#just not excited about having to hear everyone pity his gross ass

[hatake]

.

[retrogalwrites]

Title: “Shigaraki and the perfect girl” / see on ao3

Pairing: Incel!Shigaraki x f!reader

Summary: Shigaraki has a crush on what seems to be the perfect girl who everyone loves, and becomes obsessed with the idea of corrupting her.

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, virginity fetishization, dub con, creepy behavior, stalking, manipulation and somnophilia with a twist

Contents: creampie, vaginal sex, breeding kink, scent kink (in a gross way), mating press, slight dumbification, corruption kink

Word: 4873

Shigaraki had been watching you from the very beginning, all through your high school years. It hadn't been much of his fault, he always told himself, when your existence alone did nothing but to stand out.

You had always been the center of attention, the most popular girl in the entire school, little Miss Perfect. With your good grades, unrivaled beauty, hordes of friends, admired by all students and professors alike. Being always so kind and innocent, with a friendly demeanor towards everyone, including an unwanted outcast like Shigaraki.

On his end, he had always been the creepy one, the strange one, the antisocial one that sneered at others and cursed them under his breath. Everyone avoided him like the plague, at least whenever they weren't too busy tormenting him, all too eager to remind him of how unwanted he was.

The complete opposite of you, Shigaraki was a social pariah.

On your third year, whenever other students would bully him publicly, give him looks and tell him how gross and disgusting he looked, you always had to come right to his rescue.

"Stop it, guys! That's no way to treat someone." You'd say softly, standing between him and his tormentors like some kind of protector. "Leave him alone, would you?"

And they couldn't say 'no' to you, no one could. Reluctantly they would give in to your heartfelt request and leave him be, those fools always dancing on the palm of your hand, but who could blame them? The hottest girl in class, lusted after by every boy in school, including Shigaraki himself, there was no way anyone could resist doing whatever you wanted them to. So pretty, so sweet, so perfect.

You had it all so easy, didn't you?

Shigaraki hated you for that, deeply and passionately loathed your very existence, a resentment that only grew stronger every time you would turn around, with that expression full of concern, to ask if he was okay.

Yes, he hated you for that. He also desired you for that, adored you in fact, wanted you as badly as any other buffoon in your class did. But not in the same way as them. No, when you looked at him with those sparkly eyes, pouting lips, leaning over his desk to give him an eyeful of your chest straining against the fabric of your school uniform, the feelings that stirred inside him were ugly and suffocating, something too depraved to be love.

When the other guys glared at him for having your attention even for a minute, it made his heart beat faster, it made his blood boil as his hands itched to grab you and destroy you, bend you over his desk and tainting every corner of your body right in front of them.

"You're lucky [name] takes pity on your sorry ass, Shigaraki." One of his bullies would scoff, once you were out of earshot.

"I didn't fucking ask her to. Maybe the bitch has crush on me, huh?" He'd spat back with vitriol, just to be met with a kick to the shin. As he hunched over in pain, he'd always hear those same words.

"Know your damn place, freak. A crush? Please, she's too perfect for you."

And they were right, so very right, but it only made Shigaraki want you more, more, more. His infatuation was warped with the thought of revenge, the desire of getting back at everyone by taking you away for himself, and to get back at you simply for daring to exist.

So Shigaraki would curse you in his mind, every single day, and then every night he'd spent it pleasuring himself to fantasies of you, sometimes holding the items he had stolen from you in the past (a gym shirt, your lip balm, the pencil you'd chew on during class). Creating scenarios where he'd get you alone to taint you, destroy you, turn you into dust and ashes with his own hands until he had dragged you down to his own level: a freak, a pariah, the lowest of the low.

If only he had the guts to do it, if only he could admit to himself that he wanted to do it at all, for real.

—————

After graduation, not seeing you for the following months pushed his mind deeper into that brewing obsession, drove him mad with it.

