. You smiled weakly and shrugged.

"Here's me thinking ya were twins."

"Aye... But I'm older. Fuckin' bastard knew I liked her as well." He sighed and ran his hand through his shaggy dark hair. You nodded and flicked your cigarette into the water, watching silently as it floated away.

"Yea... My sister she... Erm... She knew I liked Connor. Well... Was..... Damn... That I had a bit of a crush on him... Sorry."

"Yea? Bitch. Ain't a good sister doing that when she knew ye liked him" Murphy said, wrapping his arm around your bare shoulders at the shiver that ran you with the cold. He smiled as you wrapped yours around his lower back. "What a pair we make, eh? Our siblings are over there fuckin' like rabbits and here we are wishing it was us instead"

"Nah. We know better... Sara is just a bitch and Connor... He'll soon learn she's one too."

"Yea? What about you? Don't think I caught ya name lass?"

"Y/N. Everyone called me other things though." You gulped, biting your lip and giving a shaky sigh.

"Oh aye? What's that then?" He smirked at you, thinking it was some cute nickname.

"Mostly fatty, bitch, ugly... I'm not pretty or slim like Sara and I get why Connor would see her before me. She's everything I'm not."

"I... I don't... You are pretty. And so what if ye not some skinny bitch... I like ye and any one who can't see how amazing ye fuckin' are don't deserve ye time." He smiled sweetly down at you, his fingers grazing under your chin to make you look at him as you ducked your head.

"Thanks. But that's not true."

"Course it is! I say it is! And I always, always tell t' truth." He smirked, puffing out his chest. You giggled and shook your head. You leaned your head against his shoulder and sighed.

"I just wish someone would see me for me... And not what they always see. Fat ugly little bitch... Wish he'd of seen me..."

"He ain't worth ye time."

"She's not worth yours..."

"Aye. I see that now." He shuffled down to lay on his back, pulling you with him and smiled.

You lay in quiet contemplation for a while, the distant sounds of creaking wood and stifled moans making both your hearts ache.

"We should go get a drink! Drown our sorrows." You suggest, despite being not keen on alcohol. Murphy laughs and sits up, reaching into the pocket of his coat and pulling out one of your dad's whiskey bottles.

"Damn. Read my mind lass." He smiled and opened the bottle, gulping it down without a grimace before handing it to you. You choked down a mouthful and smacked his chest lightly as he snorted at you.

"I'm not a big drinker like you MacManus!"

He smirked and leaned over you so your faces were mere inches apart, a smirk curving the right side of his lips upwards.

"Aye... What else ain't ye big on then?"

"What?! What the fuck does that mean?" You feel your cheeks burning in embarrassing red.

"Well... I'm here and ye here.... Thought we could forget our sorrows another way... If ye up fer it?"

"You mean... In.... What way? I mean... I... Fuck" 

You sound like a fucking fool, stumbling over your words as his hand draws patterns along your waist slowly. Biting his lip he closes the distance between you and his lips meet yours. It's different to how you imagined your first kiss to be. You always imagined it to be a burning passionate, uncontrolled thing but this was soft, unurgent and gentle, sending a thrill of something to your core.

"How old are ye anyway, lass?" He asked, pulling away suddenly. You bit your lip and avoided his eyes until his finger brought your face to his once more. "I don't wanna get in trouble..."

"I just turned 18... You?"

"19... You... Have ye ever done this before?" His blue eyes searched yours for a moment before he sighed.

"No... But... I... I... Want to... If... If you want to leave you can. I won't stop you. I get most guys don't want someone so inexperienced."

Murphy glanced around for a moment, seeming to decide on the right course of action before slugged his long leather jacket off and laying on the ground beside you. He nudged his head to the side, your eyebrows creasing in confusion. He gave a smile and a chuckle before lifting your hips and sliding you on top of his jacket. His lips find yours again as soon as you shift yourself over on to his jacket fully and you wrap your arms around his neck. Gasping slightly as his hand drifts under your shirt and traces along your ribs. Pulling back slightly you take in his eyes, now darken with needful desire. He kisses your cheek softly and runs his palm upwards slowly and bits his lip, his white teeth shining brightly against their rose hue.

He licks his bottom lip as he tugs your shirt upwards and lowers his head to kiss along your stomach, you squirm in embarrassment. You hate the extra fat that gathered along your stomach and hips. His head raised to your face and he sighed.

"Ye beautiful lass. Every single inch..."

"Don't... I know its not true." You reply, tears coming to your eyes again in frustration. Anger at yourself for the lack of control you have over your own eating habits. You comfort ate, it was a habit nothing seemed to break you of. Murphy kissed you gently again and gazed down into Y/E/C eyes softly. His thumb running along your cheek softly.

"Told ye. Always tell t' truth. Believe me... Ye beautiful... Absolutely... Beautiful." He whispered between giving you soft kisses along you jawline and down your neck. You moaned as he kissed a sensitive spot. He smirked against your skin and focused on that one spot, sucking, licking and grazing it with his teeth. His hand reached under your shirt and stroked gently over the chubby plains of your torso to your chest.

A sharp gasp released from your mouth as his fingers ran along the edge of the unattractive sports bra you wore. Smirking against your collarbone he slipped his fingers inside and tweaked your nipple. A flood of arousal dropped into your panties and you moaned, arching upwards into his touch.

"Ye like that lass? Feel good, aye?"

You nodded and pulled his lips to yours. He groaned, your hips bucking upwards into his at the sensations he was causing to rush through you.

He pulled away and leaned back onto his knees, his hand running down your body to your covered core. He licked his lips and glanced at you as he ran a finger along your jeans button. Nodding at him, he smiled and flicked it open before dragging the zipper down slowly. His hands slipped inside and tugged them down over your hips as you bit your lip in nervousness.

You sat up slightly and reached for his belt, eyes boring into his blue ones as you pulled his belt from his jeans, tossing it to the side carelessly and reaching for the waistband. Shuffling slightly he helped you ease them down over his hips before laying you both down again. Only your underwear separating the heat of your bodies as he kissed you passionately, his hips rocking slowly into yours. Your hands found their way into his hair and tugged slightly as you both began panting at the friction of your hips. Your underwear was damp with your slick.

"Are ye sure ye want this lass?" Murphy panted into your mouth as his hand reached between you to cup your wet core, rubbing it hard causing you to gasp and squirm under him to get more pressure, more friction, more... Something, you didn't know.

"Please... Murphy..."

"I got ye lass." He whispered as his finger reaching under the elastic of your plain cotton underwear and ran through the folds of your dripping core. His fingers slid into you as his thumb found the bundle of nerves at the centre of your thighs. Rubbing his thumb in smooth, lazy circles he kissed against the spot he'd sucked a dark mark onto on your neck. His pants and moans echoing loudly in your ear as his fingers thrust in and out of you in time of his circling thumb. Your heart sped up and pounded against your ribs as a totally new sensation began building in your gut. "Cum fer me beautiful."

It felt like something inside had snapped and your body tensed all over, your legs shaking around Murphy's strong arm, your breath caught in your throat and as sudden as it began, it ended and you felt yourself more relaxed than you could ever remember being before. 

"Good girl."

"Fuck... Murphy..."

He raised his head and smiled cockily down at you. He bought his hand out of your underwear and raised it to his mouth. You could see the glint of your moisture coating his long, graceful fingers in the weak starlight as he began to lick and suck his fingers clean. Your jaw​ fell open at that sight. You had heard of people doing it but to see someone do that, and with your juices no less, caused a rush of shame and desire to course through you.

His face lowered to yours once more and he smirked against your ear.

"Maybe next time... I'll lick this delicious pussy out..."

"Murphy..." You gasped, feeling slick pooling once more.

"Aye lass?"

"Please..."

He kissed you once more, hands finding the waistband of your underwear and gently lowering them down and gazing down at your core. Your legs closed in shame as your cheeks heated. He chuckled and pushed them apart again and studied you intensely.

"Fuckin' perfection."

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet, fishing out a condom and ripping it open with his teeth. His eyes found yours as he shuffled out of his boxers and grasped his hard thick cock in one hand, pumping it up and down for several moments, his eyes never leaving the sight of your bared core. He rolled the condom down his cock and leaned over you once more.

"Are ye absolutely sure beautiful?"

"I'm sure Murphy." Your voice replied, an edge of nervousness obvious in the way your voice sounded so quiet and wavered slightly. He smiled and kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you felt his cock brush against your mound as he positioned himself between your thighs.

His tip ran along your slit as he guided it and you gasped at the foreign feeling. His eyes held yours as he slowly pushed into you. A sharp cry of pain came from you and your body tensed under him. He reached for your hand, which was clawing at the fabric of his coat and grasped it in his own. Holding himself still and steady until you adjusted. You nodded slightly as his lips ran along your cheek, kissing away the tears that had slipped from your eyes. His cock inched slowly deeper into your unexplored pussy and he paused again to look you in the eye, making sure you were okay with each slow thrust.

"Ye alright?"

"Hmmhummm." You replied, gritting your teeth as you felt the burning grow sharper as he inched forward more. He gave a groan and shook with restraint. His heart was pounding in his ears at the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing his cock. He had never been with a virgin and but knew from Connor's numerous boasts that they felt tighter than anything else. He was by no means a virgin himself and was determined to make this a pleasurable experience for you. 

Even if it killed him.

He gave a loud moan as he finally bottomed out inside you and kissed you passionately allowing you a moment or two of adjustment. You ran your fingers through his hair over and over as your tongues battled. You felt his cock twitch deep inside you and gasped into his mouth as his thumb once more began circling your clit.

"Murphy please..." You moaned, twitching your hips to encourage him to begin moving. His thrusts were slow and steady against you, taking his time to build until you both were absolutely sure you felt no pain anymore. His hand held one of your thighs around his hip and the other circling your clit, pleasure building slowly for the both of you. Sweet kisses left against each others necks as he began thrusting a little faster with each thrust.

Your back ached up to his chest as he hit a spot inside you that made you feel a sharp jolt of pure bliss.

"Ohhh... Fuckkkk.... Murphy..." You gasped into his mouth as he began aiming for that spot over and over, increasing his circling thumb's speed and pressure. Your toes curled in your boots as you suddenly were blinded by white light and your orgasm ripped through you. A loud shriek of unadulterated pleasure ripped from your throat. Murphy smirked and thrust harder, chasing his own release now he'd made you have a chance to cum over his cock. The walls of your pussy fluttering around his cock and your clit twitching under his thumb. His hair hung around his face in sweat soaked strands and you brushed them away to kiss him, still shaking in post orgasmic bliss. His body tensed against yours and he came, a guttural moan echoing loudly around you. His breaths coming sharp against your neck as he slumped over you and gave a little huff of pleasure.

"Fuck lass. I've never had one like that before."

"Huh... Guess that means it was okay?" You panted, suddenly nervous again. Would he feel satisfied? Did he really enjoy it? Was it good? Were you good?

He pushed himself onto his elbows and kissed you deeply, fucking your mouth with his tongue.

"Beautiful, I ain't ever lettin' ye go! Not after that."

You smiled as you kissed again with a laugh.

"MURPH! WHERE ARE YE?!"

You both froze and looked at each other. Murphy quickly pulled his cock from you, grimacing at the slight splattering of blood on the condom as he pulled it off and pulled his boxers and jeans on as you, too quickly dressed once more. Footsteps and the sounds of snapping twigs coming closer.

"Murph?!"

"Aye! I'm 'ere!" He yelled back as you stood and dusted down his jacket, handing it to him so he could swing it back onto his body. He grabbed your face and planted a sweet kiss on your lips quickly and smoothed down your hair as he gave your cheek a sweet kiss.

"There ye are! Oh..."

Connor paused and glanced between you two with an eyebrow raised.

"What’s going on here then, Murph?" He smirked. Murphy pushed his brother back in the direction of the house.

"I was helping her. She seemed upset. Dunno why though." He glanced over his shoulder at you and winked cheekily. "Kid needed a shoulder t' cry on. That's all."

"That right... Well come on. We best get home before Ma sends t' alarm out. Ye know how Uncle Silas is."

"Aye."

The brothers walked away and you followed slowly, Murphy glancing back over his shoulder at you with a happy but shy smile ghosting his face every now and then. Connor waved goodbye at the door to Sara and blew her a kiss in return to the one she'd blown and you rolled your eyes at the pair. Sara tried to grab your arm as you passed and you shrugged her off, rushing upstairs to your room and locking the door. You went to the window and watched as the twins walked down the drive.

Murphy paused before he left the gate, looked up and smiled widely at you and raised his hand. The streetlight lit his face up and you smiled, giving a small laugh as Connor shoved him ahead with a laugh and a glance upwards. You ducked away from the window quickly and lay on your bed, a ridiculously wide smile bracing your own face as you bit your lip and gave a small laugh.

Maybe tomorrow at school wouldn't be so bad. Not now you had a secret thing going on the darker haired MacManus.

[hueswrites]

hq kinktober [day2] hanamaki & matsukawa

main hq kinktober masterlist

hq kinktober [day2] hanamaki takahiro & matsukawa isseis - double penetration

includes:

simultaneous vaginal & anal sex, all consenting, established relationship, alcohol use

wordcount:

4,136

~~~

You lay in bed with your boyfriend, basking in a blissful post-sex haze while you let your eyes rest. The "ding" of a text coming through Takahiro's phone grabs your attention.

"I'm getting drinks with Issei," he says, rolling out of bed.

You glance at the time. "It's two in the afternoon," you state, giving him a disapproving glare.

"And?" He says, going to the bathroom to take a piss with the door wide open.

"I really wish you would find a job. Is Issei off today or something?"

"Nah. He had a shitty day and his dad let him leave early, so I'm going to keep him company."

You roll your eyes. "Must be nice working for daddy. Why don't you see if you can get a job with him?"

"He actually did say they need someone in the crematory, but I'm not burning up dead people for a living. Besides," he turns to look at you and winks. "You know you love having me here to cook, clean, and fuck you senseless at all hours of the day."

You roll your eyes. He had a point.

~~~

Takahiro finds Issei at the bar, halfway through his second beer and looking absolutely miserable. They greet each other with a nod and Takahiro takes the seat next to him. The bartender is is already cracking a bottle open of Takahiro's usual order, which happens to be the same exact beer Issei preferred to drink. He takes a good, lengthy sip then sets the frosty bottle down with an audible sigh of delight. He looks over at Issei. "Wanna talk about it?"

Issei groans. "No. I just wanna drink." He takes a sip of his beer.

Takahiro unzips his jacket and saunters it off his shoulders, then places it onto the empty stool beside him. He looks up at the top shelf of liquors behind the bar and racks through his brain for something to talk about that would help get his friend out of his slump. "Oikawa's visiting next week. Have you talked to him? You know that'll be a good time. Always is."

Issei only sighs in response. Well, shit. He was really down in the dumps. "I need to get laid, Makki," he grumbles.

Takahiro raises his eyebrows. "What happened with that one foreign chick? Thought you and her had a good thing going on."

"She found someone else. Said she felt like she was fucking the grim reaper and thought I'd end up giving her a curse from one of the dead bodies in the funeral home," he drops his head down onto his forearms and hides his face. "Said she couldn't get the image of dead, shriveled dick out of her head when we hooked up."

Takahiro laughs. "That's fucking weird," he says. "You don't even see the bodies. You just sell the caskets and help families through their grieving."

"Yeah, I know," he groans out in frustration. "I have a decent job making decent money and even have my own place... I guess that's the limit on the amount of good things I'm allowed to have in this life."

Takahiro scoffs. "Don't say that. You're doing really good. Shit, look at me. I've been unemployed for three months now, freeloading off my girlfriend-"

"Your hot girlfriend,"

Takahiro ignores him, continuing, "I'm in a shit ton of debt, and I've now watched every single season of that stupid Korean drama my girlfriend insisted would inspire me to change my life Honestly, that shit made me feel worse."

Issei manages a laugh and lifts his head back up, dark wavy hair now a tousled mess over his forehead. "Yeah, dude. You sound like a bum. Why does she keep you around?"

"I cook and I clean. And," a smug smirk lifts the corners of his lips, "the sex is amazing."

Issei's head drops back down onto the bar top. "Fuck you," he mumbles into the sleeves of his shirt.

"You know, she is a model and a personal trainer. There's no way she doesn't have any single, cute girl friends that would be willing to hook up."

Issei sits back up and finishes his drink, the idea now seeming to lift his spirits. "If you could find someone that'd be interested in a gloomy, boring guy like me, then I'll pay your tab-"

Takahiro smiles and chugs the rest of his beer, then locks onto the bartender. "Another round on this guy's tab, please," he shouts.

Issei chuckles. "You better work some magic, asshole."

~~~

Takahiro returns home to your apartment to find you in the living room, drenched in sweat and in the middle of giving one of your online fitness classes. As you go through the motions of squats and burpees he takes a moment to admire the way your ass jiggles and resists the urge to give it a smack. You would kill him if you did such a thing in front of her clients, and probably withhold any sort of physical intimacy from him as punishment. It's amazing that you even have the energy to workout after your earlier exertion with him in bed.

He decides to make himself comfortable on at the kitchen counter and pulls out his phone, scrolling through your list of friends on Facebook. He didn't know half the people on your list, and he was pretty sure you didn't know them either. It made sense that a popular, attractive young woman such as yourself had so many connections. When the two of you started dating, you warned Takahiro about the amount of attention men (and women) gave you. It didn't bother Takahiro one bit. He loved knowing someone as attractive and talented as you was all his.

Issei may have had the career and the independence, but to Takahiro, you were all he needed. He loved to please you. The cooking and cleaning was no chore to him. You allowed him to stay at your apartment expecting nothing but his love and respect in return. And great sex. You were definitely just as kinky and open-minded as he is.

As his thoughts focused on you, he found himself remembering the early days of your relationship. He met you two years ago at a bar when Oikawa had been in town visiting for the holidays. Both he and Issei were instantly attracted to you. Oikawa noticed their attraction to you and was able to get your number in the blink of an eye. Imagine her disappointment when she learned that neither of the two numbers that texted her the next day belonged to that gorgeous brunette with big brown eyes and a voice as sweet as honey.

He and Issei made a game out of trying to woo you. In the end, you fell for Takahiro's boyish good looks and charming personality. Not that Issei wasn't charming or good looking - you just thought Takahiro had much more going for him, with his talk of wanting to be an entrepreneur and successful business man, while Issei went right into working for his parent's funeral home.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

It's then that an idea pops into Takahiro's head. He brings up his text conversation with Issei.

He sends a text: "Wanna have a threesome with me and ___?"

Issei responds almost instantly: "You serious?"

Takahiro chuckles to himself. He replies: "Let me ask her. I'll get back to you."

~~~

After your class is finished, you shower and get yourself ready for dinner. The news plays on the TV in the living room adjacent from your dining area, but you're not paying attention. You're trying to figure out why your boyfriend is so unusually quiet. He's been on his phone since the two of you sat down to eat, only taking a bite every couple of minutes.

"Hey, Hiro," you start, irritation laced through your voice. "What's wrong?"

"Issei is lonely," he says.

"That sucks," you say through a mouthful of rice.

"He needs to get laid."

You raise a brow. "Okay. How are you going to help him with that?"

"What do you think about letting him join in on our fun?"

You spit out your food.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He smirks, eyes still on his phone. "Would you fuck him?"

"Takahiro. I'm not even gonna answer that question."

Takahiro hums. "His dick is bigger than mine, you know."

Your face flushes red. "Are you really being serious right now?"

"Yeah. You know he's always had the hots for you. Don't you find him attractive? You did back then, I know that's a fact."

You pause as if to consider. "He's cute. I never liked his hair though. He needs to cut it."

Takahiro snorts. "Babe. Think about it. You already know each other, and you said having a threesome is on your list of sexual fantasies you want to try."

"How do you know about my list?!"

Takahiro skims over your question and continues. "So is that a yes or a no?"

"But he's your best friend."

"Yeah, and that's why it'll be fun!"

You really did want to check off having a threesome from your list.

You let out a huff and frown. "Let me think about it."

Takahiro beams and starts tapping away on his phone. "Okay, so is Friday good with you?"

"Takahiro!" You shout, shooting him your best crazy eyes. You grit your teeth. "I have a class Friday night. Let's do it Saturday."

Takahiro to Issei: She’s in. You free Saturday night?

~~~

Saturday finally arrives, and you and Takahiro are both getting ready to leave your apartment for the night.

"I'm gonna need alcohol before we do this," you said as you rolled on deodorant.

Takahiro is in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. "Aww, you nervous, babe?" he garbled through his spit and toothpaste.

"Yes, Hiro. You're gonna be watching your best friend fuck me."

"Issei and I are cool like that. Always have been."

Silence follows, and Takahiro looks at you through the mirror. You've stopped packing your things and are sitting on your bed, gazing off into space. He frowns. "You know you don't have to do this if it's making you uncomfortable. I'm not gonna force you to do anything you're not sure you want to do."

You look up and glare back at him through the mirror. "I know that, idiot," and then you smile. "I'm just being a brat."

Takahiro rinses his mouth and gives his hair one last comb through before leaving the bathroom and walking over to you. He bends down to give you a kiss and ruffles your hair with his hand. "I love my little brat. Wouldn't have you any other way."

You reach up and cradle his face in your hands. "Love you too."

~~~

The three of you decided to have drinks at the bar in the hotel's lobby Issei had paid for your night together. You told Takahiro that you would feel more comfortable away from home, somewhere that you could let loose and not have to worry about cleaning up afterwards.

The conversation had mostly been the two of them reminiscing on their high school and college years, with you slurping your drink and giggling in between their exchanges. "You guys really chose to go to the same college so you could remain friends?"

Takahiro idly stirs his drink, keeping his eyes on you. Your cheeks are flushed red and your eyes are glossed over, an obvious sign that you were pretty buzzed. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, even offering little flirty comments Issei's way here and there. Takahiro thought it was adorable.

"Once Oikawa and Iwaizumi went away, everything got really boring. Making new friends is a pain," Issei explained. "I don't think other people would be able to handle our sense of humor. We like to make jabs at each other, and other people take things too seriously."

Takahiro hums in agreement. "I hate when people can't take a joke."

You finish your cocktail and the tiny little hiccup that escapes your lips has Takahiro looking at you with adoration. "I don't think many best friends would be down to fuck the other's girlfriend, either." You giggle.

Both men blushed at your blunt observation. Takahiro cleared his throat. "Uhh, you wanna get the check and skedaddle, Issei?"

Issei swallowed the rest of his drink and slammed the empty glass down onto the table. "You always read my mind, Makki."

~~~

The three of you are stripping yourselves naked as soon as you enter the hotel room. You were the first one on the bed, waiting rather impatiently for someone to start giving you attention. Takahiro was quick to climb after you, having discarded his clothes onto the floor. He placed kisses all over your face and your neck, sucking onto your breasts and pinching your hips. You squirmed underneath his touch, curling your toes in delight.

Issei goes to sit in the chair at the side of the room, and the sound of air leaving the cushion as he plops down causes you and Takahiro to stop what you're doing and look up at Issei. "What are you doing?" Takahiro asks, confused.

"M'gonna sit back and watch you two," Issei says. "Lemme see how amazing fire crotch over here really is."

"Watch it, dickhead. I'm no fire crotch. My hair's strawberry brown, idiot." Takahiro growls, returning his attention back to you. He towers over you, eyeing you hungrily. "You ready for this, baby?"

~~~

Takahiro's got two of his fingers deep inside your cunt, pumping into your sloppy, wet heat with determination to get you all warmed up for what's to come. You feel the mattress dip behind you and shiver as a second pair of hands lands on your body. Issei finally had enough as a bystander and was ready to join the action. He presses his lips to your back, between your shoulder blades, and massages his thumbs into your hips.

"Feeling good, baby?" Takahiro mumbles into your ear.

"Mmhm," you nod, both of your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. Issei hums and slides his hands up to caress your breasts. You lean your head back against him and sigh.

"You're so soft," he says behind you, giving your nipples a squeeze. You moan.

"Tell Issei how you want to be touched," Takahiro says as he continues to work his fingers down between your legs.

"Just keep touching me like that," you breath, voice shaky.

Takahiro slides his fingers out from you and pulls back just a bit, looking at you with dark, heavy eyes. He takes in the sight of Issei's large hands enveloping your breasts, the way you pant softly through parted lips, and the rise and fall of your chest just under your collar bone. The sight makes him groan. He leans back against the headrest and strokes himself slowly.

