#he started off REALLY bad but he's gotten a lot better now with practice + little chef's supervision

[heartslight]

i lean full into the abilities and keyblades the games give sora.

attraction flow moves? sora loves to use them whenever possible and his favorites are the pirate ship / splash run / mad tea cups. it takes a lot of his energy to cast mountain coaster, so sora only saves it for very special battles and occasions. if he does end up using mountain coaster, he'll need a few hours before he can cast another one.

his flowmotion? constant use. there is nothing sora loves more to quickly cross distances and jump crazy high with his flowmotion. it does start to wear him out when used too consistently, so sora tries not to lean on it too heavily.

his keyblades? sora stores his keychains in his room in the gummi ship, but he always has at least three on him (per the three equipable keyblades you could have in kh3) plus the ultimate keychain. his current three keyblades are kingdom key, shooting star, and wheel of fate. the ultima keyblade is a last resort, since using that keyblade and its formchange will put sora out of commission for the next few days.

his summons? sora summons his friends whenever he can. he tries not to play favorites but he summons meow wow more often than anyone else. summoning leaves him completely drained of magic but he really doesn't mind, since it's a chance to see old (and new!) friends again!

[lovelybucky1]

Oooohh i have a request!:

Playing “never have i ever” or something like that with logan and wade (maybe along the lines of a boring friday night with nothing else to do) and you admit to never having an orgasm by anyone but yourself

Flash forward you’re in logan’s arms and wade is eating the fuck out of your pussy, and then they switch 👀👀

i’ve written something similar two the second part here, but i love the never have i ever idea! // divider from @strangergraphics

boredom isn’t something heroes are used to. there’s always something happening somewhere, someone needing to be saved. but tonight, everything is quiet. the three of you were suspicious at first, but you checked every police scanner, news outlet, and all of your contacts and came up with nothing. the bad guys had decided to take an evening off, and now you were stuck with nothing to do.

you, wade, and logan all sit around in the living room with bottles of beer. you and wade stare at the mindless gameshow on tv while logan rests his eyes. you’re definitely bored, but wade is restless. it’s like he’s itching for something to do, like his body is physically unable to handle the inactivity.

“why don’t we play a game?” wade asks, startling logan awake.

the two of you look over at wade. “what kind of game?” you ask.

“i don’t know, ‘never have i ever?’”

logan rolls his eyes, then shuts them again. he’ll deny any “old man” comments, but he really is one. you elbow logan in the side and he opens them again.

“come on, it’ll be fun,” wade pleads.

“it’s not like we have anything better to do,” you say to logan. reluctantly, he agrees.

you reposition yourselves in the living room. you sit on the couch, leaned against the arm with your feet in logan’s lap, who sits on the other end. wade sits on the floor by the coffee table, his beer on the table without a coaster next to him.

“this is your game, wilson. you start,” logan says before taking a sip of his beer.

“no, don’t drink! you only drink if you’ve done the thing i say,” wade scoffs. how can logan be so old and still know nothing about fun? “okay, okay. never have i ever… gotten arrested.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him while logan takes a drink. you’re almost certainly wade has been arrested before. “i don’t think you’re playing this game right,” you say. “you have to say things you’ve never done.”

wade scoffs. “i haven’t been arrested, thank you very much. all the cops who’ve tried have mysteriously ended up with broken noses.”

you roll your eyes at him. “my turn now? never have i ever… cheated on a partner.”

both of them take drinks, wade with more shame than logan. ugh, men.

then it’s logan’s turn. “never have i ever worn a dress.”

you figure it’s targeted at you, just because logan’s a dick, but to your surprise, wade drinks too. logan raises his eyebrow at him, silently urging him to elaborate.

“you wish you saw that, huh, peanut?” he taunts instead. logan makes a face at that.

“i’m thankin’ god i didn’t have to.”

you play a couple more rounds, all three of you exchanging stories and sipping from your bottles. it takes a lot to get them drunk, but you’re starting to feel it. there’s a collection of empty bottles, mostly beer, but halfway through the game, wade decided to up the ante with some liquor.

it’s wade’s turn again and he says, “never have i ever been with two guys at once.”

he means it as a joke. he doesn’t expect anyone to drink. there’s no way logan would do something like that, and you’re too innocent. that’s why his eyes practically pop out of his head when you throw back the shot.

the game turned sexual a few rounds ago, but it was pretty mild stuff. talk about doing stuff in public, kinks, freaky shit like that. nothing as interesting as this.

both wade and logan turn their full attention to you, eager to hear this story.

“what?” you play dumb.

“two guys at once?” wade asks. you shrug.

“it wasn’t anything.”

“nah,” logan says, sounding interested for the first time all game. “you gotta tell us.”

you sigh. “it was a while ago. i met this couple at a bar and they said they were looking for a third. i had nothing better to do and they were both hot, so…” you trail off, shrugging again.

“give us the gory details. how’d you do it? daisy chain?eiffel tower? double cowgirl? triple spooning? come on, tell us,” wade rambles.

“you’re a fucking perv,” you tell him and he doesn’t deny it. “it was just normal dp.”

logan raises an eyebow. “that stands for double penetration,” wade tells him.

“i know that. i’m just wondering how you took it all,” logan says.

you’re used to this kind of talk from wade. the man thinks with his dick so much that you question if he even has a brain. you’re not, however, used to this from logan. he’s no prude, but he usually doesn’t participate in these kinds of conversations with wade.

“must’ve been a tight fit,” logan adds on.

you look between the men and their interested faces. you’re still pretty bored, the game having grown stale a while ago, and now you’re a tipsy. you want something exciting and right now, you’re feeling bold enough to persue it.

“do you wanna see?” you ask them.

wade and logan share a glance, but it only takes a second before they’re replying “yes” in unison.

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: in order to get a creepy coworker off your back, you begrudgingly let sylus play the part of your fake boyfriend. unfortunately, your emotions and pride quickly spiral out of control.

★ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: sylus

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: first person pov, enemies to lovers, fake dating, part 1 out of 2, angst, some swearing

★ 𝐰𝐜: 5k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: i had HELLA writers block while writing this, so if it seems chaotic and rushed that's why. i really wanted to scrap this but i spent so long on it i would be disappointed if i did. this is part one out of two, and i promise to get part two out super soon! it should be a lot better than this one *sob*

“Is that a new necklace?”

I grimace, the annoying twerp’s voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard.

“No, Nicholas, it's the one I always wear.” I press my lips into a tight line, staring at the papers in front of me. After everything I’ve tried, I don’t know how he hasn’t caught on with how absolutely, utterly disinterested I am.

Nicholas was a recent graduate from the academy, starting his first year here at the Association. At first he seemed sweet, like an infatuated kid, but it quickly worsened and now I have to deal with harassment every day at work.

He’d do anything and everything to spark a conversation, trying to work any attention out of me despite all my efforts of ignoring him. I tried to be nice originally, letting him down easily whenever he’d pay me compliments and ask me out to lunch.

That didn’t work.

He became more persistent, and I resorted to either giving him the silent treatment or being straight up rude. Throwing him off my back seemed like an impossible task, and I was convinced I had developed some sort of parasite that was bound to me until I retired.

“Ah, I’ve never noticed…” Nicholas sat himself in front of me, and I could feel his stare on my face.

Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up.

“Hey guys!”

Thank God.

Forcing a smile at Tara’s cheerfulness, Nicholas paid her a nod, clearly unsettled with her interruption. She came up behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. If there was anyone who was capable of putting a wedge in between me and my borderline stalker, it was Tara.

“Are you excited for the Hunter’s Ball? I can't believe it’s already coming up…” She sighed dreamily behind me, resting her cheek on the top of my head. While the Hunter’s Ball wasn’t my favorite event, it was typically a good time.

Well, at least before Nicholas came along.

I couldn’t imagine how it would go this year, him crawling six feet up my ass as I try to shake him off the whole night. It’s bad enough I have to deal with him sober, I can’t even imagine how much more unbearable he’d become with drinks in his system. This was the one night of the year the Association actually shows their appreciation for their employees, and I’d be damned if I couldn’t enjoy myself.

“It’s always nice we get a plus one,” Tara mentions, “I can't wait to see who everyone brings." She nudges my shoulder with her arm, laughing.

The look in Nicholas’ eyes told me everything he was about to say. I could practically hear the words come out of his mouth before he even spoke them-

“Yeah, I’m gonna bring my boyfriend.” I spoke before thinking, the words an act of desperation. Nicholas’ eyes widened and Tara’s arms flew from my body, as she whipped herself to stand in front of me.

Oh no, why would I say that- Why did I say that?!

“Your… what!” She started grasping at my hands, questions flying out of her mouth before I couldn’t even process half of them, “Since when? What’s his name? Where’d you meet him? Do you have any pictures?”

I knew I had gotten myself into trouble, I didn’t even have the slightest clue as to who I could possibly feign to be my boyfriend; but the look on Nicholas’ face told me I needed to keep up whatever I was doing, because it was working.

I smiled innocently, “We’ve been keeping it on the down low, things are still pretty new. I was planning to hard launch us at the Ball.” Chuckling nervously, I was convinced nobody was believing a word I was saying.

“Ohmygosh Mystery Man! I’m so excited!” Tara continued to blabber on, trying to pull any detail she could out of me. I made eye contact with Nicholas and thought about how soon the Ball was - only a week away.

Letting out a sigh of relief because of my believable lie, the feeling soon faded and was replaced with chest crushing stress. I had no boyfriend, and no plan; I was going to have to think fast.

-

Laying in my bed that night, I scoured my brain for any potential suitor. I thought maybe Zayne, a cardiac surgeon and childhood best friend. He’d be perfect, all my coworkers would be so pleased, but a cow would have to jump over the moon before he’d even think about complying. Maybe Xavier’s friend Jeremiah? A sweet florist…No, Xavier would never let me do that.

I flipped onto my stomach, screaming into my pillow. Smushing my face into the fabric, I silently prayed I’d suffocate and be free from this mess I’d webbed myself into.

Before I could pass out and be put out of my misery, my phone started to ring.

Not even looking at the caller id, I picked it up and answered with a disgruntled, “Hello?”

“You never sound pleased to hear from me, Kitten.”

I screamed into the pillow again, Sylus being the complete utter last person I wanted to hear from right now.

He chuckled over the line, “Actually, I think that might be the unhappiest I’ve heard you.”

“What do you want?”

“Can I not just call to talk? I’ve had a rough day and wanted to hear your voice.”

I let out a forced laugh, “You’ve had a rough day? YOU’VE had a rough day? You will not believe the day I had then.”

His voice softened, “Talk to me about it then.”

While I most definitely realized my day couldn’t be comparable to his, as he was essentially a mob boss running the N109 Zone, venting about my problems felt nice. As much as I couldn’t stand Sylus, with his incessant arrogance and backhanded flattery, he was easy to talk to sometimes.

Sometimes.

“I don’t even know how I got myself into this situation. Well, I do know, I just didn’t mean to!” I groaned, throwing my face into my hands.

He sits in silence for a minute, and I can hear the soft playing of one of his records in the background. It’s annoying how he feels the need to call and bother me, with a side of music, to wind down at night.

“When is it?” He finally asks, and I hear shuffling.

“Next Saturday, so…” I can practically see the clock ticking down, “Shit, a week from today.”

“What time?”

“9- Sylus, why?”

“I’ll be there at 8:30 then.” There’s mirth in his voice and my face goes pale, “Sylus, no, don’t you dare. It cannot be you, just let me borrow one of your men or something.”

Sylus lets out a low laugh, “Now why would I do that when I could just be your date?”

“Not date,” I cut him off, “fake boyfriend.”

“Of course, fake boyfriend.” He clucked his tongue, “Why would I let someone else be your fake boyfriend?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re the big bad Onychinus boss?” Pressing a finger to my temple to ease the headache that he was becoming, I started to pace my floor. “You’re stepping into enemy territory at this event, there’s no way I’ll be able to save your ass if you get found out, let alone what will happen to me and my place at the Association.”

“I’ve already met some of your coworkers before, remember? It’s best if it's me instead of some stranger, and trust me sweetie, they won’t know.”

My coworkers did take a liking to him when they met during one of our outings, Sylus just had this charisma about him that sucked everyone in; the mysterious fruit vendor Skye who was absolutely horrid at karaoke. He stole their hearts quickly, and I’m lucky if they don’t ask me at least once a week how he’s doing. Sylus was just magnetic like that, even if you tried your damndest to hate him, there’s just something about his demeanor that’s magic.

He has a point here, and it’s killing me to admit he’s right.

“Fine,” I snap, “but absolutely no funny business.”

“I’m not sure what you could possibly mean by that, Kitten.” Sylus lets out a low laugh that makes me want to punch my phone, “I’ll be there at 8:30.”

Before I can respond, he quickly hangs up. I’m left sitting on my bed with racing thoughts of everything that could possibly go wrong. Was bringing Sylus really worth getting this creep off my back? Well, if there was anyone who could scare him off, it would be the leader of Onychinus. Worst case scenario, I have Sylus pull a gun out on him.

I shake my head, trying to clear my stupid thoughts.

I sent him a picture of the invitation, which included the dress code. I wasn’t too worried about him making a fool out of me, just the overwhelming anxiety of bringing a top criminal as my date to a work event where we quite literally are attempting to hunt this exact man down.

Trying to trust Sylus isn’t the easily discoverable type, I make a miserable attempt to put my mind to rest, and get some sleep.

-

The next week following my abrupt news of a boyfriend was hell. Not to my surprise, word was quickly spread through the Association, and I was constantly being flooded with questions and endless pressure to just ‘give them a name!’. I even had Xavier at my desk with questions one morning, and he was always the type to steer away from work related gossip.

Not to mention Sylus himself was being utterly insufferable. He was taking this far too seriously, sending lunch and flowers to my work with paper love notes attached. It was bringing on more attention at work, and every time I told him to stop, he’d just send more extravagant bouquets that cluttered my desk and made the surrounding area smell like a funeral.

At one point, I woke up to a box in the mail. Inside was a black velvet dress, a ruby necklace, and heels. Sending him an angry text about how I have my own clothes, he just responded by transferring 200 dollars into my bank account saying, ‘Get your nails done too. Match the outfit.’

By Saturday night, I was almost ready for everyone to meet Sylus, just so people would stop with the ‘fake boyfriend trivia’ while I’m on the clock, and his annoying attempts at romantic gestures.

The night of, at 8:30 on the dot, I heard a knock at my door.

On the other side was a well dressed Sylus; I think it was the first time I had ever seen him done up so nicely. He wasn’t ever one to slack on his looks, but in his black pinstripe suit and red tie that matched my gifted necklace, I had to take a second. Even though he made me constantly want to take my gun and replicate the time I shot him, I could never deny he’s hot. His arguably perfect looks just adds to the hatred.

He looked me up and down, smirking. The dress he had gotten me was backless and stopped at my ankles, with a slit up to my thigh that had me worried that with one wrong move I’d flash all my coworkers. Opening his mouth to I’m sure to make a snide comment, I cut him off.

“I have to put on my shoes and that necklace, but then I’m ready.” I walked over to the coffee table and grabbed the ruby piece that was gifted, struggling with the clasp thanks to the nails I was practically forced to get.

“Here.” Coming up behind me, Sylus took the necklace from my hands. Brushing my hair out of the way, I felt his fingers against my neck as he secured the jewelry with ease. I turned around to face him, and he smiled down at me.

He gestured to the couch, “Sit.”

His one word commands were starting to get on my nerves. “What?” I glared at him.

Grabbing my shoulder and softly pushing me back, I tumbled onto the couch. Sylus snickered, “I said sit, Kitten.”

Getting on his knees, he picked up my ankle, slipping the heel onto my foot.

“I could’ve done this myself.” Scoffing, I averted my eyes to anywhere that wasn’t Sylus on his knees in front of me.

“I’m sure you could with those nails, sweetie.” He hooked the straps around my ankle, and I felt my skin burn red where his fingers danced. It was definitely red with anger.

For sure.

Standing when he was done, Sylus reached a hand out to me. Narrowing my eyes at his hand, I ignored the help. To my dismay, I stood up too fast in heels and lost a bit of my balance. Sylus caught my waist and gave me a smug smile, pulling me into him. “You look absolutely beautiful tonight, my love.”

I grimaced, pulling away from his grasp and heading to the door. “Oh, do not do that. No more of that.”

“We have to get into character, I’m just being prepared.”

“Be in character when we’re there. Not here.”

“I have to get into the mindset.” Sylus creeped closer to me, and I stepped back. At this point, I was essentially pinned in between him and the door. “After all, I have to practice so I can impress everybody.” He leaned down, his breath fanning against the side of my neck.

“Right.” I rolled my eyes, opening the door behind me and taking a backwards step out. Sylus stumbled at the sudden movement, and I smirked at his loss of composure. “Let’s go, we’ll be late.”

-

When we arrived, I felt my heart begin to race. All the mental preparation I had done for this exact night fled my mind as soon as Sylus put the car into park. My worry was not of showing off my new fancy fake boyfriend, it was the fact that I was bringing my new fancy fake boyfriend into an arena that was hunting him. Over the past week I’ve tried telling myself he’s not easily discoverable, I mean, if he was, the Association would’ve had him tracked down by now. However, knowing my luck, I was preparing for the worst.

Sylus gently placed his hand on my thigh, attempting to give me a reassuring smile, “It’ll be okay, Kitten. Just follow my lead.”

We’re fucked.

He walked around, opening the door for me. His car was clearly the nicest and most expensive out of all the guests tonight, and I knew if anybody saw I’d never hear the end of it.

When we were nearing the entrance, I sighed, shoving down my pride and grabbing Sylus’ arm, wrapping myself sweetly around his bicep. I watched his lips curve upward into a smug smile, and I suppressed the urge to throw myself off and take my heel to his-

“Invitation please.” Sylus handed the men working the door the two slips of paper, and I begrudgingly walked in clinging to his arm.

‘Playing the character’, I thought.

The venue the Ball was being held at was extravagant, with a high, golden ceiling, and golden marble floors.

It was filled to the brim with people that worked for the Association, plus their guests. I winced at the sheer amount of people, automatically going into defense mode due to the overwhelming fact that we were outnumbered.

“Smile, sweetie.” Letting go of his arm, Sylus took his pointer finger and thumb, lightly pulling the corners of my mouth upward.

I nipped at his finger, and he poked my nose as a warning.

I heard someone shriek my name, and I whipped around to see Tara quickly approaching. “Oh wow, you’re beautiful!” She wrapped me up in a tight hug, rocking me side to side. Letting go of me just as fast, Tara gasped when she saw Sylus.

“Skye! Oh my gosh it’s you, how sweet!” She fawned over us, and he smiled kindly at her, “You look lovely tonight, Tara.” If he kept up the nice talk, I was going to put my head through one of the walls.

“Here, come with me. Some of us already have a table together!”

Tara dragged us over to a table where a few of my most nagging coworkers stood around talking. Introducing him to the ones who had never met him, I groaned internally, ready for the torment of questions to begin.

“So,” Tara dropped the first bomb, “how long have you two been a thing?” I know this has been weighing on her worse than me all week.

“About a month now.” Sylus answered with ease. I tried to suppress a shocked look on my face, because I was planning on doing all the talking; but that continued, them rapid firing questions and Sylus answering all of them as if he had this all thought out. I mean, shit, he was convincing me.

“I have to know how this happened!” One of them said, and Sylus tucked my hair behind my ear, pretending to recall the moment.

“I had feelings for her for a while,” He said, smiling down at me, “and it got to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore. It was spur of the moment, but I showed up at her door in the middle of the night and had to ask her if she felt the same.”

Damn. He was good.

All the girls squealed, “That's so romantic!”

I placed my hand on Sylus’ chest, batting my eyelashes up at him, “I’m gonna go get a drink, d’you want anything?” He grabbed my hand, matching my energy, and kissing my knuckles, “No, sweetie, that’s quite alright. I’ll stay here and entertain your friends.”

All of them cooed at the sight, probably thinking we were so lovesick for each other it hurt. Well, it did hurt, this whole thing was a pain in my ass I needed to be over.

I grabbed a glass of wine from the drink table, the group out of sight. Sighing, I resisted the urge to down the glass all at once. While I was uncomfortable, I couldn’t deny everything was going well. Everyone was pleased, so I tried to relax.

“That's a pretty necklace,” I heard from behind me, “is it new?”

Nevermind.

Turning around, there stood Nicholas. His eyelids drooped, and he reeked of wine.

“What did you say?” I asked, looking around for the quickest exit route.

“I said I liked your necklace. Is it new?”

God, does this twerp have any other material?

“Yes, it is.” A low voice said, and I felt an arm wrap around my waist. My head shot up to meet Sylus in the eyes; I guess my face was screaming, ‘Help me!’, because he gave my side a soft squeeze of reassurance.

“Oh.” Was all Nicholas replied, shooting his eyes back and forth between Sylus and I. In his head, I imagined the pieces clicking together. ‘This is it,’ I thought, ‘finally he’ll leave me alone!’

“This song is nice… Would you care to dance?” There were no thoughts behind his eyes. This guy was genuinely dense. I could’ve sworn my jaw dropped at his stupidity, and Sylus chuckled next to me.

“So sorry, but tonight she’s mine.” Swiftly sweeping me away, Nicholas and my glass of wine were quickly left behind.

“Why don’t you dance with me instead, sweetie?” Sylus said, leading me to the open floor where people were dancing to the soft classical music.

Sylus put my hand on his shoulder, intertwining my other hand with his. Placing his hand on my lower back, he pulled me in closer to him.

“Look at me.”

His eyes stared into mine, and there was something behind them I couldn’t quite place my finger on. We started slowly ballroom dancing in our own little spot on the floor, a bit away from everyone else. As much as I wanted to strangle this man, I could relax a little in his arms. He just felt safe sometimes.

Sometimes.

“You’re doing good tonight.” Sylus said, still looking into my eyes.