Shigaraki stalked your social media, watching his phone all day to make sure he didn't miss any of your publications and updates, downloading every selfie you uploaded to keep for himself and fap to later. His infatuation had been growing more and more out of control with each passing day, you invaded his thoughts every waking hour.

And yet Shigaraki told himself that it was really only a coincidence that he had ended up in the same college as you. Despite having read through a conversation on the comments from one of your posts on your Instagram a month or so before graduating, about your college prospects. Despite writing down those prospects to later tell his school advisor that he wanted to get into that same school. Despite having begged his father to send him there despite the inconvenient distance away from home in his daily commute, despite having chosen a major he didn't care about just to be in the same class as you.

His self-denial kept that obsession barely restrained, keeping it from pouring out into reality, and you also had to ruin that.

"Tomura!" You had approached him on the first day at campus, excitedly calling his name with such familiarity. The sound made his breath hitch and his cock twitch inside his pants, stomach fluttering.

"Oh, umm...hey." He chewed on his chapped lip, looking away as he lied through his teeth. "Didn't expect to see Miss Perfect here, of all people."

Despite of his dismissive tone being cold as ice, you kept smiling at him, only laughing as if he had been joking.

"It's so good to see a familiar face, you know? Come, sit next to me!!" You had grabbed his hand without a second thought, pulling him along with you into the classroom. People already whispering just from seeing you two walking together hand in hand: a breathtaking beauty like you and him, a disheveled mess, who had been wearing the same dirty hoodie for already a week.

Yet you didn't let go of his hand, even when he had already started to sweat and his palm got all clammy against yours, you didn't let go. The thought of rubbing off his filth onto your skin filled him with joy.

You really were a fucking idiot.

Holding hands with your stalker so casually, with the guy that wanted to ravish you in a dark corner, break you with his cock until you were screaming his name, and make you beg for your life like a pathetic bitch. Yes, that's what he wanted to do, more than anything in the world. He wanted to destroy you, to violate you, to break you, to make you his. Those weren't fantasies, it was reality.

Shigaraki used that same hand to jerk himself off that night in his dorm, imagining that it was you being forced to stroke his throbbing cock. He imagined that you would be so disgusted by his filthy self, your clear skin getting all of his dirt rubbed all over, fat tears streaming down your face as he forced you to open your mouth and take him in until you chocked on his cock.

Soon enough, he was thrusting into his fist, cumming all over himself until his cock softened, and his hands and abdomen were covered in his sticky semen.

What would you do if you found out that the guy you had been so kind to all these years wanted to hurt you so badly? Shigaraki imagined the despair on your face, and soon he was hard again.

—————

For most people, life after high school plays differently. Once you get to college, popularity contests become a thing of the past...but not for you, it seemed. During that first semester, Shigaraki had to watch how everyone around you was back to fawning all over you. Stumbling over themselves to ask you out to parties and dates (how many times did he overhear guys talking about what they wanted to with your tits and ass?), professors favoring you for your perfect grades, everyone adoring you as the perfect girl once again.

He was still an unwanted pariah, ignored by everyone, looked at with scorn by others.  Except whenever you gave him your attention, of course, only then did people want to get all buddy-buddy probably hoping to get to you with his help.

God. He fucking hated you. And he fucking wanted you.

One day, he finally snapped.

Shigaraki decided that he was going to have you before anyone else got the chance to put their hands on you, the perfect girl that everyone loved so much, would belong to the guy everyone hated.

He was going to tear you down once and for all, like you deserved, for living all these years with a silver spoon in your mouth having it all so damn easy. Wipe off that smile off your face, take it for himself, and make sure you were sullied, miserable, broken.

So, Shigaraki planned his next actions very carefully then. For a whole month, he tried to be more open towards you, more friendly, taking advantage of how kind you had always been towards him despite of the dismissive way he always had treated you with. Despite his awkwardness at it too, something that anyone else would've been turned off by already, but you took his attempts with endearment.

It pleased him, how you fell for it so easily, excited to see him reciprocate your attempts at friendship, the excitement on your face whenever you two were paired together for a project or study sessions.