You take one of your hands and place it over Issei's to pull it away from your breast and down to your stomach. He takes the hint and brings his fingers down further to start massaging your clit. You can feel his length pressing into the small of your back, slight moisture from the tip sticking to your skin. His fingers spread your lower lips and he smears your juices over your hole, teasing your entrance.

"Show me how good you suck Makki's dick," he mumbles against your neck.

You oblige and lean forward onto your hands, pressing one down into the mattress on each side of your boyfriend's legs.

Takahiro watches with anticipation as you lower yourself down to his hard, swollen cock. You pause to tuck your hair behind your ears and the simple action makes his heart flutter. He lets out a pleased groan as you wrap your lips around the tip.

Issei dips two of his fingers into your cunt and you moan around Takahiro's cock. He responds by placing a hand on your head, encouraging you to take him deeper.

You swirl your hips against the palm of Issei's hands like a feline swaying her tail. Takahiro's cock is deep into your mouth now, touching the back of your throat. You press your tongue against the sensitive underside as you suck your way back up, tracing the vein that protrudes through his thin skin.

Takahiro groans. "Fuck, yes," he sighs, tangling his fingers into your hair. "You are such a good girl."

Issei's roused by the sight of Takahiro melting into the bed, and suddenly feels like the luckiest guy in the world for having such a generous friend. He inserts a third finger.

You feel so full and so content. The surge of love you feel towards your boyfriend has you removing yourself from his dick to lean forward even more and plant a tender kiss to his lips. "This feels so good, Hiro," you tell him.

He grins. "I knew you'd like it, babe."

You raise yourself to stand upright on your knees and turn to meet Issei's lascivious gaze. "Let me suck you off," you say, wrapping your fingers around his wrist to stop his hand from working you any further.

"Please do," he says with a smirk. He shuffles back and collapses onto the bed, spreading his legs invitingly.

You lean down and press a kiss to Issei's stomach, then open your mouth wide to take him in. He is larger than Takahiro, so you have to widen your jaw more than what you're used to.

Takahiro watches, sliding his fingers through your hair. "You're so sexy, babe," he says, then sits up and grabs a bottle of lube from the nightstand. He figures now is the time to start working your little pucker open. He comes to kneel behind you and pours a generous amount of lube onto your ass and spreads it through your crack. He takes a slicked up finger and circles it around your tight little hole, easing the very tip in and out as he goes. "God, I love your ass," he says before giving it a light smack.

"Her mouth is something else, Makki." Issei sighs, rolling his head back to rest against the headboard. His hip stutter and buck up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat by surprise. You grab onto his thighs and muffle a choke. "Shit, sorry," he says, but you're quick to take him back even deeper. The tickle of your nose against his stomach has him groaning loudly.

Takahiro licks his lips and slowly presses one finger into your tight hole. "Tell me if it hurts," he says, pushing his finger past his first knuckle. He pumps it slowly, feeling your muscles loosen ever so slightly. You tense when he inserts the second finger.

"Wait," you tell him, removing yourself from Issei's cock. Takahiro stops and rubs your back softly as the sting of the stretch fades away. "Okay, go ahead."

Issei inches himself back a bit to sit more upright and grabs his cock with his hand. "I'm good for now, darlin'. Just focus on feeling good." You give Issei an appreciative smile before rising up to wrap your arm around Takahiro's neck.

"More," you whisper, pushing your ass back into his hand. Takahiro inserts a third finger and you contract around him, causing a low rumble to send vibrations from his chest into your back.

Issei is back to stroking his cock as he watches Takahiro fuck his fingers into your ass. You play with your clit, the action making your legs shake. Takahiro takes his free hand and pushes yours aside, inserting his own finger into your cunt. "More," you whimper, grabbing onto his forearm. He inserts another finger, and picks up the pace.

"You feeling good, baby?" He asks you.

"So good," you whine.

Issei groans, stroking his cock faster.

Takahiro nuzzles your chin and gives you a kiss. "You wanna try riding Issei first?" he mumbles.

You nod. Takahiro removes both his hands from your body and sits back to catch his breath. You move to straddle Issei's waist and take his cock into your hand. He places both of his hands on your hips and gives you a devilish little smirk. "Ever think you'd fuck a cock bigger than his?"

You snort a laugh through your nose.

"Fuck off," Takahiro retorts from behind.

You lower yourself onto Issei's length, the stretch sending little shockwaves of pleasure through out your body. He squeezes your hips and encourages you to keep lowering your self, watching your expression the entire time.

"How's she feel?" Takahiro asks, keeping his eyes on your cunt as it swallows Issei's cock.

"Fucking amazing," he breathes, slowing rocking his hips up into you. "Not sure how long I can last."

Takahiro moves forward onto his knees. He leans over you and kisses your ear. "Think you can take two?" he says.

"Yes, please."

Issei slides down the headboard just a bit so you can hover further forward over his chest and raise your ass. You feel a wad of lube drop onto your asshole and slide down between your cheeks. Takahiro smears the liquid around inserts his finger into your hole again, just to be sure you're still ready. He removes his finger and then presses the head of his cock to your entrance. He pauses. "You good?"

"Yeah," you breathe.

He slides in slow. You have to place your hand back onto his thigh to tell him to stop while you ease into the feeling of being stretched and filled in both holes.

"Deep breaths, baby," Takahiro says, watching the muscles in your back twitch. You inhale deeply, then exhale and relax.

"Okay."

Takahiro starts to move, and Issei follows. You simply hold yourself still while both men work on finding a rhythm that lets them move together comfortably. One of your hands comes down to rest under your belly button, and you swear you feel the bulge of Issei's cock inside you.

You try taking your mind off the slight discomfort your body is feeling at such an unnatural stretch. The squelching between your legs, Issei's labored breathing as he tries so hard not to cum, the rumble of Takahiro's deep voice giving you all sorts of little praises - "good girl, you feel so good, you're doing so well, I love you so much," and your own voice getting louder as any discomfort you were feeling melts into pleasure.

"I need one of you to touch me," you say through shallow breaths, your body shaking, your hands grasping onto their arms.

"Issei," Takahiro says, quickening his pace. "Make my girlfriend cum."

Issei obliges and presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles. Your body tightens up around them as you cum, moans sounding like cries as your mind struggles to handle the intensity of your orgasm,

"Oh, shit," Issei groans. "I'm gonna cum."

"Cum inside," you urge.

"You sure?"

You nod, and Issei increases his pace. He grips your hips tightly and groans as his load spills inside you.

You lean forward and give him a kiss, which he can hardly return in his current state.

Suddenly you're yanked back by your hair and pressed against Takahiro's chest, his arm snaking its way around your waist to hold you against him firmly. Issei's cock leaves your body, and Takahiro gives you one good thrust, cumming long and heavy into your ass. He lets out a string of curses into your hair, holding you tight.

His chest is heaving, having emptied every last drop.

Your head spins and your thighs are numb. "Hiro... I need to lay down," you say, tapping your hand against his arm.

"Mm," is all he can mumble before letting you go. You crawl forward and curl up onto your side next to Issei. Takahiro falls to your other side and sandwiches you in the middle.

"Fuck, that was amazing," Issei says, running a hand through his damp, curly locks of hair.

Takahiro groans in agreement, pressing his palm to his forehead, eyes closed.

The three of you lay there, catching your breath.

Takahiro rolls onto his side to face you. "What'd you think, babe?" he asks.

You hum blissfully, eyes closed. "I loved it. Let's do it again sometime."

Takahiro gives your ass a squeeze in appreciation, then reaches over to slap Issei's chest.

"Ow," Issei says, opening his eyes to see Takahiro's hand hovering above his face. He raises one of his own arms and curls his hand into a fist, smacking it against Takahiro's.

You laugh. "Did you guys just fist bump?"

"Sure did," Takahiro says, grinning proudly.

You roll your already aching body over onto your stomach and stuff your face into the pillow.

"Idiots."

[twstdreams]

I've loved your non-romantic/platonic content that you've done so far! Adding on to that list, could I please request a short story surrounding MC, Ace, and Deuce? An accident occurs which ends in MC turning into a little kid and now it's up to the two boys to put their differences aside and babysit their friend until she's back to normal. Girl pronouns plz! Lol I can only imagine the chaos that would ensue. If you don't feel comfortable with this ask you can skip it! Thx for reading :)

I am always up for platonic content and shenanigans! Long story, so the rest is under the cut!

Warning: Minor spoilers for side stories (briefly alluded to)

Length: ~2.3K

“It’s this one!” Deuce declares with unfounded confidence.

“No, it’s not!” Ace rebuttals despite not making it past page 10 in his textbook.

“It’s mine!” Grimm shouts even though he most definitely does not understand the experiment at hand. 

The magicless student can only sigh. Deuce and Ace suck at potions. So when the two bicker about what to add to their cauldron, the prefect doesn’t even blink an eye. Deuce mispronounces an ingredient, Ace corrects him, but neither are even talking about the right thing. She can practically sense Crewel’s glare despite her eyes remaining on the cauldron, cautiously waiting for bubbles to appear so she could add the indigo milk cap mushroom. 

What is added next to her cauldron is not the mushroom in her hand but a random root Grimm throws in. In Deuce’s haste to catch the gremlin, he spills over his own cauldron and some of their potion spills into hers.

“What are you doing?” she asks, but it’s too late. The mixture in her cauldron is boiling profusely and suddenly envelopes her in a cloud of smoke.

“Funya! MC, are you okay?” Grim inquires. Deuce and Ace also call out her name but there is no response. When the smoke clears, everyone in the room is left speechless.

The potential beast tamer hasn’t moved but an inch but she’s at least two feet shorter and with rounder cheeks and wide eyes. 

“WHAT?” she screeches in disbelief, suddenly too short to even reach the cauldron, “Fix this!” 

And this is how the group’s long catastrophic day begins.

Adventure 1: The beginning

“What?!” Grim shouts. If looks could kill, Crewel’s glare would have toasted the monster.

“Yes, it is hard to predict when MC will return to normal because you carelessly threw together that potion. It should wear off in a day, but there’s no guarantee,” the teacher explains through gritted teeth. The bell rings but the quartet barely registers it.

“Go to the headmaster! It’s not my problem anymore,” Crewel declares. 

Unfortunately, as most meetings with the headmaster are, the conversation is fruitless.

“Hah? We’re supposed to babysit her?” Ace asks.

“Yes! It’s your fault, is it not? Take care of her until the spell wears off,” Crowley declares.

“Isn’t there any way to break the spell?” Deuce inquires while nervously glancing towards MC.

“It’s hard to tell because you added in unknown amounts of various ingredients,” Crowley answers before muttering, “It takes too much time! I need to know what happens next in my novel.”

“Tch, what a lazy adult,” MC comments with a bored expression. She figured this would happen. She can’t even recall a moment when the headmaster had actually been helpful.

“What did you say?” Crowley demands. Deuce immediately picks up MC and heads for the door.

“Nothing! We’ll take care of her! See you later headmaster!” Ace explains while the two boys dash out of the office. They book it out of the hallway and then set her down on the ground.

“Hey! What was that about? It’s usually Grim saying stuff that gets us in trouble, not you,” Ace comments.

“Don’t tell me…Now she acts like a little kid too?” Deuce wonders.

Adventure 2: Stranger Danger

“Oh? Ramshackle prefect, you seem to be caught in quite the predicament.” MC glares at the Octavinelle dorm leader in return. Ace and Deuce are in the midst of calling Cater and Trey to ask for advice, giving Azul the perfect opportunity to approach her.

“I have an offer for you,” the second year begins.

“No.” MC is firm in her answer and has no intention of making any deals.

“Are you sure? I treat children well,” Azul adds but it only results in her frowning. There’s suddenly a glimmer in her eyes but before Azul can deduce what it means, MC begins shouting.

“STRANGER DANGER! STRANGER DANGER!”

“Stop that!” Azul insists but his wide eyes give away his flustered state. With a smile that looks a little too much like Chenya’s, MC continues her call for help. Soon enough, Deuce and Ace rush to her side.

“Stranger? That’s Prefect Azul! Have you forgotten him?” Deuce inquires with a look of concern. MC decides this is the perfect time to practice her puppy eyes and simply looks up at Deuce, wide eyes and with a pout.

Azul silently admits defeat as he forms a tight-lipped smile accompanied by some false pleasantries before exiting the area. 

“I’m hungry!” she announces before anyone can question her further. 

“Yes! Let’s go eat!” Grim agrees.

Adventure 3: Sweet Dreams

Getting lunch is a surprisingly painless affair. Though Night Raven College students could be quite self-centred, even they balked at harming a little girl. MC easily orders her favourites before sitting with her friends, though she has to sit on her knees to be at a comfortable height compared to the table.

“Wow! It’s true!~” Cater chimes while taking a seat at the table.

“How are you feeling?” Trey asks.

“Okay! It’s kinda weird but at least it was easy to get lunch,” she replies while taking a bite of her food.

“Now you really look like my minion!” Grim declares. MC shoots the monster a glare but doesn’t give him a response.

“You’re actually a little kid, huh? So, what do you wanna do when you grow up?” Ace teases.

“I want to control all the ghosts and have an army,” MC answers nonchalantly as if she had been discussing the weather.

“What?” Trey asks, slightly taken aback. Wasn’t this the person who was gullible enough to think that oyster sauce went in tarts?

“A ghost army,” she repeats confidently.

“Anyway! Aren’t you lucky? You get all these handsome guys to help you today!” Cater interjects, not wanting to unpack why the prefect wanted an army of the dead. 

Her gaze scans the table before looking up at Cater, eyes wide and expression void of malice, and asks, “Where?”

Grim howls with laughter while the four Heartslabyul students try to recover from the blow to their ego. It’s definitely going to be a long day for them.

Adventure 4: Smiles and stares

“Hey wait!” MC whines. One disadvantage of becoming short is that her stride decreased accordingly, thus her struggles to keep up with her classmate’s pace.

“Just walk faster or we’ll be late for class!” Ace retorts, glancing up ahead to see how far away the next building is. 

“AHH!” Ace turns around to see MC a couple of meters behind him face-first in a patch of grass. 

“Uwah! Are you okay?” Grim asks while flying above the fallen girl. Ace groans at the predicament. Deuce ran ahead to warn the other teachers of MC’s unfortunate condition so the redhead was the only babysitter at the moment.

The situation only worsens when MC begins to sit up, knees scraped, eyes glistening with tears, brows furrowed, and lips pressed tightly together. Ace’s eyes widen at the sight.

“Please don’t cry,” he mutters under his breath before trying to think about how to soothe kids.

“Oh my, that was quite a fall. You’re okay now though, right?” Jade asks while extending a gloved hand. His face is calm, showing no signs of concerns or worry with only a placid smile to demonstrate any emotion. MC stares at his face, analyzing his expression for a few moments. After finding the answer to her unsaid question, she accepts his hand and quickly sniffles before nodding. 

Ace watches in amazement as all signs of pain and panic vanish from her expression. He decides not to question her mood change before ushering the prefect to their next class.

Adventure 5: What came first? The egg or the chicken?

“You have to!” Deuce insists.

“NO!” MC shouts back, sitting firmly on the ground. Deuce is startled by the force of her words but stands his ground.

“It’s for your own good! Kids need exercise!” Or at least that’s what Cater told him before going to light music club.

“You can’t move me an inch!” MC retorts.

“I’m older, you should respect your seniors,” Deuce adds, doing his best to retain some level of patience.

“At least I know where chickens come from!” she rebuttals and Deuce feels at a loss for words. It is certainly not honour student behaviour to yell at a young girl but the first year is at his limits. He came to NRC to learn about magic, not dealing with children!

“Let’s play tag,” Jack suggests. Being the only one with little siblings, he is quickly enlisted to help. While disappointed in Deuce and Ace’s carelessness, he didn’t want to risk MC’s safety by leaving her in their care. Thus making him a reluctant member of the babysitting team.

“Tag?” MC echoes before a bright smile forms on her face. “Can it be teams?”

“Sure,” Jack agrees nonchalantly. 

“Jack and I are on the same team! We get to chase Deuce and Ace!” she declares gleefully.

“Huh? I didn’t agree to this,” Ace interjects.

“We need even teams!” MC responds with puffed cheeks.

“Too bad, so sad!” Ace replies without remorse.

“This is our fault Ace. Plus we promised the headmaster to take care of her. As Heartslabyul students and men, we can’t go back on our words!” Deuce declares. Jack’s firm gaze and Deuce’s blazing spirit give little room for negotiation and Ace sighs in defeat. Ace really does hate alchemy class from the bottom of his heart.

Adventure 6: Idiots, all of them

MC closes her eyes and enjoys the breeze while resting. Deuce and Jack had gone to the cafeteria to get drinks for everyone after several rounds of tag while Ace lay on the ground to catch his breath. It was quite entertaining to see the fastest first years engage in a game of tag and even more fun to watch Ace try to avoid his inevitable fate. Agile as he was, Ace couldn’t run fast enough to outdo Jack with his insane stamina and speed. She giggles at the memory.

“Bonjour petite princesse!” Rook looks down at the little girl with a shining smile. Her eyes snap open and follow the source of the cheerful voice. 

“Isn’t it delightful to see a new side to your friends? Like escorting someone on their first dance, like watching a lazy lion transform into a beast for the sake of the hunt, like observing night flox bloom under a full moon!” Rook beams but MC merely shrugs in response.

“Yeah but I’ve also seen Ace fall off his broom, Deuce compliment plants, and Jack mistake onions for a chemical leak.” 

“Oh? Is it not like having several princes tend to you?” he inquires. 

She scrunches her nose in thought before replying, “If my prince got stuck in a tree and I had to go save him.”

“Dear me, and I thought you were une petite princesse mignonne [1]! Perhaps that was a misunderstanding,” Rook remarks though he doesn’t seem displeased with the discovery.

Adventure 7: Mandatory nap

“Let’s go to the infirmary,” Ace suggests, “MC needs a nap and it’s the closest building with beds.”

“I’m the one that needs a nap?” she asks while side-eyeing her tired friend.

“She hasn’t even run for 3 hours,” Jack comments.

“Kids need naps! Plus, who knows what the side-effects of the potion are?” Ace adds, “We shouldn’t take any chances with her health.”

“You do need proper sleep to grow strong!” Deuce concurs.

“Sure, sure,” she concedes. When they arrive at the infirmary, there is no staff in sight. Ace guides her to a bed with an expectant smile.

“Well, go to sleep now!” Ace announces.

“It doesn’t work like that. I’m not sleepy,” she responds.

“Just lie in bed and close your eyes!” Ace insists with a huff.

“Shut up. You’re so noisy,” a voice growls. Leona appears on the other side of a room divider. Jack lets out a sigh, disappointed but not surprised by his dorm leader.

“I was having such a nice nap and now I’m… hah?” His sentence trails off as he eyes the little girl before him.

“Well,” you launch into an explanation of what happened, Leona shooting a judgemental look towards Deuce and Ace midway, before concluding, “It should wear off by the end of the day.”

“Tch, what an annoyance. I’m going back to sleep, don’t be loud,” Leona warns before flopping back onto the bed.

“How do you fall asleep so fast?” MC inquires. Leona glares at her, lips pressed together to form a thin line, but he lets any threats die in his throat.

“It’s nap time. Count sheep like a good herbivore until you fall asleep,” he instructs before turning his back towards the group. More than she’d like to admit, her small body requires rest and what better excuse than this? Besides, it’s not like magical history homework was particularly appealing, so she plops onto the bed to rest.

“I’m exhausted. Taking care of kids is tiring,” Ace says before falling onto another bed.

“It’s been a long day. I’m glad MC is okay, though. Haaah…I’m sleepy,” Deuce murmurs before resting on a different bed. Jack doesn’t comment but quietly begins his homework while keeping watchful eye on the little girl, not that he’d admit it if asked.

Adventure 8: The End. For now, anyway

She stretches after waking up, pleased to find her body back to its normal size. Ace snores lightly, Deuce’s mouth is agape, and Leona is nowhere to be found.

“Are you feeling okay?” Jack asks.

“Yeah, I actually feel pretty good!” Their conversation awakens their friends.

“You’re finally back to normal! I’m relieved,” Deuce interjects.

“You’re a lot of work for a minion, ya know? You’re lucky I’m so great,” Grim comments.

“That was a pain! You owe me big time!” Ace adds. MC shakes her head and wonders if she has the greatest or most chaotic friends.

[1] une petite princesse mignonne = a cute little princess

[mycouchpullsoutbutidont]

Need to write all this down because I just stared into space for a solid 30 min just dreaming about this scenario / potential fanart comic that I could draw of Ben x Devi (I’ve been obsessing over them for the past couple of days and it’s probably due to me not having good dick since god knows forever)

(Draft)

So the comic will start off with Devi being sort of upset and horny, reminiscing about her interaction with Paxton - maybe a really hot makeout sesh and they’re about to have sex - except last minute, Devi gets cold feet and it’s sexually frustrating for Paxton. So Devi is hella embarrassed and mad at herself for pulling back. She tries to initiate again, but Paxton is just like, “forget it, you’re not ready,” and Devi is like “no, I want it.” And Paxton pauses, looks at her, and shakes his head like “no, you’re not. It’s okay. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you’re not ready for.” Which Devi feels insulted by and is terribly sorry. Paxton just smiles and kisses her on the forehead and is like, “I think I should drop you off. It’s getting late.”

End daydream. Devi reels in secondhand embarrassment and is mad at herself for stopping. She vows not to do that again and, of course, in typical Devi fashion, she thinks to herself, “well, if we end up having sex the next time we makeout, I better do my due diligence and research into how to properly have sex.”

And what other way to learn about something than to study up on it?

She begins thinking about how she could do her research. She’s studied anatomy before and knows the basics - the testicles, the glans, urethra, sperm, prostate, yadda yadda. And she’s taken health class and sexual education on how to put on condoms (on bananas- nonetheless - San Fernando valley had pretty liberal sex ed).

But she’s never seen what sex looked like. Never heard it. Never smelled it. Never experienced it from afar or visually.

That’s when she thought of it - porn.

She goes to her room, opens up her laptop, and googles “porn.” Search results pop up, and she catches glimpse of some of the keywords.

“Perky oiled brunette shoves two cocks in both holes”

“Slut sucks slobbers on big veiny dick”

“Curvy sexy ebony rides and squirts before getting facial”

The ache in her groin gnawed even more and—did she just twitch down there? With her blood rushing to her cheeks and between her legs with each horny, perverted word that her eyes came across, her fingers tremble and her body - her breasts - feels like it’s tingling, aching and needing to be roughly handled.

Nervous and horny, she clicks on the first one: porn hub.

She enters a site of orange and black - a pop up window asks if she’s 18 or older. She hesitates, feeling dirty and corrupt. She clicks on enter.

Squares of images lined in a grid populate, organized by category. She skims the words - “Anal”, “BBW,”“Cumshot,” “Compilations”—the list went on and on.

One of the categories catches her eye: “Desi.”

It was both laughable and eye-opening to see that category. A category just for Indian women? She was both amazed and flattered, and for just a brief moment, she wondered if her ancestors could see her.

Her father, she thinks.

Oh god, why is she thinking of him all of a sudden.

Ashamed, she shakes her head, exits out of the window, and closes her laptop. A cool chill runs down her spine, calming her excitement, chilling the pulsating heat that had pooled between her legs. She’s embarrassed for thinking of her dead father and for even thinking of looking up porn. She’s ashamed and pushes her laptop away, now doubly frustrated at herself and for still being sexually pent up. She gets up to grab water in the kitchen, hoping the ice cold water will help temper her aching need.

The doorbell rings.

Devi’s ears perk, and she furrows her brows. Who could this be, she thinks, as she ran down the stairs, walking to the door to peep through the hole.

She gasps, “oh crap.”

It’s Ben!

“Shoot, I forgot!”

Ben was supposed to come over to work on a history project with her - and have dinner, she remembers, since she told her mom and her mom insisted.

“Ah, yes Ben! I remember that boy with the massive pimple on his face who cried in my office!” Devi smirks at Nalini’s comment but then remembers, dammit, why did her mom also want him for dinner?

She opens the door, deepens her frown, a blush creeping on her face as she locks her brown eyes with light blue ones.

“Sup, loser,” Ben says, and Devi almost loses her blush except he smirks, a twinkle in his eye, and a slightly lifted brow. Devi’s eyes trail down over his shirt which clings to his pecs and biceps, and she feels the blush coming back.

And then she notices his strong arms and hair and veins—

“Fuck you,” she says, rolling her eyes, quickly turning her back against him so he doesn’t see her blush harder.

Jeez, what’s wrong with her today? Devi thought (as well as Ben). Why was she so god damn horny?