“Thanks.” I started playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, “So where do we go from here?”

He raised a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t think I do, Kitten.”

“How am I going to tell my coworkers that we ‘broke up’ right after this? They’ll be suspicious.”

“We could keep doing this for a while.” Sylus shrugged, smirking.

Groaning, I slammed my head on his shoulder, “Tonight was bad enough, I can’t do this for any longer.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

He was right. I didn’t have a better idea.

-

So we did just that.

I was going to give it two months. Then, it would say we were together for three months total, which looked like a completely reasonable time to test run a relationship and then call it quits.

At first, I was completely miserable. I already couldn’t stand Sylus as a friend, how could I stand him as my ‘boyfriend’? After that night at the Ball, to my dismay, he completely won everybody over. It made me feel like I had to put more effort into faking all of this.

The extravagant gifts sent to my work started getting sent to my place too. I told him he didn’t have to send them to me outside of work, let alone at all, but he always insisted so he could “stay in character”.

Whether it was convincing me to let him take me out to fancy places, like dinner or a show, it was always just to keep him ‘in character’. I think he just liked using that excuse so I would be forced to hang out with him and not be able to deny or complain about it.

Though, after a bit, it became easy to slip into a groove.

I started to not mind the talk about Sylus; everything started to become bearable, and dare I say it, kind of fun.

We had played with the claw machines once, and he won a white cat plushie. Jokingly, I had told him it looks exactly like him, and snapped a picture of the cat next to his face to prove a point.

I made that photo my wallpaper, to make things more realistic. It freaked me out for a while whenever I’d open my phone, but I came to like it after a while. Sylus looked kind of cute in the photo, his expression mocking the plushies. He looked kind, warm, a soft look on his face you didn’t see on him often. The more I saw the photo, the more it made me smile.

I began looking forward to his calls, his texts. He’d call me to say good morning, or tell me goodnight, even if he was in the middle of a meeting. The ‘fake dates’ became less uncomfortable as I grew more accustomed to the situation we had put ourselves into. The roles we were playing came easier and easier with time.

Which was causing a problem.

It wasn’t hard to notice the way my body would flush when he touched me, or how my once strong demeanor around him would start to falter. Words and actions of his that would be fast to anger me, quickly changed into something else.

I was starting to care about him. How annoying.

There was one day when Sylus decided he was going to pick me up from work. “Your coworkers will think it's cute.” He had said, and who was I to deny a free ride home.

He showed up on his bike in his leather jacket, in all his badass glory. Leaning against the bike, he stood up straight and smiled at me when I came outside. As time had gone on, Sylus was slowly becoming less hard and uncaring towards me. He began treating me like I was fragile, always so gentle with me. Him getting into character I suppose.

Sylus held his hand out towards me, and when I took it, he pulled me into his chest. I squealed, laughing at the sudden gesture.

“They’re looking,” He said, glancing at a few of my coworkers still inside, watching us intensely, “Kiss me.”

I choked, “What?”

He grabbed my chin, tilting it up slightly. He cocked his head to the side a bit, almost as if to ask, ‘is this okay?’.

Nodding my head yes, Sylus smirked before leaning down and pressing his lips against mine. For how aggressive he can be as the leader of Onychinus, the kiss was unusually soft. I had imagined kissing him, for all of this, and I never expected him to be the type to be so kind and gentle.

My blood was rushing in my ears and I thought I was going to melt under his hands. I didn’t realize just how bad I subconsciously wanted this until it was happening, and I wanted more. I wanted to kiss him so hard I could steal the air from his lungs, I wanted to grip his shirt so tightly my knuckles turned white because I could finally have him.

When he pulled away, and kissed the corner of my eye, I knew I was fucked.

I didn’t just care about him, I wanted him. I wanted Sylus to be mine, I wanted this to be real, I wanted-

No, I couldn’t want anything.

It would never work. Our lives were too different, we were too different, everything would be doomed from the start. He was a faraway dream that would never come true. He could never be what I wanted.

I always wanted security, someone stable and safe. Sylus could never give me that.

So why do I want him so badly?

-

It was my friend's birthday party.

I had invited Sylus, because what had originally been a fake relationship to get a creep coworker off my back, spread like a wildfire to a fake relationship that was now known by all my friends.

I only invited him because I knew it would be strange if I showed up without him.

After he kissed me, and my feelings became a living hell to deal with, I started to pull back; started to psych myself out mentally, constantly spending time just trying to convince myself how bad we would be for each other. Trying to will myself to hate him again, go back to where I was two months ago. When Sylus was a nuisance, an annoying pest.

I don’t even really think he noticed. Or if he did, I couldn’t tell.

When we got to the party, the music and laughter could be heard from outside, a drastic change from the almost silent car ride. Sylus tried to make conversation, and I shut him down almost every time.

We walked in, and my friends all greeted him with easy familiarity. They gave him hugs, pats on the back, and he was welcomed effortlessly.

I stood a distance away as he laughed with my friends, and my chest began to hurt. Guilt, dread, I felt doomed. He wasn’t meant to be here, he was never meant to be here. Sylus doesn’t belong with my friends. Sylus doesn’t belong with me.

None of this is real. All of this is one little lie that spun into a web of something so much bigger, and I’m stuck in it.

He looks happy with them, happy with my friends. Happy in my space, with my people. How could he? He’s an intruder, he knows it.

I knew tonight was the night I was done. This couldn’t go on any longer. No more playing house with Sylus, no more pretending. We’re adults, and this whole thing was so childish, and it ends now.

I stepped outside, sitting on the back patio. The night air was cold, and I wasn’t sure if it was the sharp air of my distress that was making my lungs constrict.

“There you are.”

I didn’t turn around to meet the voice, just kept staring into the trees ahead.

Sylus stood beside me, running his fingers through the top of my hair. I relished the feeling, ‘one last time, it’s okay’.

He didn’t ask any questions, didn’t ask why I was out here, if I was okay. I was happy for that, it could give me another reason to be mad at him. To hate him again. To try and rile up all my old feelings, stir old bitterness.

“I want to go home.” I finally said, breaking the silence.

We got in the car, this time he didn’t try to speak. His face was hard again, the soft look long gone. I think, in a way, he knew too. He knows this is for the better.

I said goodbye, told him goodnight before he left. Told him to drive safely.

It had been two months, that’s what I gave him. It was time for it to be over anyways. I changed my wallpaper, changed his name back. I didn’t care if I had to deal with Nicholas at my job anymore, anything was better than the gutted feeling I got from every interaction with Sylus. Nothing was worth that.

The next day, it was radio silence. For the first time in two months, there was nothing. No good morning, no texts throughout the day, no calls to tell me goodnight; and that just continued. For days. Silence.

I had perfected the speech I was going to tell my coworkers, “We gave it our best, but it just wasn’t going to work out between us.” It was reassurance for them, and myself.

It just wasn’t going to work out between us.

(divider by cafekitsune)

[swarvey]

how they react to you getting hurt | sdv x g/n reader (part one)

part two

a/n: nothing like a little bit of angst. (but a lot of fluff, of course.)

—

elliott

nearly faints when you come home all bandaged up

he's always been confident in your strength, and you've never really gotten that banged up before

so when he sees your arm in a sling, he practically has a heart attack

definitely plays the "who did this to you" card because he's so dramatic

you pray that your husband is asleep as you open your door as quietly as humanly possible, tiptoeing inside your home. it doesn't help that your dominant hand is in a sling, but somehow, you manage to make it to the bedroom without waking elliott up.

just as you think you'll make it into bed successfully, he shifts, eyes fluttering open.

"y/n? did you just get back?"

he reaches over to turn on the lamp.

"wait—!"

"what in the world."

you let out a sigh of defeat as elliott's eyes turn into saucers, his mouth agape as he looks at your injury. as much as you adore your partner and everything he stands for, you know how dramatic he tends to be, especially when it comes to you.

"elliott, please, i promise it's nothing," you try, but he slowly gets out of bed and makes his way across the room to you. "seriously, i'm fine!"

"darling," he starts, his voice scarily quiet as he lightly grabs your shoulders, "who did this to you?"

"what?" you want to laugh, but you also want to see how far he's willing to take this. "what are you talking about?"

finally, emotion fills his eyes as he begins to scan your body for other wounds, acting as if you just came back from fighting a war.

"was it a monster in the mines? were you snuck up on? or worse," he gasps, "was it a person? was my darling attacked by our own kind? tell me, dear, say the word and i'll track them down to the ends of this earth!"

you can hardly take him seriously in his plaid pajamas, but you also feel so lucky to have someone care about you to this extent. emotional tears are even welling in elliott's eyes as he gently pulls you to his chest, holding you as close as he possibly can.

"i don't know what i would do if you were wounded severely, love," he says, kissing the top of your head. he pulls back to look at you deeply in the eyes, suddenly serious. "now, tell me. who, or what, did this?"

"a fishing rod."

". . . what?"

"i strained my shoulder pretty bad while fishing, so harvey said i should wear this sling for a week until it gets a bit better."

"ah, i see." elliott nods, avoiding your gaze as you laugh. "well, that doesn't mean my darling shouldn't be spoiled!"

you let out a cry of amusement as he sweeps you off your feet, laying you gently down in bed and placing the blanket over you snugly. he turns the lamp off before joining you, laying on his side so he can pull you to his chest.

"that was a bit dramatic, wasn't it?" he whispers.

"not at all."

harvey

worried out of his mind

you’re the last person he ever wants to see in his clinic

will absolutely overplay your injury unless you stop him

(though it is nice to be doted on)

"hey, harvey."

you watch as harvey's head shoots up in surprise, knowing that he isn't expecting you this early. typically you would do some work throughout the day before stopping by around lunch to see him, but the clock had just about hit noon. you had decided to take an early trip to the mines as your lovely husband promised to take over your farm chores for the morning — though, thinking back on it, maybe you should have just slept in.

"are you back from the mines already, dear?" he asks, turning to look at you. "that was quick—" he stops in his tracks.

you look at him sheepishly, wincing as you tighten your grip around the cloth wrapped around your injured arm. a hint of blood seeps through it, and you can practically see harvey pale.

"listen," you start, "before you freak out, it's not that—"

"sit, i need to take a look at it right now," he orders, urgency filling his voice. you sigh as he grabs your hand and leads you to the examination table. "how did this even happen? you're usually more careful than this," he scolds, slowly beginning to unwrap the cloth as you do your best to explain.

"i took the elevator pretty far down the mines this morning," you explain, biting your lip in pain as the makeshift bandage fully comes undone. "there were a few monsters i had trouble dealing with. i guess this is what happens when i skip out on my morning coffee."

harvey frowns, shaking his head. "now is not the time for jokes." he shakes his head, gently taking your arm in his hands and looking at your wound. "what if it had been worse? what if you couldn't make it back up, and got trapped? or, worse, what if you got an infection?" he pauses, and you can see all the scenarios running through his head. "then we'd have to transport you to the city's hospital, i'm nowhere near equipped enough to handle that. should i be ordering more supplies?" his eyes widen, his hand hovering over his lips as he continues to ramble on about different ways your story could have ended. he doesn't even notice the exasperated look you're giving him.

"and then i'd have to take over the farm, at least for a while—"

"harvey," you laugh, grabbing his shoulders. he snaps out of his daze, his eyes meeting yours once again. your heart melts at the worry that glazes them. "what matters is i'm here, right? so why don't you properly bandage me up and i'll stay here for a bit, just in case."

he clears his throat, a dust of red printing his cheeks as he nods. he turns to grab some disinfectant and a roll of bandages.

"right. good idea, honey. but, as your doctor," he adds, and you groan at his words, "i say you need to avoid the mines for the next week in order to heal properly, and no extensive farm work, either."

"seriously?" you grimace as he applies the disinfectant before thoroughly wrapping your wound. "who's going to take care of the crops and the animals, then?"

your heart skips a beat when harvey places a soft kiss on top of your bandages before hugging you to his chest. he rests his chin on the top of your head, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks.

"your loving husband, of course."

shane

immediately begins to panic internally when he hears you're at harvey's clinic from emily

sounds angry, but his eyes deceive him — you know he's just worried

tries to act all tough, but he can't help being a bit more protective over you than usual

"what the hell were you thinking?" he questions sharply, barging into the clinic with no greeting. you stifle a laugh at his appearance — from the looks of it, he had just woken up from a nap, his hair touseled and jacket half thrown on. "why didn't you come get me?"

"i told emily to let you know, since i was a little busy trying not to pass out," you joke, but you quickly realize your mistake when he all but shoves harvey out of the way to give you a look over. "shane, i was kidding—"

"how hurt are they?" he demands, his attention turning to harvey. "do they need time to recover? should i do anything?"

the doctor raises an amused brow before replying, "don't worry, the cut on their leg didn't even need stitches. the wounds should be completely healed within a few days. y/n," he turns to you, a kind smile on his face as he takes off his stethoscope, "take it a bit easy for now, alright? at least until your leg is completely better."

"thanks, doc." as you move to stand, you're shocked as shane wraps an arm around you, helping you get on your feet. "what are you . . . ?"

he doesn't meet your eyes. instead, he guides you to the door, a frown imprinted on his face. you hear maru hold back a gasp at the scenario in front of her. harvey nudges her to stay quiet, though it's clear the two are more than amused at the situation at hand.

"didn't you hear him? you need to take it easy," he snaps, and you can see him starting to blush.

"shane," you start, the two of you making your way through the plaza, "you hate PDA." yet, his arm is still wrapped tightly around you as he guides you towards the farm.

"shut up," he grumbles, pulling you closer to his side. "it doesn't count if it's doctor's orders."

you laugh, leaning into his side. you like the change of pace, it's refreshing — not that he'll ever admit this ever happened.

"well, maybe i should get hurt more often, then."

"don't even think about it."

-

lmk if you guys want more !

[bvbygrl-writes]

Season of The Witch (1)

Pairing: Jacob Black x Witch!Reader x Edward Cullen

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: (Y/n) (L/n) is 19 and still trying to figure out the world. She isn't sure of a lot of things but she is sure of one: she's gonna have her cake and eat it too.

A/N: I recently watched the Twilight Saga for the first time and fell in love with it but I noticed there's not a lot of recent fics so I decided to make them! This doesn't follow the twilight series exactly but the elements and settings are still the same. Everyone is aged up (I mean does Edward really need to be tbf). If this gets enough feedback in my inbox and comments I will continue but this is mainly a tester to see how it does!

Warnings: N/A but it will be 18+ at some point most likely. Minors and blanks dni.

Everyone always talks about how hard it is moving in the middle of the school year. But, what they never talk about is how hard it is to move once you’ve just graduated. Friend groups are already established and due to college, no one is looking to meet anyone new until they’re off to whichever university they’ve decided to attend.

You, however, weren’t off to university. You knew it wasn’t right from you. Your parents supported your decision. In fact, they were thrilled…but not for the reasons you originally thought. Your dad wanted to move back to his home town of Forks, Washington and your mom, being a lover of nature, thought it was the perfect change of scenery. According to the conversation they had with you, it wasn’t a spur of the moment decision either. Your dad had gotten a job as head surgeon and your mom had bought a space to turn into the bakery she had dreamed of owning for years. It was something they had been wanting to do for years but due to the fact you were doing so well in school, they hadn’t wanted to rip you away from that. 

Part of you, the part of you that didn’t want to admit it to yourself, wish that they had. Maybe then you’d have a better chance at your 20s not being so lonely in a town that so far on the drive from the airport, seemed to be desolate and void of any youth. But, it wasn’t all bad. With all the greenery and nature, you’d be able to focus on growing your powers more.

You came from a long lineage filled with powerful and strong witches, your mother being one of them. On your thirteenth birthday, your powers finally presented themselves and everything began to make sense for you. You had always felt different from your peers and having the confirmation that you were healed something in you. Your mom had been mentoring you and through her, you had learned so much over the years. As your eyes gazed out the rain littered car window, focusing on the ocean of trees that passed in a blur, one thing she had said stuck out to you the most. ‘A witch is at her strongest when surrounded by nature’. 

Every weekend, she used to drive 6 hours there and back to a small patch of woods outside of the city. But now, you had access to the forest in any direction you looked.

“I’m thinking of starting a garden in the yard, (Y/n/n), what do ya think?” your mom asked, causing your head to turn in her direction. Her body was turned back to face you, the small wrinkles near her mouth creasing as she grinned. She always had an air of vibrancy and brightness to her that made you question if you were even related sometimes. It was like you could practically feel her emotions buzzing off of her and piercing into your heart. You hummed mulling over your response, turning your attention back to your window, watching as the trees slowly began to turn into homes the further you drove into town.

“Sounds good.” you responded. Your limited word choice was something you had gotten from your father. He wasn’t as introverted as you were, but he only spoke when he found the conversation particularly interesting. And when it came to his wife, he found everything interesting.

“I think that’s a great idea, honey! There’s a lot of space at the house and I know if anyone can make it magical, it’s you.” You watched in the rear view mirror as his eyes flickered towards your mom, full of admiration. Your mom giggled at his small joke, shoving his shoulder in a playful manner. “Maybe in the spring, you could get some fruit growing, use it in your bakery.”

“Why wait till spring? I could do it now with the flick of a finger.” she mused, holding out her palm. Golden sparks hovered above it, swirling in a circular motion. Your dad smiled at her, shaking his head as he pulled into a driveway which you assumed was your new home. Sticking your head out the window, you looked up at it in awe.

In the city, your house was a lot smaller. Lots of identical homes sandwiched far too close together for your liking. But this house, it had character. Faded green framework, a bay window, and a semi wrap-around porch. You noticed a window on the second story, a small balcony attached to it. In your mind you had already claimed it. The slamming of the van door broke you out of your brewing daydream. Looking on the lawn, you internally groaned as you saw people. Just what you wanted to see after a 7 hour car ride. Before you could duck down and pretend you couldn’t exist, your dad turned his head, shaking it as if he could predict what you were about to do.

“(Y/n), come meet my friends!” he called to you. Sighing, you pulled your cardigan closer to your body before hopping out the back seat, stretching your arms as the snap, crackled, and popped. You were finally able to get a good look at the people on your lawn. An older white man with brunette hair, and a thick mustache. Another in a wheelchair, with long, thick black hair, a cowboy hat perched on his head. You recognized them from the pictures from your dad’s office. “These are my old buddies, Billy Black and Charlie Swan. We grew up together!” he explained. Putting on your best smile, you stuck your hand out, shaking each of their respective hands.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you both after hearing dad talk my ears off about you for years.” You joked, causing both men to chuckle. 

“If it makes you feel any better, your dad’s always bragging about ya, kid.” Charlie said. You smile slightly at your dad as he tells you that. Your dad has never been a stranger of telling you how proud he is of you, so it doesn’t shock you that much but it’s still nice to hear it.

“Enough chatting, how’s bout I grab some beers from the cooler and we can start unpacking this uhaul? We’ve got some time but let me tell ya’, the Mrs. does not pack light.” Your dad speaks over his shoulder as he makes his way to the trunk. You hear the sound of ice shuffling as he grabs a few beers out, cracking them open on the side of the car.

“Everything has value, David! You’ll be thanking me when it saves you the money!” Your mom says from the open door, huffling as she grabs another box from the porch, carrying it further into the house. Shaking your head, you smile some. At least some things haven’t changed.

After a while, you finally got all of your boxes into your new room. The one with the balcony as you had hoped. All your heavier furniture was still on the lawn as Mr.Black had informed you his son would be coming soon to bring it up for you. In the meantime, you had time to put your other things up. Standing in the middle of the room, you close your eyes, focusing your mind for a bit as your body begins to levitate, just barely hitting the high ceilings. Waving your hand, your rolled up rug unfolds placing itself in the middle of your room. You squint your eyes until you’re able to locate the box labeled ‘books’, hovering your hand in their direction. You move it to the built-in bookshelves on the wall, all of your books organizing themselves perfectly. Magic has its perks. 

You decide to go for the books next until there’s a knock on your door startling you. You fall to the ground with a loud thud, groaning as the door swings open. Looking up, your body grows warm at the sight in front of you. There’s a taller boy around your age, shirtless with your mattress under one of his arms. Due to his lack of shirt, you’re able to take in every inch of his chiseled chest and the tattoo on his arm. You recognized the symbol from one of the spellbooks your mother showed you but couldn’t recall the meaning. As you pry your eyes away from his torso, you’re able to focus on his face which is somehow even better than what you were just looking at. Gorgeous brown eyes, thick brows, and pretty pink lips. He was somehow rugged and cute at the same time but you had no time to focus on that as he dropped your mattress on the ground, pulling you up with ease.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a concerned tone. You looked away in embarrassment, clearing your throat as you backed away from his hold.

“Fine. Just tripped over this stupid rug.” You mumbled. He looks you up and down, laughing as he returns to the mattress, lifting it with ease. Almost too much. He leans it against the wall furthest from you before returning to the doorway. He smiles at you, throwing you a subtle wink.

“Just in case. I’ll be back with the rest, try not to hurt yourself in the meantime.” He teases, gone just as quickly as he came. You stand frozen in place, listening as he makes his way down the stairs, the sounds of his steps fading. Once you were sure he was gone, you walk over to the balcony doors, stepping out into the chilly fall air. You let out a groan as you lean over it, playing with the idea of jumping off. At least you wouldn’t be able to embarrass yourself any further. 

2

[fartcloudfartcloud]

What about Logan meeting a reader with more dominance than him? Like what would he do, what would he want to do to them?

*giggles and wrings hands together* You've found my achilles heel mr.69

i dont know if this is what you wanted but im using this as my excuse to write FREAKY SUBMISSIVE LOGAN PORN!!!

warnings: Edging, Logan being mean and then begging on his knees a second later, i do say reader is "5 foot whatever" but if that doesnt apply just ignore it lmao, I do describe him as almost crying every now and then so if that turns u off this might be a skip

This is short (1.5k) but I love submissive men so do NOT be afraid to lmk if you want more :)

Personally, I was raised by a woman way too strong headed to ever be the stereotype of submission, and I'm sure a lot of you share the same sentiment in some way or another. I was always told to never let a man tell me what to do, and I can picture a reader being the exact same way. 