You were so innocent, and so stupid. He truly loved you.

—————

Shigaraki couldn't believe his luck, the day after an assignment when he got you to come with him to his dorm to start working on how you were going to plan around the workload.

His dorm room was, admittedly, filthy. Unwashed clothes and trash scattered everywhere all over the floor, wraps of junk food and snacks hastily piled on an full trash bin in the corner. Anime figurines, video games, and posters decorated the shelves and the walls. The only spot that was kind of well kept was his gaming corner, with his pc and monitors all sparkly clean. He knew it was a shameful way to live, and he excitedly looked at your face hoping to see any semblance of disgust towards it. The lack of it, made Shigaraki frown.

"Err...sorry, I didn't know you were coming so I didn't clean up the place." He feigned concern, trying to edge a reaction out of you.

"That's ok, sorry for barging in." You gave an understanding smile.

Shigaraki's twisted resolve only became stronger. He was going to wipe that smile off your face, and that thought echoed in his mind on repeat for the following hour you two sat down to work.

Though, of course, his attention was not in the books in front if him. Shigaraki was too focused on the fact you were sitting on his bed, your bare things peaking underneath your skirt making direct contact with his dirty bedsheets.

Could you even begin to imagine that those bedsheets were stained with cum from his daily fapping? That he furiously had been jerking himself off to you for months in that same bed? His blood had begun to run towards his loins, and his cock was starting to strain against his jeans. Shigaraki had to cover himself with the textbook as to not to give himself away.

"Tomura, can we take a break? I'm getting tired." You yawned some time later, putting the book away and stretching your arms above your head. An action that gave Shigaraki a perfect view of your pretty curves, the way your tits heaved slightly as you pushed your chest forward, and a flash of midriff peaked from underneath your top.

"We still got a lot to do, dumbass." He curtly replied, pretending he wasn't leering.

You pouted, like a brat. He couldn't understand how you got such good grades when you could be this lazy sometimes. "Please, just fifteen minutes?"

He pretended to think about it, before shrugging at you begrudgingly. "Alright, just stop looking at me like that."

With a pleased, cheeky smile, you let your back fell on his mattress. Something that actually took him by surprise, Shigaraki watched in disbelief how you bounced on his bed, thighs and tits jiggling. You yawned again as you curled into a ball, he wondered if you even noticed how he ran his tongue over his dry lips. Were you really going to make it this easy for him? Were you that stupid?

"Wake me up in fifteen minutes." and you closed your eyes.

"Sure thing." He couldn't stop his lips from stretching into a huge, sinister smile.

—————

Shigaraki had never been a patient man, but he exercised all of the patience he had within him just to wait out the agonizingly slow seconds as you gradually fell asleep. He kept his eyes glued on your laying form through the first five minutes, casually but excitedly palming his erection through his jeans as he watched you fall asleep. He waited, and waited, silently observing your breathing until it fell into slow, regular rhythm. Soft snoring sounds purred from your throat, leaving your lips.

His cock was so fucking hard it hurt.

Hesitantly, Shigaraki called your name once in a hushed voice, then twice a little bit louder, and when he got no response from you, he knew that the time he had waited for all those years had finally come.

The time to break you.

The beating of his heart hammered loudly in his ears, as Shigaraki crawled over the bed towards you. His weight shifted the shape of the mattress, so he moved as slowly as his desperation allowed him to, as to not wake you up yet. Positioning himself above you, his legs straddled you underneath him as he unbuckled his pants and pulled out his throbbing erection, veiny shaft all with the head red and swollen, looking like he was about to burst. Then, supporting himself on his knees, he leaned back for a moment just to take in the wonderful sight you made.

Spread on his filthy bed, so comfortably on your back, breathing through lush parted lips. The girl chased after by everyone at school, they all would've killed to be in his place and to see you like this, to have you like this. Looking so small, so fragile, so defenseless, so fucking perfect.