“What’s your problem, David?” Ben asks. He looks around Devi’s living room. “Where’s your mom?”

Devi shrugs. “Probably at work with her coworkers. Mom’s trying to bring more fun and benefits to motivate them, she claims.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Ben is a little relieved since Devi’s mom was a tough one to please. But, he knew that Nalini had a soft spot for him. (Or, at least he had a 95% confidence level in that thought).

“Actually, kanna, I’m just finish up cooking dinner here with Kamala,” Nalini chimed.

Ben and Devi snapped their heads towards the direction of the kitchen where Nalini and Kamala were cleaning up.

“And if you had helped me like you should have done, you’d know that I was busy cooking up aloo gobi dosas before leaving for my work event later tonight.”

Ben sniffed deeply, the aroma of ghee and asafetida and cumin wafting in the air. How did Devi not notice her mom was cooking with the delicious smells dancing in her home?

“S-sorry mom, I forgot. I just have been feeling a bit out of it today,” Devi replies sheepishly. “Kind of feel hot.” Which was true. Something was terribly wrong with her today for some reason. It felt like there was this growing ache down in her groin that needed to be filled, and with each step she took, every friction against her clit would send shivers of pleasure all over her body.

Before Ben could react, Nalini immediately runs to Devi’s side and places the back of her hand on Devi’s forehead.

“Hm,” Nalini scrunches her brows. “I don’t feel a fever, but you do have a slight blush. Devi, if you’re feeling sick, please don’t get us all sick and go to your room. You should’ve told us and Ben earl—“

“I’m not sick!” Devi blurts, shaking her head. Nalini is taken aback.

“I- I guess,” Devi lowers her voice, trying to come up with an excuse for why she was dickstracted—er, distracted.

“I feel burnt out from studying for AP physics and AP calculus this week,” Devi lies.

“Amateur,” Ben scoffs, smirking. He looks at Devi who snaps to look, looking both mad and flustered, her cheeks tinted slightly redder than normal. It was enough to wipe the smirk off his face. Was she okay?

“I’m not letting you show me up, you jerk!”

Yeah, she was okay, he thought.

“Devi!” Nalini’s jaw fell and she looked like she was about to chew Devi’s face off which terrified Ben.

“N-no, sorry Ms Vishwakumar, that was totally my fault and uncalled for,” Ben cuts in. He looks at Devi who still looks mad at him (but less so, maybe a bit of relief).

“Would it be all right if we study first and then eat dinner?” Ben asks, not sure whether to direct the question to Nalini or Devi first.

“Dinner will get cold,” Nalini warns. “But, I must leave now, so you two can do what you will and whatever regarding dinner.” As she runs towards the door and grabs the keys, Nalini whips her head back and stares daggers at Devi.

“Devi, behave please,” she says through gritted teeth before shutting the door.

Devi sighs in relief and turns to Ben.

“So,” she says, heading towards the stairs. “Let’s get moving. We don’t have much time before dinner gets cold and it’s bedtime.”

Ben nods, walking behind under her. He looks up - damn she has a nice ass - curvy and round. He notices she is wearing a pretty short skirt, and—was that…

Ben blinks twice in disbelief, looking away before looking again. It was no doubt what it was—sticky wet lubricant-like liquid. Running down her inner thigh. Or maybe that’s sweat, he told himself.

Ben blushes. Wow, he felt like such a pervert for staring up her skirt. That and they were going up to her room. To study. Yeah.

(But damn her butt, her curves)

As they enter her room, Ben immediately plops down on the floor, opens his bag quickly, pulls out his AP European history book and notebook, and opening them and flipping through pages (nervously?) and quietly.

“Dude, you’ve been eerily silent this entire time,” Devi torts, and she can’t blame him, can’t blame how nerve wracking it was to have your chiseled (wait shut up Devi) arch nemesis in her room - supposedly a safe haven - to study. Come to think of it, why did she let him in her room? She began to regret her decision, especially when she realized that her nervousness was also turning into heated excitement, her breasts were tingling with desire and even her clit—

“You said you wanted to hurry, so here I am, focused, David,” Ben snaps. He ignores the fact that she’s not wearing a bra and that her tank top isn’t enough to hide her hardened nipples.

(Her cleavage looked so inviting, he dare not stare too long at her tits)

“Actually, for once, you didn’t use your brain and suggest we work downstairs and eat dinner simultaneously instead,” Devi retorted. “Let me just grab my laptop and we can go back downstairs to study and eat dinner at the same time.”

“Don’t put the blame on me for your lack of brain usage,” Ben snapped back, rolling his eyes.

Devi throws a stuffed animal at his head, and he barely dodges it.

“Asshole,” she mutters as she gets on her knees and reaches over her mattress and duvet, grabbing her Macbook.

That’s when Ben saw her soaking wet panties.

Heat rushed from his head to his other head, his cock jumping.

Holy fuck, he thought, is she doing this on purpose? Why did she have to put her ass up like that? Was this intentional? This was a little too cliche, he thought, and porn-like. Girl wearing no bra and apparently soaking wet invites horny boy over to her room and puts her ass in the air while in bed?

“Uh, yeah, yep, sure, that’s probably a better idea,” Ben stammers, trying to ignore his growing boner and grabbing his books. “Lemme just stuff—“

(Those boobs)

“—these boo….ooks. Books. In my bag.” He pushes the last book in his backpack and zips it up.

Oh dear god, did she notice his almost Freudian slip?

He glances over at her, and she’s got a raised brow. “Uh, okay, weirdo, did you just almost say boobs?” Devi says.

“What, no?” Ben says. “You weird pervert.”

“Don’t lie! I saw you staring at my boobs! You’re the pervert!”

“What kind of crap are you projecting onto me for? I’m innocent!”

“You’re like the least innocent person I know!”

“That’s definitely not true,” Ben scoffs. “And even if it was, it’s better than being an Unfuckable Nerd.”

That did it. That was the straw on the camel’s back. Devi was enraged, insulted, and sexually frustrated. Ben had dug into a deep insecurity of hers, a wound that she desperately wanted to heal and prove herself out of. For all her life, she had never felt desirable, never had a boy flirt with her or ask her out or even given her attention. When Ben first called her an “Unfuckable Nerd,” she didn’t show how painful the sting of his insult was to her lonely heart. She did not want to be the forever nerdy virgin who was seen as sexually undesirable and —god forbid—ugly.

(Was that why Paxton pushed her away, she thought briefly?)

“Shut up!” she yells before chucking her laptop at him. She misses by a meter (thank god her eye hand coordination was god awful), but she’s not sure if she was even intending on hitting him with the laptop. Still, the moment the laptop flew out of her hands and onto her carpeted floor (with a nice thud), Ben knew he had made a huge mistake. And so did Devi (though she dare not be the first one to admit that she was wrong).

Except she was really wrong this time.

“Devi!” Ben exclaimed. “I’m—“

“Oh fuck Ben, I’m—“

“So sorry.”

Both Ben and Devi apologized simultaneously, with heavy regret and a tint of fear in their voices.

“N-no, I crossed the line, Devi,” Ben said. “It’s really…misogynistic and objectifying of me to call you Unfuckable.”

Because you’re quite the opposite, he thought.

Devi acknowledged internally the apology, but it still stung painfully in her heart. She wanted to let him know that it still hurt.

(Especially hearing that term from him).

Still, she knew she was also incredibly at fault for almost injurying Ben.

“I’m also sorry, I really…really should’ve not thrown my laptop at you. I could’ve injured you really badly.” Devi dropped down to her knees, getting down to Ben’s level since he was still on the floor, a bit shaken by her throwing her laptop at him.

“I guess I deserved it,” he said. He looked over at the laptop on the ground.

“But if you did break it, don’t expect me to pay for a new one,” he said with a smirk.

Devi rolled her eyes. “I’m not your sugar baby; I wasn’t expecting you to pay for a new one.” She crawls towards her MacBook (Ben consciously looking away since she’s on her knees again) and opens it, praying to herself that it was still functioning.

She tapped on her keyboard multiple times.

Blank screen.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered. She kept tapping on the keys of the keyboard.

No response.

“Crap!” Devi hissed. “Oh no, no no no!” She was sort of panicking. “I knew this would happen.”

“So why did you throw the laptop then?” Ben slyly asked.

“Not. Helpful. Ben.”

Ben scoots closer to Devi, wraps his arm around her—

Devi is shocked, his graze making her melt into his touch, sending the pent up frustration and heat back to her ache and pussy—

But, Ben was only merely reaching around to press down on her laptop’s button for a couple of seconds before the lock screen shone back on.

Oh, Devi thought, a feeling of defeat and disappointment settling in her chest. He wasn’t hugging her.

But, hey her laptop’s alive.

“Oh thank god,” she says, breathing a sigh of relief before turning to him - wow he’s somehow pretty close to her face and body and oof, his proximity sets a fire across her entire body —

“Consider yourself lucky. Looks like you don’t have to buy me a new laptop,” she says, smirking.

Ben scoffs.

“In your dreams, David.”

Oddly enough, Ben’s arm is still wrapped around her, his presence warm and enveloping. Devi is tempted to lean into it but knows better (especially not now when she has been hot and bothered all day).

She types her password in her Lock Screen, hits enter, and gasps in horror as she realized that she didn’t properly close out her browser full of porn -

(which is now blasting moans of cam girls fucking the selves with sex toys all thanks to livejasmin)

“Oh shit!” Devi immediately slams her screen shut again.

But it was too late.

Ben’s brows shoot up, eyes widening and jaw dropping in guffaw. A laugh of disbelief escapes from his throat.

“Holy crap! And you called ME the pervert?” Ben laughs. “Who’s the pervert now?”

But damn, wow, he’s turned on.

He tightens his arm around Devi in a proper hug now, pressing her closer to him, and leans in, an inch from her ear, whispering —

“You’re a dirty girl”—

Before pressing his lips on hers.

[anika-ann]

Attached: Hurtful Words Pt.1

Type: (mini)-series,  Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 5600

Summary:  Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

You knew for a fact that it was a load of BS. The truth is that words can break your heart. And that realization hits you full force the day you have your last exam to earn your bachelor degree.

If you pass, it will be a cause for great celebration. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

A/N: Attached: Hurtful Words is an addition that loosely followes the series. Will be in two (or three) parts. You don’t necessarily need to read the mini-series as a whole, but you will understand much better.

Warnings: I did something in here which I’m usually trying to avoid at any cost; in this story, I used Y/N Y/L/N. Does that count as a warning? 

Warnings II: name calling, humiliation, panic attack!, bad poetry, mentions of vomiting and  alcohol, the briefest mention of self-harm, angst, swearing, threats of violence

Story masterlist

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You released the breath you had been holding, all your willpower put into not sinking into the chair in relief as Professor Phillips announced your grade – one that meant that you hadn’t failed.

In fact, you had just passed your last exam of your bachelor program so you were entirely in the right. In your head, an overexcited monkey started playing cymbals and you didn’t mind the noise despite how sleep-deprived you were from the past few days. A barely contained mad smile fought its way to your lips instead.

Mind you, as you thanked Professor Phillips and rose to your feet – your knees almost giving out, because HOLY SHIT YOU JUST GOT YOUR BACHELOR’S – you would swear you saw a brief smile on the professor’s face too as if he was amused at your antics.

But who cared if he was having fun at your expense?! You PASSED! You had been losing sleep, terrified of this exam, because everyone knew Phillips was a hard-ass – a fair one, but still a hard-ass – and you just passed his examination!

Time to pop the fucking champagne! The one Penny had been saving at the dorm from yesterday when she had finished her own degree; she insisted that she would wait for you, because you were in this together.

You couldn’t leave her waiting any longer and you didn’t have any intention to do so.

Leaving the room and walking into the empty hallway – because of course you came the last as if to prolong your torture – you breathed in and out and deliberately let the grin finally spread on your face fully.

You were free, you were ready to take on the world despite not being ready at all and you had Steve, who you suspected would be proud as hell and would celebrate with you tomorrow, graciously letting you and your roomie do it first-- and gosh, life was beautiful.

Making your way down the corridor, with a grin ever-present, a leaflet that hadn’t been there before caught your attention. It appeared a handwritten note, styled in a regular column – a poem perhaps.

Still smiling, the curiosity took the best of you and you walked to it, peripherally noticing that along the walls, there was even more.

You froze in your step when your gaze fell on the first line; your very own name was staring back at you and it confused you at first, a brief surge of excitement lighting up your body, a naïve belief that perhaps Steve somehow decided to surprise you.

But Steve’s last name came next, which you found strange.

And then came the word ‘whore’ and your heart stopped, your gaze automatically flickering all over the page.

Your stomach made a painful somersault, your mind turning blank.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of that nightmare materializing in front of you, reading and re-reading the poem that almost resembled a twisted nursery rhyme over and over.

Y/N Y/L/N Rogers’ whore Bet she’ll get The highest score For sucking dick Having fucked her ass Let’s hope she’ll soon Be eating grass

Darkness battled to cut off your vision, the world swaying off of its place. Involuntarily, your trembling hand reached out and touched the paper, smooth under your fingertips, your frantically beating heart and the vertigo threating to overpower your sense of balance tying you to the reality, screaming at you that this wasn’t just a really fucked-up dream.

You tore the paper down, lump growing in your throat as you looked around for watchful eyes in sudden paranoia of being followed, only to find the hallway deserted aside from you.

Just you and many papers hanging on the walls.

As if you were just a puppet to a spiteful master, your feet carried you to the next leaflet, tears filling your eyes as you found the very same words written on it; a precise copy.

Your breathing picked up a furious pace, your chest crushed under a weight of an invisible elephant stomping on it. The corridor swam in the dampness of your eyes, your mind too quiet and yet screaming with millions of question marks and exclamation points, panic squeezing your lungs, nausea attacking your stomach.

What the hell was happening? Who would do that? Why? What was the goal? Was it just to ruin your triumph?

Because if that was the goal, it was a roaring success; the thousands of questions swirling in your head and the unexpected sting in your heart turned the fact that you had passed an exam into a faint memory.

All you saw was the words.

Rogers’s whore

Was that what you were? Was that how people who knew about the relationship saw you? Was that how Steve saw you?

The highest score for sucking dick

Was that what you were doing? Using Steve’s position to your advantage? Was that how you got through every exam including the one today, even if unwittingly? Was that what Phillips’ little smile had been about?

Hope she’ll soon be eating grass.

Was that a threat? Was someone wishing that happened to you or were they actually about to hurt you? Why?!

Hearing your own wheezing and feeling your fingertips prickling, your foggy mind did the only reasonable thing it could come up with; it led your steps into the nearest bathroom at lightning speed with no regard for how shaky were your feet.

You stumbled into the open stall, smashing the door shut and leaning onto them with your suddenly damp forehead, feeling the cold beads of sweat gather in your hairline, your cheeks drenching in tears.

When did you start crying so hard?

When did the trembling in your limbs begin?

What the fuck was happening?

What-how--why-but-

Your palms rested on the door as you desperately tried and failed to ground yourself and take control of your breathing. Your temples were pounding irritatingly, your gut painfully clenching--- and exactly in that moment that could have lasted a second or an hour, your fingers brushed over a piece of paper stuck on the door.

Darkness curled around your brain like a treacherous friend, another wave of nausea twisting your stomach.

It took you one blurry glance at the paper and you knew precisely what it was, choking on your sob, ripping the offensive poem off and tearing it to pieces which you blindly threw to the toilet, the flushing sound deafening to your ears.

Your shaky legs finally gave out, knees buckling, your body sliding down the stall wall, fingers pulling at your hair as you felt the dizziness engulfing your head, a bitter taste in your mouth.

You gripped tighter, hoping that the pain on the surface would overpower the pain and gaping hole inside, as another violent sob erupted from your throat.

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An eternity later, you felt your whole being float.

Your breathing was still frantic and interrupted with sobs, but a sensation resembling serenity spread in your very core—or perhaps it was just numbness?

You couldn’t seem to be able to tell the difference anymore.

The creak of a door made you cover your mouth to muffle the noises still escaping your lips for the fear of being caught – either being found in this state in general or found as in found by the person who wrote---that – being stronger than the subdued power of your previous breakdown.

It was probably too late for the newcomer to miss your presence, but over the slowly fading ringing in your ears, you could hear a few steps that came to a halt and then they sounded a bit quicker as the woman left.

Thank FUCK. You couldn’t do human interaction of any kind right now.

You removed your hand and breathed out shakily, blinking away the tears.

Shaking your head wildly, you gritted your teeth in a feeble attempt at bolster yourself. You had to get up off your ass and leave before there would be no longer way of avoiding a confrontation – god forbid a confrontation with Steve, who was probably still in a class, testing his own students.

You climbed to your feet, wiping the remains of your tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand and went to fix your ruined make-up, hopefully enough to look little less suspicious when walking through the campus.

It was probably a vain effort, because you were a walking epitome of a mess.

Rogers’s whore, sounded in your ears and you shook your head again, inhaling sharply through your mouth.

It was time to run and then break down again at the dorms. With Penny preferably--or did she think you were a whore too? You were fucking a professor after all-

Stop that!

Penny wasn’t like that. She understood. She’d be willing to listen all about this outrageous act of terror and would sympathize. Right?

Yeah, you’d talk about it with Penny, your amazing friend, who needed a celebration and a very generous amount of alcohol, which happened to be exactly what you needed too.

Yep, that sounded pretty good.

With one last determined glance on your horrible reflection in the mirror, you headed out.

The door nearly hit you in the face on its way back as you threw it open and froze in the doorway.

You did not expect to see someone so soon after leaving your improvised safe space… let alone him.

“Prof-professor Wilson,” you choked out, clearing your scratchy throat as he stood there, unmistakably waiting for you.

Because that was what you needed at the moment. The university counsellor and professor of psychology in one person.

Fuck.

He said you name in a mild tone, almost as if trying to tame a wild animal, but not quite – all his voice made you feel was shame at getting caught. And a bit of anger at the whole fucking world, because why couldn’t you have a tiny piece of peace after seeing that? Just a little shred of luck, huh?!

Oh, right, you were a whore who were only using Professor Rogers, paying for it in sexual favours.

“Mind if we talk in my office for a bit?”

“Not like I really have a choice…” you mumbled automatically, the realization of how rude it sounded dawning to you oh too slowly, your brain too tangled up in a web of self-pity and self-loathing. “Sorry. Of course. Lead the way.”

“Good. Thank you,” he replied, appearing unoffended. “And for the record, you do have a choice.”

Hadn’t you been a wreck with burning tear-stained cheeks, your face might have felt hotter at the kind remark.

At the slowest pace possible, you followed Professor Wilson to his office, dread and exhaustion filling every fibre of your being.

You noticed however that the walls that had been lined with odes about you, put up for everyone to see, had disappeared; possibly Wilson’s own work.

Somehow, it didn’t make you feel much better, the image of the previous addition to the corridors’ decor stuck in your brain. But hey, it was supposed to be the thought that counted, right?

And Professor Wilson was a nice guy. He offered you a drink – sadly a non-alcoholic one – attempted a joke saying that no, it was no trouble getting you one, which was the reason he offered.

Generally, he treated you as if he wanted to provide you with a safe space.

And then he kindly told you that he knew about the poem, because his cousin who’s in her first year here at the uni, texted him what the heck was the e-mail she received on her uni account about.

In other word, he gently broke to you that whoever had done this possibly sent it to every student in the database too.

You nearly threw up hearing that; the pit you had climbed up from and of which edge you were balancing, deepened. But you didn’t fall back there.

Yet.

It was probably because you were still too shocked at the information.

“I hate asking that question, but do you have any idea who did this?” Wilson asked quietly and you had nothing but a helpless shake of a head for a reply. You felt your vision blurring, dizziness fogging your brain again. “Can you think of anyone who holds a grudge against you for some reason?”

A scoff escaped your lips, cynical as you found the answer obvious from the verses.

“Besides dating Steve, you mean?” you noted sarcastically. Wilson waited for more, his eyebrows twitching in surprise and expectation before he got it under control. “Sorry, I meant Professor Rog-“

“Hey, you can call him Steve,” he assured you, so damn sweet and diligent. “I met him, you know, I’d go as far as calling him a friend. And right here, right now, he is not your professor, but your boyfriend. I’m talking to you as a counsellor so feel free to call me Sam if you’re comfortable. And to answer your question, I assume that it is as good motive as any, but the fact that the two of you are dating is practically a public knowledge at this point, so it doesn’t really narrow our field of suspects.”

Despite his openness and kind approach, you once again could only shrug, growing desperate by the minute. The urge to leave – because suddenly it made even more sense, him taking you here, he was friends with Steve, he was stalling – became unbearable.

You didn’t have the strength to see Steve now. You couldn’t. You would question every gesture, analyse everything and perhaps came to the conclusion that he agreed with the author of the poem and you desperately didn’t want that. You needed to forget about this, preferably with an unhealthy amount of alcohol, you needed to cry some more, you needed ice-cream and a hug and to bitch about everything and you needed a fucking nap that would last at least a week.

“I don’t know who hates me that much, I swear. Can I please go now?”

Sam cocked his head to side, a minute frown creasing his brows. “Is that what you want?”

Do you really want to leave before Steve gets a chance to get here?

You should probably feel guilty. You wanted to feel guilty, because that was you being a coward and it was downright mean to Steve, who would no doubt learn about this very soon and from someone else, but you didn’t have the capacity to think about anything at all besides feeling like you were going to explode any second.

“Yes. Thanks for being nice and all, but I—I’d rather go.”

“You have a roommate? A friend you live with and who’s in?” he fussed, voice gravely, amiable chocolate eyes observing you with worry. Did he think you were about to hurt yourself? Did you look like the type? Were you? You mentally shook your head. Jesus.

“Yeah,” you creaked, already rising to your feet, endlessly grateful that he was letting you go. “Penny. We— uhm, we were supposed to go celebrating.”

You nearly choked on the last word, feeling like everything but going out tonight. The idea of going out and facing all the stares cause by the widely-spread e-mail made your stomach clench.

You kinda lost the appetite to celebrate anything to begin with; all the relief and joy, which had filled every last bit of your being post-learning your grade, vanished and was replaced by a dark sticky substance filling your lungs, your gut, your veins, muffling the outside world.

Perhaps Penny would agree to a loud night in?

“You can still do that, that’s up to you. But please, get some sleep and don’t be alone. Here,” he stood up as well, handing you a card. “My number, even if you just need to talk to a sort-of outsider and word-vomit all over someone, okay?”

You couldn’t argue with his offer – you had a feeling you’d vomit soon, either verbally or literally. Still, you charmed a shaky smile that probably turned out a grimace.

“K. Thanks… Sam.”

“Any time.”

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Of course, Wilson’s unspoken question about moving quick to avoid an encounter with certain professor was painfully on point.

You bailed on Steve whom you were supposed to wait for even if just for a hug and congratulations, practically running to the dorm, your unsteady feet and tears still clouding your vision be damned.

You ignored the ringing of your phone, assuming it was Steve himself; bile rose to your throat at the idea of hearing his voice at that moment. He tried twice before you smashed the power button and threw the phone back to your purse, breathing out in relief and wanting to puke at the same time.

You truly couldn’t find the capacity to deal with him momentarily – you needed to be alone and safe from any prying eyes, preferably in the comfort of your shared dorm with Penny. You cried harder when you finally reached it, your feet hurting from attempting to run in heels.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Penny somehow already knew, probably from the e-mail – it was written all over her face. And hadn’t her expression been enough, instead of a celebratory champagne she handed you a shot of a transparent liquid the moment you opened the door.

You turned it bottoms up without questioning it and asked for another. Penny grabbed the bottle of vodka waiting on the shoe rack and poured one for you and one for herself. You didn’t bother clinking the glasses.

Though the burn in your throat felt pleasant, it did nothing to sooth the burn in your eyes and heart. Penny’s embrace made it a bit better.

So did the third shot of vodka.

You didn’t switch on your phone that day again – and when it was nearing midnight, after a four-hour nap, you convinced Penny to go celebrate to the Freddy’s as you had originally planned to do. You pretended that no one stared at you and instead you danced and drank until your mind was swimming enough for the sorrow and anger to drown.

You were one lucky bitch to have Penny walk you home.

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Steve was sitting at his desk at the faculty office he shared with Bucky and was working hard at what he excelled at for these past days despite his genuine efforts at not doing so; getting absolutely nothing done at all.

His hands had grown somewhat unsteady, a reflection of how he was feeling, how torn and absurdly broken he had become. He was spilling drinks on a regular basis, items kept falling from his flimsy hold. His brain felt foggy these days as well, most likely a consequence of the shitty sleep he was getting.