Not mean, not bullheaded or rude, but strong. Tough. Logan had expected to blow through you like he had the rest of his team (or at least how he thought he did, though he was a lot tougher in his head than in action). But when he stood up to you, all 5 foot whatever of you, it felt like you were standing eye to eye.  

You did exactly as you were taught, chin up and shoulders back as you spoke with confidence, and it easily had you slipping into positions of power in the mansion with ease. He admired you from afar for a while, watched as you seamlessly commanded a room, effortlessly organizing missions and handling insubordinate children like it was nothing.  

Logan couldn't describe where the attraction came from. Originally, he thought it was his manly man urges to take a dominant woman and make her pine for him, but you and I both know that's not why you got him going. 

If you were to ask him right now in his current scenario, he wouldn't be able to tell you which was his favorite part. Not sure if it's you under him in between his knees, looking up and fluttering your pretty eyelashes at him like has something to behold; or if it's your firm grip around his cock, effortlessly bringing him so close to the edge before you manhandle him back down to earth. 

It had only been once so far, but you had gotten him bad. Your hands all sloppy and wet working up and down his length with vigor, your filthy loudmouth a never-ending record of come on baby, let me see it, let go for me. 

All that build up, just for you to -right as he whimpers out a breathless "going to fucking cum"- halt all action and grip your flingers tightly around his base. 

It ripped a deep growl from his chest, the feeling almost painful as his finish line is so rudely ripped from him.  

He should've known, he knows you too well too have assumed he could get you all pretty on your knees without some anterior motive.  

"You want something?" You ask him innocently, that stupid pretty smile still spread across your face. He grinds his teeth as the pressure in his stomach slowly simmers down, not enough air in his lungs to formulate a response.  

You slowly start stroking him again, an agonizing pace that has his cock flushed a deep red and practically throbbing in your hand. The sound is pornographic and it's all too much for him. 

He's whining now, head thrown back and noises getting increasingly high pitched as you keep his release just barely out of his reach. If he could focus enough to use his ears, he’d hear you laughing at him. 

He so rudely tries to interrupt you, tries to bring his own hands down to just get himself there, but you wouldn't allow it. You'd make him sit on his hands if you had to, and when you grabbed each wrist and planted them next to his thighs and told him to "stay," he knew better than to disobey. 

"Gotta ask for the things you want, Wolvie." You remind him. It's just basic manners, really, frankly he should be thanking you for still touching him after being so rude.  

"Don't gotta ask for shit," He spits out through clenched teeth. 

See, that was Logans problem. He had too much fucking pride, needed someone to teach him a lesson. Guess today he needs it to be you. 

"Mm you're right, Logan," you've got a smile on your face as you speak that Logan can't read. Either way, he's scared. 

None of it matters though as your hand picks up speed and pressure, resuming your prior ministrations as your fingers suddenly massage every spot with precision. His breath is gone as his head hangs limp on his shoulders, his fingers gripping the comforter like it would save him from your attack.  

"You don't gotta do shit," You're talking but he's not listening. It's all too good, he's being hurdled towards his orgasm faster than ever, he couldn't hear your jests even if he wanted to over the pressure in his ears. He’s gonna cum, he's so fucking close, and your hands feel so fucking good so perfect and it's all so much and- 

"But neither do I," and just like that you're off him. Not like before, this time you stand up and physically take a step back from him, watching his form head to toe as he's forced to cope with his second lost orgasm. 

The groan he lets out is primal, you expect to see him start ripping the pillows and sheets with how his writhing on your bed. He’s on his back twitching, practically crying from the ache pulsing through the center of his body. It hurts, he's so desperate it physically hurts, his hips rutting into the air in search of anything. 

He has no sense anymore, no control over any of his limbs as he falls to the floor and crawls to you, the only thing he can make out in his fogged-up mind is need.  

"Please baby," He begs mindlessly, "You're so fucking mean to me," He's kissing your thighs and pulling at your hands, buttering you up and wallowing in any contact you'll give him.  

Neither of you know how it happened, know at what point in the night he broke and became a whimpering messy puppy, but God did it feel good to watch, to see him yearn for you so desperately. 

His eyes are teary eyed and hazy as he speaks, "I'll do anything princess I'm sorry," He kisses you palm and knuckles and up your wrists, "Please baby I'm sorry I'm sorry just fucking-" His hips involuntarily grind down, his thighs twitching and his hard cock bobbing between his legs. "Please touch me baby I can't fucking take it,"  

He’s a mess, his cock is leaking all over his thighs and the floor, and his lips won't leave your body, lathing kisses anywhere he can, worshipping your body as you stand still and look down at him.  

"Why can't you just behave the first time?" You ask, wrapping your fingers in his hair and gently tugging his hair back, making him look at you as he speaks.  

"Was just playin baby," He kisses the wrist of the hand in his hair, "shouldn't have teased you baby I'm sorry, please baby please," his arms are wrapped around your thighs as he nuzzles into you. It's pathetic, and if anyone else ever saw him like this he's sure he could just explode on the spot.  

"Get back on the bed." You order, taking pleasure in the way he scrambles back to his spot, his legs spread for you and his hands pressed back into their spot next to his hips. He’s disheveled, his hair falling over his face and sticking to his forehead, a thin layer of sweat covering him head to toe. Youd keep him like this forever if you could. 

You decide to take mercy on him though, the sight of him on his knees begging like a dog more than enough to satisfy your cravings. Now, all you wanted was to do was so how pretty he looked once he actually finished for you. 

You find your spot between his legs again, looking up at him all pretty just like before. God you were going to ruin him. 

"Go on. Tell me what you want," you give him one last instruction before giving in. His breath is shaky, his words coming out in a whole different tone than before. He sounds small, on the brink of tears as he whimpers out one last desperate, "please," before you spit in your hand and wrap it back around his cock.  

Instantly he's gone. He doesn't even have the energy to moan or cry, he's just paralyzed. His eyes roll back and his hand clamps over his mouth, no air left in his lungs as the most mind-numbing wave of pleasure works up from his core. He wasn't even cumming yet and it already was making him shake. 

He should've just trusted you, should've known that you'd make him feel so fucking good if he just listened. Never again, he'll never say no to you ever again. 

By the time his orgasm actually hit him, he's laid out flat on his back on the mattress, his mouth dropped open, and his eyes squeezed shut. Both his hands are wrapped in the sheets, stuck in place by his claws that slowly inch out with every rope of cum that comes from him. There's no sound until it's all out of him, your hands not stopping till he's whining and pushing you away from him. 

You watch as he recovers, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he desperately tries to get air back into his lungs, aftershocks still tumbling through him. His eyes flutter back open, not enough energy to focus on anything else though as his claws start sheathing back into his knuckles.  

He sits up as you return from the bathroom with a washcloth, gently cleaning off his stomach and anything that was coated in a thin layer of his finish. He’s sensitive, hissing and gasping as you gently clean his slowly softening length and thighs.  

Once all evidence is taken care of, you look up at him with soft eyes. He looks so amazing like this, his eyes can't focus on anything while his lips slowly pull into a big dopey grin. You let him take you in for a moment, just staying like this with him till he has the strength to speak.  

"Jesus Christ," Is all he says before he presses a chaste kiss to your lips before falling back onto the bed.  

"Are you going to make it?" You tease, cuddling up under his arm where he lay and resting your head on his bicep.  

"I don't think so," He giggles, enough oxygen in his system now, enough strength in him to wrap himself around you and kiss your head. "You were a lot closer to killing me then you think,"  

You giggle and smack his chest, "keep being mean like that and next time I actually will," 

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k words

warnings: explicit language, lots and lots of fluff<333

summary: waking up next to steve the morning after everything’s changed

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN | ❝𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆❞

Fall Semester 2015

He was your first real friend here. That felt pretty certain after just the first time you two hung out in his dorm room because your roommate was having sex in yours, and your other option would’ve been camping out in the library. 

Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to accept Eddie’s offer. You two were still pretty much strangers at that point and had only had one brief conversation in a broken-down elevator. However, somehow, it didn’t feel like a bad decision. 

Over the last month of being in college, there had been no one else that you’d been able to hit it off so easily with. In ways, it reminded you of how friendships formed in elementary school— bonding over the most random of things and then promptly becoming the best friends for a week or two. This friendship with Eddie already felt like it would last longer than just a few weeks, though. 

“What about California?”

You shook your head. “Ended up being too expensive.”

You two were settled on his floor and talking about what brought you both here, and you’d been surprisingly honest and admitted that you had really wanted to get out of your quiet hometown and had done everything you could to make that happen; applying to colleges in a bunch of different states, and then ending up here because it made the most sense in the end. 

“What about you?” You asked, turning the question over to him. 

“I wasn’t the best in high school, but I somehow got accepted here,” He told you and you nodded. “At first, I kinda didn’t wanna go, but my uncle was really adamant about it, so I did it. And it hasn’t been too bad so far.”

“Aside from the elevators that break down way too easily,” You joked, giving him a small smile.

He laughed a little. “Yeah, aside from that. But apparently, they're the best way to make friends.” 

You nodded, laughing too. “Unconventional, but effective.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

It was a tangle of limbs and zero space— your head on Steve’s chest and an arm draped around his torso and his wrapped around you, keeping you close. The position itself was surprisingly comfortable but you were starting to feel way too warm. 

You weren’t even entirely sure what time it was or when you and Steve had finally fallen asleep after talking and doing a bit more than talking throughout most of the night, but you could see that the sun was out and it didn’t feel as if you’d gotten more than four hours of sleep.

Instead of shifting out of the position, you simply pushed the blanket down off of you with your hand and leg that wasn’t entirely entangled with Steve’s because you refused to completely detach from him. The cool air hitting your bare legs immediately made you feel a thousand times better and you softly sighed in contentment. 

“You okay?” You heard Steve sleepily mumble. 

“Yeah, I was just a little warm,” You whispered back, eyes still shut as you attempted to lull yourself back to sleep. 

“Sorry, are we too close?” He asked and started to pull away, but you quickly stopped him by pushing yourself further into your side. 

“No, no, it’s okay. I like this.”

“Okay,” He said and you could practically hear the smile in his voice as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

That made you open your eyes and tilt your head upward to look at him. The sleepy smile on his face made you want to kiss him, and realizing that you could do that whenever you wanted to now warmed something inside you.

As if feeling your gaze, Steve’s eyes opened and he looked down at you. “You’re staring.”

You pushed up further so that you could press a kiss against his cheek. “You’re really cute.” 

“And you say I’m the flirty one,” He said as his arms tightened around you and pulled you impossibly closer to him.

You shook your head, the smallest smile on your face. “I wasn’t trying to flirt, just stating a fact and giving you a very sweet compliment.” 

“Okay, in that case, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Steve shifted a bit, keeping you close but maneuvering so that he was on his side and facing you. You followed suit, moving a little and letting the side of your head fall against your pillow as you kept looking at him. He leaned in a little, nose softly brushing yours before closing all of the distance and pressing his lips against yours. One of his hands slipped beneath your t-shirt and gave your waist a squeeze, which made you hum softly into his mouth. You pulled back from the kiss after the briefest moment. 

“Wait, I need to ask you something,” You said, eyes meeting his. “Do you like Monopoly?” 

He let out a laugh. “That’s such a random question, but yeah. I can’t remember the last time I played it, though.” 

“We finally played it again for game night and I kinda wished you were there,” You told him as you reached out to push a hand through his messy hair. “I had a feeling you would’ve gotten just as competitive as Robin.” 

“I do get very competitive at Monopoly,” He nodded and then turned his head a bit so that he could press a quick kiss against your wrist. “I don’t know if we’d be able to survive it.” 

You shook your head as you smiled. “No, we would be fine because you’d be competitive with everyone else, but super nice to me.” 

“Okay, yeah, that’s true,” He smiled back at you. “I’d never make you pay if you landed on any of my properties.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re really cute too, by the way.” 

You smiled wider. “You are the flirty one.” 

“Yes, and I’ll happily admit it,” He said before kissing you again.

It was the sound of your phone loudly ringing, indicating your alarm, that interrupted you two that time around and startled you so much that it made your head harshly bump against his. 

“Ouch, sorry.” 

“What’s that alarm for?” Steve asked, rubbing his forehead. 

“For you. And I completely forgot about it,” You answered as you turned and reached over to grab your phone and stop the incessant ringing. “I set it last night after you mentioned the final project that you needed to spend all day today working on.” You also quickly turned off the alarm that was set for fifteen minutes from now. “But, and hear me out on this one— don’t leave.” You turned back over and faced him again, taking note of the amused look on his face. “I’m kidding, for the most part, I know you have to go. But, I do have a fresh toothbrush you can use, and I still have your t-shirt if you wanna change into something else. Wait, actually, no you can’t use that shirt. I refuse to give it back to you now.” 

“Honestly, I never expected it back.” 

“Good,” You said before letting out a soft contented sigh and burying your face in his neck.

Things got quiet then and you half-expected him to say that yes, he did have to leave, but he didn’t. Instead, neither of you moved for a bit. 

You could feel yourself slowly falling asleep, but you didn’t want it to happen, and although you wanted Steve to stay and be both your pillow and your blanket at that moment, you knew what you actually needed to do right then. 

You pulled back from his neck to look at him. “Okay, I’ll stop holding you hostage now.” 

“You can keep doing it if you want,” He said, sounding equally as tired as you and you decided not to protest his words.

“Okay,” You said softly with a quick nod before shifting around so that you were pressed back against him and then pulled his arm around you. 

You felt his mouth against the top of your ear. “I wanna take you out tonight.”

You hummed in response. “Out?”

“On a date that both of us know is a date.” 

“Okay,” You nodded. “Do I get to know where?”

“No, I want it to be a surprise.”

“Of course you do,” You said playfully. “Lucky for you I’m completely free tonight.” 

You weren’t sure how long you’d fallen asleep that time, it could’ve been ten minutes or an hour, but the feeling of Steve pulling away from you stirred you awake. 

“Go back to sleep,” He said when your eyes opened and you turned over to look at him. “I’ll see you later.” 

You shook your head as you stood up from your bed and rubbed your eyes. “No, I’ll walk you out. Just to the door, though. I don’t think I can make it downstairs.”

“Okay,” He said, smiling at your tiredness. 

It slightly startled you to see everyone in the living room; Robin and Vickie on the couch and Talia on the small loveseat. 

“Hi… You guys remember Steve,” You said much more awkwardly than intended. The entire moment suddenly felt like a walk of shame; even though you and Steve hadn’t had sex and you were already home. But it was just that, aside from Talia, the last thing your other two friends knew about you and Steve was that you hadn’t talked in a month, so it must’ve seemed insane seeing him walk out of your room right then. 

Vickie nodded at your previous words and smiled. “Talia filled us in on everything.” 

“Steven, you’ve been missed around here,” Robin said, a smile on her face at first, and then she gave him a serious look. “We’ll have another talk later.” 

He laughed a little. “Can’t wait for that.” 

You finished walking Steve to the door, and Robin, Vickie, and Talia went back to watching the sitcom playing on the TV, but you had a feeling that they were very much listening to you and him.  

Steve stepped out into the quiet hallway and then turned around to face you. “I’ll text you later about our date.”

“Okay,” You said softly, trying to think of some sort of joke to say but it was hard to do when all you really wanted to do right then was kiss him. So, you did, quickly pushing up on your toes and pressing the quickest kiss against his lips. 

“Maybe I should stay, actually,” He said when you pulled back and his hands reached out to settle on your hips. 

You almost agreed, but you shook your head instead. “No, go. You’re not gonna fail any classes because of me.” 

“Okay,” He said before leaning down and giving you a final kiss on your cheek. “Bye.”

“Bye,” You said and then proceeded to smile and lean against the doorframe as you watched him walk away. 

“Oh my god, she’s so in love.” 

“Shut up,” You said in response to Robin’s teasing words as you pushed the door shut once Steve turned the corner. You tried to sound as serious as possible, but it was way too hard to wipe the smile off of your face. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Steve’s hand found yours barely a minute into the car ride, intertwining it with his and resting them on your thigh. 

You settled yourself into his passenger seat, getting comfortable for however long the drive would end up being. “So, you’re taking me to dinner.” 

“Maybe…” He responded, and it slightly amused you how vague he was still being about everything even though his earlier text of, “I’ll be at your place at 7. Make sure you don’t eat dinner,” could really only mean one thing. 

You decided to play along, though. “Or is it bowling? Roller skating? A movie?”

“Those are really good guesses,” He joked, which made you laugh. 

“What’s the right answer?” 

He took a quick glance over at you and shook his head. “I’m not saying.” 

It wasn’t until twenty minutes later when he was parked in an unfamiliar but very crowded parking lot that he finally told you.

“Do you remember our first date?” He asked, and at first, all you could do was smile at his words.

It was such a silly question that you really couldn’t help but make a joke. “Weirdly enough, I don’t. Wait, who are you again?” 

“Ha ha,” He playfully rolled his eyes at you.

“I’m sorry, I had to,” You said, pulling your intertwined hands up and giving the back of his a quick peck. “Of course, I remember our first date. We had a great time watching the second Hunger Games movie.”

“Yes, and we were supposed to get food before the movie, but you weren’t hungry so we skipped dinner and just did the movie. This is the place that I was gonna take you then.” 

You nodded at his words and then looked away from him when you remembered something else from that night— where your head had been then and how you’d been feeling. “I’m sorry.”

Steve gave you a confused look. “Why?”

“This feels so shitty to say now, but I lied then. The reason that I suggested we skip dinner was because I just wanted the date to be over faster. Oh my god, saying it out loud makes it sound even more shitty.” You met his gaze again. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, don’t be. That’s okay,” Steve said as he gave your hand a light reassuring squeeze. “Honestly, that makes a lot of sense.” 

“It’s so stupid, though, because then during it, when we were watching the movie, I kinda regretted lying because of how well things were actually going with us.”

He gave you a smile then. “It was really good.”

You nodded. “Yup, I even let you kiss me that night.” 

“Can I kiss you right now?”

You shook your head, biting back the smile tugging at your lips. “That’s not proper date etiquette, Steven. All kisses must be saved until the end.” 

He nodded understandingly, but there was an amused smile on his face. “Ah yes, makes sense.” 

You held his eyes for a moment and then looked away and finally stepped out of his car before you ended up breaking your own stupid rule.

His hand found yours again as you two headed inside the restaurant. It was a lively and busy place, and at first, you figured that was why Steve had picked it, but once you two were settled in the short line behind other people waiting to put their names down at the hostess stand, you noticed the open doors that led to the dining room area straight ahead and then the shelves and shelves of books to the left. 

Before you could say anything, Steve was leaning into your ear to be heard over the noise. “It’s kind of a book-themed restaurant. You’ll see all of the decorations on the walls when we sit down later.” He then nodded his head in the direction of the bookshelves that you’d just noticed. “And there’s a used bookstore attached too.”

You looked up at him. “This place is perfect.” You then shook your head at yourself. “Now I feel like even more of an asshole for lying to you that night.”

“Now that I’m thinking about it, if we would’ve gone then, you probably would’ve fallen in love with me on the spot,” He told you, a teasing smirk on his face. 

“Embarrassingly so, probably,” You playfully nodded in agreement. 

It was quite hard to imagine things working out between you two in any other way than this one, though. It almost felt as if everything needed to happen in the way that it did between you and him. And with how damn near perfect everything felt right now, you were completely okay with how slow everything had moved— how stupid and confused you both had been at times— because it happily led you here. 

You looked around for a brief second. “How did you know I would like this place before we even met?”

“The only thing Eddie told me about you before our date was that you were an English major, and after a quick Google search, I found this place and I figured it would be perfect,” He explained and then gave you a nonchalant and almost shy-looking shrug. 

You pushed up on your toes and quickly kissed him instead of verbally saying anything in response to his thoughtful words that made you feel as if you were going to explode because of how sweet they were. 

When you pulled away, he smiled at you. “I thought that wasn’t proper date etiquette?” 

You didn’t get the chance to answer his question because you two were at the front of the line and Steve was putting his name down after the hostess said that there would be about a forty-five-minute wait to get a table, which you were perfectly okay with.

Steve let you lead the way as you went down different aisles; it was pretty quiet between you two. Whenever you were looking through books, you always got that way, focusing on finding something instead of anything else.  

After about fifteen minutes, you were slotting another book back in the spot you pulled it from and then looked at Steve. “God, sorry, this is probably so boring for you.” 

He shook his head and gave you a small smile. “No, I like watching you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “If I didn’t really really really like you, I would think that’s very creepy.” 

“Phew, good thing you really really really like me then,” His arms circled around you and you returned the embrace immediately, letting your arms wrap around his neck as you looked up at him.

You were almost certain that you two were going to kiss, but you pulled away when you noticed a person at the end of the aisle— you didn’t want you and Steve to become the kind of couple that was so disgustingly adorable in public. You grabbed his hand instead and continued to lead him down the aisle. 

You picked through books with your free hand, nothing really catching your eye enough for you to actually pull it off the shelf, and then you noticed a title that looked really familiar so you grabbed it immediately. “Woah.” 

“What?” Steve asked, looking down at the book you now had in your hand. 

“Okay, this might be a stupidly long story,” You started. “So, I had to read a different book by this author for one of my classes. I ended up liking it a lot and also his writing style too, so I looked him up, and I saw that he did this historical fiction book; some World War II thing. It actually sounded interesting, and I immediately thought of you when I found it because I thought you’d probably like it. But, we weren’t talking at the time, so of course I didn’t tell you about it or recommend it to you.” You pointed to the book in your hand. “This is that book, and now I really wanna get it for you. This also now reminds me of our first date and when I said that I’d find you a book to make you not hate reading. If you do end up actually hating this book, though, I give you full permission to lie to me when I ask what you thought about it.” You got quiet as you looked down at the book again and then back up at him. “Okay, I’m done rambling now.” 