Years of abstinence came down crashing all at once and Shigaraki's depravity took a hold of him completely, and it felt damn good.

His lips came down to cover yours with such pathetic urgency, Shigaraki crushed your soft body underneath his larger, even if skinny, frame. Dry and chapped lips devoured the softness of yours, and they tasted so sweet and creamy, exactly the same flavor of lip balm he had stolen from you back in high school. God, he could feel your heavy, round tits pressing against his chest, his erect cock rubbing needy against the snug gash of your clothed crotch, the engorged head poking at your entrance like he was in heat like a dog, shuddering violently at the stimulation. He moaned loudly against your mouth, forcing his tongue between your teeth and into your sweet mouth, as drool trailed down the corners of his mouth and smearing against your pristine skin. God, he forgot to brush his teeth after his morning coffee, his mouth was surely filthy...not like it even mattered to him anyway. Neither did it matter that he was going to wake you up like that, he indulged on tasting you completely. In fact, he anticipated to watch you wake up, and realize what a stupid bitch you had been.

Bringing his hands to your face, he forced your mouth to press harder against his as he kissed you so sloppily, his throbbing erection rutting against your core.

"(Name)...oh fuck, (Name)..." He whined against your lips. Just a virgin that he was, Shigaraki couldn't help that the mere stimulation of your clothed pussy-mound rubbing on his bare cock was really firing him up, pushing him so much that he was creaming his pants already. He shuddered, muscles tensing as the head of his cock spurted huge jets if his smelly, sticky cum all over the front of your skirt and your thighs.

He breathed heavily, looking at the mess he made.

Then he heard you call out to him, and the sound of your voice was anything but distressed, or even angry.

Instead, you sounded disappointed.

"Aww, you already came?" His eyes shot to your face. You were wide awake, face flushed as you stared at him through fluttering lashes and glossy eyes, the expression of someone who was throughly aroused. Shigaraki was the one struck by shock, and confusion.

"Tomura, I can't believe you are such a quick shot. I was looking forward to this, you know?" Your disappointment somehow puzzled him more than the sheer anger of being called out for his quick ejaculation, and that was impressive on itself. His expression made you giggle.

"What the fuck are you laughing for?!" He growled with bared teeth, his hands moving to your writs to restrain them above your head, crushing you with his body again. You whined, not in fear, but need.

He couldn't begin to understand what was happening. You weren't freaking out, you weren't crying, you weren't despairing.

"Do you understand what is happening here? I'm assaulting you, stupid bitch!" He lost his cool so quickly.

"Of course I know." Speaking in a whisper, your back arched, pressing yourself further against Shigaraki, raising your thighs to catch his cock between the soft flesh of your exposed, sticky thighs. He hissed through his teeth,  the touch easily making his cock spring back to life, harder than before.

"Tomura, you've always been a creep." For the first time, your voice sounded harsh, condescending.

And disgusted.

Finally, that disgusted look. Shigaraki stared at you with a burning gaze through red eyes, mouth agape at the sound of those words being uttered by you, that look on your face that he had wanted to see for the longest time. His cock twitched, a spurt of cum drooling down the tip and getting on your exposed panties. The feeling made you shudder, your things squeezing his cock between them again. His back arched, hands restraining you gripped your wrists tighter, he cursed at how fucking good it felt.

"But I always liked that about you, honestly! How gross you are, how dirty and smelly you are, you are always so mean to me too! I wanted you to take me like this by force one day."

"You...wanted this to happen?" Shigaraki was starting to understand, though none of it made sense. You snorted, giving him a suddenly smug grin that made his blood boil.

"I always hoped it would." A candid confession, your own breathing had become erratic, the euphoria of pouring out your deepest secrets. "It always made me feel so hot to imagine that you fucked me and made me all dirty and disgusting, that you turned me into a freak like you."

It sounded like pure bullshit, and yet the genuine honesty in your voice left no room to question it. The reality you presented him with had shattered his own. And it made him so damn angry and so fucking turned on. He felt all light-headed suddenly, like he was in a dream.