His bed felt too big despite his rather large frame and too cold despite his body temperature usually running almost too high; the sheets smelled strange and foreign despite being his own and the bed screamed with emptiness on a volume that kept interrupting his already deficient sleep.

Four days.

Four days since one stupid poem knocked his world out of its orbit and everything that mattered crashed down. Well, perhaps not everything, Steve happened to like his job too and he still had it, but such detail seemed insignificant; it certainly did in comparison to the fact that he had been attempting and had failed to reach you.

Calls.

Texts.

Few e-mails when he felt particularly helpless and frustrated.

His messed up sleeping and eating schedule and the irregularity that came with the exam period would make a perfect case of him losing any notion of time – yet Steve knew about every second without you, practically counting them.

He could still see Sam Wilson standing outside the classroom he had been testing students’ knowledge in as if it happened yesterday. He could recall with painfully stark clarity the unreadable expression on his face and the ominous “Steve, man… we need to talk.”

Steve still remembered Tony Stark waltzing in the next day with a baby in some sort of a front backpack, agitated that someone had gotten into the database, let alone to send all the hate-emails, and how he announced he found the culprit and their accomplices in an hour, which apparently happened to be too long to his liking.

Steve would smile at the memory of the technical genius’ antics, but the gaping hole in his chest caused by the deafening silence from you prevented it. Hell, not even the vivid picture of Carol Danvers from the faculty of law, moonlighting like a member of the legal department of the university, made the corners of his lips rise.

And hadn’t it been quite a show, a downright uplifting experience.

Steve was watching the screen with a frown, a stone-solid clench to his jaw and a firm clench to his fists.

It was almost amusing really; Bucky kept going about Fury being a creep and not a spy, but despite the lack of a one-way glass, the space Carol and the girl was in – just like two other rooms, each with one man – resembled an interrogation room. Steve never had been more grateful for audio and video feed in his life, but he sure as hell wasn’t laughing in delight at being proved right.

In fact, it had been taking all of his willpower not to burst into those rooms and give a piece of his mind to every single person guilty of being involved in hurting you. In causing his life to collapse on itself.

Steve couldn’t quite recall the brunet Carol was roasting, but he suspected he had seen her in one of the classes he was teaching. She didn’t stand out from the crowd of students and he didn’t see anything special about her worth remembering; then again, he tended to forget to take notice of other pretty faces ever since he had laid his eyes on yours.

And right now, all he saw was a face of a vicious bitch who forced you into pushing him away and a single look at her had his blood boiling.

Steve truly wanted to punch the living daylights of her and that said something, because he prided himself in having moral objection to hitting women, especially from sheer anger.

However, the desire was growing with each piece of information he learned. Because Yvonne Whatever-Is-Her-Name was a piece of work for fucking certain.

She talked a guy number one, whom she was attending Introduction to Social Studies 101 and who had a very apparent teenage-like crush on her, into reaching out to his friend, guy number two, whom he often played some online video game with, into hacking the database, sending the e-mails and finding out when and where exactly your exam was, just so Yvonne herself could redecorate the corridors and bathroom and make sure you wouldn’t miss her work of art.

Carol was alternating between visiting each of the ‘suspects’ and man, did they sing like birds.

Steve wanted to strangle them all, but fuck, the hatred for Yvonne Burton specifically was already consuming him and gnawing at his very soul; yes, he found out her last name just so he knew his mortal enemy. He was going to burn her to the ground, one way or the other… not that Carol hadn’t been doing a fine job so far.

That damn brunet had tears running down her face, sobbing occasionally, but still rarely sassing back. Somehow, seeing her like that wasn’t half as satisfying as Steve hoped, because his mind kept wandering to you and wondering if you looked about the same and every time such picture formed in his head, he hated Ms.Burton a fraction more.

She had used a guy who liked her, which Carol blatantly pointed out. The lawyer didn’t seem to hold back her own snark if the question about how the culprits met – via some forum for bruised ego, was it? – was anything to go by.

“I might be a lawyer, but I’m begging for every art professor and author I know – stay away from poetry. What you wrote is a child’s rhyme really, but like every writing, it says a lot about who you are. And it gives me a plenty of ammunition. We have two names, one full, one last name pointing out a specific person from the context. If I play my cards right, we have defamation on our hands, libel to be precise. Congratulation,” Carol remarked in a surprisingly calm voice. The other woman visibly paled. Good. “And what about the last line? Is that… is that a threat of violence? I can make it harassment, but if I try hard enough, perhaps we can consider it something more serious…?”

“You don’t get to threaten me! You’re lying! I’ve done nothing wrong and so serious!” the girl – and really, in Steve’s eyes, she was nothing but a stupid girl who somehow managed to kick his life in its balls – exploded, jumping to her feet.

Carol levelled her with a glare and an irritated hiss. “Sit down.” Burton did, clammy hands curled up in trembling fists. “And you’ve done more than enough.”

“You don’t understand!”

“Oh don’t I? Be my guest then. Explain it. Your motivation, the legal side, anything. I’m all ears.”

“I love him!” the girl exclaimed and Steve grinded his teeth as a surge of rage shooting through his veins.

Like fucking hell she did. He didn’t remember even talking to her if he ever had to start with and she loved him?!

Was that really what this was about? This girl somewhat liked him and got obsessed? Decided to wreck his girlfriend? To what end? To drive the two of you apart? To make you hate him so he would run to her? To simply ruin your future? What the fuck was wrong with her?! She was a damn kid with hurt pride and zero efforts put in so far, because he couldn’t even remember her-

“Oh you really don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t have done this,” Carol responded with a cold edge to her voice, apparently agreeing with Steve’s thoughts and being equally unimpressed with Ms.Burton dramatic confession.

“I’m fighting for him! Ain’t nothing wrong-”

Oh Steve would argue with that so hard. He could feel Sam watching him from the corner of his eye, but neither of them said anything as Steve gripped the edge of the table the monitors were on.

He was sure he was going to be sick, the edge of his vision doing something he only read about; as if truly turning red, crimson with hunger for blood. He never ever craved tearing someone in half, not a single one of the guys who bullied him in school, not the girls that laughed at him when he said he liked them; and make no mistake, he had always felt mad enough.

But right now, he tasted undiluted rage and it tasted like acid with a bitter aftertaste of iron and copper, searing hot on his tongue and spreading through his body, turning it heavy and nauseatingly light at the same time.

“No, you’re ruining his life,” Carol emphasized, leaning onto the table and glaring murder at the girl. “If this is your idea of fighting for someone, it’s pretty twisted. You could have done literally anything to make him notice you, hell, pick you, but leave if he still said no, because that’s a sensible thing to do. But instead, you hurt someone he cared about. And that means you hurt him too – not to mention that his name is in there, possibly putting a scrap on his reputation. If you did love him, you’d want him to be happy.”

Steve gulped and looked away, unable to bear the weight of Carol’s words, feeling the jab on his own person. Because he was familiar with being accused of ruining someone’s life and future despite seemingly loving them. God knew that on a rainy day, he wondered about his own ‘love’ and its purity too – and now, it was fucking pouring and Steve had been forced to question everything he knew.

Was this little brunet Satan a godsend in fact? Was she supposed to tell him to stop lying to himself about not being your doom? Just what kind of a mess this stunt would have made had you been working a steady job and this got to your employer?

A gentle hand reached for his shoulder, a silent support, and Steve found himself torn between irritated, grateful and deeply ashamed.

No matter how much he hated it, he should be on the list to get punched for hurting you too.

“So, sorry to break it to you, but you don’t love him,” Carol continued and with Sam’s palm on his shoulder, Steve forced himself to watch the scene, the grand finale. “You’re just a little girl with attitude issues, a crush that got out of hand, and a ton of luck for knowing a guy willing to help you. Guess what – you just ran out of that luck.”

Heavy silence fell on the interrogation room and Steve’s eyes slid shut, hearing Carol and Yvonne’s parting words.

“And just so you know, she didn’t get the highest score. She got a B.”

Steve didn’t even know that and despite all the shit they were in, he felt a surge of pride for his g- hopefully still his girl.

At the same time, the fact that he learned it from Carol and not from you as he still couldn’t reach you, felt like a punch to his solar plexus.

Carol entered the monitoring room with a discontent expression on her face, wordlessly telling Steve and Sam that the conversation, no matter how harsh, wasn’t satisfying enough.

Still, Steve glanced at her and nodded with severity.

“Thank you, Carol,” he rasped, surprised by how hoarse his own voice sounded; for the burn of rage in his stomach and the tension in his muscles, he almost forgot about the lump gradually growing in his throat with each hour of silence from you.

“My damn pleasure,” Carol huffed with slight irritation, one clearly not aimed at Steve. She subtly raised her eyebrows. “I kinda want to punch her, but I guess I’m not the only one, huh?”

Steve sighed and closed his eyes, his hands almost shaking with the said need. Still, it was surprisingly relieving to be called out on that and to learn that he wasn’t the only one. And when he opened his eyes again, the look on Carol’s face told him that she wasn’t blaming him one bit.

“You have no fucking idea, I- Jesus, I never wanted to—to-- so much in my life.“

The rise of one corner of her lips was sympathetic. “We’ll handle this, Steve. I know it’s hard to hear, but you can’t really help us here. Go home. Rest.”

The lump in Steve’s throat grew nearly suffocating at the idea of going to the empty apartment, where his uselessness became even more evident. Steve eyed Sam, searching with hope for any sign of a better advice, but the counsellor only nodded to second Carol’s thought.

“Go home and try to call your girl. She’ll pick up eventually.”

At that time Steve had done exactly that – however, the result had remained identical to those with his previous attempts. You hadn’t picked up and he had left a voicemail and a pathetic text that somehow seemed to be reflecting all of his insecurities and doubts about your relationship and it hadn’t turned out at all as he had planned – and then it had been too late to take it back.

He had sent another and another, almost hour after hour and he was gradually realizing that he was forgoing all hope and his faith in what you two had and what it could become in the future; and god, did he want the future so badly.

But he couldn’t always get what he wanted, could he? He thought that a miracle had happened when he had first met you and later heard your yes to the date. But here you were.

Four days from that terrible incident.

Did Steve even believe that you two were supposed to be together? He didn’t even know anymore. Perhaps it was an intervention from some higher power and you two breaking apart was meant to be, saving you a heartbreak and disillusions which were about to come later.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought and the sensation that felt like a punch to his gut, his insides cramping.

That was not true. You two loved each other. You had found something truly amazing in each other and you were about to reach out to him any minute so you could continue to your brighter future together.

…right?

Except a minute passed by and nothing happened, the phone Steve was toying with remaining silent.

No received text or e-mail.

No incoming call.

Another minute and then another ten, the phone still spinning in his hand in almost a reflex at that point and still not lighting up.

The knot in Steve’s gut turned tighter and tighter, the tension in his shoulders and jaw growing, his mantra of you surely contacting him gradually falling silent.

Finally, he came to the decision that only fools kept doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result.

He was supposed to do that a long long time ago, the moment he had convinced himself that coming knocking on your dorm could be considered harassment… and would break his heart in case you’d shut the door to his face telling him you were done with him.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Steve swept through his contacts and dialled your best friend and roommate in one person.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Part 2

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Thank you for reading!

Let me know what you thought! I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ doing something with randomly timed shots to a series, so… you know. I’m a bit nervous. And I guess that this is very different from what this series was so far too, so I hope it’s okay. Thank you :-*

[uwu-shinsou]

First,,,, CONGRATS ON 500 BB!! YOU DESERVED IT!! And uhhh if it's not much a bother can I request Shinsou Hitoshi with 6 and 13 (if it's alright! If youre not comfortable with doing it you can do whatever youre comfortable with, I care abt your well being more than the fic that Im requesting) and I dont really uh care if its hc or a drabble or smth cuz im inlove with anything and everything that you make! Again congrats! Have a nice day :))

Title: Whatever You Say

Prompt: Accidental Text, Hate-to-Love

Warning(s): Mild language

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi X Gender Neutral!Reader

Genre: Drabble, working through feelings

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: THANK YOU ISSA!! 🥺💖I’m so glad you requested!! Bc I’m trying to keep these shorter like “drabbles” I had a hard time doing like,, full on hate to love so this is more like resentment to friends with implications of hidden feelings?? AHAHA but uhhh yeah, I hope you all enjoy 🥺and in case you missed it, my last year of college has started, so I will be updating less frequently, but I will still be around and writing and vibing!🤗

500 Event Masterlist

✿ .✿ .✿ .✿ .✿

Oh shit.

You flew down the hall, bursting into Kaminari’s bedroom without knocking. The blonde sat up quickly at your intrusion, but relaxed slightly upon seeing it was you.

“What’s up speed racer?” He joked, folding his legs up to make room for you on the bed. You walked up to the side of the bed, dropping your knees on the edge and falling forward face-down onto the covers.

“I messed up, Denki,” You groaned, rolling over onto your back and staring at the ceiling. “I sent a text to Shinsou-”

He let out a little snort. “Now that’s unusual.”

“Yeah,” You agreed. “Because it was a text that was not meant for him.” 

“It couldn’t have been that bad, right?” He asked, now a little nervous. You couldn’t blame him. You and Kaminari had clicked instantly at the beginning of your first year at U.A., and now you’d pretty much consider him your best friend, and you his. But come the end of first year, with the trial and following announcement that Shinsou Hitoshi, general ed student, would be transfering into the hero course- and more specifically- your class, Kaminari Denki had seemed to collect himself yet another best friend. 

And you had made your first rival.

You hadn’t wanted to. But when you had first heard about Shinsou’s quirk, people couldn’t help but compare it to yours. As long as you maintained skin to skin contact, you could command another person to do anything that you wanted. Paired with your athletic background (which started when you were young, at the insistence of your parents that it’d “prepare you for hero training”) you were clearly the superior “mind control” student. You didn’t understand why another one was needed in the hero course. Wasn’t he just fine being in the general course?

But of course he had to join class 2A, become Aizawa’s favorite, and start to steal the attention of your best friend.

But Kaminari was his own person, and he made his own choices about when he hung out with the two of you. It really wasn’t fair to put him in the middle of your mess of feelings. And even though he was Shinsou’s friend, you knew he would keep your secrets.

You turned onto your side to look at him. “Here just- read this.” You shoved your phone at him. He took it in his hand, his face contorting into a grimace as he read your mistake once, twice, three times.

“...Why the hell did you send him this?” You slapped your hands against your face in embarrassment and despair. He mockingly cleared his throat. “‘Can you believe purple hair beat me in today’s exercise? Why does he have to basically have my quirk? If he wasn’t so hot I’d be really pissed.’” Kaminari let out a whistle. “Wow, now there is a lot to unpack here, hun.”

You winced. “Yeah, that text was supposed to go to Mina, but I mean- fucking hell, I don’t know?” You ran your hands over your face. “I guess I somehow just clicked the wrong contact and instead it went to him! And it’s even worse that he hasn’t responded about it yet.” You’d never outright said to Shinsou that you disliked him, but you had to assume he knew, and felt the same way about you.

“I didn’t know you thought he was hot,” Kaminari said, wiggling his eyebrows. You launched a pillow at him that he ducked. 

“C’mon, anyone with a brain can see that he’s attractive,” You muttered. “It’s the same as Todoroki, or maybe Bakugou if you took away some of the attitude.”

He let out a sigh. “Yeah you’re right.” After a moment of silence he pressed your phone back into your hand. “Anyways, I think the best approach would be to sort it out face to face. Texting can make things too muddled sometimes.”

“Since when did you have so much wisdom?” 

He nudged you with a knee. “Hey, there’s a reason you came running to me.”

“I suppose you’re right.” It’ll probably be really awkward and not fun, but you should try to explain yourself in person.

Which is how you found yourself on the outskirts of the woods by the dorm buildings watching Shinsou workout, your presence still unnoticed as his back was turned to you. Kaminari had directed you here, knowing that his friend often trained here on his own. 

Suddenly he relaxed his stance, speaking without turning around. “What, you got more to say to me than what was in that text?”

You gritted your teeth at his words. What is up with his attitude!? “Yeah, well maybe I do.” You crossed your arms, shifting most of your weight onto one foot.

Shinsou glanced over his shoulder. “Sucks for you, I’m busy.” He reached down to the ground and slung his towel over his shoulder. “Since my quirk is clearly inferior to yours, I need to keep training.” You winced slightly at his words.

“Hey, I never said it like that-”

“Yeah, well you didn’t have to.” He sighed before turning to face you fully. “Look, I get it, you feel like I’m trying to take your spot here at U.A. Well just- don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll stay out of your way.”

As he began walking away, you found yourself stepping after him. “Shinsou, it’s not fair to phrase it that way.”

He stopped and turned to face you once more. “What do you know about ‘not fair’?” Shinsou took a step closer to you. “‘Not fair’ is getting into the general class, only to see someone just like me being praised for their power in the hero course. ‘Not fair’ is working as hard as I can to make my dreams come true, only to find out that I still have to compete against you. ‘Not fair’ is wanting to so desperately hate you for it all, but I can’t. Not when I see your strength, your power, your drive and ambition, and I can’t help but admire it. Admire you.” He let out a soft snort of mock amusement to himself. “I do kind of hate you for that, though.”

You stood there in silence. What do I even say to that? Shinsou watched you warily, waiting for a reaction.

“I don’t hate you, not really,” You said slowly. As good a place to start as any. “Resented you, yes, but hate is a strong word.” As you continued talking, your mouth let more and more words spill out, words you didn’t even know you had wanted to say. “And yeah, I was worried that you’d ‘take my spot’ or whatever, but I think that was the competitive nature of this school getting to me. They support friendly competition between students, but maybe I took that too much to heart.” You toed at the ground, slowly looking up to meet his eyes. “I was worried about you joining our class because I think you have amazing control over your quirk and you’re really talented. You really do have the potential to be an incredible hero. And I think… I’d like it better if we were friends, instead of pitting ourselves against each other.”

As you waited for Shinsou’s response, you started to get antsy. Why do I care so much about what he’s going to say?

Finally he answered. “Alright. Friends is a good place to start.” He held his hand out to you, as if to shake on it. Hesitatingly you reached out, your fingers firmly grasping his. He tightened his grip. “Should we also acknowledge that you said I was hot in your text?”

His words brought on a wave of nerves, and you yanked your hand back as if it were on fire. “That- That was a typo!” He began walking back towards the dorms with you hurrying to catch up to him.

As you matched his stride, he huffed out a laugh and sent you a knowing smile. “Sure, whatever you say.”

[beccascribbles]

after a lot of begging, you manage to convince your boyfriend to go mini-golfing with you.

warnings - none, although this does ft sakusa being very soft for y/n

words - 1.6k

Sakusa could not believe he had agreed to this. The loud music grated at his nerves, the shouts and cheers of other couples made him tense at the thought of all the people currently occupying such a small space. Thankfully, you had agreed to wear one of his masks, a fact he was especially pleased about when a man began to let out a round of hacking coughs somewhere to the left of you. His hand convulsed around yours. Though you couldn’t see his mouth, you knew it was twisted in a look of disgust.

“Sorry, Kiyoomi,” you apologised, looking up at your boyfriend. He could see the concern in your eyes as you studied him. He couldn’t deny that the amount of people was making him uncomfortable and he would always be grateful that you could read him so well. “Let’s go home. This is a bad idea. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

You began to head in the other direction, shocked when you felt yourself being pulled back. You looked up at Sakusa in confusion. He avoided your gaze, staring ahead. “We can stay. You want to play mini-golf so we’ll play.”

Though you were thankful for the offer, you opened your mouth to protest. “But...”

He eyes narrowed as he looked down at you. His voice was hard, giving no room for argument as he interjected, “We’re staying.”

You gave his hand a small squeeze, the wide grin on your face obscured by the face mask. But, he could tell by the way your eyes crinkled at the corners that you were pleased. Letting out a sigh, he allowed himself to relax slightly, the reassuring pressure of your body against his, the way your fingers curled around his own, calming his racing heart slightly.

Until, his breathing began to quicken, his heart rate increasing as he eyed the golf club, along with a red golf ball, being held out to him. You peeked out from your position slightly behind him, understanding in your eyes as you looked between your boyfriend and the equipment. Not needing Sakusa to ask you, you began to dig around your bag, pulling out some hand sanitiser and gloves that he could wear. Selfishly, you’d asked him if he could put off wearing gloves, wanting to feel the warm skin of his hand against your own for a little while.

“Omi,” you said softly, causing him to turn his head to look at you. You could see the trepidation and distress in his gaze. “Hold got your hands for me.”

He held out his hands, letting you squeeze some of the hand sanitiser on his palms. The cool feeling of the gel seemed to pull him out of his sudden onset of anxiety, though his breathing still sounded uneven. Seeming to be functioning on autopilot, he took the gloves from you, slipping them on. The feeling of the tight latex of the gloves around his hands calmed him more. He reached out to take the equipment, taking yours as well when it was offered to you.

“I’m not letting you touch these until I’ve sanitised them,” he said. To be frank, you were expecting this from him. It was hard to convince him to eat out due to his fear that the cutlery and plates wouldn’t be cleaned up to his standard, hence why a home-cooked meal was more common in your house. Whenever you would go out for coffee, he would insist on takeaway cups whether you ordered in or to go. “You don’t know what was wrong with the last person who touched them. I’m not risking your, or my health, for some stupid mini-golf game.”

“Mini-golf isn’t stupid,” you defended, crossing your arms over your chest as you playfully glared at him. He was too busy furiously scrubbing at the golf clubs to notice your glare. What you had said was ignored by him too.

“Did you pack any more anti-bacterial wipes?” he questioned. “I still need to wipe the balls.”

“But, Kiyoomi, the balls will be on the floor for the majority of the time,” you explained. “I hardly think it’s necessary to wipe them now.”

“Good point,” he agreed. “We don’t know what kind of germs are on the floor. Make sure you pick up the ball with the anti-bacterial wipe if you need to grab it. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

You almost groaned at his words. The pair of you were now both wearing gloves, but he was treating the barrier as another layer of skin, something to keep germs off of as much as possible. Still, you were thankful. He was clearly doing this to make you happy, which made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside, reminding you why you had fallen in love with this man.

So, you started the course with a freshly sanitised golf club and ball, and it was fun. You had to refrain yourself from throwing your arms around his neck when you scored your first hole-in-one, or when you nailed a particularly amazing trick shot. Secretly, Sakusa wouldn’t have minded the contact, so would congratulate you by giving your fingers a light squeeze. The way your eyes crinkled in that moment would be forever ingrained in his mind, the soft glow of pure enjoyment making your face light up in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time. It made him wonder if he was really that hard to be with, if you really did yearn for normal things like this that he struggled to do. Your voice, bright with pleasure, pulled him from his thoughts.

“Did you see that, Omi?” you cried, pointing in the direction you had hit the ball. “I think I almost got it in the hole just then.”

“Oh, yeah,” he interjected some cheer in his voice, something easy to do when you were looking at him with such unadulterated joy. “That was almost perfect. I bet I can do better though.”

“No way,” you teased, moving out of the way so he could place the ball down and line up his shot. “We both know that I’m the superior mini-golfer.”

Just being with you in the moment almost made him forget about the number of people around you... almost. Letting out a constricted breath, he grasped you by the arm, pulling you away from the small crowd forming in front of you. It was clear they were waiting to start the next hole on the course. Coincidentally, this happened to be the hole you were heading towards before he pulled you away. You skirted around the hole, completely missing it out as he stopped at the next one. Compared to the one before, it was relatively quiet. His breathing still felt strangled as he sucked in air. His hands were shaking slightly. Tentatively, you covered his hands with your own.

“You’re okay, Omi, just look at me,” you soothed. His eyes focused on yours, the anxiety clear in them as his hands suddenly tightened around your own. “We’re going to breath together. Can you do that for me?”

You lead him through a series of inhales and exhales before he felt his breathing begin to return to normal. He felt embarrassed, which just added to his feelings of inadequacy. He couldn’t even get through one mini-golf game without breaking down at the thought of being trapped within all those people, their bodies touching his as he struggled to escape. Hanging his head in shame, he studied your intertwined hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” you asked, genuine curiosity laced through your tone. “You can’t help how you feel, Kiyoomi. Just remember that I’ll always be here to help you, okay?... I love you.”

Finally, his eyes met yours. “I love you, too.”

You continued around the course, this time with you constantly checking in with him, offering to skip a hole if you felt that the number of people would put unneeded strain on his mental well-being. Stubbornly, he refused your offers, simply gritting his teeth and avoiding contact with the other’s around him as much as possible.