Steve smiled at you and your rambling. “I can’t wait to read it.”

You laughed a bit. “Okay, you don’t have to lie yet.”

“I’m not lying,” He told you. “If you get like this anytime you talk about books, then I’ll read any one you give me.”

That warmed your heart so much that it made you not care about pressing the sweetest kiss against his lips in front of the other people in the narrow aisle.

His hand was still against your cheek when you pulled back from the slow kiss and told him, “I’ll happily read to you too, like in Mexico, if you want.” 

He nodded. “That sounds great.”

The text that the table was ready came earlier than expected. You two were sitting on a small bench that was right outside the restaurant and you were in fact reading to him. 

“Thoughts so far?” You asked as you and he stood up to head back into the restaurant. “Remember lying is encouraged.”

“It’s surprisingly good. And I’m not lying,” He answered as he pulled the door open for you. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You weren’t entirely sure who initiated what. 

You had kissed Steve first, you knew that. But, it was meant to be a goodbye one— you were standing outside of your apartment door after having dinner at the restaurant and you both could recognize that the night had come to its natural end. Instead, though, the kiss felt like the opposite; it distinctly felt like the start of something rather than the end. And it did start something. 

You were being softly pressed back against the door as Steve deepened the kiss, mouth moving against yours so seamlessly as one hand came up to cup your cheek and the other found the curve of your waist. 

There was a part of you that suddenly felt so certain that this would never not feel so fucking right to you. Sure, it had been barely twenty-four hours since things shifted and changed into what you and Steve were now, but it felt so easy and not at all rushed or abrupt. It was as if this was something that had been slowly building until here you two finally were— making out against your front door without a care in the world because you both were so equally smitten and enamored by each other. 

You wanted absolutely everything with him, and perhaps he was able to tell that from the look in your eyes when you pulled back from the kiss to catch your breath for a moment. And maybe it was in your head, but it seemed as if he was nodding in agreement with you. 

He was in the middle of leaning in to kiss you again when the door opened abruptly and you let out a surprised yelp as both of Steve’s hands immediately found your hips to keep you from falling back. 

“Shit, sorry,” You recognized Eddie’s voice before you turned around. “I don’t even wanna know what you two were just doing.” 

You didn’t expect to see him in this moment. He came over to the apartment earlier to return something that he’d stolen from Robin a few days ago, and you had used that moment as your opportunity to tell him about you and Steve.

“I guess I did end up playing matchmaker for you after all,” Had been his immediate response after you told him that you and Steve were together. “Once again, I expect the biggest shoutout at your guys’ wedding.” 

You only rolled your eyes at him in response because you couldn’t think of anything else to say. Technically, he was entirely right— you wouldn’t have even met Steve if it wasn’t for Eddie. And it was a bit insane to think about that. 

“Also,” He continued. “I feel slightly offended that I’m the last to find out, even though I’ve known you the longest.”

“It’s one of the privileges that come along with Rob, Vick, and Tal being my roommates,” You said, a teasing smile on your face. “You’ll be back to the top in a few months.”

At the end of the summer, he was going to move into Talia’s room since she was graduating and doing her master’s program at a school in New York. It was an almost too obvious decision that, of course, made the most sense.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” You said to Eddie now. You mindlessly leaned back against Steve because it felt slightly weird not having zero space between you two. It wasn’t until after you did it, that you wondered if you were doing too much, being too much, but then Steve’s hand was finding yours and giving it a light squeeze, and the thought was quickly pushed away.

“Vickie put on this weird Christmas baking show and we’ve all been watching it since you left,” Eddie explained and you nodded. “I’m now being forced to grab the takeout from downstairs, though.”

“You’re back!” You noticed Talia turning around from where she was on the couch. “How was the date?”

Before you could say anything, Robin was turning around too. “Eddie, grab the food before it gets stolen by the same asshole from last time!”

“I’m going, I’m going,” He called out before heading down the hallway. 

The door was more than halfway open at that point, and you turned again to look at Steve again instead of doing anything else.

“You wanna come in?” You asked because you simply just really wanted to keep the night going with him. “If we hate watching the baking show, we can go to my room and finally watch Freaky Friday.” 

From the smile on his face, you could tell that he didn’t want the night to be over either. “Okay.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

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[pearlzier]

maybe this is odd but. i can totally imagine matt being down bad for chris’s baby mama. like he was neutral about her when chris and her were hooking up but when she got pregnant/had the kid and she started hanging around the house more?? yeah, he was completely done for

wait. no i get it .... i get it !!! brother's baby mama!reader.... bbm!reader.... LMFAO / mdni for this thanksies 😋

matt didn't mind you all that much when you and chris got together. you're his brother's girlfriend, not much to say about you, he supposes. you're pretty cool, you make chris happy. yeah, you're pretty. incredibly so, matt knows that—he's not insane to think otherwise. your company's nice, when you hang out with him, nick and chris, he's happy to have you around. but you were nothing more than his brother's girlfriend, right? he didn't have feelings for you or anything.

till that fucking changed. matt had noticed you were acting a little different as of late, just slightly. foods you usually liked were putting you off, you got sick in the mornings a lot and you were just a little different. he hadn't thought you were pregnant with chris' kid, no. but along with nick, he'd found out when chris had come bounding down the stairs all excited about becoming a father. he knew the two of you were fucking, had heard it before but he'd thought you were using protection or you were on birth control, at least.

he didn't think it'd affect him all that much, but here he was, staring at you like a damn dog. you just look good. you're over at the house a lot more now, and his eyes find themselves on you a lot more too. he likes the way you dress more casually, more comfortably now, which means he gets to see more of you. particularly those tank tops, god, your tits look so good beneath the white cotton. the way your nipples pebble against it? he can't take it.

"you okay?" he'd ask you. "just sore, but y'know," matt knows they're sore too, he'd love to massage them for you and relieve the aching pain but that'd be crossing some sort of line, he knows. but he wishes those lines weren't there. "hope you feel better, alright? ask chris for a massage or somethin', don't want you achin' all day." he settled for, knowing he couldn't offer much else.

matt doesn't know what it is that's gotten him so pent up over you but he doesn't want it to stop. honestly? he kind of, no, not kind of, really wishes that he could've filled you up with his cum and gotten you pregnant with his kid. he would've pumped you full a thousand times over to have you stuffed full of him. it gets so bad that he finds himself pumping his fist over his cock in bed at the thought of getting you pregnant, or even just cumming inside of you and watching it ooze out of you.

he started realising how damn sweet you are and how badly he wants you for himself. every damn time he sees you, he wishes he'd gotten to you first instead of chris. it's definitely selfish, he knows, but he can't help himself. matt catches himself literally restocking the fridge with food he knows you're craving, just to feel better about everything. when you notice, you immediately think it's chris who got it for you—"chris? did you get me food?" chris is confused, no, he doesn't think so. he was gonna go tonight, "uh, no?"

well, hey, it's food, so you're not exactly complaining all that much. matt realises you just shrugged it off, and he feels the tiniest pang of disappointment as he glances away from the kitchen, looking back at his phone. he hears your footsteps from where he's sat, hearing them beside him. but he's taken off guard when he feels your hand on his shoulder. "thank you," it's simple, those two words, but the kiss you press to his cheek as you wander back off to do whatever, yeah, it makes his cock twitch in his pants and he has to practically sprint upstairs, locking himself in his room for an hour or so.

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER THIRTY (see full series list here)

warning: bit of an emotional start, sorry

October 31st, 1981

“Hey, love, are you feeling any better?”

After a lot of straining and groaning, you manage to turn your head just enough on the pillow to be able to take in the person who’s just entered the room: Sirius, your husband — and for the past two days, your servant, practically.

You sniffle, one of your nostrils completely blocked, giving a wry smile. “Not at all.” Your voice comes out raspy and it grates against the back of your throat. “I don't know what I did to deserve this but fuck I am never doing it again.”

He chuckles softly, gently stroking your hair out of your face. “Look on the bright side. At least you're not in St Mungo’s.”

“Not yet.” You blink lethargically at him, fighting the urge to drift off to sleep, sighing. “Have we gotten any trick-or-treaters?”

He raises an eyebrow, chuckling. “What are you on about?”

You raise a hand lazily, waving it about in front of him in strange explanation. “It’s a Muggle thing…kids dress up and come to the door…give them sweets…”

Sirius listens while you babble incomprehensibly about Halloween and Muggles, and places a cold wet cloth on your forehead, relieving the immense heat emanating from your skin. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“We don't have any pain relief left,” he says gently, as if he’s worried talking too loud will irritate your body even more. “I’ll pop out and get you some in a little bit.”

You shake your head vigorously, alarm bells going off in your head. “No, no, stay here. Don't leave tonight…have a bad feeling…”

“Probably because you’re sick,” he answers with an amused smile, placing a fresh box of tissues on your bedside table. “I won't be long.”

But you really do have a bad feeling, and you know it's not from the illness. You have a sinking feeling in your stomach of worry, a sense that something bad will happen tonight. You want him to stay by your side just in case.

“No, stay, Sirius, please,” you say weakly, your body betraying your brain as your eyelids get heavier and you have to fight to keep them open. “Please, don't go…something bad will happen.”

He continues stroking your hair soothingly, wiping the cloth across your forehead. “Nothing bad will happen, I promise. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You grab his arm with what little strength you have, your body aching with the movement. “Please, please don't go. I’m being serious, stay here, please…”

He stands up, tugging the covers closer to your body. “Get your rest, love. You’ll feel better when I have your medicine.”

You open your mouth to say more, but this time the words don't come out. You bring a hand to your throat, feeling it burn each time you try to say anything.

“Sirius…”

But he's gone. He's left the room and soon, as your eyelids finally shut over your eyes, you can hear the revving of his motorbike outside and the sound of him driving off into the night.

Bright light when you’re jolted awake by someone shaking you vigorously tells you it’s morning. Your eyes snap open, feeling extremely disoriented, and peer up at the unfamiliar face above you.

“Come on, get up now…”

“Huh…?” You blink, bringing a hand to your eyes and rubbing them, your head pounding. When you open them again, Barty Crouch is wide-eyed, staring back at you. In a mixture of sickness and shock, you let out a string of rattly coughs and he jerks away from you, wrinkling his nose. “Mr Crouch?”

“Get up.”

With effort, you manage to sit up against the headboard and take in your surroundings. You realise that what you had taken for the morning sun streaming in through the windows is actually just the lights in your bedroom, making you squint. Crouch isn’t the only one here — there’s about six other official-looking people — a few other Aurors you recognise from the Ministry.

What the fuck is going on? Are you dying? What was in that medicine Sirius got you?

“Mr Crouch what — what are you doing here?”

“You didn’t hear what happened, then.” He looks back at his co-workers, and they start muttering to each other conspiratorially. Can’t they just leave? Can’t they see you need rest right now? This must be a dream because if it were real Sirius would keep them out of your room.

“You’re going to have to come with us.”

“What?”

Crouch leans to say something to another man, and you manage to catch the end of his sentence: “ — no state to answer questions, we’ll have to take her in.”

You groan, reaching for the water on your nightstand and gulping the glass down. You feel sick, and you don’t know if it’s from anxiety or your flu.

“Where’s…where’s Sirius?” you say, craning your neck to look past the people in case he’s hidden behind them.

Crouch bites his lip and exchanges a glance with the workers, another set of mutterings passing around the group.

“Just…come with us, and we’ll explain everything. We’ll get you a potion for your illness.”

You look around at all the sets of eyes staring at you. One man standing near the back is glaring at you as if you’ve just killed someone.

“No, where is he?” You pull back the covers and feebly swing your legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. “Where the fuck is Sirius?”

The man who’s been glaring at you steps forward from the back of the group to speak to Crouch, though he makes no effort to hide his words. “Stop being so nice, Crouch. Let’s get this over with.”

Crouch looks down at you, frowning, as he takes in your appearance: dishevelled and in your pyjamas, nose and eyes red.

“You’ll need to get dressed.”

You stare around at them, shaking your head. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

“You’ll find out. Get ready.”

“Tell me what’s going on or I’m not going anywhere.”

Crouch hisses in frustration but before he can get another word out, the angry man steps forward and produces his wand. “This isn’t a fucking tea party, Barty. Stupefy.”

When you wake, you're sitting in a chair. Blinking rapidly, you take in your surroundings: Crouch’s office. He sits across from you, hands folded in front of him as he stares at you.

“You're awake.”

You groan, your limbs stiff and sore. “Fuck — barely.”

Crouch sighs and looks behind you, and when you turn around you notice Moody standing behind you, leaning on his staff with a grim expression.

“Sir?”

Crouch pushes a tall glass of water towards you across the desk. “Have a drink.”

Your heart is pounding — what is going on? Have you done something wrong? Oh god, what about that paperwork you forgot to file last week? It was a complete accident, you just lost track of time —

“Go on.”

Nervously, you pull the glass towards your lips and gulp it down, grateful for how it soothes your throat. Oddly, you don't feel sick anymore — your headache is gone, your nose is clear and you don't feel the urge to cough and sneeze every ten seconds. They must have given you a potion while you were out. How long were you out?

Crouch waits while you drink and doesn't speak until you've finished every last drop. Then he clears his throat. “Last night, James and Lily Potter were murdered by He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”

The monotone way he says it makes you feel like you've heard him wrong.

“What?”

“They were betrayed by their Secret-Keeper. By Sirius Black.”

You don't say anything. You can't say anything. James and Lily are dead? This can't be happening. This is just a nightmare, right? It's a horrible, terrible nightmare. There is no way that in the real world, your best friends are dead. There is no way that in reality, your best friends are dead and your husband is the reason why. Sirius would never do that, you know he would never do that — he wouldn’t even tell you anything about where they were hiding, he would never compromise their safety like that —

“Sirius Black killed Peter Pettigrew and twelve muggles in one blast.”

Wake up, wake up. This is just a nightmare. Your brain is just playing a cruel trick on you — maybe it was the medicine…yeah, that sounds about right. Potions and medicine always make your brain act funny —

“You got all that?”

“No, I – I don’t underst—”

“Harry Potter survived. No one knows how. He destroyed the Dark Lord. They are calling him ‘The Boy Who Lived’.”

This is all too much for you. You don’t understand — what does he mean James and Lily are dead? And — and Sirius is the reason why? And how could Harry survive, he’s barely a year old — it can’t be real. How could they be dead? And where is Sirius? You need to see him, you need to talk to him, you just need him right now —

Slowly, you look over your shoulder at Moody, still standing silently against his staff.

Your lip trembles and when you speak it's barely audible. “Tell me I’m dreaming. Please, please, please tell me this is a fucking dream.”

His magical eye swivels and stares back at you, studying your face. It feels like he’s analysing your face, like the answer is written on your cheeks as plain as day. There are dark, ashy bags under his eyes. His lip is cracked and split on one side, crusty with dried blood. Did he sleep at all last night? Probably not — Moody never sleeps. But this looks different, not the usual after-effects of his insomnia — it’s worse than that.

He shakes his head and your stomach lurches.

This is happening.

Crouch’s expression remains the same. “I have no tolerance for Death Eaters or anyone who aids a Death Eater in any shape or form, Mrs Black, so I am going to waste no time playing nice. Are you, or have you ever been, a part of the Dark Lord’s following?”

“No.”

The answer comes out of you before you can think — you barely even register the question in your head before your mouth is blurting out the word — oddly monotone for your current state: trembling from head to toe, trying your best not to vomit, eyes stinging.

“Did you know of your husband’s involvement with the Dark Lord?”

“No.”

Again, you don’t even realise what he’s asking when the word falls out of your mouth. It’s like you have no control over what you’re saying at all.

“What — what the fuck — “

“Did you ever cover for Sirius when he was spying for the Dark Lord?”

“No.” You stop, hissing in frustration. “No, no — Sirius, he — he wasn’t a Death Eater, he isn’t a Death Eater, he would never — “

“He is,” Crouch says. “Whether you knew it or not, he has been working with the Dark Lord for quite some time now.”

You shake your head, unable to stop yourself from crying. “N-no, no…Sirius was James’s best friend, they were like b-brothers — he would never sell them out like that —”

“Then how did the Dark Lord find out where the Potters were hiding?” Crouch says sharply. “No one knew that information but Sirius. No one was able to reveal that information but him —”

“No,” you sob. “No, no, no, no, no —”

“The sooner you accept it, the sooner you can move on.” Though his words might seem sympathetic and comforting to some, he says them with little to no sympathy whatsoever.

“There must be a mistake,” you sniffle, skin burning from the tears streaming down your cheeks. “That’s not what happened, Sirius, he — he was just gone to the shop —”

A hand comes to rest on your shoulder. “There were witnesses. They saw him kill Pettigrew and those Muggles.”

You shake your head, sobbing. “No, no, no, no, no! T-that’s not what happened, that can’t be what h-happened —”

“Have you ever acted on orders given to you by the Dark Lord, or any of his followers?”

“No.”

Your hand flies to your throat instinctively, as if there’s something wrapped around it that you want to release, and you stare back at Crouch, the light on his desk pulsing in the corner of your eye. Your eyes wander to your empty glass on the desk.

“Did you — d-did you give me fuck — fucking truth serum?”

A vein bulges in his neck, his lip twitching. “Of course I did. Did you expect me to just take everything you say as truth? You’re married to a Death Eater.”

A million different emotions are coursing through you. You feel like getting sick. “Sirius isn’t a Death Eater, he isn’t — and I’ll p-prove it to you, let me show you his arm, he doesn’t have the m-mark —”

“That is no surprise. He was a spy!” Crouch snaps, voice raised. “If he had the mark he would never be trusted by the Potters!”

This is too much. You can’t think in this — it’s too warm in this office, your clothes are sticking to your skin and it's suffocating, your throat is burning, you need some fresh air —

“Where is he?” You gasp. “Sirius. Where is he? Please, let me talk to him, please —”

“He is on a one-way trip to Azkaban,” Crouch spits. “And he will never return. For what he has done, he deserves no better.”

“When can I see h-him?” you say desperately. “His trial, his trial, when is his trial — “

“There won’t be one.”

Your heart feels heavy and you close your eyes, falling back in your chair as you sob. “What? What do you mean there won’t be one?”

“He is a mentally deranged and dangerous criminal,” Crouch says, hatred in his eyes. “We have an eye-witness account for what happened, there is no point in arguing when the verdict is clear. It is a waste of time.”

“No, no, that’s not fair, he deserves a trial just like everyone else.” You’re breathing heavily and suddenly it feels like there isn’t enough air in the room to fill your tired lungs. “You — you can’t just send him to Azkaban like that!”

“I can.”

“But — “

“The man has murdered thirteen innocent people!” Crouch bellows, his face red with anger. “Poor Peter Pettigrew, he was your friend! He tore after Sirius, told him just what he thought of his betrayal, and was murdered for it! Twelve innocent civilians, victims of his sick and twisted mind! James and Lily, betrayed by their closest friend — Harry Potter, betrayed by his godfather!”

His eyes are bulging out of their sockets and his fists are clenched on the desk. The room goes silent but for your uncontrollable sobs and Crouch’s heavy breathing across the desk from you. You screw your eyes shut and silently beg anyone listening to take it all away, to make this day never happen. To turn back time and keep your friends alive. Anything to get rid of this obliterating feeling.

“You got what you wanted, Barty,” Moody grunts from behind you. “Give the girl a break.”

When Moody takes your arm and pulls you out of Crouch’s office, you can barely see straight. You desperately try to process everything that’s going on, but it’s impossible. The very notion that James and Lily could be dead is inconceivable to you. Not your best friend, not your Lily, who promised you’d be best friends until you were old and frail. How could someone so sweet and wonderful, so full of life — how could she ever die? How could someone ever snuff out that perfect, unending light that was her soul? She always told you that your kids would grow up together, that they would be the best of friends just like you were — how can you ever come to terms with the fact that she will never get to see that become a reality? How will you ever adjust to life without James’s grins, without his constant jokes and laughter — who will you and Lily laugh at, how will you watch the way her face lights up when he enters the room if he’s dead?

Workers stare at you as you pass through the halls with Moody, they turn and anxiously whisper with their colleagues, but you don’t even notice. When Moody sits you down in his office, he doesn’t say anything. He says absolutely nothing and lets you stare at the chipped wood of his desk, lets you sob and weep and scream and wail, lets you mutter and babble incoherently.

The next day the Minister of Magic, Millicent Bagnold, gives you more Veritaserum and interrogates you with similar questions to Crouch. You scream and roar about Sirius — you just want to talk to him, you just want to see him — and when it gets you nowhere Moody takes you back to his office and silently lets you stew for hours again.

This routine continues for a week. Every day someone seems to have a new question to catch you out — one that will finally reveal that you knew something, or you helped someone — each new person bringing a fresh glass of water laced with a hefty dose of Veritaserum. You've actually gotten good at tasting the difference between the water they give you and the water Moody gives you, which is clean and potion-less, straight from his hip flask.

When you get home it doesn’t feel like home. You step in the door and cry, hot tears stinging your eyes. You spot a photo on your kitchen counter — it’s you and Sirius, on your birthday. You're sitting at the kitchen table, and his arm is around your waist while you lean into him, a gleeful grin on your face. It sets you off and in a fit of rage you throw it against the wall, shattering it. The second the photo hits the floor you’re filled with regret, and you rush to assess the damage. You try and repair it with your wand but you can’t focus properly on the spell, and spend an hour trying to carefully glue it back together with shaky hands.

You can't do anything. You feel bad doing the things you enjoy, like listening to music or reading a book — Sirius can't do these things in Azkaban. James and Lily can't do these things in death. You have no appetite and the days seem to blur and blur until you have no idea what time it is.