When you finally completed the course, he had to hold back his feelings of relief. Already, he was picturing being back in the warmth of your shared home, no barriers shielding you from each other so he could feel the warmth of your bare skin and the feeling of your lips on his. All this would take place after you had washed and put on some fresh clothes, but the sentiment was still the same.

“Do you want to wash first, Omi?” you questioned as you peeled off your outer layers. Your gloves and mask had already been disposed of at the door, thrown in the bin next to your shoes basket. “I’ll get the clothes washed in the meantime.”

“Thank you, y/n,” he said, leaning down to peck your lips softly. Unbeknown to you, it was his way of thanking you for still being with him. He could acknowledge that it was difficult loving him, and, to be honest, he wanted to at least express to you, in words, that he was thankful, whether you knew it or not. You looked at him, a loving smile on your face.

“I’m the one who should be saying ‘thank you’,” you said. “You didn’t have to put yourself through that for me. I don’t want my happiness to come at the expense of your own.”

“I don’t think you understand. You are my happiness.”

You gaped up at him in shock. “I can’t believe you just said something so cheesy, you big sop.”

“Shut up.”

[jewish-space-laser]

Miles & Black Coffee - Part Two

“If you’re thinking about taking the high road,

I can tell you that you’re doing it wrong,

There’s a better of way of letting it all go,

‘Cause you’ve been running from the feeling too long….”

-Highroad by Sir Woman

Hiya everyone! Sorry this is up a bit late, inspiration really just runs on its own clock. I’ll keep this short- giant thank you to @oh-honey-styles​ @andwhenshesays​ @for-fucks-sake-h​ for beta-ing and being so so SO supportive. If you haven’t read their fics yet, go check them out! As always, I adore feedback! (4.1k words)

xoxoxoxoxoXO Tile 

You and Harry would never be friends. You were up and down, night and day, oil and water. You just didn’t mesh. He was your roommate’s insufferable older brother, and that is all he would ever be. Well, at least that’s what you thought before….

or

the one with campfire conversations, cabin getaways, and enemies that were never really enemies after all.

Read Part One here!

TUESDAY

Charlie was still sleeping soundly on her side of the bed when your alarm went off, so you tried your hardest to sneak out of the room without making a sound. Spending all day in the sun yesterday had been amazing; your heart felt full, your muscles were relaxed, and you were ready to do it all over again. 

Unfortunately, you also felt a bit gross. Between the warm weather, lakewater, and sunscreen, your skin was feeling like it needed it a good rinse. The thought of showering in the showerhouse wasn’t exactly thrilling, but it was that or the garden hose, so you gathered up your shower caddy and a change of clothes before making your way out of the main cabin. 

It was a beautiful morning, the perfect setup for another day of summer. Dewy blades of grass tickled your ankles as you cut across the lawn, a pleasant chill running through you at the contact. You’d tried to wake up early enough to have the shower house to yourself, not wanting to have an awkward run-in with anyone before you’d had a chance to fully wake up. 

From the look of it, you’d succeeded. You listened for signs that anyone else was out and about, but all you could hear were the sounds of birds chirping and bugs buzzing, the nature around you having yet to be disturbed by rowdy college students. 

Smoking on the boat the night before had turned out to be a great idea. The group had stayed out till the moon was the only light in the sky, only turning in when none of you could stop yawning. You hadn’t slept that deeply in a long time; it felt amazing to be so rested after a full school year of late nights and early mornings. 

When you finally reached the shower house, you moved to pull the door open to have it swing forward and smack into you. You stumbled backwards, balancing yourself against the wall as you stared wide eyed at the person who’d nearly knocked you over. 

“Whoa, sorry,” Ryan rushed apologetically, “I didn’t think anyone else would be up this early.”

“That’s okay,” you gulped, “I didn’t think anyone else was awake, either. I wanted the showers to myself.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” he chuckled, running a hand through his wet hair, “I’m all finished though, so it’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” you giggled, “how was the water pressure?”

“Honestly?” He shrugged. “Better than I expected, but not great.”

“Lovely,” you sighed, slinging your towel over your shoulder. Ryan dragged his eyes down your frame quickly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. You blushed as you realized that you were still in your pajamas. At least they were somewhat cute, little blue shorts with rubber duckies printed all over them and a plain white tank top. 

The two of you were quiet for a moment, switching places so you were standing in the threshold of the shower house. He was too cute, sleepy eyes squinting in the sun as it grew brighter out.

“So, um, I was thinking of checking out this hiking trail today,” he blurted, cheeks tinted red, “Archie was going to come with me, but he drank his weight in white claw last night, so I’m thinking he might be too hungover to stomach it.”

“Where’s the trail?” You questioned. 

“It’s on the other side of the lake, about two miles north. We were just gonna borrow a couple bikes from the shed,” he explained, playing with his hair some more, “but anyway, I was like, well, I was wondering if maybe you would wanna join me. I’d hate to go alone.”

“I’d love to!” You said eagerly. When he smirked at your excitement, you tried to play it cool. “I mean, uh, yeah. That sounds like it could be fun.”

“Great,” he chuckled, “I was thinking of leaving around eleven, gives us time to relax and have some breakfast. The trail itself should only take a couple hours, but there are a few detours I wanted to see. Is that cool with you?”

“Sounds awesome,” you nodded. 

“Fantastic. I’ll find you in a bit?”

You nodded, bidding him farewell as he made his way back to the guest cabin. The moment the door shut behind you, you let out a quiet squeal. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, and already you had a date with a cute boy. Plus, you were genuinely interested in the hiking trail; if it was anything like the forest around the cabin, it was sure to be gorgeous. 

Ryan was right about the shower pressure. It was enough to make you feel clean and refreshed, but certainly left much to be desired. At least there was hot water. 

By the time you made it back to your room, Charlie was up and about, playing upbeat music on her phone speaker and digging her toothbrush out of her bag. 

“I can’t believe I forgot to brush my teeth last night,” she pretended to gag, “I literally passed out so hard. Didn’t even hear you get up this morning.”

“It was a long night,” you laughed, feeling amused as you watched her flit around the room to get ready for the day.

“And it’s gonna be another long day,” she sighed, “long, but fun. Olivia and I were gonna tan on the docks for a bit, if you wanna join?”

“Actually,” you tried to act nonchalant, “Ryan and I are going on a hike.”

You sat on the corner of the bed, sucking your lips into your mouth to keep your giddy smile at bay. You were really excited though, and Charlie seemed like just the right person to gush to.

“Ryan, huh?” She said, face scrunching up in confusion. “I would’ve thought you’d want to spend as much time with Harry as possible.”

You widened your eyes, letting out a loud burst of laughter that had you wheezing. “Harry? No way!”

“You and him aren’t a thing, then?” She asked, zipping her suitcase shut. “He was asking after you at the bonfire yesterday, and then insisted that he should check on you when you didn’t come down.”

A frown formed on your face. You specifically remember him saying that he’d just been using the restroom. Why would he want to check up on you, anyway? Surely he was just using it as an excuse to bother you. It was his favorite activity, after all. 

“Well, no, we’re not a thing,” you said firmly.

“Ryan’s cute, too,” Charlie shrugged, “James and I had a moment yesterday, too, so hopefully we both get our cute summer romance this week.”

“Ooooh, James?” You waggled your eyebrows, happy to change the subject. Charlie flushed, biting down on her lip.

The two of you gossipped for a while longer, with Charlie organizing all of her belongings while you lounged on the bed. It was nice chatting with her; you weren’t the closest, but you’d always gotten along really well. 

New romance, new friends, sunshine and nature. You could already tell that this was going to be a week to remember.

~~~

By the time you made your way into the kitchen, almost everyone had already had breakfast. Dishes were piled high in the small sink, streaks of what looked like pancake batter smeared across the countertop. You hated when people didn’t clean up after themselves, but you chose to ignore it for now. 

What you couldn’t ignore, however, was Harry, who was sitting by himself at the table. He was also pouring a bowl of cereal, which wouldn’t have been a problem if your name wasn’t written across the box in black sharpie. 

“Is that your cereal, Harry?” 

You had a hand planted on your hip, eyebrows raised expectantly as you awaited his answer. He lazily glanced up from his phone, looking you over from head to toe before shrugging. 

“Dunno, found it in the cupboard,” he muttered, jamming a spoonful into his mouth.

“Interesting, interesting,” you droned, biting the inside of your cheek, “did you stop for a moment to think that it might belong to somebody else?”

He shrugged again, not bothering to look away from his phone this time as he chewed slowly. You could tell he was holding back a smirk from the way his dimple indented into his cheek. He knew what he was doing, he always did.

With a huff, you walked over to him and snatched the box off of the table, turning it around and pointing at your name in bold letters. 

“I wish you’d asked,” you snapped, opening the cabinet with more force than necessary to grab a bowl. 

“Just figured we were all sharing food,” you heard him say. 

You wanted to rip his breakfast out from under him, anything to get a reaction, but you just took a deep breath insead. Getting you worked up is exactly what he wanted, and you’d never give him the satisfaction

“If you’d read your sister’s e-mail, you’d know that any food that isn’t labelled is up for grabs. That cereal has my name on it.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged again, “I don’t really look at my e-mail.”

“Clearly,” you rolled your eyes.

He didn’t respond, and even though your skin was crawling with irritation, you figured it was best if you stopped talking. Even though he was being a pest, this behavior was relatively tame for him, and it would be a shame to ruin a perfectly good morning with a fight.

Well, that’s what you told yourself before you opened the fridge. 

“Harry,” you warned through gritted teeth, “did you finish off the milk… and then put the empty carton back?”

“No,” he locked his phone, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning, “there are a few drops left in there.”

That was it. The absolute last straw. 

“You are literally the most inconsiderate person I’ve ever met,” you seethed, shaking the empty carton in his direction before throwing it into the recycling bin. It didn’t seem to phase him.

“I think-”

“I don’t really care what you think,” you interrupted. 

“-that you’re being dramatic.”

You were scowling so hard that your cheeks were beginning to hurt, but you couldn’t help it. Not when he was pushing your buttons in all the wrong ways. You dumped your bowl of dry cereal back into the box.

“I’m not being dramatic,” you hissed, ��you’re just being a dick, but what else is new.”

“You really need to calm down,” he snorted, “a bunch of us were going to break out the kayak and race across the lake, do you wanna join?”

You weren’t sure where he’d gotten the idea that you’d want to spend more time with him, so you just shot him a dirty look, deciding to just skip breakfast. Sure, you were starving, but anything was better than spending one more second in Harry’s presence. 

“I have other plans,” you snarled, turning your back to him and leaving the room. 

“Really?” He asked, following you down the hallway. “Do they involve… I dunno, pulling the giant stick out of your ass?”

You practically growled, stopping so suddenly that Harry nearly ran into you.

“No,” your voice was strained, “Ryan asked me to go hiking with him, if you must know.”

For the first time all morning, the unbearable smirk on his face dropped into a frown. 

“Just the two of you?” He prodded. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. Why was he suddenly so interested? 

“Yes, just the two of us,” you sighed, turning to walk away again, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be as far away from you as possible.”

He didn’t follow you this time, but you could feel him watching you go up the stairs. It bothered you to no end that he could get you so riled up. Next time, you would walk away at the first sign of trouble, because he truly wasn’t worth your energy. 

Once you finished packing up a drawstring backpack with the hiking essentials, it was just about to time to meet Ryan, so you made your way over to the guest cabin. On the way there, you saw Harry pulling a kayak off of a metal rack, passing it to James like it weighed nothing. He looked a bit ridiculous, with his tie-dye shirt and a bandana in his hair.

“Hey,” you jumped at Ryan’s voice, “you ready to head out?”

You didn’t spare Harry a second glance when Ryan started raving about this amazing waterfall that he wanted to see. The day could only go up from here.

~~~

The rain had come out of nowhere. 

It had been blue sky for miles for the entire hike, but the second you got back to the bikes at the trailhead, dark stormclouds had already started sprinkling. It had quickly turned into a downpour, soaking through your thin t-shirt in record time. Ryan wasn’t much better off as he pulled his helmet off, hair matted down on the top of his head. 

Not to mention, it had been extremely buggy. Even with bug spray, they had been relentless. You were sure you had at least twenty bug bites all down your arms and legs. 

Despite everything, you’d enjoyed yourself. You’d stayed out even longer than you planned, sitting by the waterfall and chatting. As soon as Ryan found out that you skipped breakfast, he’d given you half of his sandwich. He’d been a complete gentleman, taking your hand frequently to help you over a rough part of the trail, and even though neither of you specified, it felt like a date. 

Conversation with him was easy, which was a major improvement from your awful morning. In fact, you barely even thought about Harry all afternoon, so distracted by Ryan and his nature commentary. The only time he’d come up was when you stopped for lunch.

“So what’s the deal with you and Harry?” Ryan had asked.

“Ugh,” you’d snarled, taking a pull from your water bottle “can we talk about literally anything else?”

“Oh,” Ryan had raised his eyebrows, “so, you’re not together?”

Immediately, you had choked on your sip of water, slapping your chest until you stopped coughing. 

“Together?” You guffawed. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

He had blushed crimson, playing with the hair on the back of his head. “He talks about you a lot… and sometimes I notice you watching him.”

His comment had confused you, but you’d shrugged it off, assuring him that you and Harry weren’t, and never would be, together. 

Now, the two of you were ditching your bikes in front of the cabin and sprinting towards the door to escape the awful weather. You found yourself giggling as you stumbled into the kitchen, wet, muddy footprints trailing behind you as you dropped your pack to the ground. It landed with a loud squelch, which only made you laugh harder. 

“I had a lot of fun today,” you said, “I’m really glad you invited me.”

“Really?” He chuckled, catching his breath. “I thought it was a bit of a disaster, between the mosquitos, the rain… the mud….”

You both laughed, shaking your heads at your bad fortune. You were being truthful about having fun, though. Even though the day hadn’t gone according to plan, it was exactly the kind of adventure you’d wanted.

“Whatever,” you shrugged coyly, “I had good company.”

Ryan’s cheeks flushed crimson, and a sweet smile crept up his face. Even with mud caked across his neck, pine needles in his hair, and angry pink bug bites down his arms and legs, he still managed to look adorable. When his eyes darted down to your lips, you stepped forward.

“I’m really glad we’re both on this trip,” he said softly, placing a hand on your waist.

“Me too,” you whispered, leaning in closer. 

Just as your lips were a hair away from brushing together, a crash from behind you had you jumping apart in alarm. You yelped loudly, your heart stopping for a beat before you spun around to face the culprit. 

Of course it was Harry. 

The first thing you noticed was his sunburn; all he was wearing was a pair of light gray sweatpants, so you could see how pink his chest had gotten. He resembled a deer in headlights as he stared at the floor below him, which was currently covered in the broken remnants of a shattered plate.

“Sorry,” he slurred, tip-toeing out from where the ceramic shards had scattered. Once he was clear, he stumbled over to the broom closet, swinging it open harshly as you and Ryan watched on awkwardly. After digging for a few seconds, he emerged with a broom and dustpan that looked like they were older than you.

“You scared us,” you bit out, heart finally slowing down to a normal rate. 

“Oops,” his shoulders lifted in a shrug, He turned to start sweeping, but quickly did a double take. “What hap-… you guys look horrible. Why are you covered in mud?”

Irritation took over you as you watched him gape drunkenly at where you and Ryan were standing. Not only had he interrupted what was sure to be an epic kiss with Ryan, but then he’d nearly given you a heart attack by sneaking in and dropping the plate. Sure, it was an accident, but that didn’t make you feel any less angry. And now here he was, telling you that you looked horrible.Your foot started tapping against the floor rapidly on its own accord. 

Just as you were about to chew him out for being a complete thorn in your side, he stumbled forward and hissed, lifting his bare foot into the air. 

“Harry, you’re stepping on glass,” Ryan warned, rushing forward with a worried expression over his face, “and you’re barefoot. Why don’t you start getting ready for bed… I’ll clean this up, okay?”

He took the broom from Harry, shooing him away from the mess. You knew it was the responsible thing to do, but part of you was still disappointed that your moment with Ryan had been ruined.

“Will you help me up the stairs?” Harry asked you sheepishly, half-limping over to you, “can’t get the glass out of my foot….”

“Well, don’t try to take it out here,” you sighed with an eye roll, “let’s go up. We’ll have to clean it, too.”

“Aww, y’gonna take care of me?” He smirked.

“Don’t push your luck,” you snapped. He held his hands up in surrender, but you still wanted to slap the smug look off of his face. You turned to Ryan, who was still sweeping the plate shards into a pile, and shook your head apologetically. “See you tomorrow?”

He nodded, a sad little smile on his face. You made yourself a promise that you’d kiss him next time you were alone. It was only the second day, after all; you were positive that you’d find another moment. For now, though, you had to deal with a certain drunken fool, who was currently limping down the hall, tripping every other step as he tried to grip the wall for support. 

“Hold on, you dimwit,” you sighed, rushing forward and slipping a hand around his waist. 

“Ooh, we’re getting cosy,” he hummed. You weren’t going to dignify him with a response.

Harry’s skin was warm to the touch, a bit sticky with sunscreen but still smooth. You tried to ignore the shock that ran through you when you felt his back muscles shift… you knew he was in good shape, but you hadn’t expected him to be so… firm. Your mouth went dry.

He leaned practically his entire weight on you, nearly forcing your knees to buckle. Fortunately, you were able to find your balance and walk with him, taking one stair at a time.

“Now who’s being dramatic,” you muttered.

“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Harry slurred, frowning in your direction. He had one arm slung over your shoulder, and the other hand gripping the railing as he hopped on one foot.

“You called me dramatic this morning,” you reminded him, “and now here you are, needing help up the stairs because of a teeny piece of glass….”

“Heeeey,” he protested, stopping in his tracks to look down at you properly. 

A scoff escaped you as you rolled your eyes, gesturing for him to continue hopping. You were nearly at the top now.

“Is there a first aid kit somewhere?” You asked, relieved when he removed his arm.

“Yeah,” he scratched at his head, “I packed one, but it’s still in my room.”

Honestly, you were a bit surprised that Harry packed a first aid kit. You’d never stricken him as the responsible type; Callie had always seemed more put together despite being younger. 

You followed his hobbling figure into his room, which was much cleaner than you expected. He clearly hadn’t changed it much since he was young, evidenced by the lego figurines lined up on his shelves. There was also a cute framed photo of him and Callie at her high school graduation, which was admittedly adorable. 

Getting the splinter out of Harry’s foot hadn’t been a problem, but cleaning it was another story. First, he insisted that he could do it himself, but then he accidentally got neosporin all over his bedsheets. Then, he wouldn’t stop flinching away from you when you tried to stick on the bandage, claiming that he was ticklish. 

“Can you please just cooperate,” you sighed. 

“Can’t help that it tickles,” he giggled, twitching away from your hand again, “your hands are too soft.”

If he pulled away from you one more time, you’d rip your hair out. This was not how you foresaw ending your night.

Eventually, finally, he stayed still long enough for you to finish. You glared at him as you gathered up the bandage wrapper and used alcohol wipe. He was gazing at you with wide eyes, bandana slightly crooked on top of his head.

“Did I interrupt something downstairs?” He asked all of a sudden, sheepishly looking out the window.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, shaking your head in frustration. “You know, Harry? I don’t understand what I did for you to hate me so much.”

He squinted his eyes in confusion, as if he had no idea what you were talking about. As if he hadn’t spent countless hours intentionally getting on your nerves. 

“What’re you talking about?”

“Please,” you laughed sarcastically, “It hasn’t even been two full days here, and you’ve already called me a wet blanket, eaten my food, and ruined the end of my date. You do nothing but antagonize me… why?”

He opened and closed his mouth several times, and it was then that you remembered how truly drunk he was. He probably wouldn’t even remember this in the morning. You don’t know why you’d asked him about it in the first place.

“I mean, I…” He stuttered, apparently unable to articulate his thoughts. 

Truthfully, you didn’t even want to know.

“Maybe we should just stay away from each other,” you told him, “I’m not a huge fan of you, and you clearly have a problem with me….”

He looked completely taken aback.

“Just… go to sleep, okay?” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I left the painkillers out, so… take those in the morning if you want.”

You were waiting for him to say something, but he just sat there, silently gaping at you with cloudy eyes, so that’s how you left him. He was still staring at you when you fleetingly made eye contact on your way out the door, but didn’t say a single word.

From what you knew about him, that was out of character. He always had something to say, another jab, another comeback, absolutely never letting you have the last word. And his eyes… the way he’d been staring at you, like he was offended and guilty and confused. You’d never seen him look like that before. 

As you got ready for bed, you tried to shake the entire interaction off. He was drunk, he probably had no idea what you were saying. The entire conversation wouldn’t even matter in the morning. 