Why did this have to happen to your family?

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

December, 1995

You don’t think you’ve ever been as excited when Christmas break finally arrives. The last two years have been spent at Hogwarts, and the others at your parents’ house with Remus. Your parents love Remus — he’s like a son to them. And now you finally get to spend it with everyone you love, especially Sirius. However, getting to Grimmauld Place for the holidays isn’t as easy as expected.

A few days before the end of term while you’re helping decorate the entrance hall, Umbridge approaches. “Excited for Christmas, professor?”

It takes you a second to get over the initial shock of her actually speaking to you, and you turn back to your decorations. “Yes.”

“And where will you be staying this Christmas?” she asks. “As Hogwarts High Inquisitor, it is pertinent that I know where all staff are over the period in case I should need to contact them with anything urgent.”

She smiles at you and you resist the urge to gag at the sight of her.

“I’m going to my parents’ house,” you reply, lifting some tinsel in the air with your wand and lining it along a portrait of an elegant woman standing beneath an apple tree.

“How festive!” the woman in the portrait comments.

Umbridge cocks her head with interest. “Your parents? But I have heard that you usually stay at Hogwarts.”

You shrug. “Thought I’d switch it up this year.”

“Is there any particular reason this sudden change was brought on?” she asks, smiling condescendingly.

You pick up the box of decorations with one hand and turn to her. “I miss them.” Before she can interrogate you any more, you march away from her, fixing boughs of holly and mistletoe branches as you go.

You join the rest of the students on the Hogwarts Express back to King’s Cross, taking the time to carefully wrap presents and write cards. It’s a lot of work to get home. You’re not going to risk heading straight to London to Grimmauld Place, not with the chance of being followed — which you expect every time you leave Hogwarts. You go to the house first, pick up some extra clothes, before getting on another train to your parents’ house. You have dinner with them there and trade gifts until nightfall, when you pack up your things again and, disguising yourself as best you can, make your way to Grimmauld Place with Dubh sleeping soundly in your bag as you go.

“Well, you better be honoured that I went through all that zig-zagging across the country just to see you,” you say when Sirius greets you at the door. You don’t think the grin on his face could be any wider when his eyes meet yours. Remus follows him through the corridor, smiling.

“Believe me, I’m more than honoured,” Sirius says, striding forward to place both hands on your cheeks and bring your mouth to his, kissing you desperately. You drop your bags in surprise, chuckling against his lips. When you pull back, his head follows you and you laugh, putting your hands on his shoulders to gently push him back.

“Easy, Sirius, we’ve got company,” you tease, nodding at Remus, who rolls his eyes.

Sirius turns to Remus, grinning. “Can’t let me have a moment, can you?”

He shrugs. “Guess not.”

You give Remus a hug before heading into the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley is busy preparing dinner. There are bags under her eyes when she turns to greet you, the stress of Arthur’s injuries clearly getting to her.

“Let me give you a hand, Molly,” you say, and though usually she would tell you not to be silly, this time she accepts your help gratefully, allowing you to take over most of the workload while she busies herself with setting the table.

Sirius is in a brilliant mood, singing Christmas carols as he sets about the place putting up decorations. You don’t think you’ve seen him this happy in a long time and it calms your anxious heart. He works tirelessly up to Christmas Day, determined to make the house unrecognisable — and he actually manages to do a pretty decent job of turning the dusty old place into a warm, cheerful home. Garlands of holly and gold and silver streamers hang from the chandeliers, and a great twinkling Christmas tree, acquired by Mundungus, hides the Black family tree from view. Mistletoe branches are placed over the entrances to different rooms, and every chance he gets Sirius is pulling you under one to steal a kiss. Even the elf heads on the wall are wearing little Santa hats and beards.

He wakes up early on Christmas Day like a child desperate to unwrap their presents and shakes you awake, much to your annoyance.

“Sirius, this better be good —”

“Just look.”

He points at the window, grinning, and after rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you turn to look at what he’s pointing at.

There, at the window, is a brand-new telescope, aimed at the sky above. A glittery gold bow has been stuck to the top of it.

“You were complaining about not having your telescope here over the summer, that the one at home is too difficult to transport, so —”

You beam, throwing your arms around him gleefully. “Oh, I love it, Sirius!”

You kiss him, lingering for several moments to relish in the feeling of his lips on yours, unable to fight the smile on your face while you do. You thread your fingers through his hair, giggling.

“How did you even buy it? Don’t tell me you left —”

“I didn’t leave the house, no,” Sirius says with a roll of his eyes. “I sent Remus to get it and gave him the money.”

You smile good-naturedly at him. “Poor Remus.”

He snorts.

You kiss him one last time. “You are the absolute best. I love you.”

He smiles and you pull away to reach under the bed and produce his present, neatly wrapped in red and gold wrapping paper. Curiously, he unwraps it to reveal a small bottle of dark blue liquid, turning it around in his hands before his eyes widen in shock, laughing.

“I — how did you get this?” he says in disbelief. “I thought it would be discontinued by now.”

You beam. “I never reveal my secrets.” You nod at him, smiling. “Go on, test it out. I want to see if it’s actually the same.”

Sirius pulls the cap off the bottle, aiming the nozzle at his wrist and spraying it, rubbing it in with the other before holding his wrist out to you to test. Leaning forward, you sniff and laugh, grinning at him. It’s the cologne he used to wear for years before his capture, he used to say it was his signature scent. The same cologne you remember smelling inside your Amortentia potion in sixth year.

“Perfect.”

He smiles at you, pulling you towards him to kiss you again. “Thank you,” he breathes between kisses, smiling against your lips. “You’re perfect. I love you.”

When you finally disentangle from each other, you get dressed and head downstairs — though not before you’ve thoroughly inspected your new telescope, delighting in the cleanness of it and the crystal-clear focus of the untouched lenses.

In the kitchen, Harry, Ron, and Hermione are peering into Kreacher’s den opposite the pantry and Mrs Weasley is standing at the stove, sniffling when she wishes you both Merry Christmas. You’re about to check what’s wrong when Sirius taps your side, silently shaking his head.

“Percy,” he whispers near-imperceptibly into your ear, and you nod in understanding. Then he raises his voice, “I’ll get the turkey.”

He heads into the pantry and you make your way over to the kids, smiling. “Happy Christmas, guys. What are you up to?”

“I have a present for Kreacher,” Hermione explains, laying a package on top of the rags and blankets in the dingy cupboard, right beside the glass photos Kreacher hoards of Sirius’ family. She frowns. “But he’s not here…I guess he’ll find it later, it’s fine.”

“Come to think of it,” Sirius says, emerging from the pantry carrying a large turkey as Harry closes the cupboard door, “has anyone actually seen Kreacher lately?”

“I haven’t seen him since the night we came back here,” says Harry. “You were ordering him out of the kitchen.”

“Yeah…” Sirius frowns. “You know, I think that’s the last time I saw him, too…he must be hiding upstairs somewhere…”

“He couldn’t have left, could he?” Harry suggests. “I mean, when you said ‘out’, maybe he thought you meant get out of the house?”

Sirius shakes his head. “No, no, house elves can’t leave unless they’re given clothes, they’re tied to their family’s house.”

“They can leave the house if they really want to,” Harry contradicts. “Dobby did, he left the Malfoys’ house to give me warnings two years ago. He had to punish himself afterward, but he still managed it.”

Sirius looks slightly disconcerted for a moment, meeting your eyes, before he shakes his head. “I’ll look for him later, I expect I’ll find him upstairs crying his eyes out over my mother’s old bloomers or something…of course, he might’ve crawled up into the airing cupboard and died…but I mustn’t get my hopes up…”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, though Hermione looks reproachful.

“Thanks for the presents, by the way,” Harry says, smiling at the two of you.

You beam back at him, thinking of the book on defensive spells and the treats from Honeydukes you had left at the foot of his bed last night. “You’re very welcome!”

You receive an assortment of different kinds of magical teas from Remus, noting with interest the box of earl grey that apparently makes the drinker see everything in black and white for a few minutes, and the green tea that gives levitation. In return, you buy him a set of expensive oil paints which he delights in, promising that you will be the first person to get a painting made with them.

After you have dinner, the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione, head to St Mungo’s to visit Arthur along with Moody and Remus to escort them. You had intended to go, but upon seeing the look on Sirius’s face when everyone leaves, you decide against it.

Before they go, you shove two small bags into Remus’ hands. “Give these to Frank and Alice, will you? Oh, and give this to Arthur.”

You hand him a paddle with a ball attached to it by a string — another Muggle game you hope will keep him entertained in St Mungo’s.

“Of course.”

The place is oddly quiet without everyone else, and you feel a rush of sympathy for Sirius at how lonely the house feels without anyone in it. It reminds you of the silence in your home without him there.

But at the same time, it’s nice. You stand side-by-side as you wash the dishes, handing them to him so he can dry them with a tea towel, and relay all your grievances about Umbridge.

“And then she said, ‘I know you’re hiding something…or should I say someone?’ and she smiled — you do not want to see her smile, by the way, it’s unnerving — but she thought she was well clever, as if she’s the first person to ever think that I could be hiding you away somewhere —”

“Well, you are, to be fair.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know for sure. She just thinks I am,” you say matter-of-factly, handing him another plate.

The scene is so domestic, that it’s almost foreign to you. You went over a decade without him and strangely, it’s little moments like this that you missed the most. Quiet, everyday things.

“Oh, and Mam and Dad said to tell you they said hello,” you say, smiling. “I think my dad misses you quite a lot — or maybe he just misses having someone to order around.”

Sirius chuckles, plates clinking as he returns them to the cupboard. “He always made me work every time we visited. And it’s not like I could say no, either — don’t want to get on the wrong side of the in-laws.”

“A flawless plan, really.”

He hums in agreement, sighing. You hand him the last few cups and he places them in the press before dusting his hands off. “I suppose I should look for Kreacher, before he decides to turn our bedroom into a shrine for my mother…”

Later, it's revealed that Kreacher had been hiding up in the attic — Sirius found him covered in dust, no doubt searching for more Black family relics.

When everyone else turns in for the night, it's just you and Sirius left in the kitchen. You let out a yawn as he drums his fingers on the table, before his face lights up with intent and he stands up and moves away from the table. Curious, you watch as he produces an old record player and blows the dust off of it, then he carefully pulls the needle onto the record and with a crackle, soft music starts playing.

Sirius extends a hand to you, smiling. “Care for a dance?”

You laugh, looking up at him in disbelief. “Oh, you're not serious…I haven't danced in forever —”

“That doesn't matter. Neither have I.”

He pushes his hand further to urge you, and you hesitantly place your hand in his and allow him to pull you out of your seat and into the middle of the floor. The space you have in the kitchen is limited, but it doesn't seem to bother Sirius at all.

Gentle but firm, he places the hand not holding yours on your lower back, and you place your free hand on his shoulder, your face inches from his.

He starts to lead you in a slow sway, and strangely enough you find yourself moving without thinking, muscle memory kicking in. Sighing contentedly, you slot your head into the crook of his neck. You can smell his new (or old?) cologne on his skin.

“Do you think we would’ve been good parents?” you ask softly. “If we had got the chance.��

You feel the nod of his head as he hums. “We would’ve been the best parents, love. And our kids would be lucky enough to inherit all our incredible genes.”

You chuckle, reaching your hand up to his hair to gently pull at the soft strands. “I think they would get your hair.”

“And your eyes, I hope.”

“They’d be clever.”

“And funny — and they'd all be Gryffindors, no doubt.”

You raise an eyebrow. “They’ll all have my smarts, you know. They could be in Ravenclaw.”

Sirius laughs. “Oh, really? Well, if you were so smart then why weren't you placed in Ravenclaw?”

You shrug, biting back a grin. “I look better in red.”

He gently spins you around to the music, and your eye catches on one of the Weasleys’ scarves on the kitchen counter, red and gold sparkling in the light.

“Everyone would love them,” you say, smiling sweetly. “They'd ace every subject and brag about how cool their parents are.”

“They'd dress cool and have incredible taste in music.”

You chuckle, heart aching at the what-ifs. The what could have happened. “They’d be kind to everyone.”

“But not afraid to stand up for themselves.”

“They'd be like you.”

“They'd be just like you.”

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

On the very last day of the holidays, you sit at the kitchen table beside Sirius, the room completely silent, as he glares across at Snape. You're not sure, but you think he might be trying to incinerate the man with just his eyes — though so far he has made no progress.

Harry enters the kitchen, looking quite puzzled and nervous to see Snape sitting there. “Uh.”

“Sit down, Potter.”

“You know,” Sirius says, leaning back on the rear legs of his chair as far back as he can and looking up at the ceiling, “I’d prefer it if you didn’t give orders here, Snape. It's my house, you see.”

An ugly flush rises in Snape’s face. Harry sits down on Sirius’ other side, the three of you facing across at Snape.

“I was supposed to see you alone, Potter,” Snape says, a familiar sneer curling his lips, “but the Blacks — “

“We’re his godparents,” Sirius says loudly.

“I am here on Dumbledore’s orders, but by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel…involved.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Sirius lets his chair fall back onto four legs with a bang.

“Merely that I am sure you must feel — ah — frustrated by the fact you can do nothing useful for the Order.”

Snape's lip curls in triumph and your fist clenches under the table.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath, though still loud enough for Snape to hear, based on the way his eye twitches slightly.

Snape turns to Harry. “The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term.”

“Study what?” Harry says blankly.

“Occlumency, Potter. The magical defense of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one.”

“Why do I have to study Occlu — thing?”

“Because the headmaster thinks it a good idea,” Snape says smoothly. “You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?”

“Yes,” Harry says, thumbing the sleeve of his jumper nervously. “Who's going to be teaching me?”

“I am,” Snape answers.

“Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry?” Sirius says aggressively. “Why you?”

“I suppose because it's a headmaster’s privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks,” says Snape silkily. “I assure you I did not beg for the job.” He gets to his feet. “I will expect you at six o’clock on Monday evening, Potter. My office. If anyone asks, you are taking Remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them.”

He turns to leave, his black travelling cloak billowing behind him.

Sirius sits straighter in his chair. “Wait a moment.”

Snape turns back to face you, sneering. “I am in rather a hurry, Black…unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time…”

“I’ll get to the point, then,” Sirius says, standing up. “If I hear you're using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time, you'll have me to answer to.”

“How touching,” Snape sneers. “But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?”

“Yes, I have,” Sirius answers proudly.

“Well then, you’ll notice he's so arrogant that criticism bounces off him.”

Sirius pushes his chair aside roughly and strides around the table towards Snape, pulling out his wand as he goes. Snape whips out his own. They square up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculated, his eyes flicking between Sirius' wand to his face.

“Sirius!” You say loudly, but he appears not to hear you.

“I've warned you, Snivellus,” he says, face barely a foot from Snape’s, “I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you're reformed, I know better —”

“Oh, but why don't you tell him so?” Snape whispers venomously. “Or are you afraid he might not take the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother’s house for six months very seriously?”

You would jump in but before you can even think about opening your mouth, Sirius is biting back at him.

“Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog’s working at Hogwarts, isn’t he?”

“Speaking of dogs,” Snape says softly, “did you know Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform…gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in the future, didn't it?”

Sirius raises his wand.

“No!” You yell, moving to try and get between them. “Don’t be stupid —”

“Are you calling me a coward?” Sirius snaps at Snape.

“Why, yes, I suppose I am.”

The door opens and the entire Weasley family, plus Hermione, enters the kitchen, all looking very pleased with Mr Weasley walking proudly in their midst, dressed in a pair of striped pajamas.

“Cured!” he announces brightly to the room. “Completely cured!”

He and all the other Weasleys freeze when they take in the scene before them: Sirius and Snape with their wands drawn and pointing into each other’s faces, and you and Harry beside them, watching on in shock.

“Merlin’s beard,” says Mr Weasley, the smile sliding off his face. “What's going on here?”

The two men lower their wands, both wearing twin expressions of the utmost contempt. Snape pockets his and sweeps across the room, saying nothing to the Weasleys as he passes, and pauses at the door.

“Six o’clock Monday evening, Potter.”

He leaves, and Sirius glares after him, wand held tightly in a white-knuckled grip at his side.

“But what's been going on?”

“Nothing, Arthur,” you answer, stepping forward to greet them, “nothing to worry about.” Over your shoulder, you shoot Sirius a reprimanding look, before turning back and plastering a smile on your face. “So, you're cured? That's brilliant, Arthur, really! Great news, honestly…”

“Yes, isn't it?” says Mrs Weasley, leading her husband into a chair, beaming. “Healer Smethwyck worked his magic in the end, found an antidote to whatever that snake’s got in its fangs, and Arthur’s learned his lesson about dabbling in Muggle medicine, haven't you, dear?” she adds, rather menacingly.

“Yes, Molly, dear,” Mr Weasley responds meekly.

Dinner that evening is a cheerful one, though you can tell that Sirius is far from the happy face he's putting on at the moment. When he's not laughing at loudly at Fred and George’s jokes, or offering everyone more food, he falls back into a sour expression.

When you get ready for bed that night, taking off your jewellery, you look over at him.

“I thought you would know by now not to listen to Snape’s goading,” you say. “He only says that stuff to rile you up.”

“I know, I know—”

“Didn't seem like you knew that,” you say, a bitterness lining the edges of your words.

“You heard what he said about James, about Harry,” he mutters angrily. “What kind of person would I be if I didn't defend them?”

“You don't need to defend them with your wand. He only wants to get a reaction from you, and you're giving him exactly what he wants. Leave the wand in your pocket next time. He has nothing on you.”

With a clink, you drop your earrings into the little ceramic plate on your nightstand.

He huffs in disagreement. “He's right about one thing: I’m of no use to the Order sitting here.”

You turn to him sharply, moving forward to sit on the bed beside him. “Forget the Order. Sure I'm not much use to it either, staying at Hogwarts all the time, am I?”

He opens his mouth to refute this but you continue talking before he can say anything.

“You’re of use to Harry. You don't realise how much he needs you,” you say softly, pulling a lock of hair behind his ear. “He really loves you, Sirius, and he is a lot better off now that you're in his life. Nevermind what Snape said — he might be doing the most for the Order, but that doesn’t automatically make him a good person. He is cruel and enjoys ruining the happiness of others. You do not, and for that you are a million times better than him.”

He leans into your touch, sighing. “I would have killed him.”

You snort, laughing. “He would've killed you. You might've been good with your wand when you were twenty, but Snape’s got a decade of practice over you while you were in Azkaban.”

He moves against your hand to press a kiss to the inside of your palm, before falling back on the bed with a loud, exasperated sigh.

“I hate him.”

You laugh. “Me too, Sirius, me too.”

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

→ all kinds of interaction greatly appreciated! ♡

not to sound like a broken record...but sorry for the delayed upload. also sorry for the sad start to this chapter, hope i made up for it later on :) happy christmas everyone! I can't begin to describe how kind everyone who has read this series has been to me. You have all been absolutely lovely and writing this would not be possible without all your endless support. I love you all ❤️

As always, the biggest hugs and kisses to my taglist loves:

@mothraantics @wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @devoid-swanky @carpe000diem @mooonyxoxo @navs-bhat

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[mxltifxnd0m]

dazzling starlet, bardot reincarnate ⟢ s. winchester

summary: unrequited love is a bitch; inspired/based on the song lacy by olivia rodrigo

pairings: stanford era! sam winchester x gn! reader (unrequited), sam winchester x afab! reader, sam winchester x jessica moore

word count: 2.3K

warnings: canon compliant, angst, lot of angst, unrequited love, mentions of sex/masturbation, some cursing, no happy ending, kinda edited

a/n: i had written this around this time last year and then finished it in the summer but i hated how it turned out so i finally was able to rewrite and it think it turned out much better. also i'd recommend giving the song a listen before reading!

but enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You didn’t know if you hated Jessica or hated the fact that she was everything you weren’t. You couldn’t help but feel like something was punching at your ribs anytime you saw her. Jessica was the epitome of beauty; she was tall, had curly blonde hair that never seemed to get frizzy, big blue eyes that were always wide with kindness,  and a sickly sweet smile that never failed to make you feel like your teeth could rot at the sight of it.

Not only was she beautiful on the outside, but it was like she didn’t have a bad bone in her body. Jessica was caring, intelligent, witty, strong-willed, and generous. You knew she had a big heart after meeting her a few times. She was practically an angel. 

You knew it from the moment Sam introduced you to her as his girlfriend that you had lost him. 

You tugged at the sleeves of your form-fitting black shirt at your wrists as you lingered outside of the apartment where Sam told you to meet him. Some of your mutual friends were hosting a small get-together before you guys went on fall break.

Just go in, mingle for a little, meet Sam’s girlfriend while you feel your heartbreak, and then leave. You think back to the plan that you made while you were getting ready. 

You take a deep breath and let it out before knocking on the door.

When the door swings open, you’re met with a tipsy Brady.  

“Jinx! You’re fin-finally here!” Brady’s words are slurred as he welcomes you into the apartment.

You gave him a tight smile in response. “Yeah, I’m here, Brady. I got held up with some homework.” You never really understood why Brady started to call you Jinx, but he’s called you that nickname so many times. Now you’re stuck with it, and now everyone in his circle (barring Sam) calls you by it.  

You tolerated it, but you’ve always gotten weird vibes from Brady when Sam introduced the two of you.

Brady swung an arm around your shoulders, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned down to speak to you.

“You ready to meet Sam’s girl?” Brady asked you slyly.

You raised an eyebrow at him. How did he know that you were meeting her for the first time?

“Oh, wipe that look off of your face, Jinxy. Sam told me before this that he was introducing his best friend to Jessica.”

“Did he tell you before or after you consumed an entire liquor cabinet?” You quipped, trying to hide the inner turmoil you were feeling.

Brady straightened up like he hadn’t been tipsy the entire time. “For your information, it was before, plus I’ve only had a couple of drinks. Besides, who do you think introduced him to Jess in the first place.” He had an all-knowing smirk on his face like he knew something that you didn’t before it turned into a sly grin.

Brady tapped your nose once before letting you go and stalking off into the living room, where you could hear everyone laughing and chatting. You huffed as you slipped off your sneakers and left them in the doorway. You wiped your hands on the back of the jeans you were wearing and decided to head to the kitchen for a drink. Being stone-cold sober while meeting Sam’s new girlfriend was not on your to-do list.

As you strolled into the kitchen, the counters covered with various bottles of liquor and red solo cups, you froze as you saw Sam leaning on one of the counters and talking animatedly with a blonde who was almost his height and was standing right in front of him.

From the entryway of the kitchen, you saw the adoration for this girl in his eyes as he spoke. Suddenly, his hazel eyes were torn away from the woman standing in front of him as he glanced around the kitchen before they landed on your form. Sam brightened, the dimples on his face becoming more prominent as he called out your name and gestured for you to come closer.

As you made your way over to the pair, the blonde turned around to face you, and you faltered in your steps as your eyes studied her.

God, she was stunning. You thought as you approached the two of them. 

Sam had stopped leaning on the counter by the time you made it to him and wrapped you up in a big bear hug. You stumbled from its sudden force, but you couldn’t help but melt into his embrace as you chuckled at his antics.

“You’ve had a few already, haven’t you?” You asked as you pulled back to see the tell-tale signs of Sam being tipsy. His cheeks were flushed as his bangs kept falling in his eyes, but a big silly smile was on his face as he nodded.

You pulled away from him entirely as he pulled Jessica into his side.

“Jess, this is my best friend.” He gave her your name. “And this is Jessica, my girlfriend,” Sam said with a toothy smile and shot Jessica a loving look.  

“It’s so nice to meet you! Sam’s told me so much about you, but he forgot to mention how pretty you were!”

You were taken aback by the sudden compliment from Jessica. “It’s nice to meet you too.” You said it with a kind smile, though it felt like you were pulling teeth as the words fell from your mouth.

The three of you fell into a comfortable conversation as you went and grabbed a drink for yourself. But, as the night went on and the three of you eventually moved into the living room, you got separated from the two of them.

As you were talking to some of your friends there, your eyes always looked at Sam and Jessica. You can see why Sam had fallen for Jess as you saw them interact with each other. You hated it so much. You quickly excused yourself as you saw them cozy up to one another and sharing stolen glances and touches.

You managed to escape to the bathroom, which was empty (thankfully), and you locked yourself in the small space to try and compose yourself. A lump formed in your throat as you stared at yourself in the mirror, feeling like the world was closing in on itself. 

When did they meet? It’s not fair; I have known him longer than she has. I’ve loved him longer. Why did he choose her? Why couldn’t he have chosen me? Your mind was spiraling, and all you wanted to do was scream.

Jessica had everything you wanted.

Without realizing it, hot tears started to stream down your face. You quickly wiped away your tears and made sure you looked like you hadn’t been crying. You made your way out of the bathroom and almost bumped into Jess in the process.

Excellent, the one person I didn’t want to see. You thought bitterly to yourself.

“Sorry.” You muttered as you kept your head down and made room for Jess to go into the bathroom.

“Hey, wait!” Jess called out to you before you could take another step down the hallway. You grit your teeth before plastering on a small smile and turning around.

“Yeah?” You ask.

“Are you okay?” She questioned kindly as she stood in the doorway of the bathroom. The warm lighting simulated the glow of a halo that surrounded her.

Not trusting my voice, I nodded at her in response.

“You sure? I don’t mean to pry-” Then don’t. “But your eyes are a little red.” Jess gestured to her own eyes as an example.

You waved her concern off. “I’m fine, my allergies are acting up right now.”

Jess didn’t look convinced, but she let it go. “Oh, before I forget, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out with me sometime?”

Not really. “Yeah, I would love to.” I gave her a tight smile.  

Jess smiled brightly before gesturing she was heading into the bathroom and closing the door. My smile fell as I sighed deeply. I ran my hand down my face tiredly as I stalked down the dim hallway and back into the living room, where everyone was hanging out. I saw Sam throw his head back in laughter, making me smile, and my heart beat a little faster before my smile faltered.

The image of Jessica's blinding smile when she looked at Sam and his loving gaze on his blonde bombshell of a girlfriend slithered into my mind and started to poison it. So before anyone could spot me, I quickly made my way to the doorway, put on my shoes, and left.

Ever since that night, Jessica managed to worm her way into your life and yours into hers. She managed to get your number and texted you if you wanted to meet up and hang out. At first, you tried to say no to her outright, but Jess managed to break through your defenses, and you found yourself hanging out with her after class. 

You despised the fact that you grew to enjoy her company, but Jess made it hard to hate her, and it seemed that she genuinely liked you and considered you a good friend. You hated when she gave you compliments, whether it was on your quick wit or looks.

You hated the warm feeling that would bloom in your chest, and she made it a point to do it often, making it feel like bullets raining down on your skin every time she did. 

Phantom blood ran down from your imaginary wounds as you responded to her compliments with a tight smile and a 'thank you' being forced from your lips as you tried to swallow the lump at the back of your throat.

She’d confide in you, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to do the same. 

“You know, I was worried that you weren’t going to like me at first,” Jess expressed to you when you were hanging out at her and Sam’s apartment. 

You looked up from the book you were reading. “What do you mean?” You felt your stomach twist and knot up at her admission. 

Jess stopped crocheting the scarf she was planning to give to Sam for Christmas. “I heard so much about you from Sam.” She paused, biting her bottom lip before continuing. “I guess I was just worried that I wouldn’t make a good impression.” 

“Oh.” You were surprised that she had to worry about her impressing you. “If it makes you feel any better I felt the same way when we first met.” You sent her a reassuring smile, but you weren’t sure if it came off genuine, trying to conceal your own inner conflict, but considering how Jess’s eyes brightened and sent a dazzling smile at your admission, it was. 

From then on, the three of you became as close as the three musketeers, hanging out often and sticking by each other’s sides. Sam and Jess never tried to make you feel like a third wheel.

Still, you would catch the loving looks they would send each other or catch them sharing a soft kiss whenever they thought you weren’t paying attention when you guys would have movie nights at their apartment. 

Those nights would be the worst, having Sam and Jess insist that you sleep over at their apartment when it was too late to go back to your dorm that was on campus. You could hear the low groans and high-pitched whines coming from their shared room, trying to be quiet, thinking that you were dead asleep.

So you had to pretend that you were sound asleep and not clutching the blanket that they gave you close to your chest, trying to ignore the sounds spilling out from their room and into your ears. The ugly monster that emerged ever since you met Jess tried to claw its way out from your chest. You had to pretend that you didn’t slip your hand in between your legs and get off at the sound of them, coming at the same time Jess did and imagined that you were either Sam or Jess (sometimes you thought about being in between them). 

You tried distancing yourself from them for your own sanity and salvaging the pieces of your heart that had broken a long time ago. But Jess, she was insistent, and you couldn’t ignore the beacon of light she emitted. You didn’t know if you wanted to be her or be Sam more. 

Sam wasn’t yours, you knew that. Jess had him the second Brady introduced them, and it fucking sucked. Sam only saw you as his best friend, one of the first ones he made when he came to Stanford all of those years ago. The monster that lived inside of you only grew the longer you saw Sam and Jess together. It morphed into something that you could never imagine could grow inside of you. You managed to mask it and push it down, but it always loomed over you like a storm cloud threatening to strike you down at any moment. 

You felt like some higher power was mocking you and rubbing it in your face that Sam and Jess were the perfect couple. Both of them were gorgeous, incredibly smart, empathetic, and kind. They were incredible human beings, and it was practically a match made in heaven, especially the way that they were together. 

But there was always some part of you, more specifically the monster, who wanted them to break up, hoping that Jess was secretly a terrible person so you’d be the person to pick up the pieces for Sam. But your hopes were dashed, and your heart splintered even more, the monster, roaring, screaming, clawing at your throat, trying to escape the confines of your body when Sam asked you to come along to pick out engagement rings. 

[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Thirteen

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Thirteen!! I'm actually so excited to post this one. There's some angst, but like it's not all bad, this is actually probably one of my favourite updates to date. But this is just a forewarning! Lots of swearing too, to be expected really so.. Anyway, hope you enjoy it, have a feeling there's gonna be a lot of emotions over this one!

Thank you again for all the love this series has gotten, means so much and really does keep me writing:)

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy @helloitsme1223

Masterlist

It was strained. 

The entire house, its whole atmosphere. It was just incredibly heavy and strange.

It wasn’t hard to miss either, judging from the careful way Rosie had been watching the two of us since she’d first woken up this morning. 

But last night hadn’t fared any better. Em had been weirdly distant; not meeting my eye, dancing around subjects, hardly speaking at all in actuality, and then he went as far as to avoid my touch— even as I’d handed him a fucking fork. 

It was such a harsh reality check for me in truth, because suddenly, I felt like an intruder. 

“El?” Rosie’s voice rang out, drawing me from my inner musings as well as the slice of toast I’d practically been burning a hole into. 

“Hm?” I replied belatedly, dragging my eyes up and away from my plate to cast her a distant look, but Z was just wearing this perplexed sort of frown that had me blinking away any remaining haze as she dropped her spoon into her bowl of cereal. The splash sent a few drops of milk flying over the countertop.

“Called you like four times.” She sighed, that frown of hers still prominent enough for me to throw a small smile back in apology.

“Sorry, just– must be half asleep still.” I attempted to shake off the solemn feeling I’d been cast in, laughing faintly before I finally took a bite out of my own breakfast, hating the way the bread tasted like ash in my mouth.

She didn’t seem to take the bait though, not if the scrunch of her brow was any indication, or her next words, “Are you sure? ‘Cause last night–”

I didn’t know whether or not to be grateful for Marshall’s sudden appearance in that next moment because the girl swiftly cut herself off in favour of hurriedly spooning another load of cereal into her mouth.

Marshall whipped around the island without so much as a glance in my direction, opening up the fridge before he turned towards the coffee pot he had laid out but hadn’t used since my first day here. The kettle and the half-made mug of tea I’d set out for him either going unseen or just ignored. I was betting on the latter.

I opened my mouth to say something, if only to break the debilitating silence, when the man himself unknowingly cut me off. “You almost ready?” He questioned Z, who was still slurping up the remnants of her bowl. 

The girl’s eyes darted towards him from over the porcelain brim of it before she dropped her arms to cast him a buoyant grin lined with, what could have only been, a milk moustache. I couldn’t help the fondness my smile gave way to, or how I reached out to wipe her upper lip with a nearby napkin. 

Her expression softened at either the gesture or my laughter, I wasn't quite sure, but her bright eyes glanced back over to her Dad just as I withdrew my hand.

“Nearly, just my shoes.” Rosie told him easily enough, kicking her legs out beneath the table to better show him her shoeless feet. I saw Marshall roll his eyes out of the corner of my own eye and deigned to take a long sip of my brew if only to keep from flashing him the shared smile that threatened to break through. I didn’t think it would fair well right now, me trying to buddy up to him over his daughter's shameless antics. 

“We got fifteen minutes ‘fore you’re late.” He replied to her as he all but drained his mug dry, the heady smell of coffee grinds polluted the kitchen's air. I bit the inside of my cheek when the familiar warning of scalding his mouth crawled its way out across my tongue, but I didn’t dare speak a word.

Rosie bobbed her head in a quick understanding, already jumping down from the barstool to run and grab the last of her things before she could set off for school, forgetting the dirtied bowl she had left on the counter.

I didn’t think much of my next movement, in truth, mostly looking for a reason to ignore the heavy cloud which had since settled over the shared space, as I picked up both the bowl, my plate too, to carry them both over to the bin and sink. 

A sound had me glancing back over my shoulder instinctively once I’d turned on the taps though, surprised to find Marshall already looking in my direction, or rather the sinks, I supposed.

But maybe I was wrong about that, because my surprise jumped straight up to shock when I heard him speak, to me. “How many times I tell you, you ain’t gotta do that?” It didn’t sound much like the question it was meant to be, more of a grunt than anything else as his hard stare flickered up to meet mine.

It was instinct for me to frown, but as my forehead went to furrow I was quick to smooth it back out again and turn my back on him, knowing this conversation would be much easier if I made quick work of the dishes in the sink. “I don’t mind.” I muttered back, hands already covered in soap duds.

He didn’t deign to respond, just let the sound of the water fill the lengthy space that had been created between us so suddenly. My heart ached a little over it, in truth, as I wondered what I’d done so wrong to have fucked up the easy thing we had going on here. 

Because look, it wasn’t as though I was new to quick snipes or heated conversations, or whatever the fuck this was. But it unsettled me enough to know that it was him that I was on the outs with. Marshall, he’d practically taken me in, done more than just house and feed me, but now he was just over it? Done with all the niceties because of an almost– what, kiss? If it had even been that at all. 

But I didn’t, scratch that, I couldn’t linger on the thought because if I did, then I would be sure to start fucking throwing back words a lot more scathing than just ‘I don’t mind’.

I was broken from the way I was furiously scrubbing away at my plate with the scour when my personal space was suddenly invaded. I all but jumped out of my skin as my head shot over to the left to find Marshall now stood there, leaning over me in the tight corner which sat between the two adjoining counters, just so that he could drop his cup into the soapy basin. 

His eyes met mine the second I looked up at him, mouth somewhat agape enough to have those icy blues of his dropping down to catch a quick look before they settled back on my own again. I went to swallow, confused and caught entirely off guard by the intrusion, but found I couldn’t. Which was good, in reality, seeing as I didn’t dare want to let onto the fact that he’d garnered anything more than surprise out of me.

“Seein’ as you don’t mind then.” 

Marshall’s comment perplexed me further, before I caught wind of what he was really getting at with it. So it was in that next moment that I allowed my eyes to narrow, even as he brushed back against me slowly, almost languid in his retreat. 

I huffed out a tiny, grim laugh, more air than anything, when I shoved the dish I’d been cleaning into his chest, flicking soap and water all over him. But it was missed only slightly by his moving form, catching his bicep instead and allowing a trail of water to drip down his bare forearm. “You won’t mind dryin’ then.” I shot back scathingly, clenching my teeth.

As much as my own action had surprised me, the drawl of my accent heightening in my anger gave way to the actual shock which lined beneath it, forcing me to turn back to the sink before Marshall could realise or actually comment on it. 

I didn’t know what it was about what had transpired that kept him from jumping down my throat, but he kept quiet even as it took him a good second or two to grab the towel hanging by the draining rack and wipe at the sodden plate. 

It was tense after that. Not a word was spoken, and so a shaky exhale left me the moment Rosie reentered the room, her shoes clicking against the kitchen tiles as she slung her school bag over a single shoulder. 

If Marshall heard the reaction, he gave no indication, but was quick in the way he jumped back from the counter to meet her. “Let’s go.” He all but demanded after he’d chucked the towel down onto the side so that he could round the island. 

I didn’t have to look back to hear the confusion Rosie obviously felt, “Is El not coming?”

Opening my mouth to answer her, my chest pinched when Marshall did so for me instead, “Not today. Come on, you gone be late.”

It was with that which he withdrew from the room with, leaving me blinking and Rosie gaping at his retreating figure. I wondered then where the hell it had all gone wrong. 

When Rosie casted her eyes back to me, my hands were still hovering over the sink but I witnessed the way her usual smile had transformed into something more solemn, or perhaps just ruminative. 

Being the adult, as well as the ‘bigger fucking person!’ I wanted to scream at his back. I forced my expression into something a whole lot sweeter than just the bewilderment that had plastered it a second before. I let go of a large breath and reached for the tea towel. 

“I just got a new idea for a song, figured I’d write it down before I lost it, you know?” I attempted to reassure, brushing off how odd the entire situation must have seemed to her.

Because why was I covering for a forty-something year old man and his pissy demeanour? Well, one simple reason could be that it wasn’t Rosie’s fault that her Dad was being a massive prick at the moment, and that I for one wasn’t going to be shucking her with the bubbling irritation I felt for him. Something which I’d picked up from living in a house a whole lot worse than this, where you didn’t know whether a reply would earn you an outright laugh or something to tell your future therapist about.

Z was nothing if not perceptive though and so when she just hummed I was quickly taken back to my own childhood, to when some of my mum’s less shittier boyfriends had attempted to lie their way out of what was obviously happening between the two of them. My skin itched at the thought.

“You gonna be here when I get home?” She asked me before I could say anything at all, which broke my fucking heart, because Rosie was so quick to add to her question, if only to make it seem as though it had been something other that it was, “You know, ‘cause Dad’s talking to the school about what happened yesterday… So I just figured you might wanna hear about it when I got back.”

“Of course I do, Z.” I promised in one hasty reply, already moving to dry my hands before I could even really think about it. “Of course.” I repeated as I made my way over to her, smiling warmly when she met me halfway. “It’ll all be just fine, you hear me?” I murmured to her the second I let myself get swept up in one of her gentle hugs, “Your Dad will sort it all and I’ll be here waiting to hear about it the second you get home, okay?”

She was quiet for a long moment before she just whispered, “Swear it?”

My eyes shuttered closed and I buried a sad smile in the top of her head, already reaching out to lock my pinky with hers. “On my life.” I swore quietly, forcing myself to match the wry grin she wore when she pulled away to peer down at our interlocked fingers. Rosie giggled lightly, choosing to swing our arms back and forth.

I shook my hand in return, wobbling the pair of our limbs ever so slightly, before a slight cough gained our attention. I looked up whilst Z spun around on her heel to find Marshall stood waiting just outside of the doorway, a hazy shadow crossing over the bridge of his nose as he toyed with the set of keys he had in his hand. 

His voice was all too soft when he spoke, eyes zeroed in on his daughter, “Time to go, bean.”

It took everything in me then to look away from him and over to the clock stationed on the far wall, letting Rosie’s hand slip from mine after I gave it a small squeeze. “He’s right.” I sighed lightly, “I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

She was already peering back up at me when I looked over and so I wasn’t too startled by the sudden embrace she wrapped me up in before she hastily made her way towards the front door. 

The quiet which settled in after her wake forced my gaze to return to the man who had yet to follow, his eyes faltering between my own before he dipped his chin in a barely there nod, a gesture which spoke volumes as he turned to leave.

–

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 In school!! Sorryyyyy didn’t mean to ignore u Was out late and passed out At lunch now, promise to call later xxxxx Love u don’t miss me too much:))

I actually wanted to wring the kid’s neck. She was such a stress inducer that I was sure to head back home to her covered in hives come this point. I mean, where did she get off on making me worry like that? Especially after all that had gone down, all that she had kept from me. And with Rosie last night too, her entire situation having flooded my mind with memories of the past.

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 You’re the actual antichrist I swear Where the hell have you been Lotts?? I’ve been worried sick just waiting for a text or a call, did your phone just die? Or did your charger break again? I swear I’m flying home if you don’t call me the second you step out of those school gates

Or you know, maybe sooner if things with Marshall carried on.

I sighed at the burst of adrenaline which had rushed and drained from me in a too short moment, before I tossed my phone down onto the couch I’d taken to sprawling on, a plethora of notes and pages dotted all around me. 

I figured it was at least one less thing to worry about now though, even if everything going on with Lottie was still a rather large issue at hand. I wanted to scream about it all actually. But currently, my biggest problem was this song. And maybe the man who was set to return in the time between now and the moment Rosie got out of school. 

Because see, I had a small hunch that Marshall was probably going to avoid me for as long as he possibly could, which would end up being the very second his daughter danced back through that door.

The thought had me groaning again, unhappy with how everything was turning out, as well as the lyrics that I just couldn’t get to sound quite right. See, I hadn’t been outright lying to Z when I’d claimed that I had an idea for a new song. Being unable to sleep truly worked wonders on the psyche and could send your imaginative thoughts into a whole other realm.

But still, I was struggling to get it all to fall into place, the verse sounding much more like a bridge and the chorus still lacking something. Even so, it was promising. That much I could tell. Only thing was, I was stuck on whether or not it was going to end up on Marshall’s scrapheap or my next album. 

It was what I was here for, wasn’t it? To write, to collaborate. Even after we’d gotten a little bit side tracked the last few days. But I just didn’t know how much he wanted from me, we hadn’t really spoken about it or hashed over all the gritty details. And yet, even after last night and this morning, I was still here trying to pull something together for him to come back and hear. Even if I was sure that he’d can it the second he did.

“You look like someone just shit on your chest.”

I startled at the voice, flailing a tad to get a better look at the figure which now loomed behind the sofa, but it seemed as though the scare had been enough to send all my hard work flying. 

Three things happened in the next moment: I gaped, frowned, and then ultimately topped it all off with a rather hefty huff, turning back to grab at the pages I’d just been scrawling on with my tongue tucked between my teeth.

“Shat on my chest?” I answered back in the same dull monotone he’d just used, face screwing up slightly as I stretched to collect the last page that had slipped its way further down the sofa. “You know that expression intimately, or just guessing?”

A breathy snort sounded just as the page I’d been reaching for was snatched up before me. My gaze snapped upwards in narrowed slits to scowl at him, unimpressed by the action, before I held out a hand towards him, silently asking for it back.

Marshall took no note. Instead his eyes flitted over the red ink I’d been working on, reading it at a mile a minute. He handed it back without another word said and then rounded the sofa to fall into the seat beside me. 

He had picked up a couple drinks whilst he’d been out, it seemed. Just a couple of coffee’s from what I could first tell and so I wrinkled my nose at the obnoxious smell they let off whilst I settled the final page back into the pile I’d since formed.

“Figured you’d be gone longer.” I couldn’t help but mention whilst he settled in, taking a slow deliberate sip from one of the brown paper cups before he slid the other across the coffee table in my direction, an action to which I raised a brow to.