Yet, for some reason, the image of his wide eyes and crooked bandana were all you thought about until you drifted off to sleep.

~~~

If you made it this far, thank you! What do we think? Any thoughts, theories, questions, comments? Let me know! Until next time, xoxoxoxoxox Tile

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Not Your Type

Steve Harrington x Reader

Read part 2 HERE

Word Count: 6,669

Warnings: Swearing, Smoking, Drinking, Sexual Assault mention

Tag List: @carolimedanvers @moonstruckhargrove @denimjacketkisses @hotstuffhargrove @thechickvic @alex--awesome--22 @hipsmcgee @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @balladblood @ashescilev 

“You’re not her type, Steve.” 

“You can’t say that till she meets me.”

The two had been arguing for days on the subject, without a clear answer in sight. Robin had promised, after weeks of watching Steve fail at getting girls, first at Scoops Ahoy and now at Family Video, to introduce him to a girl. Not just any girl, a girl like her. Steve had finally admitted that Dustin was right and he needed to go after girls who could make him genuinely happy, not just a girl who fit his popular mindset. He had tried his luck with Robin, and easily accepted the loss due to her own sexuality, and now he was set to try again. And Robin had been hyping up this friend of hers for weeks. She was cool and funny and smart like her and she was straight. That was all he was looking for. Whoever she was, she sounded perfect. 

But Robin was holding out on him.

His turned halfway to look at her, leaning his elbows on the counter to watch her shelf VHS tapes of music videos by the checkout line. She kept her back to him, rolling her eyes at his last comment. He was so pig headed most of the time, it was honestly annoying.

“Robin, you made this big deal about her, you said she was perfect, that I’d want to marry her on sight, and now you’re holding out. You gonna tell me what the deal is or not?” he asked with a brutal sigh. 

Robin didn’t turn around “Look, I might have...overhyped her a bit...like she’s amazing but she might...not be interested.” she said, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, turning to look at him with an embarrassed grimace.

“What?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Look...she likes Billy Idol types. She probably would’ve gotten along with Billy Hargrove if...well, you know.” Robin said, trailing off at the end. Both nodded softly, Robin swallowing as if her throat was dry. Maybe it was, the memory was certainly hard to swallow and even harder to forget.

“Right...so?” 

Robin scoffed “You’re too squeaky clean for her.” 

Steve slapped his hand on the counter, his hair bouncing excitedly with the quick movement “Oh come on! Do you remember me? I’m Steve ‘Hair’ Harrington! I was the coolest guy at Hawkins High.” he puffed up his chest proudly, like a peacock.

“And the most modest.” Robin stood up, dusting off her knees from grim from the carpets sticking to her bare skin. The only perk of working at Family Video was the lax dress code. The store’s air conditioning had broken in June and had turned the place into an oven with its big windows that couldn’t be shaded to hide the marquees and cardboard cutouts in the windows. Keeping the front door open and wearing as little as possible helped. 

“But seriously, Steve, I don’t want you to get your hopes up about her. She might not be interested.” Robin replied, planting her hands on her hips.

“I got it, now when can I meet her?” Steve asked.

Luckily for him, you were already on your way.

You had no idea why Robin had been so insistent on you visiting her at work. She never had been before, she’d made you promise not to visit her at Scoops, which was strange since you only worked a floor above at Claire’s, piercing children’s ears with ugly silver butterflies and flowers, only for them to buy big plastic hoops and balls to shove into the unprepared holes and get them totally infected. It was fun, you got to use a piercing gun. You’d almost gotten fired for trying to pierce your nose with the gun. You were glad that you didn’t, it would’ve totally ruined your nostril, but you wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t totally worth it to see the look on your fat manager, Marge’s face. She was such a bitch, you were glad when that damn mall burned down. The one in Carmel was better anyway.

When Robin insisted on you coming to Family Video to meet her for her lunch break, you weren’t insanely apprehensive about it. It wasn’t until her tone changed when she mentioned meeting her coworker and friend that you started getting that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach. She was trying to set you up with someone. Again. She always did this when she wanted something. Last time she did it, it was with that awful Keith to try to get him to give her his poster from The Godfather, which he’d nicked from the back storage at The Hawke while it was still open. Whatever she wanted, you weren’t going to be used to get it. 

Still, you showed up. You promised that you would after all, and you were a person of your word. Parking your car in front of the store, you saw the almost empty parking lot and the wide open door signaling the open store. You sighed softly to yourself, grabbing your purse off the seat next to you and stringing it over your shoulder, popping the door and climbing out.

“Robin? You here?” you called as you walked in.” the store was empty and far too quiet for your liking.

“Welcome to Family Video, where we bring movie magic to you! Can I help you with anything today?” Steve asked from the counter, startling you. You practically jumped out of your skin, your hand coming to clutch at your heart as you whipped around to meet the soft expression of Steve Harrington. He looked slightly bemused, clearly trying to not laugh at your over the top reaction. You rolled your eyes, walking up to the desk.

“Is Robin here? Robin Walker.” you asked, looking him over with a calculating eye.

“Yeah, she’s just in the back, wait here.” Steve stepped out from behind the desk, pulling at his stiff, polyester golf shirt. The shirt was so white and blindingly bright that it hurt to look at, but the large black logo for the store broke it up enough to make it easier to watch Steve leave as it was to watch him walk away. 

Steve didn’t even make it all the way to the stockroom before Robin emerged, already changed out of her uniform and was grinning like an idiot. “Hey! You made it just in time!” she said, tossing you her purse and sweater. You caught them easily, relieved to see your friend and get out of there. 

“Steve, this is my friend Y/N. Y/N, you know Steve, right?” Robin said, gesturing between them with her now free hands. 

“What up, Harrington?” you asked boredly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Robin gritted her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut and pulling her lips into a straight line. This is exactly what she thought would happen. Every time she’d introduced you to someone, no matter how genuine she was being, you turned into a brick fortress, completely impenetrable. Gone was your bubbly, snarky personality and quick wit, replaced by sneers and eye rolls and sarcasm. You weren’t nice or warm or open when you met the boys Robin decided you’d like. You weren’t yourself.

This wasn’t you. Robin knew it, she was certain that deep down you knew it. But Steve didn’t know it. Robin was certain that he had no idea who you were. And that made it worse. He had no background to you other than her own descriptions. And that wasn’t enough. This was not going to end well.

“You ready to grab food?” you asked, drawing Robin out of her mind.

“Huh? Oh yeah definitely. Burger in a Basket cool?” she replied, her eyes darting strangely between the pair of you.

“Sure, I’m not vegetarian this month. Accidently ate a fish stick last weekend while babysitting Todd Carther again. Total shit head but his parents pay me so much money to do it.” you replied, handing Robin’s things back to her. 

“Hasn’t he scared you off yet?” Robin asked, tying her grey sweatshirt around her hips.

“Nope, almost got me by dumping a whole jar of electric blue paint on my head. But the stuff is non-toxic so it didn’t mess up my eyes or skin and it let me know that dying my whole head blue isn’t going to be a good look for me.” you replied with a giggle, flashing a strand of faded blue hair to her. “The stupid paint did dye some of the bleach though, which totally sucks.”

“You babysit Todd Carther?” Steve asked, drawing your attention back to him and indented a hard frown onto your face. Robin caught the look and wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders, squeezing them too hard. 

“Oh yeah, Y/N is utterly fearless.” Robin announced with a grin.

“I know his older brother Matt; wicked dude, total party animal. He threw the best parties at the end of the basketball season. Totally rad…” he trailed off with a doofy grin, clearly imagining the fun times he’d had at some shitty house party.

“I know Matt too. He groped Sylvia Newman in the middle of freshman English for a stripe of Fruit Stripe gum. He assaulted her and didn’t even get detention for it.” you replied stonily, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oh… bummer.” Steve tried. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “No, I’m serious. I didn’t know about that, that’s really fucked up. I don’t hang out with him anymore, but if I did I’d stop.”Steve said more confidently this time, running a hand through his overstyled hair. 

That...wasn’t the answer you were expecting. It knocked you out of your senses and you took a moment to respond. “Yeah...well I take money from his parents so I mean nobody’s perfect. And that whole family’s fucked up anyway.” Steve smiled slightly and you tried not to notice it. He just looked so proud of himself. It was almost endearing. But not enough to make you want to care.

“So, anyway, Steve? You go on break yet?” Robin asked.

Steve furrowed his brow, looking at Robin as though she’d grown a third head. Robin nodded her head towards you strangely and suddenly Steve blurted “That’s the girl? Really?”

You whipped around to look at Robin, utterly appalled. You had a sinking feeling that the whole reason you’d been invited out today was to be introduced to some guy, but you had no idea it would be so quick and for the guy to be Steve motherfucking Harrington. You couldn’t believe it. I mean he was the dumbest, more generic guy at Hawkins High. You swore he’d won the metal for stupidest questions in your Home Economics class in freshman year. He was just…such a dork! How he’d gotten so popular, you had no idea. Maybe this town was such so void of charm and charisma that even the most empty, callus boy could become a god with a wink and a smile.

“What does he mean that’s the girl?” you asked, your face pulling into a look of sheer anger that could stop a man in his tracks.

“Oh great work, Harrington, now you’ve done it.” Robin sighed, pulling her purse across her chest, smacking his arm roughly.

“Robin, what does he mean? What did you do?” you snapped, forcing her to look at you. Her face pulled into a look that you knew too well. Regret, embarrassment, and just a little bit of fear.

“I might have promised Steve that I’d introduce you to him.” You groaned loudly, your head falling back to look at the white tiled ceiling. Robin pressed on, her face turning into a look of sympathy, her smile made of rubber. “Because you’re so great! He doesn’t have many friends his own age anymore and I just thought-”

“Oh I know what you thought.” You bit out.

“Well, are you coming or not?” Robin turned to Steve, completely ignoring you.

Steve’s face turned sour and surprised and he looked between the two of you and then to the clock above you. “I mean…I kind of have some stuff to finish up here and I should really wait until Keith gets here before I go on my break…don’t want Mr. Mueller mad at me again.” He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging awkwardly.

Robin clicked her tongue “Since when do you care?” Steve simply shrugged again. “Y/N, can you wait for me outside?”

You nodded, turning on your heel and heading out just far enough to be out of sight. You wanted to hear whatever they had to say.

“Dude what the fuck? You wanted this!” Robin whispered violently.

“Yeah but I didn’t want her!” Steve replied. You didn’t see the smack, but you sure heard the sound of skin hitting skin and the embarrassing yelp Steve let out.

“Yeah well, you’re going to come with us and you’re going to be nice. Because I did this for you. And now you have to accept it.” Steve didn’t respond, which must have been a good sign for Robin.

“Remind me to never do anything nice for you ever again…” Robin muttered as their footsteps charged closer to you and you scurried out the open door, choosing to lean against the burning hot glass, crossing your arms over your chest and knocking the sunglasses from the top of your head to your face again.

“You ready to head out?” You asked, standing up straight, smiling at Robin.

“Yeah, just waiting for Harrington to put the sign.” Behind her, Steve was hanging the tiny clock shaped sign on the door, trying to figure out what time it would be when they got back.

“Just put four fifteen, Steve, Keith will be back by then and your shift will be over like immediately anyway. You clocked out, right?” Robin said quickly, turning to you to add “Keith is a menace; he doesn’t like to work with anyone and kicks everyone off the floor whenever he can.” You nodded boredly, you’d heard this when she worked with him at the arcade; she quit whereas he got fired, it was a point of bragging for her.

“Yes, Robin. I did what you said. I don’t like this idea, I need this job more than you do.” He muttered bitterly. You raised an eyebrow curiously. Bitter looked decent on him.

“Oh, will you relax? Let your hair down a bit, dingus.” Robin grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. The three of you headed down the street to the cheesy diner Burger in a Basket. The whole place was themed after a fifties diner, complete with neon and pastel colours and fifties nostalgia on the walls. Bikes, hoola hoops, records, pictures of dead icons like Elvis and Marilyn Monroe, movie posters-the whole shebang. You didn’t go there for atmosphere, no, you went for the food. Robin insisted that it was the best burger she’d ever had and you’d be hard pressed to find one better in Hawkins. You didn’t know if Steve had been initiated into the burger ritual yet, but you didn’t really care.

Entering the teal and pink dining room, you nodded to the poor young thing in the giant black beehive wig and roller skates, you and Robin heading towards your normal booth. Steve followed behind, wide eyed and a little bit horror struck. You slid into the booth and grabbed the menus out of the rack at the table, handing them out wordlessly. Robin pushed Steve towards your side of the booth and he begrudgingly slid in, much to your dismay.

“You dragged me out of work…to go to a cheesy themed diner?” Steve asked incredulously.

“Just wait till you try it, Steve, it’ll change your life.” Robin said with a grin, flipping open the menu. You knew that she always ordered something different each time you came. You always ordered the same thing so you didn’t bother to open yours. Steve cautiously followed Robin’s example, flipping around with a wide eyed, innocent expression.

“Alright, welcome to Burger in a Basket, I’m Sylvia, how are you guys doing today?” the voice above you asked. You grinned as you saw Sylvia standing there in the stupid uniform. It was a comfort to know that her life was a little worse than yours. After all, she was such a bitch to you most of the time. That Matt Carther thing gave her plenty of room to get away with being a complete bitch, and it gave you something to use as a tester with guys in town. If they didn’t know who she was or they laughed, then they weren’t worth your time. Sure, you felt bad for her, but she treated you like dog shit for a year before dumping your ass to hang out with Macy Clarke and Nancy Wheeler.

“Hey Sylvia, we’re doing alright.” You said with a slight smirk, resting your head on your palms. Sylvia cringed slightly, but her eyes landed on Steve’s and her whole expression changed.

“Hey, Steve…” she murmured, pulling her lip into her teeth, grinning slightly.

“Hey, Sylvia, how’s it going?” he replied. Of course he’d go for her, you thought to yourself, she’s exactly his type. Just dumb enough to be cute but just pretty enough to hold your attention, with the slightest stink of desperation. You wanted so desperately to roll your eyes, but Robin was watching you with the knowing look, so you maintained your composure.

“I’m good! Can I get you a drink? Or are you ready to order? Do you need a minute?” you wanted to laugh; this was the best service you’d ever gotten at the restaurant. And it was all thanks to Steve.

“I mean…are you guys ready? I think I’ve got it figured out.” Steve said, gesturing to Robin with a nervous expression.

“Yeah, I’ll get the Fourth of July burger with mushrooms and can I get no mustard? Oh, and a diet coke.” Robin said, smiling confidently at Sylvia, who took down the order boredly.

“Sure, and for you, Steve?” she asked sweetly, fluttering her lashes.

“Um…I need a second more, Y/N can you order?” he muttered, leaning over to you. You nodded, surprised that him being closer to you didn’t upset you. It was almost…nice.

“Yeah sure…I’ll get the double hula burger with extra cheese, no pickles, no ketchup, and a triple thick chocolate shake.” You rattled off quickly, enjoying watching her struggle to get everything down.

“Alright, you ready, Stevie?” Sylvia asked and you noted the distinctive blush forming on his cheeks. Sylvia seemed too proud of her work and you wanted to wipe that look off her face. Pride was a bad look for her.

“Can I just get classic burger with mayo and extra tomato? And a coke?” he asked awkwardly, still clearly very unsure of himself.

Sylvia nodded “Perfect! I’ll be back with your drinks in a moment.” She said, turning and skating off, waving coyly to Steve as she headed back into the kitchen. You and Robin snickered, Robin rolling her eyes as soon as Sylvia disappeared.

“Oh my god we should have been bringing you since day one, they never give us that much attention!” you cried with a loud laugh.

“Dude, she wants you so bad oh my god!” Robin added, reaching out to slap his shoulder. Steve lowered his head, shaking his head.

“I totally remember her now…she had a thing for me in junior year, covered my locker in paper hearts. I wasn’t supposed to find out but I did. It was very uncool.” He muttered, shaking his head. You remembered that too, how she’d planned it for weeks, forcing you to help cut out pink, purple, and red hearts. You thought the whole thing was so cringy and weird, but she was dead set that he’d be intrigued by the mystery and sweetness of the action. She thought it was so cute. Barbra Holland unintentionally started the rumor that it was her, but you wished it was you to tell the world. Watching her slink home was worth the afternoons in the library with her calling you stupid for not cutting the heart out perfectly.

“She was just trying to put her feelings out there!” Robin replied incredulously.

“No, Rob, she was being weird. She could’ve shoved a note in his locker, send him a candy gram and Valentine, they do that every year for lacrosse team. She did something unnecessary and creepy to get attention. You’re just a hopeless romantic.” You grinned, reaching out to touch the bright red heart drawn in permanent marker on her wrist. You knew she had a thing for Jennifer Buffet, who worked at the now defunct Starcourt movie theatre. She always drew that little heart on everything whenever she had a crush, it was like she was trying to get caught, you didn’t get that; you always wanted to hide your crushes until the other person showed any interest in you. You wouldn’t usually agree or defend Steve Harrington, but he was right for once. You didn’t mind agreeing if he was correct for once.

“I am not!” Robin cried, crossing her arms over her chest.

You leaned in to whisper to her “Tell that to Tammy Turner.” Robin turned bright red and she leaned back into the vinyl seat, looking away from you.

“Oh was it bad?” Steve asked with a wide, doofy grin. You were surprised to know that he knew about Tammy, but you didn’t question it. Asking questions could reveal something that Robin didn’t want known. You were used to being careful with her.

“Ohhhh yeah, it was a rough year with her pine after that muppet.” Watching Robin pine after Tammy Turner was so embarrassing, since the girl was so straight. I mean the Steve thing was one thing, but the girl dated Tommy H for two weeks between his forty-second break-up with Carol. That’s the epitome of straight bullshit: finding Tommy H’ s awful, crass, and downright sexist attitude and sense of humor attractive and desirable. How Robin didn’t see that was beyond you.

“That’s what I said! She sounds like a damn muppet! Like Kermit the frog or something!” Steve cried, smacking the vinyl and turning to look at you fully. When he wasn’t trying so hard, he was actually pretty cute. His eyes blew wide and his smile reached its fullest capacity, straining to not split his face in half.

“I thought more Ms. Piggy, like when she sang with Elton John. She always like pinching up her mouth at the end of her words, she looks like a wrinkly old apple.” You said, giggling slightly. “Don’t go breaking my heart…” you imitated, pursing and squeezing your lips together, making a tiny ‘O’ with your lips. Steve’s eyes grew impossibly wider and he laughed far too loudly, his head tossing back. You turned to Robin, who was blushing crimson, fully turned away from the scene you were making. Sylvia skated over with your food and drinks, smiling far too much. She placed each order in front of you, angling herself so her chest landed in Steve’s face when she handed his order over to him. He didn’t seem to notice, he was too busy laughing.

“What’re you guys talking about?” she asked, tossing your order in front of you.

“That time you made Steve’s locker look like the Valentine’s Day massacre.” You grinned back spitefully.

Sylvia paled significantly and she reached up to adjust her wig, looking away. “That…that wasn’t me…” she replied softly.

“Yeah…yeah it was…” Steve said between breathes, wiping tears away from his eyes. Sylvia opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She turned away quickly, skating out fast. You laughed hard when she ran off, hunching over in your seat.

“That was so mean!” Robin cried, looking between the pair of you with a stern look.

“She…she deserved it! After everything I dealt with from her, I get to have one!” you replied, shrugging softly as you recovered. Steve offered you a high five, which you took happily. You never thought in your life that you’d be laughing with Steve Harrington. Today was a weird day.

“Eat, both of you.” Robin snapped and you complied equally happily. You loved this place-everything was fresh and made to order. Sure, it was greasy and unhealthy, but you deserved a bit of comfort food once and awhile. Steve took his first bite and let out a very loud moan. You giggled, it was so stupid. And a little cute, you wouldn’t pretend that it wasn’t. And maybe a little hot. But you wouldn’t admit that.

“This is so good!” he said, muffled by his mouthful of food.

“It’s even better when you’re high.” You whispered, nudging his arm. Steve nodded in approval, clearly into the idea.

The three of you ate in silence, wolfing down your burgers without much of a hum save for the sounds of ice clinking in glasses and small slurps from straws. Burger in a Basket still had glass bottle of coke, the rumor was that they filled them up with every drink and washed them after, since they didn’t really make glass bottles of soda for retail sale anymore.

With only their fries left, the group returned to each other’s attention. To your surprise, Steve spoke first.

“Can I be like honest here?” he said, turning to face you once again. You nodded shortly, shoving a fry into your mouth. “I have like, no idea who you are. I really don’t.” you raised an eyebrow at him, unsure of how you were supposed to react to that news. You swallowed your mouthful, nodding to yourself.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” You replied “I remember you though.”

“Oh yeah, what for?” Steve leaned back in the booth, putting his arms over the seat. He looked to be ready to take in praise.

“I remember how shit you were on the basketball team. How shit that whole team was.” You replied with a chuckle, watching Steve deflate immediately.

“I was, like, the best player on the team!” he replied indignantly.

“That’s not saying much.” That line made Robin laugh and Steve curl further into himself.

“You really should’ve joined the track and field team. You were much better at that anyway.” You added softly.

“On what planet? I’ve never even done track and field.” Steve cracked bitterly.

“Yes you have, we all had to do it in middle school.” You said. Both Robin and Steve looked at you like you were crazy, so without any remaining shame, you pressed on.

“At the end of the year, every year of middle school, we had the grade-wide track and field meet. We all trained on basic stuff-long jump, cross country, shot put for the older kids, and high jump. Then, each grade would compete and the best of those kids would go onto the main competition. We all got a day off to watch and there were free freezies. It was one of the best days of the year.” You explained.

“Yeah, so what? I never competed.” Steve replied, watching you closely.

“Yes, you did.” Steve raised an eyebrow at you. You rolled your eyes and continued.

“You were in eighth grade and I was in seventh. You had won the long jump in your grade level because Jude Armstrong broke his ankle and I had won the high jump. So we both competed. I remember three things about that day: one; that I won the high jump against all the older kids and Tina tried to push me into the mud after I got my medal; that you and Tommy snuck off to smoke cigarettes during the high jump. You both pretended that you’d done it before, and maybe you had, but Tommy was coughing so hard even after that it was so obvious that he’d never even touch a cigarette before.  And three, that that was the year we were all forced to run the cross country race. Nobody had wanted to compete in the race, so they forced us to do it to set an example. I didn’t want to run it, I’m not a distance runner, but you were so confident. You didn’t look nervous at all. And when the whistle blew and everyone bolted, you held back. You came in third in the cross country race and second at long jump, against the odds on both. It was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.”

Steve nodded. You looked so pretty when you explained the memory, your whole face lit up and your smiled so softly. You looked angelic, it was truly a sight. But the memory itself turned his stomach.

“I remember that…” he muttered “What I remember about that day was my dad telling me that no other place matter except first and that I was absolute shit.”

You felt so bad, bringing it up at all. He looked so sad now, you regretting even commenting on it. “Oh…I’m sorry…” you said softly. Steve shrugged as if it meant nothing, as if he felt nothing. “God, what a dick and you were good too!” you cried.

“Nah, I kind of sucked.” Steve replied, pushing away the compliment with his hands.

“No seriously! We could have used you on the team, Jude Armstrong sucked ass after like freshman year! You showed real aptitude. And you’re built for it, strong legs and a good core. Let guys like Chuck Bronson stomp around the court, you should’ve came and competed with us, you would’ve won something.” You joked, kicking his shoe with your own.

Steve huffed “We got into the county semi-finals last year…”

“Yeah? We won country finals and got fifth in state. Half my team got into state colleges on scholarship based on that alone.” You replied haughtily.

“You gonna get one?” he asked.

“I might, I got a scout watching me. Don’t know if I’m gonna take it.”

“Oh yeah, why not?”

You grinned proudly “I’m hoping to follow in Emma Lancaster’s footsteps.”

“What she do?” Robin rolled her eyes at that comment.

“She got a full ride to NYU for fashion design.”

“You sew?”

You rolled your eyes “I’m the head of the costume department for the drama club.”

“It’s how we met.” Robin added proudly.

“Emma Lancaster founded and headed up the fashion club at Hawkins High and ran the sewing club. She wants to work for designer labels and head up her own one day. I just want to make costumes for plays. I’d work anywhere that paid and go to any school that offered money.” You explained.

“That’s cool, I hope you get it.” Steve said and you noted the slightest hint of sadness in his tone.

“How’s your planning going, Steve, got any ideas yet?” Robin asked, clearly catching onto the tone Steve had in his voice.

“Well…” he looked a little embarrassed as he spoke, but did so anyway “I was thinking about applying to the police academy in Carmel…it’s not a clear shot, but I’d like it more than working for my dad.”

“My uncle works there, I can put in a good word with him if you want.” Robin said cheerily.

“That would be cool. I just don’t know if I’d be any good.” Steve muttered to himself.

“I’d think you’d be pretty good, I mean you’ve got strong morals.” You turned to Robin “Remember when he broke freak Byers camera? He deserved that fucking shit.” Robin nodded in agreement.

“I mean yeah, Steve, you care about people. Like you take care of Dustin like he’s your brother. It takes guts to be genuine and unafraid about hanging out with literal children.” Robin added.