He shrugged languidly as though nothing had occurred between us earlier, like he had the entire world at his feet actually, and then gathered up the pile, flicking through the pages without much care. “Dealt with that kid and his shitty-ass father, stopped off to get somethin’ to eat when Paul called, then came home.” He quipped promptly enough, leaning forward in his seat to rest his cup back down on the table and shuffle the first few pages between the hands he now had resting on his knees, “This new?”

I flicked my tongue over my front teeth, harsh enough to feel it drag and keep my head from imploading, but careful enough that it didn’t bleed– just yet, I allowed myself to add on. Because honestly, if I had to refrain myself much more than I currently was it sure was going to. 

“Yes.” I quipped shortly, picking up my phone to slide through the brief voice notes I’d made the previous night in bed and then again when I’d stepped out of the shower this morning. “It was just something I kept on replaying, a little melody.” I explained if only so that I wouldn’t allow myself the space to start pestering him with questions and his sudden switch up, because what was with that? “Figured I’d just get it down whether it was good or not.”

He grunted out a hum.

I gritted my teeth.

“What happened at the school then?” I asked in a mutter, feigning nonchalance even though my eyes were already trained on him reading my words and the fact that I was now dying to know what he’d been on about when referencing this kid’s ‘shitty-ass father’. 

His eyes were slow in the way they sloped over to me, my own darting back down to my phone if only so that I could pretend to meet his stare. He looked away again a second later, rolling a single shoulder. “Some teacher caught the shove yesterday, principle was already waitin’ for me when I pulled up.”

Surprised, I blinked. “What, he dragged both you and the kid’s dad in?”

“She. Misogyny has no place in the modern world, Elia.” Marshall corrected all too easily with that curt smile of his that he was so used to using. Typically it would have had me chuckling, but now it just pissed me off further, especially with the use of my full name.

Instead of reacting though, something I supposed he was aiming for there, I rolled my eyes. “She, what the fuck ever. What happened?”

Marshall leaned back in his seat with a quiet huff, “Guy got what was comin’ to him, fuckin’ wrung him and his kid out. Bitch figured he could say a bunch of shit about me and my daughter and I’d just let him?” He blew out a small titter then, though his evident smile was grim, “Bastard’s jus’ lucky I didn’t throw him through one of them windows. Could pay someone more than what he earns in a year to chop his fuckin’ hands off for me.”

I didn’t know how to take his words, all I knew was that a strange emotion had settled over me upon hearing them, almost uncurling the coil that my shoulders had wound themselves into. 

Still, I licked at my lower lip and reached out to take the other cup he’d pushed down onto the table, pleasantly surprised by the lack of coffee it offered. Infact, the sweet taste of chocolate started to chip away at the icy irritation that had been brewing since early this morning. 

“So, no lawsuits?” I murmured over the brim, pulling up a leg to get more comfortable on the sofa, seeing as my little makeshift workspace had now been overtaken. 

Marshall’s eyes caught on me in that next moment and, stupidly, I wasn’t put off by the way they were so clearly examining me. The grit of his jaw softened after a minute and so I figured he’d found whatever it was he was searching so intently for. “A fine for parkin’ in a no-stop zone. But nah, no lawsuits this time ‘round.”

One corner of my mouth ticked upwards impulsively, though I was quick to smother it behind the paper cup, feigning a sigh instead, “And here I thought I’d get to witness a real court in session.”

Em didn’t hide his own smile at my words, his eyes gleaming in a way that gave more away than he realised. You see me, they said. 

I supposed I did.

–

Working on music had always been a way for me to channel or process my emotions and thoughts, whether it was when writing or just messing around. It was possibly the reason as to why I was constantly in a bubble of it, when working, when cooking, driving, when I showered or got ready for bed. It was just always there, a constant companion in a way. 

Em seemed to be torn from the same cloth. In the days I’d spent with him and Rosie, I’d gotten to understand that in a whole new way, he played music almost as much as I did, even if it was barely audible, I could still see the way it settled him in the drum of his hand or the tapping of his foot. I guessed it was why we worked so well together, just in the studio of course.

Somehow we managed to leave whatever resentment and odd feelings we’d been experiencing at the door to the downstairs studio when we’d moved from the living room to get a start on writing again. The song I’d been working on earlier had been pushed to the side so that Marshall could show me the few verses and ideas he’d had for the song we’d been messing with previously, the same one he’d called Dre and practically fawned over.

“I figure it’ll open the album.” He explained from where he’d wheeled his way over to the sound deck, scribbling over the top of it with the pen he kept chewing on subconsciously. “Set the tone, then we can just work around it.” 

I hummed noncommittally, rereading the chorus I’d jotted down and since toyed with. “Could have a big voice on it,” I suggested to him, “Like, it sort of feels like a symphony in the way it builds, I reckon a few people could be jumping over one another for a chance at it.”

When I was met by an immediate silence, the scratch of his pen having paused, the rustle of his papers too. I dragged my eyes up and away from my own page to cast him a sparing glance, but was evidently surprised to find him already watching me. Rather intensely.

“What?” I queried, dropping my hand away from where I’d been rolling my lower lip between my fingertips.

He levelled me with a blank look, “You’re fuckin’ stupid if you reckon I’ma ask anyone but you to sing on this.”

My brow furrowed, before I raised my hand in a placating gesture. “It was just a suggestion– a good one too. Song won’t get as much recognition if I’m on it.”

That blank look shifted so quickly that I could barely even blink before it morphed into something which visibly portrayed his inner irritation. “You think I give a fuck about shit like that? I care about how it sounds, not how much it can make.”

Rolling my eyes, I just shook my head and looked back down at the marked margain, not entertaining him with a reaction. I knew I was right in my words and hadn’t meant anything by it, he could take it how he liked for all I cared. 

He didn’t appear to enjoy that though, seeing as he dropped the pen down onto the deck with a clatter to push himself to his feet and walk closer to the couch I was still perched on. “I mean that shit. What, you think I was jus’ gone push you aside? You think that little of me? Last I checked, this was your fuckin’ song.”

His voice was littered with misplaced exasperation and the way he chose to tower over me, even if he was still stood a foot and a half away, showed it too. He was looking for a fight, had been waiting for it, gearing up. I realised then, rather belatedly, that he wasn’t too good at holding onto his emotions. Sure, he could wait and bite his tongue when he chose to, but those feelings he had only seemed to bubble further the longer he held them in, as though they were stewing in the acid of his stomach, waiting to burn through.

I could really see it now. He was antsy, overassessing, overthinking this entire situation. I could almost smell the unease he’d been simmering in, and I knew it was all down to what had transpired the night before. Only now, he had a real excuse to bite back at me. Rosie wasn’t around to hear or interrupt, and me? I was done being impassive. 

“Yeah, Em. Of course,” I drawled with little to no care as to how I was practically scoffing at his words, “I think you’re an egotistical prick who just wants to steal my work, wasn’t as though I was the one to suggest getting someone else on it or anything.”

He didn’t take too kindly to the sarcasm. 

“You’re awful fuckin’ mouthy for someone who claims they a nobody, you know that?” He sniped back with enough heat to have my back immediately straightening, “All high and mighty, that it? Like you can do no fuckin’ wrong.”

My mouth fell open because– what?

“Just waltz in here,” He continued on in his tirade, “Into my goddamn life and jus’ throw your opinions out, then expect me to lap it all up. Well I ain’t your fuckin’ lapdog and I’m sick of listenin’ to you tell me what to do and how to do it.” He shot out, casting me away with a gesture of his hand which seemed so pointless, what with the way his unblinking gaze was still hooked on me. 

“Me?” I bristled, my voice high in the face of his outright irony as I stared up at him. “You brought me here! You! You were the one to call me, Marshall. You were the one to ask me to collaborate. To come stay with you here. To invite me into your fucking goddamn life!” I mimicked callowly, “So don’t go throwing that shit back in my face just ‘cause it's blown up in yours now.”

“The fuck’s that meant to mean?” Marshall seethed, ridgid in his stance as I forced myself to my feet too, done with sitting below a man so full of anger. 

I laughed bitterly and shook my head at him. “I don’t know what the fuck last night was, but since it happened you’ve been acting like a proper dick about it. An even bigger one than I’d been expecting, too.” I told him plainly, pointing towards his chest as I tried to bite back my gall smile, “And everyone else might be fine soothing your ego and apologising to appease whatever fucking delusions you’ve conjured up in that thick head of yours, but I’m not gonna let a grown man mess with my head and make out like I’ve done something wrong or acted inappropriately. ‘Cause look, I’m sorry if I offended your sensibilities, but again, you’re old enough to fuckin’ be able to work through your own feelings. I can’t be expected to read your mind!”

My chest was heaving with all the anger that fueled my words and I only realised a second too late just how close we’d grown in the short space that sat between his heated question and my reply. 

I glanced up into his eyes, that familiar blue gone, now swimming in dark hues. They flickered between my own and for a split second, I wondered what he saw. He was breathing just as harshly as I was, lit by the intense conclusion we’d been pulled into. 

It was make or break, I figured. 

But then he met me halfway and suddenly I was drowning in him. His hands in my hair, tugging, my fingers digging into his sides. It was unlike the night before, where his breath had been teasing, ghosting over my skin in baited wait. His words soft and genuine. Now it was just sparks flying off–  only not in that shitty Disney magic sort of way, but instead it felt like steel being forged in fire. 

I couldn’t concentrate on the way he was biting at me, teeth clashing as he forced me to expose my neck, me responding in the only way I knew how, dragging his lip between my incisors and pulling. Tugging. Hoping it hurt.

He walked us backwards, feet encasing mine, drawing me up against the nearest wall. My fingers dug in harder, feeling the muscle of his torso jump beneath me. He knocked my head back and we both heard the collision it made with the concrete there but neither of us seemed to care. The sting was enough for me to sink my nails into the skin of his neck and he retaliated by dropping his mouth to my jaw, leaving me gasping at the ceiling that sat above us, pulling him closer even as his own hands started to explore.

“Bastard.” I blew out, voice hitching when his tongue circled around my pulse point.

He answered me by nipping at the skin there, not enough to bruise but to mark, dragging his mouth lower and lower, tugging at the hem of my top until he bit harshly into the collarbone he’d exposed. I choked on my next breath, clawing at his nape until he soothed the sting with a featherlight kiss. 

I dragged his face back up to meet mine, his jaw in the palms of my hands as I knocked my nose against his, panting against his open mouth, not even questioning how I’d gotten this worked up by just his teasing. Because that was what this was, a game. The opener before the real show could begin. He seemed to know it too, smirking briefly at me before he slotted his mouth back over mine, dragging his thumb down my cheek to pool in the small dip there.

My hands fell too, they clung to whichever part of him they could find, but it wasn’t enough. It felt as though everything I’d been feeling, every emotion I’d experienced, not just over the past twelve hours, but during our phone calls, our texts, and the days I’d spent with him here, were pouring out of me. From crevasses that I didn't even know could exist until then.

He pushed and he shoved, greedy in the task of getting what he wanted, but I was just as bad. Just as eager. The moments over the past week where I’d lingered too long, looked too intently, were all making sense now. Silently, I hoped I left my own mark on him, something that was enough to have his mind lingering on me instead. 

I wondered then if he’d known this had been coming. If all his irritation had just been pent up tension. If he’d been angered by the fact he’d given himself away last night.

But then he pulled away. 

My eyelids fluttered.

His thumb dropped to swipe over my bottom lip. It settled there for a second, then two. 

It withdrew, smeared in a sheer coat of spit. I watched on, jaw agape, as he lifted it up to meet his own mouth, wiping it clean in one swift suck all whilst he stared back at me, his eyes taunting. Mouth menacing. 

My next breath escaped me in a silent shudder.

His eyes, dilated and glimmering, flickered between my own. Mirrored arousal looming over us like a thick fog, before he took another step back.

Away.

Retreating.

Only, was that what it was?

I watched, baited by his stance. By the devious look his gaze gave way to. The rest of his features were solemn almost, so blank that it was practically daunting. But his eyes…

They told a different story.

The studio was so quiet I doubted the thought that he couldn’t hear my heavy pants, or the way I swallowed around the lump in my throat. I waited, pondering over his next move, what he might say, before he tilted his head.

The motion caught me by surprise, ever slight as it was, before he spoke, “Times up.”

My face must have ploughed through a dozen different emotions in that brief pause, but confusion won out, head shooting to the right the second he decided to move, crossing the short distance which stood between him and the door.

“Z’s home.”

Ah.

Fuck.

[gainercontent]

We need to talk about your weight, Part 1

A conversational-style gainer story.

Alex: (laughs) Dude, is that really you? I almost didn’t recognize you!

Ben: (grins sheepishly) Yeah, it’s me. Been a minute, huh?

Alex: A minute? More like 2 years! Man, I’ve gotta say... you’ve changed. gestures at Ben What happened?

Ben: laughs nervously Well, you know, life and... a lot of pizza. Fell off bit.

Alex: raises eyebrows No way, you’re telling me you’ve been eating pizza? Last time I saw you, you were locked in, bro!

Ben: shrugs Yeah, about that... Work, stress, sitting around... I just crashed out.

Alex: laughs Man, I was gonna say you definitely fell off, let yourself go. pauses How bad is it?

Ben: looks down at his stomach Uh, pretty bad. I’ve gained like 40 pounds since we last hung out.

Alex: Whoa... I gotta admit, I didn’t see that coming. I thought I’d be the one who looked different. gestures at himself

Ben: eyes widen Wait, you? What are you talking about?

Alex: grins You remember how I was back in the day—gestures to his past self—the "couch potato" vibe? Well, things have... changed. I’ve been hitting the gym, eating better... lost about 60 pounds since last time.

Ben: blinks For real? laughs So you’re like the opposite of me now? What’s your secret?

Alex: Secret? Honestly, just locking in. I started small, cut out the junk, and actually made time for workouts. I wasn’t in a rush. Slow and steady.

Ben: Damn, I need to hear more about that.

Alex: nods sympathetically I get that. It’s tough. But you’ve been fit before, right? You know the feeling of being in shape. Just start small. Maybe don’t run a marathon next week, but a walk around the block could be a start.

Ben: smiles Yeah, you’re right. pauses Alright, I’ll give it a shot. And I’m not gonna lie, it’s kind of inspiring seeing you like this. I need some of that energy.

Alex: grinning Dude, come on. You're not that bad. flexes jokingly

Ben: laughs Compared to you...

Alex: mock offense I’ve dropped 60 pounds, bro! We are basically a walking before-and-after photo. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been killing it lately. I hit the gym like it’s my job. My scale’s practically scared of me now. I used to stand on it and it’d just say, “Are you sure?” laughs But now? Now it just says, “Congratulations.”

Ben: groaning Ugh, don’t remind me. I got on my scale last week, and it was like, “Error: too many pounds.” It just blinked at me like, “You’re beyond saving, buddy.”

Alex: laughs louder Bro, your scale’s basically judging you! That’s crazy. But hey, look, you’ll get there. I didn’t lose all this weight overnight. It took a lot of late nights at the gym and cutting out all the pizza and late-night grub.

Ben: smirking Oh, I remember the pizza. The “late-night pizza” era. You, me, a pizza, and a Netflix binge. Classic.

Alex: laughs Yeah. But now? I look at pizza and think, “That’s like a week of hard work on my waistline.” I used to just sit on the couch and eat chips like it was my job. grinning But listen, this is the perfect time to lock in, right? You’ve got a solid base to work from.

Ben: nodding Yeah, yeah. You’re right. Let’s do it. But you’ve gotta promise me something—if I hit the gym, you’ll join me for one more pizza... just for old times’ sake?

Alex: laughing Fine. But only if you promise me you won’t eat an entire pizza by yourself. Come to the gym sometime and let’s get you back to “Fit Ben.” I’ll even give you a few tips on how to avoid turning into “Ben and Jerry's" again.

[A few months later...]

Alex: grinning sheepishly as he points at Ben's middle Alright. I think we need to talk about this.

Alex: looking up from his Nintendo Switch Wha?

Alex: motioning to Ben You see this? pats his belly I swear, you've gotten even bigger since the last time we hung out.

Ben: laughs Bro, come on. It's not that bad.

Alex: pauses for a second Well, I’m not going to lie, I noticed you’ve put on a bit more weight. But hey, no shame I guess. shrugs Look, it’s not too late to turn it around again.

Ben: sighs deeply Yeah, I keep telling myself that. But the more I eat, the harder it is to stop. I mean, remember how I used to joke about having an emotional connection to pizza? Well, I think I’ve found true love in extra cheese and ranch dipping sauce. laughs awkwardly

Alex: laughing but with a hint of concern I get it. You’re not the first person to fall off, and you won’t be the last. But you’ve got to lock in, bro. You can’t keep punishing yourself with food.

Ben: shrugs Easy for you to say, Mr. Six-Pack. glances at Alex’s abs Every time I see you, I’m reminded of how much of a crash out I've had. Like, I’m stuck here, and you’re out there thriving.

Alex: sighs I don’t want to rub it in, but I’ve been locked in. I didn’t just wake up like this. But you know what? I remember how it felt when I was where you are now. So don’t think I’m looking down on you.

Ben: grimaces It’s hard not to feel like you're judging me, though. I used to be in your shoes. I was the guy with the abs, the guy who could run a 5K without breaking a sweat. Now, I can barely walk upstairs without being out of breath.

Alex: pauses, then smiles softly Dude, I won’t let you quit on yourself. Not when I know how good it feels to glow up. standing up and motioning toward the bathroom Alright, man. Day 1. Let’s see what the scale says. You first or me?

Ben: shrugging You go first...

Alex: grinning Alright, fine. walks to the scale and steps on it, eyes narrowing as the numbers flash

Ben: peeking over Alex’s shoulder What’s it say?

Alex: pauses for a second, then smirks 185. Exactly where I want to be.

Ben: whistles 185, huh? That’s crazy, man. You’ve really kept it together. So what’s the secret, huh? No pizza?

Alex: laughs Not quite. The secret is consistency. But I’m also not living the “no pizza” life. pauses I’ve found the balance, you know? I have my moments. I’m just more mindful of what I eat and when.

Ben: nodding That’s impressive, man. Alright, alright, now my turn. hesitates, then steps up to the scale, bracing himself

Alex: watching closely Don’t sweat it, bro. It’s just a number.

Ben: winces as the numbers flash Oh… looks at the scale in disbelief 243.

Alex: raises an eyebrow, trying to hide his surprise Whoa... alright. That’s... more than I expected.

Ben: chuckles bitterly Yeah, I guess I’m a little more than expected. I didn’t think I’d actually gain more weight after we talked about it, but here we are.

Alex: pauses, then pats Ben on the back It’s okay, man. Honestly, we all go through stuff. Just means it’s time for a reset. But 243... that’s a bit of a jump, huh?

Ben: rubbing his belly Yeah, well, when I think back to when I was running marathons and keeping my weight under control, I never imagined I'd be over 200...

Alex: chuckling Yeah, I hear you. For me, I never imaged I would feel my ribs. Like, when I lean over, I can actually touch my abs without feeling like I’m about to suffocate.

Ben: laughs Damn, that sounds like a luxury. I’m over here trying to find my waistline under all this, like, "Is it even still there?"

Alex: pauses thoughtfully It’s there, man. You’ve just got a lot more to uncover. I remember when I started, I could barely see my feet. laughs And now? Well, I can see the abs, but more importantly, I can breathe easier.

Ben: looking down at his stomach I can't believe I look like this when I was ripped 2 years ago....

Alex: I didn’t get to 185 in a month. It was a whole journey. glancing at Ben as he stands up from the scale, eyes lingering for a second Bro, Is that your shirt, or did you borrow it from someone else?

Ben: looks down at his shirt and grimaces Oh, uh… yeah, it’s definitely mine. Not sure why it feels like it's been painted on, though.

Alex: grinning Dude, I think it’s having an existential crisis. It’s like the fabric’s just trying to hold on for dear life.

Ben: mockingly Oh, look at Mr. Chad over here.

Alex: laughs harder Hey, it’s not my fault I’ve got the body of a Greek god now. You’re just stuck in the before photo, my dude.

Ben: groans Ugh, don’t remind me. Not going to lie, my pants are getting so tight, I’m worried I’m going to have a wardrobe malfunction.

Alex: grinning widely Oh yeah. I can already picture it—your pants just snap like a slingshot, and it’s like, “Boom! The transformation begins!”

Ben: laughs and pats his stomach Bro if I inhale too deeply, I’m going to rip the fabric like the Hulk.

Alex: teasing Well, at least you’ve got an excuse to buy a whole new wardrobe. And hey, you could always go for the “oversized” look. I’ve seen people rock that style. It's like, “Hey, I’m not overweight, I’m just on trend.” grinning You know, man, I’ve got a bunch of old clothes from when I was in your... uh, previous state. You want some? You might find them more comfortable than what you’ve been squeezing into.

Ben: raising an eyebrow Wait, you’re offering me your old fat clothes?

Alex: laughing Bro, seriously, it’s either that or you keep risking a wardrobe malfunction every time you sit down. Plus, the stuff I’ve got is super comfy. It might make the whole “getting back on track” thing a little less... restrictive.

Ben: shrugging Well, at least I’ll be comfortable while I work on getting back into my old stuff. I guess I can’t argue with free clothes. So, yeah, I’ll take some.

Alex: chuckling Alright, alright. But hey, I’m feeling a little hungry myself. What do you say we get some pizza... you know, to motivate you into working out again?

Ben: eyes lighting up Oh, now you’re speaking my language. Pizza’s a great idea.

Alex: grinning Perfect. One pizza, coming right up. But... holds up a finger Just one slice for me. I’m sticking to my meal plan. The rest? All yours.

Ben: looks at Alex, trying not to laugh Wait, you’re serious? raises eyebrow You’re going to order a whole pizza and only eat one slice?

Alex: nodding firmly Yup. Just one. One slice won’t kill me. But I know you’ll need more than that.

Ben: smirking Bro, you're a real one. You know, you could’ve just let me eat the whole pizza, but instead, you're being all generous, like, “Here, have the whole thing while I just have a taste.”

Alex: laughing Hey, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t fall off completely. You can’t have an entire pizza by yourself.

Ben: grinning Oh, trust me, I could probably take down two pizzas right now. stomach grumbles loudly

Alex: mock serious Alright, but remember—one slice for me. You don’t want me turning into before Alex again. That’s a slippery slope.

Ben: watching Alex bring the pizza in, the smell wafting toward him You’re really going to be the hero of the day, huh? grinning But I’ll let you have your “one slice.” I’ll take the rest.

Alex: laughing I’m a man of my word. sits down, takes a single bite of his slice, then looks at Ben Enjoy, my friend. The pizza’s all yours.

Ben: takes a big bite, sighing with contentment Oh yeah. This is it. This is what dreams are made of.

Alex: taking a slow bite of his own slice, watching Ben devour his You know, I might’ve overestimated how strong my willpower is. Just watching you eat that pizza is like torture.

Ben: looking up with a mouthful of pizza You know, if you really want to break your rules, I’ll let you have one more bite. grins mischievously I promise I won’t tell anyone.

Alex: laughing Oh, I’m sure. pauses dramatically I’m sticking to my one slice. But man, you’ve earned this. watches Ben keep eating

Ben: licking his lips Damn right, I have. Now, when do I get my second pizza? Because we both know this isn’t gonna be enough.

[ijwrsmff]

What's Wrong?-Law x Reader (Appendicitis)

A couple people requested this on my archive, while requests were open, so here's this! I don't really know what trigger warnings to use for this? So just in case.

Tw: reader in pain, medical procedure, reader has a fear of needles.

It started off harmless enough, but it just seemed to keep getting worse…what began with cramping along your mid stomach, has expanded and gotten more painful. It wasn’t too bad, to begin with. You brushed it off as a strained muscle from a fight, but your suspicions it was something more serious was nagging at your mind. The pain was becoming unbearable, but you tried to hide it…especially from your boyfriend. 

You knew it wouldn’t be easy, seeing as he was the submarine’s doctor. He had pushed, making sure you were safe after every fight. Law immediately knew something was up, when you barely said a word after the fight and went straight to your own room. You had almost always stayed in his room, you should have known he’d pick up on that. He did tend to be overly observant. 

There wasn’t even a knock on the door, he just walked in to see you laying on your bed. He walked up to it and crossed his arms with a cocked eyebrow. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong now?” Straight to the point as always. “You’ve been acting differently. Not spending as much time with me or the crew, and you seem to be distracted during our most recent fights.” 

You gulped and sat up in bed, trying your hardest not to wince. “Just…feeling a little tired…is all…” It was a terrible lie, and you both knew it. You tried to back it up by continuing, “Not really feeling up for fighting, it’s no big deal! I probably just have a cold or something!” While smiling at him, you tried not to look at his face. Another clear sign you were straight up lying to him. 

“Uh huh…” He walked forward, closer to you and you leaned back. “Then you should have come to me. Even though that’s not the case.” He reached a hand to your forehead, “Hm…you do actually have a bit of a fever though.” He felt around your neck, and didn’t seem to find anything swollen. “Still, you’re coming to my office. Let’s go.” He turned to walk, and he fully turned back when you didn’t go to follow him. 

“N-No it’s okay! I’m fine!” You gulped, knowing he probably wouldn’t drop it this time. He could be so stubborn…you loved him a lot though. Your love for him made you feel bad for hiding your pain from him, but what if he had to give you a shot? Or IV? That fear triumphed in your mind. “I just need some rest is all!” He glared, and you realized your mistake. He didn’t like when people claimed to know better about their health than him. 

“Come on.” He walked back to you, and went to pick you up but the sudden movement caused a sharp pain to shoot through your abdomen. You practically screamed, not expecting it at all. Even Law looked surprised, and he let go instantly. You could tell by that look in his eyes, that his “doctor mode” was already activated. 

“What’s wrong? Clearly it’s more serious than some cold. You don’t even hardly scream like that when wounded in battle.” He looked you over as much as he could without touching you again. He didn’t see any clear signs of injury, and there was a distinctive lack of blood on you or your clothes. “Lay down.” He was much more careful this time, and aided you into a laying down position. 

You looked sheepish, and embarrassed when being caught. “I just…no needles. You gotta promise me that…” You tried to relax, but the pain was throbbing at this point. He felt around your neck, down to over your heart and he stopped there. 

“Your pulse…it’s escalated substantially.” He continued, and lifted up your shirt slightly to put pressure on different places on your stomach. He didn’t even promise not to use needles, and continued, “I can’t promise that. Not until I know what’s wrong.” Once the pressure went over your lower abdomen, you hissed, which had his eyes shoot up to your face to gauge it. “Shit…” He muttered, and you could see a battle in his eyes. 

“Shit? What? Is it bad?” Your fear spiked, and you tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he held you firmly in place. “Law?” His eyes were a mixture of fear and irritation. Either at you, or whatever was causing your pain. You weren’t sure which one would be more ideal in this situation. Whichever it was, you didn’t want to be in more pain like this for a longer period of time. 

“It’s your appendix. They’re close to bursting, and that can be fatal. I have to get them out. NOW.” He waved his hand, and the room appeared. “Stay still or this’ll hurt.” He was completely focused now, hand drifting across your abdomen until reaching where he knew they were. “Take a deep breath in…” You did as instructed, and you closed your eyes in preparation of the pain.

It didn’t come, and when you opened your eyes he was standing above you, examining your appendix that he held in his hand. He turned to glare at you. “Do you know how serious this is? You could have DIED. Understand?” His eyes softened when you looked at him with guilt written on your face. “Look…just come to me next time. And every time after that. I…I know you’re scared of needles, but it’s better than how much pain this must have caused.” 

“I’m sorry…” It was all you could say, and you rubbed at your abdomen instinctively. It was definitely still sore, but after he took them out it was already better. Not perfect, still…but better. “I know I shouldn’t hide things from you…in my defense I didn’t know how bad it could get.” You reached over and took his hand, and he gave a small smile for a moment before going back to his usual neutral look. 

“We can work it out. Just tell me your symptoms as they happen. I can give you an answer for almost anything.” He sighed, and rubbed the back of your hand as he sat next to you. “I won’t even use needles if I can help it.” He wanted to say those words, but he was rarely the first to initiate it. But his words made the message clear. Even if he didn’t say it often, you knew. 

“I love you too, Law.” 

[gabessquishytum]

Omega!Dream is scared of ruts. When he was young he got very shitty/ sexist sex education and was always told that alphas in rut are uncontrollable and brutal- mindless animals who just want to fuck the nearest warm hole whether you like it or not, and would definitely break a pretty young omega like Dream. Dream grows up thinking there’s nothing more dangerous than an alpha in rut.

Now years later, he’s 18, finally gotten away from his family and is living his own life. He even has an older alpha boyfriend who takes such good care of him. Hob is so kind and good to him, and the sex has been great, as far as Dream is concerned everything is perfect.

Then Hob mentions off-handedly that his rut is coming up and Dream nearly faints. He had totally forgotten about that, and all his old fears come rushing back. Hob is a lot bigger and stronger than him, he could probably break Dream in half!! Hob is usually so careful with him but Dream is positive all of that will go out the window once his rut hits.

But… Hob is his partner. He can’t leave him alone for it, and it’s not like it’d be Hob’s fault if he hurt him. As his omega it’s his duty to take care of his alpha during his rut, right? Even if his legs are shaking all the way to the bedroom. (Hob tried to talk to him about why he was so nervous, but Dream was tight lipped, and so Hob assumed it was just some residual anxiety about sharing a rut with someone for the first time. He knows it’s a big deal to some people.)

So they’re in bed, cuddled up together, Hob’s temperature slowly rising and Dream trying not to tremble with fear. Then Hob gets hard… and starts begging.

Dream is stunned silent as Hob asks- begs, pleads- for Dream to touch him, for Hob to taste his slick, to knot Dream and make him feel good. He starts humping at Dream and nuzzling his scent glands, but doesn’t go any farther since Dream hasn’t answered. He whines, burying his nose in Dream’s neck as he starts jerking himself off. He’s a little teary eyed, and obviously desperate, but he never gets mad or pushy with Dream. Just begs in between babbling about how good Dream smells and how perfect he is.

So Dream hesitantly reaches out, starts touching Hob and when he hears his boyfriend moan he finds his confidence growing quickly. It’s not actually that different than when they normally have sex, other than Hob being more flushed and desperate. As the night continues, Dream actually finds himself feeling strangely… powerful. Hob is a whining drooling mess, fully losing himself to pleasure and hormones, and yet Dream still has him wrapped around his finger. If Dream says ‘stop’ Hob absolutely freezes. If Dream says ‘come’ Hob slurs out a thank you. He’s so good for Dream the whole time, and Dream is surprisingly able to lose himself in his own pleasure, too.

Days later, when they’re both fucked out and Hob’s head has cleared, they’ll take a bath together and Dream will shyly ask about how ruts work- after all, maybe this was a fluke, or it’s just a Hob thing? (It’s not, and Hob feels so so bad that Dream had been scared, but they reassure each other and talk through it. And Dream is already excited for Hob’s next rut.)

-🦇

I love love love submissive and gentle alphas and this is so cute!!!!

I love the idea of Dream getting more confident as he experiences more of Hob’s ruts. With encouragement and practice he's really able to help Hob through them by taking on a more dominant role, which honestly feels so good! The best part is that Hob obviously loves it - he totally melts when Dream praises him, gives him orders, rewards his good behaviour and even takes care of him by keeping him clean and hydrated. Hob is feeling so fulfilled, he even tells Dream that he's never had a better rutting experience in his whole life. It's great for Dream’s self esteem, and it brings them closer together.

Dream even learns that Hob actually gets a big craving to be fucked during his ruts (particularly when he's oversensitive from knotting so many times). Dream is shocked but only too pleased to buy a strap-on so he can give his alpha exactly what he needs. Hob is so good, he deserves the nicest things. And while it's a little sad that Dream’s sex education was SO bad, he's very very pleased that it was all bullshit and that he'll never have to fear his sweet alpha's rut ever again <3

[dallasgallant]

There’s some parts of this I’ve spoken about in metas before, and I’ll link those at the bottom of this post. But the thought came back to me in my re-read,

Pony is the brother to put a particular emphasis on education. He also has a tendency to project his dreams and insecurities onto others.

On the topic of Soda dropping out of school he takes it considerably hard and as a subject of embarrassment. He could “hardly stand it” and is mortified when he has to explain it to anyone, especially a socy girl like Cherry due to the image it brings to mind. Soda can take this loss a little easier since he doesn’t view his academics in the same way, it wasn’t likely he’d be going to college like his brothers. I mean so in the kindest way, there is nothing wrong with that despite what Pony has built up in his mind (now dropping out is a sad thing, but understandable in the circumstance)

When it comes to Darry, there is less worry from Pony and more anger at what should have been for his brother— he never got to go to school to start with. He’d been working but now works two jobs twice as hard, this particular passage sparked this post;

Like my previous post about Darry being “rough on” him I think this passage too benifits from Pony partly looking back on the events and his thoughts as they happen at once. As he’s really starting to consider all that goes on in his brothers lives, all they had to give up or should have gotten to do but life threw them a bad hand. I also find the paragraph a little amusing as he starts out sympathetic and then “he’s a loser now :( he has nothing going on except all those friends I just mentioned.”

As another thing about Ponyboy is he deals with a lot of internalized classism… not just being a Greaser but poor generally. Which is why his brother dropping out of school is such a huge deal to him but not as much to the rest of the gang. He’s in those upper level courses, he has far more exposure to soc and middle class eyes and expectations he works to defy consciously or unconsciously. His brothers and the gang are more “cushioned” in the east side, surrounded by similar circumstance and not the same age and condition to build up the complex Pony has. He’s the youngest of the gang and needs to fully take in their “Be cool” mentality, so insults like ‘Greaser’ or ‘white trash’ roll off of him more than they sting. (Which isn’t to say it’s entirely annoyed, some aren’t reactionary, but being cool helps mitigate)

The rest of the gang and his brothers are already settled with being a Greaser, being working class, they have their ways to cope and make the most of what they have instead of angsting. There’s an acceptance to it Pony doesn’t have yet, he’s a dreamer - he thinks about getting out, about the should be’s.

Soda and Darry aren’t without ambition or struggle though, don’t get me wrong but it’s different from what Pony focuses in on. Soda, while not focused on anything grand wants a better Job and to marry Sandy. Darry is a practical sort, he thinks of the here and now and his only ambition for the time being is to keep them all together. Their worries and struggles are tied to bills more than they are to the past should have/could haves, the way Pony sees it. We don’t actually know what Darry’s plans were before he pivoted, just that it’s a shame that college wasn’t an option for him… but it could be for Pony. He could have the chance Darry didn’t.

My point here was how much Pony looks into the past and looks at the broader picture and gets upset, and he’s right to don’t get me wrong, but then doesn’t understand when his view is not met. When Darry and Soda are so in the moment, guided by their grief in their own way but not reflective of the system™️. But all that they’re doing is ensuring that Pony has the time to dream, watch movies and read as he does. In a way, in the complex he has built up he Pities his brothers just as much as he put them up above the others.

~

* want to note that I am not saying that Darry and Soda aren’t or haven’t ever been upset about school or about other bad things in their lives that are more personal. I’m saying it more that they are able to put it aside for the sake of staying together and moving forward - that they’re more adaptable than their little brother. They know how to “use their head”, a part of street smarts is being able to adapt to conditions. Hurt but not be dragged down- survive above all. Its smarts that Pony can’t get from a book but through the story, and unfortunately consecutive tragedy. I’m also noting that some of Pony’s pity is condescending in itself as they have bad circumstances but aren’t lost or miserable— now Darry is more stressed than any 20 year old should ever be but Pony skirts past some of the positives he has, you know?

I’m still in the middle of my re-read and I hope this makes sense. Here’s some of my past metas I found were a similar which might better elaborate (they’re also older so I cannot promise complete quality)

Here. Here. Here.

*check out my rb too, some more thoughts added!

[imraespace]

LIFE'S HARD WHEN YOU'RE INLOVE ─

─ WITH RIN ITOSHI !!

━ 5:00 AM

Reo might think it's a miracle! You're up at 5:00 AM? Woah!

Your sleep consists of a total of 8 hours, plus whatever extra time you have. But today you sacrificed ONE hour, isn't that weird. WHY ARE YOU UP?

Yeah, you asked yourself that quite a lot this morning, staring at the ceiling for quite a bit until you got up, gave Choki your morning talk, and then grabbed the book.

For the first time, you're actually going to read it! And not analyze it for "love".

For some reason, you've felt more.. alive? Normally you always felt like, just there. You're alive and living, just there. But ever since these weird heart condition moments, uncontrollable eyes that always landed on this boy. Why did he change your life? Why does it make your life feel so.. pink? Before it was just gray.

This mysterious boy somehow gave a bit of light to your gray life.

Why? You just don't understand it, but you kinda like it. What would happen if you spoke to him? Now that might make your heart condition worse, your eyes might roll out your head and kaboom! Your brain explodes.

Yeah, maybe not speak to him, but sometimes you fantasize about it a bit.

Mysterious boy, what will you do?

You sighed at your thoughts and just read the book. The book that started it all.

Achoo!

The poor boy rubbed his nose. Is it the cold weather, or is someone thinking about him?

Rin Itoshi ignored it though. The big day was soon, in 24 hours he would be on that field in front of a bunch of eyes, proving that he could be the best out there. Proving to his brother how much better he's gotten. To prove to him that he can destroy him.

So that's why, at 5:00 AM for this whole week Rin Itoshi started his day off with a morning jog, then began his practicing.

He doesn't have time for "breaks". So why the hell does Isagi Yoichi not get the hint to stop with these silly notes.

If looks could burn, the crumbled-up paper would burn away right in his hand.

Rin had decided that to not throw away these notes, rather keep them for Isagi, before the big game to ask him what is his problem.

Rin always gave him weird looks when the team but Isagi never really got the hint. Isagi thought it was normal for him.

I mean it's Rin..

He sighed at the memories and thoughts and began is morning jog, stuffing the notes in his bag.

Rin's jog lasts about an hour, then after the jog, he makes his way back home to bathe and get ready for school.

He doesn't really communicate with anyone at home, maybe greets his parents for the morning, completely ignoring his brother as normal.

Sae and Rin attend different schools simply because, before he came back to Japan, he looked at schools who had a great football team. Obviously, to no one surprise, it was a school that Rin doesn't attend.

The brothers don't communicate, not ever. Even being in the same household it's like the other one isn't there. They completely blanked each other out of their mind.

In Rin's world, only he exists. No one else.

So of course, at 7:21 AM he didn't notice the girl from afar whose eyes had uncontrollably landed on him. Hm, at least he made it to school.

As soon as your friends entered the classroom, they met you reading a book.

Meguru was the first to run up to you, snatching the book out of your hand.

A sigh left your lips, as you tried to grab it back.

"Ooou! If there’s a way to put an end to these feelings that burst into my world, then I don’t want to know it. Woah!" Meguru read out loud

"MEGURU GIMMIE BACK MY BOOK!" You yelled, trying to snatch it back. He ran back towards Yoichi, who was still at the door.

He sighed as Meguru tried to hide behind him, with you in front of him.

At least he's getting a free hug? Seems like this is an everyday routine with his friends. Though, he felt bad for you so he got back your book for you.

"Hey! I was reading that!" Meguru argued. He ignored the boy behind him and gave back the book to its rightful owner, you.

"Thank you, Yoichi." You said, giving him a hug, with one hand, the other hand held the book.

Meguru came out from behind the boy and made his way towards you but you thought faster, hugging the book. That's your no-no zone! Meguru can't touch there.

He formed a pout, accepting his defeat.

Your three made it to your desks. The classroom wasn't filled as yet, only person being there was the boy. Of course, you didn't notice him, too in your book.

When Meguru and Yoichi entered the classroom, such things as other students in the classroom weren't on your mind. But then you noticed that he was indeed in the classroom when Yoichi.. called him..

You sat at your desk, witnessing the interaction between the boys. All that's on your mind was that he saw you, and heard you. Embarrassing? Yes.

That means originally, you were alone in this classroom with him.. and you didn't even notice.

Completely blanking out of the conversation, you stared at your desk trying to hide your blush.

What a morning!

Rin on the other hand, he noticed you only because of your loud mouth, nothing else. He was listening to music on his phone, but he paused it to look at a video. In doing so, between the pause he heard you. That's all.

And right now, he found it strange that now you're as quiet as a mouse. Not his problem though. They were talking about football anyway, your knowledge of that topic is about zero percent he's sure.

━ 12:31 PM

"Y/N!" A familiar voice called out to you.

It was Hyoma!

"Hyoma, hi!" He ran up to you with a scrunchie.

You suddenly got the memo. Of course, he would let you touch his hair. You always played in it anyways.

"I would love to tie your hair up for you Hyo but you're a bit tall as of right now." You stated.

Normally, he would be sitting but you both are in the middle of the hall. Then an idea popped into your mind.

"Wait lemme get on you."

"What."

"On your back, duh." You clarified.

"Oh." He answered back.

Hyoma turned around, and got a bit low for you as you hopped on him.

He gave you the scrunchie and you got to work. of course, both of you know that he himself can tie his own hair but who are you to turn down an opportunity to get your hands in his hair? and who would he be to turn down an opportunity to have you in his hair again?

You both may look silly in the hall but happy smiles were plastered on your faces.

"Chigiri? I didn't know you had your own personal hairstylist. Stylish." A male with REALLY LONG HAIR passed by and commented.

Woah, you're jealous of it.

"He's your friend Hyo?" You asked him.

"Yeah, he's on the team." He answered back.

A surprised look found its way onto your face after hearing that. Someone like him should be a model..

You finished up with your friend's hair, the model on the other hand was admiring your work.

"I say, this hairstyle is quite stylish." He commented as you came off Hyoma's back.

"Thank you, kind sir!" You said, giggling at your own joke.

The male held his hand up to his chest, showing off his painted nails, and began speaking.

"My name is Jyubei Aryu, what yours might be?" Aryu asked.

You copied his actions in a friendly manner and introduced yourself.

"Very nice to meet you Aryu! My name is Y/N L/N."

"Quite nice to meet you as well. The ways in which your hands styled Chigiri's hair were amazing, do tell me your secret, L/N."

"Erm, Of course, sir!" You.. told him. You don't know how to communicate with him.

"Aryu I think it's time for practice now." Hyoma brought up.

Aryu nodded at his words and began to walk away, leaving behind sparkles in his trail. Wow..

"Bye Hyoma!" You exclaimed, hugging him for a bit before, walking away.

Either that team is secretly a model agency or everyone there looks like models.

They are also very much tall. It's kinda scary, you almost broke your neck looking up to that Aryu guy. How tall is he?

Now, you're kinda excited to see this match tomorrow.

## LIFE'S HARD WHEN YOU'RE INLOVE. --

╴“ WITH RIN ITOSHI?? „

ฅ^._.^ฅ : some things about y/n !! she mostly sleeps through the day, only does stuff IF needed !! with her given gift of being effortlessly smart , all she does in her free time is : nap , eat , sleep. hmm what if.. one day y/n develops a crush and now has to ACTUALLY work to achieve a goal ? : date rin itoshi !!

7 // 9

TAGLIST: @deezy12299 @kuroronana @khoiyyu @swagkittybear @shidousprincess @starbarfbunni @jealovsie (OPEN)

! if you didn't get tag, that means your acc didn't show up :(

-`♥︎´- for this story, i'm trying a something new, which includes words/phrases, foods and hometowns from japan and germany. if there's any errors please point it out !

-`♥︎´- word count : 1.4K