“You hang out with Dustin Henderson?” you asked curiously.

“You know Dustin?” Steve asked, equally confused.

“Yeah, my sister Stacy made fun of him for like a week last year after the snow ball for asking her to dance. I wanted to smack the shit out of her for it, it takes guts to ask somebody out, especially at that age.” You explained, slamming your tall milkshake glass on the table, having just slurped up the last drops of chocolate milk and whipped cream.

“Yeah well he’s got a girlfriend now named Suzie.” Robin said. Steve’s attention had turned to the window and you heard a small gasp.

“Shit, Keith’s here, I gotta run.” He pulled out his wallet and slapped a twenty dollar bill on the table before sliding out of the booth.

“Don’t get in shit, dingus!” Robin called after him.

He spun around quickly, jogging backwards “If you get me fired, I’ll kill you.” He looked you over slowly, a lopsided grin pulling at the corner of his mouth “I’ll see you around, Y/N?”

“Yeah, sure.” You smiled. Steve nodded happily and his back slammed into the poor dish boy, stumbling slightly before scampering off.

As soon as he was gone, Robin turned to you with a devilish grin “He likes you.” She giggled, reaching out to poke your shoulder.

“Good for him.” You replied, trying to seem confident and uncaring about the whole situation. Internally, you were utterly rocked. He’d gotten to you. You’d drunk the Steve Harrington kool-aid. He was deeper, more genuine, honest, and cooler than you’d ever expected him to be. You were utterly intrigued and now you had to know more. But you weren’t going to admit it now, not when Robin was being so cocky about it.

“I think you like him toooo!” she said in a sing-song tone.

You scoffed “No, not really.”

Robin saw right through you. But there was no sense in arguing when you were like this. You had too much pride to admit it now, especially with Sylvia floating around, looking for any excuse to rip the rug out from under you. But she had an idea.

“So, listen, I’m not working tomorrow and we haven’t hung out in forever. Wanna have a sleepover tonight?” Robin asked, pulling out cash from her wallet to cover herself and you, since she owed you money from the last time you’d gone out to eat.

“Sure, I’m not babysitting the brat tomorrow.”

“Great! You want to rent a movie or something? I get a discount at Family Video.”

You knew what she was doing, but you went along with it. No sense in calling her out now when she had a plan, it wouldn’t stop her anyway.

“Eh, whatever. I’m good either way.” You replied breezily.

“I wanna rewatch Carrie so let’s head over. Maybe grabbed some snacks too, I want some sour belts.” Robin said, climbing out of the booth and grabbing your hand, pulling you out. You didn’t really like horror movies and you really hated sour belts, they weren’t even sour, so you knew Robin was milking your ambivalence for all it was worth. What she didn’t know is that you actually kind of liked Carrie and you had a new dress that needed fitting and Robin would be the perfect model for it. Karma was a bitch.

Robin dragged you all the way to Family Video and inside, grinning at Keith and watching him blush as you passed by. He’d told you that he loved you the first and only time you hung out. You never called him back and Robin had to explain to him that saying I love you on a date that wasn’t even a date is the wrong move. Now, he wouldn’t even speak to you, which you didn’t mind.

“Y/N! Go gather as many packs of sour belts as you can get your hands on! I’m gonna find Carrie in the back!” Robin instructed.

“Get something fun too! Like the Princess Bride or something! Something I’ll actually watch!” you called after her. Robin flashed you a thumbs up and you sighed, turning on your heel and heading to the checkout line, grabbing lime green packs of rainbow striped, sugar coated candies off the rack and clutching them to your chest.

Robin found Steve in the back and, with very little pushing, sent him out onto the floor to talk to you. It only took two tries from him to get the courage to go and talk to you.

And again, he scared the shit out of you. He tapped you on the shoulder and you jumped a foot in the air, dropping all the sugary treats.

“Shit sorry!” Steve cried, dropping to his knees to clean up the mess.

“It’s okay!” you replied quickly, following suit. He shouldn’t have to clean up your mess after all. Your hands both rushed to grab the packages and when they brushed one another over the last packet, you couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t nice. The briefest chance of touch set your heart aflutter. You felt like you were ten years old again. He handed the packages over quickly, standing up just as fast. He offered you a hand up, which you took, if only to hold his hand for the briefest of moments. God, who even were you? You pulled it away fast.

“So…what’s with all the sour strips?” he asked, looking over the armful of candy you had.

“They’re Robin’s favourite. She told me to grab a shit ton, so I did. She’s grabbing the movies for tonight.” You explained.

“What movies?”

“Robin wants to watch Carrie. I’m hoping she gets something fun too, like Fast Times at Ridgemount High or The Princess Bride. Something funny.” You replied. You’d never smiled so much in a day, your face was starting to hurt but with Steve you couldn’t help it!

“Oh yeah? Having a sleepover or something?” that cocky Steve Harrington attitude was coming out, but it wasn’t making you as nauseous as it usually would, which was very odd.

“Yeah kind of. Which means Robin’s gonna wanna watch horror movies, eat so many of these until she pukes, and sneak malt whiskey from her father’s liquor cabinet.” You said, not hiding the slight disdain in your voice.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna hem the dress I made for the Roenke County theatre’s production of Romeo and Juliet, sip vodka from my flask, and take away the sour belts when Robin gets sick.”

“Sounds fun?” Steve questioned.

“It probably won’t be,” you chuckled “But it’s not the worst way to spend a night.”

“How’d you think an evening with me would chalk up? In comparison I mean.” Steve asked, his hand coming to the top of the low black shelf to lean into you.

“Well I guess it would depend, what’s your plan?” you asked with a grin.

“Whatever you want.” He murmured softly, smirking far too confidently. You didn’t mind though, you knew what was underneath it all.

“Well, I’d have to think about it…how about you call me sometimes and we’ll talk about it.” You replied slowly, looking him up and down.

“Anytime, you got a pen?” Steve said. You nodded, pulling one out of your purse and grabbing his arm. You scribbled out your number on his palm, trying to make it as legible as possible and ignore how big and warm his hands were.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, that cool?” he said as you watched Robin saunter up too confidently, too proud of herself and of what she’d done.

“Sounds good.” You smiled, ignoring Robin’s cocky leer. “You ready to pay for this shit?” you asked as she walked up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Gimme the belts, I got this.” Robin said, eyeing up Keith like she was going to beat him up. Maybe she was. “Wait in the car, okay? I didn’t bring mine, so you’re driving me home.”

You nodded “Got it.” You turned to Steve, smiling softly “I’ll see you around, Harrington.”

“Definitely.”

[dudeandduchess]

Cooking with Kyōjurō: Cream Puffs (Kyōjurō x F!S/O, Modern AU)

Summary: Kyōjurō is an Executive Chef who’s never been talented with baking and pâtisserie, so he’ll try his hand at really learning the craft— with the help of his wife who’s a pâtissière. Note: This is mostly a self-indulgent fic so I have a reason to brush up on everything I learned in culinary school. So it’ll be mildly educational. Enjoy, bbys!!! 😂🍉🍉🍉 Word Count: 3,020

***

Warnings: Adult Themes, Suggestive Themes, Funny Times, Day Drinking

“Kyō?” (Y/n) called from where she sat at the kitchen counter— idly reaching over to get the wine bottle that she’d set out when her husband had called her to join him for his first pastry lesson. She topped up her empty tea cup, not even batting an eye at the blasphemy that she was doing to such a good bottle of wine.

“Yes, my love?” The aforementioned man answered, his eyes never leaving the flour that he weighed so meticulously on the digital scale. He shook the flour-filled spoon in his hand, and let out a sigh of relief when the numbers hit an exact hundred-fifty.

A smile tugged at his wife’s lips at that, before she took a sip of her wine. “You’ve been measuring ingredients for the past half hour. Do you want me to help you out?”

Kyōjurō adamantly shook his head at that, all while setting aside the bowl of flour— as well as his spoon— and grabbing an empty one to measure water into it. When he was satisfied with the amount, he finally looked up from what his was doing; only to quirk an eyebrow at (Y/n).

“Isn’t it a bit too early to be drinking?” He then looked down at his watch, making a face when he saw that it was only two in the afternoon.

The young woman only shrugged at that, and took another sip of her drink. She then licked her lips to get the remnants of the wine from them, before winking saucily at her husband— whom was staring hard at her mouth. “It’s a rare day off, chef. I can do what I want.”

Kyōjurō laughed at his wife’s gaffe. “Chef? Really, baby?”

“Sorry. Force of habit.” (Y/n) joined in on the blond’s laughter, as she brought an arm up so she could lean her chin against her palm lazily. “You can’t blame me though; I have to call you that at work.”

A brief silence fell upon them after that— but it was nowhere near awkward or stifling; especially when paired with the soft expression that Kyōjurō was pinning her under. It made her heart feel so warm and full of so much love, as it reminded her of why she had fallen in love with him in the first place.

Because he had such a beautiful soul, and always had so much love to give.

Their moment was so peaceful and tranquil— close to perfect with the afternoon sun coming in through the window and illuminating Kyōjurō’s features just right— only to be broken by the loud buzzing of the timer on the oven.

Both of them jumped at the sudden noise, which had Kyōjurō laughing heartily as he set aside the weighing scale, as well as all of the measuring items that he didn’t need anymore.

“So, how do I even start this?”

(Y/n) tried to hide her grin by turning her face to her palm, only to fail when she saw the eye roll that her husband playfully did at her antics. It wasn’t that she was laughing at his eagerness to learn, but her humor had more to do with the fact that she remembered what had brought all of the “pastry lessons” on.

She had been stuck receiving their chocolate orders down in the office, and she had left him in the pastry section (without any pastry hands) to continue the yuzu-verbena cheesecake that she had been making— only for him to stand there in confusion for five minutes, as he read the procedures for it over and over.

Safe to say that he had messed up the recipe, and they had to get rid of sixteen portions of his failed attempt at making cheesecake.

“Baby, I know what you’re thinking.” Kyōjurō whined halfheartedly, as his lips pulled together in an adorable pout.

“What? No.” She feigned innocence, even though both of them knew that he was right in his assumptions. So, to cover up that fact, she immediately swerved their conversation towards the matter at hand. “Okay, so you mix the milk, butter, and water in the sauce pot and bring it up to a simmer with all of the sugar you measured for the choux paste.”

“But it doesn’t say that in the recipe. It said to add all the sugar in the egg yolks.”

(Y/n) polished off the rest of her wine, and filled up her cup again, before answering, “Trust me. It’s better that way, because if you put all of the sugar in the yolks, you’re basically going to cook them. Plus it’s also better to leave adding the sugar to the yolks until the last minute. We’re making cream puffs, not scrambled eggs, babe.”

Kyōjurō’s lips pursed even more at the jibe from his wife, but he sucked it up because it was nothing but a joke. “You’re mean.”

“Me? Mean?” (Y/n) half laughed as she watched her husband turn the stove on and do exactly as she told him to; even setting the bowls with the yolks and the sugar near the stove, for easy access. “I’ll have you know that I’m one of the nicest people in the kitchen. Nice and chill.”

“More like no chill.”

“What was that?”

“I love you, baby.” Kyōjurō covered up his grumbled comment with a wide grin, then set off to unceremoniously dumping the flour in the liquid mixture inside the pot— which sent a flurry of the white powder flying out of the pot; covering the young man’s face and black shirt with the evidence of his callousness.

Meanwhile, (Y/n) could only giggle and take another sip of her wine. “Patience, babe. That’s the secret of all good pastry chefs: patience. Slow and steady wins the race, and all that.”

The young man didn’t even dignify her words with a proper answer, as his brows furrowed in concentration— all while mixing the pâte à choux dough with a wooden spoon.

He put all of his frustrations into mixing the paste into a ball, gritting his teeth all the while and trying not to scream in frustration as his arm muscles began to tense up with the effort he was exerting.

(Y/n) wanted nothing more than to laugh at his plight, but was silenced by the sight of Kyōjurō’s muscles on full display in front of her— making her mouth water, and her thighs subconsciously close as heat built up between them. “Damn, that’s hot.”

“What was that, baby?” Kyōjurō teased his wife, even though he had heard what she said— and was fully aware that he was flexing his muscles a little too much than was necessary.

When she only looked away from him and took another gulp of her wine, he only chuckled as he took the pot off the flame and set it on another burner that was off. “I leave it to cool down for a bit, right?”

(Y/n) nodded at that, deigning her nails much more interesting than her husband— when, in reality, she just didn’t want him to tease her about ogling him even more.

Deciding to have mercy on his wife, Kyōjurō let his teasing remark slide and— instead— walked over to the corner where they had set up the Bluetooth speaker; all so he could connect his phone and start playing something to liven things up even more in the kitchen.

People told them they were crazy for setting up such an amazing speaker in the kitchen, but most people weren’t chefs like him or his wife— so they didn’t understand that they spent more time in the kitchen in their house than any other room.

Especially when it was time to change up the menu for the restaurant. Instead of staying so late over there, they just took their work home with them and set the menu foundations up both the hot kitchen and pastry kitchen together.

“Really, Kyō? Out of all the songs you could have played…” (Y/n) asked, as she promptly cleared her throat when her drink went down the wrong pipe.

“Why not?” Kyōjurō asked with a laugh, as he started rolling his hips to Boombastic’s opening lines; even going as far as singing along to the song with an extremely fake Jamaican accent.

“Mr. Lover Lover, Mmm.” The blond wiggled his eyebrows at his wife, which sent her into a fit of laughter at his antics. All that while walking back to the stove, and still dancing along to the music.

Out of embarrassment, (Y/n) set her tea cup of wine down and cupped her cheeks with both hands— if only to hide the blush that was no longer due to the wine, but because of the sexy way that her husband kept dancing like a male stripper in front of her; all while grinning at her.

He then touched the dough in the pot lightly— getting a good feel of the temperature and dismissing it when he felt that it was still too hot for the eggs. So, when he deigned that it still wasn’t ready to be mixed, he turned his full attention to his flustered wife and almost laughed when she squeaked at the teasing glint that shone in his eyes.

Before she could move off of the bar stool she was sitting on, he sauntered over to where she was— still swaying side to side with the song— and moved behind her, to trap her where she was. And, to take things further, he wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her back flush against his chest.

He had never been more thankful for her insisting to get backless bar stools than at that moment, because he could press his crotch flush against her behind without a back rest between them.

Playfully, Kyōjurō swayed them from side to side, all while singing to the song as best as he could. As if things weren’t embarrassing enough for (Y/n) already, he thrust his crotch up against her with every mention of boom in the line ‘Mr. boom-boom-boom-boom’.

From her cheeks, her hands moved to cover her eyes too— as she began to laugh at her husband’s childish antics. Thankfully, she didn’t have to be subjected to the pleasurable torture for long, since the song ended not long after Kyōjurō had started grinding against her.

However, the blond still didn’t let go of her as a different song played through the speakers. Instead, he pressed his lips to her shoulder, then trailed them up to an exposed spot on her right cheek, before taking it up to her right temple. “Gods, I love you.”

In response to that, (Y/n) lowered her hands and rested them against her husband’s interlocked ones just below her breasts; and then she turned her head so she could press a kiss against his jaw— as it was the easiest spot she could reach from her spot against his chest. “I love you, too… even if you’re such a dork.”

***

“Are you sure you’re going to be fine by yourself?” (Y/n) asked as she bagged up the last of the pastry cream that she had practically wrestled away from Kyōjurō. She had let him do it by himself for the first two times, only to take over his failed projects and salvage them as best as she could.

The first one had been way too thick, which she remedied by adding more cream— while the second one had ended up with clumps of cornstarch from him throwing the powder in the pot in one go. And after passing the thick cream through a fine sieve, it had managed to taste palatable enough for her standards.

It still had so much it could have improved on, but there was no way that she was letting him use another one of her Madagascar vanilla beans.

“Baby, you’re forgetting that I’m an executive chef.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, then snorted out a laugh. “Kyō, you almost cried when the yuzu-verbena cheesecakes didn’t set right, because you added the water you used to bloom the gelatin.”

That put a mild damper on the blond’s mood, and he pursed his lips into a pout as he kept piping out the choux paste that he’d successfully made; all under his wife’s heavy tutelage, though. “I learned from my mistakes. You’re just mean for even bringing that up.”

“Well, your mean wife is going to take a shower now. Please don’t burn anything while I’m gone.”

Her words had Kyōjurō snapping his attention up at her, all while an incredulous look expressed itself on his face. Meanwhile, (Y/n) just laughed at her jibe, before blowing her husband a kiss and taking her leave.

“If Ran-chan wakes up from her nap, be sure to give her some apple juice in her cup.”

“The pink one with the glitters?”

“Yes.”

As soon as she was gone, the young man went back to piping his dough out on the baking sheets; being careful to roll his wrist in the proper piping technique that (Y/n) had taught him. Because, if he were to be honest, his cream puffs would have looked like nothing more than clumps of unmentionables if he hadn’t asked her to teach him how to properly pipe it.

When he was all out of the choux paste, he brushed the tops of the unbaked pastries with the egg wash that his wife had also set up for him, then popped them into the pre-heated oven with a proud smile on his face— enough to rival that of the one that he sported during his and (Y/n)’s wedding.

“Bake nicely, my baby puffs!” He cheered right by the open oven door— even pumping his fist in the air in a show of his unwavering optimism— before closing it gently.

The moment he closed the oven door however, the telltale footsteps of his daughter padded across the floor— before being followed by a loud cry of “Papa!”, as well as the feel of tiny arms and legs wrapping tightly around his left leg.

“Hey, princess.” He grinned down at his daughter, whom was clinging to him much like a koala, and dragged both of them over to the fridge; fetching the apple juice from where they usually keep it, and then going over to the counter to sit her down on top of one of the bar stools.

After setting the juice down in front of his little girl, Kyōjurō rushed over to get her cup from one of the cupboards so he could fill it up with her after-nap drink.

“How was your nap, sweetheart?” He asked, giving Ran the cup while fishing his phone from his pocket so he could change the music to something more suitable for a four-year-old girl.

“It was really amazing, papa! I want more, but I’m not sleepy anymore.” She huffed at the last part, pouting so adorably that he couldn’t help but grip his chest when his heart skipped a beat at how cute his daughter was.

He then leaned forward to drop a kiss against the top of her head once— twice— thrice— and five more times, until the little girl was giggling and trying to push him away with one hand; while the other one held on tight to the juice-filled cup.

By the time that (Y/n) returned to the kitchen, her husband and their daughter were on the floor— so engrossed with playing with Ran’s dolls; and she almost smiled at the cute scene, when she caught a whiff of the very faint scent of something burnt. “Kyō! The cream puffs!”

Abruptly, Kyōjurō dropped the dolls that he was holding in his hands— racing over to the oven and pulling the door open frantically; completely panicked, especially when he saw the charcoal-colored state that his cream puffs were at.

He looked left and right, looking for a kitchen towel to get the piping hot tray; but when he found none, he looked down at his shirt before whipping it off and using that as his makeshift towel.

Meanwhile, (Y/n) raced over to the windows and opened them up as wide as they would go— praying to all the beings in heaven that the excess smoke coming from the oven wouldn’t make the smoke alarms go off.

In a harebrained moment of panic, Kyōjurō tossed the piping hot tray in the sink— right before washing his mildly singed hands under the tap.

“Kyō! NO!” (Y/n) screeched; just a few seconds too late as the water hit the tray— causing excessive amounts of steam to rise up with how hot it was; and inevitably reaching the smoke alarm.

The shrill sound of the alarm sounding off had all three Rengokus throwing their hands over their ears, and had Ran screaming as she ran out of the room— as Kyōjurō had once, jokingly, instructed her to do if the smoke alarm ever went off.

(Y/n)’s eyes narrowed at her husband, whom had just buried his face in his hands and doubled over in front of the sink— with the water still running and making his pseudo-charcoal cream puffs a soggy mess.

And, to make matters worse, when the Rengoku matriarch looked out the window she had opened, she saw her daughter out in the yard— screaming “stop, drop, and roll” at the top of her lungs as she did just those things on the grass. Even going as far as to get up after she was done rolling on the ground, and doing it again. Repetitively.

There was never a boring day in the Rengoku household, that much was established with their neighbors— the Tomiokas.

Thankfully, they were already more than used to all of the crazy happenings that went on in their home; especially when it involved Kyōjurō.

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Undercover- Throne of Glass AU (4)

And here we go with another chap! This is actually one of my favourites so I hope you enjoy it:))

Undercover Masterlist.

Full Masterlist.

This gif will have to do🙂

—————

Manon didn’t come back until late in the evening, a blank and dead mask across her face. There were still remnants of blood on her hands and on her clothes, as if she liked having it there, and liked seeing it. Dorian was on his feet in an instant, moving to her side but he didn’t touch, just letting his hands hover until she nodded in consent. They disappeared up the stairs not long after and Aelin didn’t bother to go and talk to them, she’d find out what she needed in the morning. Gavriel had checked over Yrene as soon as they’d got back, clearing both mother and baby to be just fine. Everyone had let out a collective sigh of relief at the words. The twins had taken over from there, not letting Yrene out of their sight, Fenrys making joke after joke to try and distract her while Connall followed her around the house, fluffing pillows, getting her drinks and hitting Fenrys over the back of the head when he said something rude.

Aelin had sent Elide and Lysandra of to Ren’s- Lorcan offering to go along with them just in case, something she snorted at because he clearly liked to ogle her second -, asking them to gather all of the latest intel on that fucking bastard Arobynn and anything they could find on Cortland. Sam. She had loved him, once upon a time, and she had thought he’d loved her but that had all gone to shit hadn’t it. It took her a while after, to admit that she was wrong about him, that he hadn’t cared at all. And now, now, he was helping that sadistic prick, knowing exactly what he wants from Aelin, just like he’d known all of those years ago. He’d pay, by her hand; she’d make him pay for what he had done and was likely yet to do.

She had left everyone to their own devices and had come outside to sit in the stupid garden swing Lys had forced them to get years ago. It must have been about an hour since she’d come outside, everything now dark and the sky clear enough to look at the stars, when Aelin heard the slide of the door and she looked up to see Whitehorn stepping outside. He really was a beautiful man and the sight of him always made her mouth dry. He had a tattoo along the left side of his face, and when they’d been sparring that morning, she’d found it flowed down his neck to the left side of his chest and down his left arm. Aelin had enjoyed their fight immensely, watching him all sweaty and bare chested, calculating pine green eyes tracking her every move. When she’d brought their hips together, she hadn’t expected him to falter like that, nor had she expected to feel a certain part of him to react to the touch. Perhaps that little fact would benefit her; after all, just one time couldn’t hurt, could it?

She came back into herself when the swing shifted and he sat beside her; there was an irritating tingly sensation between her legs, causing her to cross them over as she turned her head to look at the man. “Is there something that I can help you with, Whitehorn?”

He looked her over from top to bottom, noticing her now crossed legs and how she rubbed her thighs together, and smirked when their eyes met once more. Looked like someone was very sure of himself wasn’t he? “No, ma’am, just checking everything was alright. You have been out here for quite a while.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing it was most likely Aedion who’d sent him out here. Her cousin always checked on her when she did this, coming outside to clear her head and gather her thoughts, but she bit his head off every time. “Yes, I’m fine. And what did I say about the ‘ma’am’ business?”

He laughed lightly and Aelin felt something flutter in her stomach when he followed it with a whispered, “My apologies, Ace.” She felt her face heat up and so she tipped her head back, focusing on the stars and looking for shapes so he wouldn’t see. Suddenly the swing started to sway and she squeaked a little, internally cursing herself. She was meant to be feared by everyone, not acting like a sissy girl. Whitehorn laughed again and she couldn’t help meeting his gaze once more, watching him lean back, one arm over the back of the swing and his fingers just grazed her shoulder. God, it was ridiculous how much she wished it was more than just a light touch, that they were touching everywhere, preferably without clothes on.

“If we’re going to be insistent on the names thing, then please, call me Rowan.” Fuck, his voice. It was low and soft and she started imaging what it would feel like if he spoke against her skin. Aelin dragged in a deep breath and ignored how shaky it was when she let go of it to answer.

“If that’s what you want, then Rowan it is. May I ask you something?”

He nodded once, just a dip of his chin. “When we left the Westfall’s earlier and left Manon with the scumbags, your guys looked a little sick but you, you barely even flinched. I would have thought in our line of work, one gets used to the death part.”

She watched as a cold mask settled over his face; that light hearted smile gone and eyes turned vacant. Now she wished she hadn’t said anything. “You had said it in that room yourself, they were rapists, abusers and traffickers. They also thought about killing a pregnant woman, a child. They got what was coming to them in my opinion.”

Humming, she tilted her head from side to side slightly before saying, “Valid point, but then your comrades would agree with you. So I’m thinking that something has affected you more than them, yes?” Rowan’s face turned from blank to furious at the question and he swore under his breath, getting up from the swing and shoving his hands into his pockets, keeping his back to her. As much as she wanted to know the story, to know why he had reacted as he did, she found that she couldn’t help wanting to comfort him. “Hey look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry and you don’t have to tell me.”

One of his hands came up to push through his hair before he rubbed his face, and then he twisted back to face her, now looking a little sad and sighed. “You really want to know?”

Aelin thought he was going to storm off inside, not actually spill secrets. Safe to say she was very intrigued now.

oOoOo

Rowan felt like someone was tearing his heart through his chest as he watched Ace. Watched as she stood too, walking to his side slowly and tilting her head back to look at him, smiling gently as she nodded. Fuck she looked amazing, her haired piled on top of her head with a few wayward strands caressing her cheeks. Her turquoise eyes glinted in the moonlight and looked like they were sparkling. She was fucking magnificent and he sure as hell should not be thinking of her like that. He pushed all thoughts of her to the back of his mind as he began telling his story, the story that changed his life forever.

“I had been best friends with this girl since I was little. Her name was Lyria. We grew up together, we did absolutely everything together. People always said that we were ‘joined at the hip’ or whatever.” Ace’s eyes stayed focused on his face but he felt her hand come up and touch his arm- his left arm for crying out loud -and softly run her hand up and down. He closed his eyes, shocked by the comfort her touch gave him, and then opened them once more to continue before he lost all of his nerve. “We always got the same question of ‘aren’t the two of you dating yet?’ and yes we had tried once but kissing her felt as though I was kissing my sister, if I’d had one. She was the same and we agreed to never speak of it.”

Ace laughed a little as her hand stopped to rest on his forearm and so Rowan brought his right one up to place it on top. He ignored how good it felt to touch her, ignored the fire it tried igniting in the pit of his stomach. “One day we ended up at a party together, both got absolutely piss drunk, and fell into bed together. Neither of us had actually remembered the sex, for which I was grateful, but we could piece bits together and we were both naked the next morning.” His breath started getting shaky and he gritted his teeth at the onslaught of emotions. He hadn’t actually talked about this, not really and it fucking hurt. The woman in front of him could tell clearly, moving to take his hand in both of hers and squeezed gently.

“Months later, she turned up at the house, barging into my room as she usually would and threw something at me. It was a pregnancy test...” he trailed off, eyes closing again and tipping his head back, much like Ace had done not even ten minutes ago. Rowan heard her suck in a sharp breath and rub her thumb across his knuckles.

“You don’t have to say anymore, it’s alright, Rowan.” She whispered it quietly between them, words drifting off into the night air. He shook his head quickly before dropping his head but keeping his eyes closed. He didn’t think he could look at her for the next bit; he didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes. In all honesty, he had no idea why he was telling her anyway, she was his fucking enemy. Yes, he could say it was to get close to her, to gain her trust but he didn’t have to tell her something so deep and painful. So why the fuck did he even feel like he wanted to tell her all of it?

“No, no...” Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. “We may not have been a couple but she was my best friend and I told her I’d stay with her, that we’d do it together. One day she’d been so, so excited for some reason and I was confused but when I asked her, all Lyria did was lift her tshirt up. I was confused until I saw what made her so happy. She had started showing, and you could see that wonderful little baby bump. We had things to do that day, but after that, I said we’d meet up later.” Rowan was crying now, but he hadn’t realised he was until a soft but slightly calloused hand started brushing the tears away. “Several hours later, I got the call that she’d been in a car accident. By the time I got to the hospital it was too late, both Lyria and my baby were gone. I was angry and hateful and my other best friend, Lorcan, suffered from the fall out. To this day we still don’t know what happened, but were told by her father, who was driving, that someone purposely drove at them and that his car had been tampered with.”

He was openly sobbing now, chest wracking with each one and his hands were shaking. He’d never get to know his baby, never get to watch them grow up, take their first steps or hear their first word. There would be no watching Lyria come into herself as a mother, no chance of them to be the parents they had wanted to be. Everything had been ripped away from him in a second, and the worst part was that there were still no answers. Rowan was enveloped into Ace’s arms and she tucked his head into her neck while whispering into his ear, all comforting things and rubbed one hand up and down his back. She smelt of jasmine and lemon verbena which clouded his senses and being in her arms felt so, so fucking good but it should have been wrong. Slowly he wrapped his arms around her slim waist, just breathing in that intoxicating smell. He had no idea how long they stood there just holding each other, but eventually there was a click and the sound of the door sliding. They pulled apart abruptly and put enough distance between them to not look suspicious as Connall’s voice called out “Yo Boss! There’s someone on the phone and apparently he won’t speak to anyone but you.”

“Alright Con, I’ll be right in! And enough with the ‘Boss’ for fucks sake!” Connall just laughed before sliding the door closed, leaving him and Ace alone once more. He was about to say something, anything but she beat him to it, clearing her throat gently.

“So um, you just take your time and come in when you’re ready. Also for what it’s worth, the pain of losing people gets better, you still feel it but it’s not a crushing wait after a while. I’ll see you back inside Rowan.” He stared after her as she walked back into the house, eyes tracking down to her ass before he caught himself, clenching his hands into fists. When he was finally alone, he didn’t know what to do with himself. This mission was simple. Get in, get close, get information and then bring them all down. But right now, he didn’t fucking want to do any of that and he wanted to hold that woman in his arms again. She felt so good and it was like she belonged with him at that moment. He was screaming at himself internally for letting his guard down like that, for letting her weasel her way in. If he didn’t get control of himself, of his traitorous brain then he was screwed.

So utterly and catastrophically fucking screwed.

—————

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[samgtt700]

The Will of Time

Chapter Seven

Previous chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Kamilah x MC

The outskirts of Alexandria proved a safe haven to the downtrodden, the escaping slaves and those who didn’t want to be found. Kamilah knew the house was abandoned, her memories of her past giving them a desperately needed hideout, this is where Gaius waited for her, allowing Kamilah to pack a bag, a bag she would carry with her full of personal possessions, ones she still treasured and protected at all costs. Her mortal life packed away, like her heart for so long before Alice. Kamilah wiped the tears that pricked her eyes, her emotions weren’t so easy to hold back anymore, the love of her life softening her but she would never admit it. Not to anyone, except Alice. Who already knew. On the outskirts of Alexandria her life was altered for the first of many times, this is where she said goodbye to her mortal life, to her brother, to her family. Kamilah turned to see her brother, struggling to hold onto his. She had said goodbye once, she wasn’t sure if she could do it a second time. But she didn’t want to condemn him to a life in darkness. Kamilah walked back over to Alice’s side after her small break, taking over from Lily who went downstairs.

Kamilah slowly grasped Alice’s hand between her own, gentle with her wife, having pulled out every arrow in the brutal attack her wife defended her past mortal self from. She wasn’t sure whether to envy or scold Alice for her bravery. But she knew there would be more fights to come, and Alice would be in the centre of it once more. And she would stand at her side without any hesitation, facing it all. Her breathing steady compared to the struggled her brother faced, Kamilah squeezed her eyes shut and kissed her wife’s hand. “I need you to be okay. I can’t live without you.” She whispered against her soft pale skin. Dorian showed no mercy towards Alice and Kamilah would do the same, give no quarter. She would kill him for even touching her wife. Her eyes flashing red for the briefest of moments as her blood boiled at the thought of everything Dorian had done in her absence. How he had destroyed so much of her home. She didn’t understand why he went back to ancient Egypt but knew it didn’t matter, he would only fail once more and this time, his failure would cost him his life.

Alice shifted, slowly blinking as she went to move when Kamilah squeezed her hand. “I’m here.” Kamilah kissed her hand. “I’ve got you.”

Alice opened her eyes as she sat up, seeing her wife. “Kamilah...” she barely moved when Kamilah hugged her, pulling her on to her lap. Wrapping her up tight, in her arms, in the safety they offered.

“I thought I lost you.” Kamilah let her tears stream freely down her cheeks, not concerned for appearances. It had been too long since she held her wife, and every moment since. This was all she dreamed of. Her hand cupping the back of Alice’s neck. “I was so worried.”

“I’m here.” Alice buried her head in Kamilah’s neck, “I’m okay.” breathing in her lavender scent, trying to hold back a grimace when it hurt to breath, her ribs aching. “I can’t believe your here. How did you find me, is this a dream?”

Kamilah whispered. “This is real. I’m here.” Cupping the back of Alice’s neck. Holding her wife, at last in her arms. After what felt like years, her heart pounding, terrified of losing Alice for the first time since the Opera house. “I’d go to the ends of the earth for you. I love you Alice, so much.”

“I love you too.” Alice whispered back, a symphony to Kamilah’s heart. Her hands scrunching up Kamilah’s jacket. Her tears soaking Kamilah’s shirt.

Kamilah kissed the top of Alice’s head. Gently stroking her hair. “I’m not leaving your side again, god forbid anyone who tries.”

Alice softly chuckled. “I belong here. With you.”

“What happened when you landed through the portal?” Kamilah pulled back, caressing Alice’s cheek. “How did you end up with my brother?”

“I landed near his camp. Glad you taught me some ancient Egyptian.” Alice admitted, a little nervous when she realised she might have to explain she made out with mortal Kamilah. “It was enough to get me a meeting with your cousin Cleopatra. Your cousin is different.”

“My cousin has a flair for the dramatic.” Kamilah rolled her eyes, a small chuckle escaping before she stopped herself. “Nothing has changed in the two thousand years since I last saw her.”

“She hosted a b-”

“It was the last time I saw my brother alive before he died.” Kamilah remembered well. “We both laughed at our cousins attempt to marry Lysimachus off to one of the nobles.”

“Nothing like that. Though you should know mortal and immortal you are still similar.”

“We are?” Kamilah scoffed. “It’s been so long and I’m an entirely different person now.” Kamilah pecked Alice’s cheek.

Alice shook her head. “Not the point but your both intense and stubborn.”

Kamilah squeezed Alice’s hand, “stubborn runs in the family.”

“I know. Could tell that from the minute I met your brother. Who flirted every second he could until he knew the truth.”

“What truth?”

“Your awake.” Lily stepped up ahead of Serafine. Kamilah sighing when she couldn’t continue to press Alice for answers about what the truth meant with Lysimachus, she felt like it would effect her somehow.

Kamilah and Alice pulled away from each other. “Hey.” Alice sheepishly smiled. Kamilah shifting to grasp her left hand.

“How you feeling?” Lily asked. Pressing a hand to Alice’s shoulder as Serafine stood a few feet back, arms crossed. Her gaze fixed on Alice’s wounds.

“Sore but alive.” Alice touched her abdomen, gritting her teeth in pain. “I just remember getting hit by an arrow, Dorian talking about himself.”

“What did Dorian say?” Serafine asked.

Alice rubbed her temple. “About how I would watch Kamilah turn to ash.”

“Hmm...” Serafine glanced at Lily worriedly. “We don’t know where he is.”

Alice struggled to breath. Gritting her teeth. “Did I break my ribs?”

“You were in bad shape Alice.” Lily glanced at Lysimachus. “Between Lysimachus and you. I’m amazed your both alive.”

Alice saw Lysimachus, laying on a bed of his own. Bloodied and bruised. Struggling to breath, his breath shallow. She could feel how his heart struggled to keep up, “does he have long?”

“We don’t know yet. He needs a hospital but we can’t do much but monitor him for any changes.” Serafine answered. “I’m sorry Kamilah. I know how hard this must be.”

“I’m doing okay.” Kamilah smiled, glancing back at Alice.

“What’s going to happen?” Alice asked, rubbing her temple. “We staying here? I want to go home. I miss my bed. No offence Kamilah but your beds suck here.”

“Nothing quite beats our bed at home, the comfort zone we’ve worn in.” Kamilah gently rubbed Alice’s lower back. Sighing slowly when she realised they couldn’t leave yet, they needed answers and a solution to the problem. “We’re not going anywhere until we’ve found Dorian and put an end to his schemes.”

“I don’t know where he is.” Alice rubbed her neck. Feeling a spider scratch at her mind. Unsure what to make of it but remembering the times Rheya tried to enter her mind and how it felt similar.

“Let’s leave you to get some rest.” Lily said.

Serafine agreed with a curt nod. “We’ll need you Alice at full strength to find Dorian and his followers.”

“His followers?”

“Gaius is helping-“

Alice interrupted. “Gaius is missing an arm. I cut it off.”

“Nice.” Lily squeezed Alice’s shoulder.

“He could sense I was a vampire and it confused him.” Alice shrugged.

“He hasn’t turned anyone yet.” Kamilah knew. She was the first person Gaius turned.

Adrian walked up alone. “We’ve spotted scouts on the horizon.”

“Do they know we’re here?” Kamilah asked.

Adrian shook his head. “I think for the moment Lysimachus and you should stay inside. It might buy us more time.”

“Sounds like a plan for the moment but we should make this place more defensible.” Katherine appeared beside him, offering some food. “We managed to get some fruit from a local market.”

“We need blood.” Adrian insisted. “Specifically. Alice needs blood. I doubt your wounds have healed by the way your grimacing every time you breath.”

“I hate to admit it but he’s right.” Alice sighed. “I need blood.”

“What if Alex and Adrian jump back to modern New York and bring back more blood?” Lily suggested.

“That will work. And in the meantime. The rest of us can prepare for whatever is coming. Dorian will know we’re here and it won’t take long for him to find us.” Kamilah suggested. She caressed Alice’s cheek before smiling. “Why don’t you get a bit more sleep in the meantime?”

“Okay.” Alice nodded. “Can you stay?”

Kamilah nodded. Everyone leaving them. Alice snuggling into Kamilah’s side as they laid together.

——————————————————————————

Gaius stared at Cleopatra and Dorian as they discussed battle plans, glancing down at his missing arm, unable to fathom how he was so easily defeated. But not fearing the next encounter, wanting blood for what had been done, for the injustice he felt was given. “Whoever they were. One of them was a vampire. But she was not of Xenocrates or my blood. Whatever she is. She possessed abilities even I do not have.”

Dorian uncrossed his arms as he stepped over. Putting his hand on Gaius’s arm. Healing the wound. “She is of Rheya’s blood, far beyond anything you can imagine and not the last time you will face her.” He spoke calmly, not afraid of the young vampire, not concerned about her abilities. “She has been a vampire for little over a decade. You will defeat her next time because we will not be alone.”

“What is your means of defeating them?” Cleopatra asked. Staring at Dorian. “My cousins can raise an army against me if they desired. It’s why my parents organised the death of their father. He was plotting to take the throne of Egypt, and my mother was the reason why Kamilah and Lysimachus survived the attempted coup.”

“It does not matter. I will kill Kamilah. She will die at my hands!” Dorian slammed his hands into the table, his eyes narrowing at Gaius. “You will simply be a distraction. a means to an end.”

“To what?” Gaius stood, walking over.

“To Octavian.” Dorian straightened his clothes. Opening a portal behind him. “I suggest Cleopatra, you prepare for war.”

“Against who?” Cleopatra asked.

Dorian spoke calmly, they will simply be a distraction for When my men attack,. “Your cousins will not be an easy fight, we will need an army to defeat them.” 

Cleopatra glared, crossing her arms before approaching Dorian and poking his leather jacket. “Your men? You mean to tell me you’ve had more men but have failed to let them intervene? Pathe-” 

Dorian gripped her chin tight, squeezing. “We let Kamilah and her friends think I’m alone so when we attack. We will overwhelm them.”

Gaius growled. “Let her go. This was not part of Octavian’s agreement.”

Dorian released Cleopatra, letting her hit the ground in a flurry. “You don’t know what Octavian wants. You don’t even know what you want.”

Gaius glared before feeling a hand pressed against his chest, Cleopatra doing enough to stop him for the moment. “Not yet. We need him. Whether you agree or not.” Dorian departed through a portal. Leaving the duo alone. “I want you to kill him once he’s done his job.”

“Kill him?”“ Gaius scoffed. “Octavian wanted him alive.”

“And I want him dead. You would rather serve a general or a Queen?” Cleopatra asked. “I won’t make you bow before me, make you lesser than what you are.”

Gaius stepped away, rubbing his shaven jawline as he thought over Cleopatra’s words. “Octavian wants Egypt. I agreed to help him. He offered me a sanctuary.”

“Do you really think Octavian wants to offer a sanctuary to a man who is more powerful than him and could easily take his place. He is like his father.” Cleopatra didn’t mince words and did what she was known for. Bewitching men and she was tying Gaius around her little fingers, like she had done to Anthony and Caesar before him.

Gaius sighed. “What do you want of me? My Queen?” He turned, fangs bared, his eyes red as the blood in her veins, his nails scraping her skin as he could feel it pulsing, hot and fiery.

“I want you to make me your Queen.” Cleopatra didn’t hesitate for more power, to seize Egypt and the world. Gaius smiling wickedly before approaching, pushing some jewels aside from the veins coursing through her body, sinking his fangs into her and turning her into a vampire. 

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[goldenraeofsun]

Won’t you come on over, baby?

A continuation of this verse

“Kick his ass, Peppy!”

Kevin glares across the softball field at the opposite team’s coach. “Can he say that?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “He can say whatever he wants to say. He’s a teacher.”

“He’s surrounded by impressionable minds!” Kevin insists.

Claire picks at her cuticles. “We’re sixteen. Not five. Everyone here has heard the word ‘ass’ before. And if you haven’t, I’ve got some bad news for you.”

“Why are you here, anyway?” Kevin shoots back.

“The view,” Claire says, leaning back against the bleachers smugly.

“This is a girl’s softball game,” Kevin says stupidly.

Claire tugs her ponytail straight. “Oh gee, nothing gets past you, Kev, does it?” She wolf whistles because she can.

Kevin freezes, his eyes narrowed.

Channing turns around on the bench and glares at her.

“Don’t perv on my girlfriend,” Kevin huffs.

“As if,” Claire sniffs. “Channing is not my type.”

“What is?”

“Shut up and watch the game, nerd.”

“The mascots are racing for a plastic trophy. There isn’t a game to watch yet,” Kevin points out. He glances at his watch. “It doesn’t start for ten minutes.”

“Fine, then sit down and shut up. I can hardly hear myself think.”

Kevin crosses his arms across his chest.

They sit in stony silence for the rest of the sham race. Claire buries her head in her hands as Peppy the Pigeon beats Oscar the Owl handily. “Why do we suck so hard?” she groans.

“Probably because we focus on academics rather than athletics,” a new, familiar voice says mildly.

“Mr. Novak!” Kevin squeaks. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to watch the game,” Mr. Novak says as he stands over them. “Claire, can you move over?”

“No.”

“Claire,” Kevin hisses, scandalized. How could she just say that to a teacher?

“Find your own seat, Uncle Castiel,” Claire says without looking up.

“You’re her uncle?” he blurts before he can stop himself.

“Yes, as much as Claire would like to deny it,” Mr. Novak says as he sits down gingerly in the little room left on their bench.

Claire begrudgingly shifts. She digs her elbow into Kevin’s side when he doesn’t move out of the way quickly enough. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you at any games before,” Claire says, her eyes trained on the opposing team. A dark-haired girl walks up to the plate, her wild curls tucked into a ponytail under her helmet.

“I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

“What fuss?” Claire asks, eyebrows raised. “We suck.”

“We’re not that bad,” Kevin protests. “We won the first game.”

“And lost the four since then,” Claire says dispassionately.

“That’s… not a good record,” Mr. Novak says delicately, his blue eyes narrowing as they survey the opposite team.

“It’s their new coach,” Kevin says, nose wrinkling. “They weren’t this good last year.”

Mr. Novak hums. “Then we’ll just have to step up to the plate.”

Claire snorts. “You are such a doof.”

Kevin shoots her an offended look on behalf of Mr. Novak. Kevin tells him, “He’s their new English teacher, or something.”

“Or something,” Mr. Novak echoes distractedly.

Claire sits up in her seat, looking at Mr. Novak with wide-eyes. “No way,” she breathes.

“What?” Kevin asks.

“You like him,” Claire says gleefully to Mr. Novak.

And Mr. Novak… blushes.

Claire whacks him in the arm. “Oh my God, I am so telling Dad.”

Mr. Novak silences her with a look. “Your father has no business in my love life. Or lack thereof,” he adds.

“Uh huh,” Claire says, and Kevin has never seen her this self-satisfied, including the time she got that 97 on Ms. Flagstaff’s midterm, the highest in the class. She turns to Kevin. “What’s his name?”

“Whose?”

“The softball coach,” Claire says impatiently. “Keep up, Kev.”

Kevin throws her a look. “Why do you think I would know?”

“Because you’re the most competitive person in sophomore year, so you know everything about everybody,” Claire says matter-of-factly.

Kevin tries not to look too pleased with himself. “I heard his name is Mr. Winchester.”

Claire quickly nudges Mr. Novak for confirmation, who sighs. “Yes, his name is Dean Winchester. But that’s all you’re getting out of me.”

Claire’s eyes gleam with challenge. “Have you talked to him, Uncle Castiel?”

“Yes.”

Claire groans. “You are no fun at all.”

“That is why I became a teacher,” Mr. Novak deadpans.

Kevin grins. “You’re a little fun.”

“Thank you, Kevin.”

Claire coughs. It sounds suspiciously like “suckup.”

All three of them watch the next few batters in silence, booing as Edlund scores their first run.

“Okay Mr. Know-it-all,” Claire starts, and Kevin isn’t sure if she’s talking to him or her uncle. “What do you know about her?”

“Who?”

“The girl who just scored,” Claire says, and Kevin can tell from the way Mr. Novak tilted his head, he’s listening in too.

“Nieves?” Kevin says. Claire doesn't react. “Not much. She’s a sophomore. Softball is her only extracurricular.”

Claire wrinkles her nose. “You’re no help.”

“Her best subject is English,” Mr. Novak says, surprising them both. “She’s won several short fiction awards for her horror novellas.”

“How do you know that?” Claire says, her mouth falling open.

Mr. Novak shrugs. “Teachers talk.”

“You mean, you talk to Mr. Winchester,” Claire clarifies.

Mr. Novak shoots a quelling look her way. “I pay attention to gifted students. And despite Principal Adler’s assurances to the contrary, they aren’t all enrolled at Carver.”

“Are you hoping to poach her?”

Mr. Novak shrugs. “She seems happy at Edlund,” he says, “but I have been exploring scholarship options just in case.”

“You should get her to transfer,” Claire says firmly.

“Why?” Mr. Novak asks.

Kevin rolls his eyes. “Because Claire has a crush,” he says, sing-songing the last word.

Claire punches him, hard, in the arm.

Ow, he mouths as Mr. Novak looks the other way.

“Shut up, Kevin.”

“You’re not subtle at all,” Kevin hisses.

Claire mimes slitting her own throat, her glare murderous.

Kevin sits back in his seat, his arm throbbing with victory. He knew something was up with Claire ever since she started coming to these games. She never came to a single one last year, so it was usually just Kevin and a bunch of parents.

Athletics really weren’t all that popular at Carver Preparatory.

But then Claire wandered onto the bleachers sometime around Game 2, and she’s been his steady, if annoying and cranky, companion ever since. It was a mystery, Kevin had been puzzling over for weeks.

He’d thought she was cool, the bad girl of Carver who wore a leather jacket over their uniform and heavy eyeliner. Turns out, she’s a big softie over nice hair and dark eyes.

“You should go over and talk to Mr. Winchester,” Claire says loudly.

Mr. Novak shakes his head. “He looks busy.”

“He looks like he’s yelling at the umpire,” Claire says gleefully.

“Like I said, busy,” Mr. Novak says pointedly.

“How well do you know him, anyway?” Claire asks.

“As well as two educators in separate but competing schools would know each other, I suppose,” Mr. Novak says.

“Yeah, that tells me exactly zip,” Claire says derisively. “How come you aren’t sitting with lover boy, anyway?”

“Claire!” Mr. Novak says sharply.

“What?” Claire crosses her arms across her chest. “I’m just saying.”

“I am still loyal to Carver Preparatory,” Mr. Novak says primly, nodding to the team.

Claire rolls her eyes. “I bet you’re just chicken.”

“I am not ‘chicken.’”

This was not the first time Kevin saw Mr. Novak do literal air quotes, but it never ceases to amaze him. 

“Are too,” Claire says, and who the hell ever told Kevin girls mature faster than boys?

Mr. Novak rolls his eyes to the sky, as if praying for patience. “Please drop it, Claire.”

“You really are no fun,” Claire huffs.

“I try my best,” Mr. Novak says, his voice dry as the Sahara.

They watch the next few innings, growing steadily more silent as Edlund racks up more runs and Carver… does not.

Kevin still cheers when Channing hits the ball. He winces when she gets tagged out at third base.

Claire hangs her head in shame as the two teams line up to slap hands and mutter “good game.” She grumbles, “I don’t know why I keep coming to these things. I’m not a masochist.”

“No, you just like the opportunity to ogle our athletic rivals,” Kevin quips.

“You’re on thin fucking ice, buddy,” Claire says blindly swatting in his direction as she watches Nieves drink from a water bottle.

Mr. Novak cuts in, “Language, Claire.”

“Bite me.”

Mr. Novak opens his mouth, but someone else interjects first, their tone playful, “You gonna take that lying down, Cas?”

Claire’s mouth falls open. “‘Cas’?” she repeats, her eyes wide as she takes in Mr. Novak, looking like a deer caught in the headlights..

Mr. Winchester, because of course it’s Mr. Winchester, clambers up on the bleachers. “I can’t believe you finally showed,” he tells Mr. Novak.

Mr. Novak’s face pinches. “I told you I would come.”

Mr. Winchester grins, slow and easy. “Yeah, but I didn’t believe you.”

Mr. Novak releases a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t you have children to wrangle?”

“I came here to collect my winnings.”

“Come on,” Mr. Novak complains, “That was hardly a serious bet.”

“Never pegged you for a sore loser, Cas,” Mr. Winchester taunts.

“Fine,” Mr. Novak grumbles as he leans forward and quickly presses his mouth to Mr. Winchester’s. “There, happy?”

“I’m friggin’ awesome,” Mr. Winchester says.

Claire rounds on Mr. Novak, her face accusatory. “Just two educators blah blah blah my ass.”

Mr. Winchester’s eyebrows rise, his face disapproving and maybe a little impressed. “I thought all you guys at Edlund were a bunch of dweebs.”

“Dean,” Mr. Novak says through gritted teeth, “Meet my niece, Claire.”

“The rest of ‘em are all dweebs, trust me,” Claire says dispassionately, jerking her head towards Kevin.

Claire Novak is officially the worst.

“I’m Kevin Tran,” Kevin says, ignoring her. “Mr. Novak is my Latin teacher.”

“Well, whaddya know,” Mr. Winchester drawls, “He was mine too.”

“He was?” Kevin asks, looking from Mr. Novak to Mr. Winchester and back again. “But you’re…”

“Old,” Claire finishes for him.

Mr. Novak sighs loudly.

Mr. Winchester snorts. “He was my tutor in high school, actually. We were in the same year.”

Mr. Novak turns pointedly to Mr. Winchester. “Don’t you have a team to get back to?”

“Oh, crap, yeah,” Mr. Winchester says with a wild look around. He ducks down, kisses Mr. Novak again before he can do anything about it, and jumps down off the bleachers.

“I can’t believe you’re dating a jock,” Claire says dispassionately as they watch Mr. Winchester sprint across the field.

Mr. Novak puts his head in his hands.