"So you've been fucking with me all this time?! Is that it, you damn bitch?!"

One of his hands roughly grabbed your throat, fingers circling the frail column of bone and squeezing hard, you gasped at the sudden pressure keeping you from breathing. You stared up at him. His gaze bore into yours, face inching closer to snarl with pure, scorching fury.

And yet you still looked so ecstatic, a lewd expression that couldn't be further from that angelic, innocent look everyone always said made you so perfect. You looked absolutely wicked in that moment.

"Yes...I have." You spoke through labored breaths, clawing and the hand around your throat. "You fucking...disgusting...creep."

Shigaraki realized then, that you hadn't ever been perfect, in fact, you had been the same as him from the beginning. A depraved fucking mess.

And he hated you for that, loved you for that.

Shigaraki then let go of both your wrist and neck, slipping his leaking cock away from your thighs as he leaned back on his knees. Gasping for oxygen, your head already felt light by the time you felt your clothes being violently ripped off from your body, blouse and skirt tearing away and being thrown behind Shigaraki's towering frame, leaving you in only your underwear.

The frilly, see-through thing that looked more like lingerie. God, you really were such a fucking freak, weren't you?

Shigaraki's hands went to unclip your bra that so luckily opened at the front. Throwing the item with the thorn pile of your other clothes. The sight of your bare tits bouncing in front if him was like out of his deepest fantasies, and Shigaraki didn't wait a second longer to roughly squeeze your breasts in his calloused hands, taking handfuls of the supple mounds of flesh he had always dreamed to grope. They felt full and heavy in his palms, fingers sinking into their softness, and seeing the way you mewled when his thumbs teased the hardening nubs of your nipples, making you softly moan his name, Shigaraki lost it.

His mouth attacked one of your nipples, mouth latching to the puffy areolae and teeth sinking into the flesh as he sucked hard and desperate. Your reaction was immediate, hands tangling into his messy white hair and fingers pulling at his scalp, mouth parted to mewl his name in pain and delight. He kept suckling at your breasts, hungry and rough like he was hoping to suck milk out of them, the other hand already playing with the other breast, mercilessly pulling and twisting your hard nipple, bruising the tender skin.

"Tomura wait — ooh!!" Your body trembled as you whined out his name, another wave of pleasurable pain hitting you when Shigaraki squeezed your breasts together and brought both nipples into his greedy mouth. Sucking at them and lapping at the pebbled skin with his tongue, until your were squirming underneath him like a needy little whore.

One of his hands delved down to your panties, the thin string that held them up all to easy to break with one powerful tug. You gasped, a sound that turned into a loud scream when you felt his fingers teasing the hot wetness of your pussy lips, before he buried one digit into your core, testing your insides.

"Oh fuck..." You breathed, biting your lip, feeling him experimentally finger your inner walls. Shigaraki was fascinated at how hot and slick you felt inside, your fleshy walls sucking around his fingers so tightly that he wanted to stuff his cock inside that hole now, now, now.

He let go of your nipples with a lewd pop, spit dribbling down the abused skin. "Who would've thought...that you had such a filthy mouth." He snickered. "You are so fucking wet already, you goddamn degenerate, you want my cock so bad, huh? I'll let you know I haven't showered in a few days." It was like he was testing you by basking in his own disgusting habits.

"Y-Yes, I do, I want your filthy cock!!" Another loud moan, uncaring that other people in the dorm were going to hear. "Please, Tomura, make me filthy!!" The expression on your face, mouth agape with your little tongue out so unabashedly desperate for someone like him made his heart flutter.

Shigaraki would've wanted to keep you begging for so much longer, but in reality, his own desperation had him pulling back his hand from your pussy, leaving you empty and sighing disappointed for a moment, but not for long. Firmly anchoring himself down with his knees on the mattress, he raised your hips with a bruising touch and with the clumsiness of an inexperienced man, plunged his cock into your pussy in one punishingly rough thrust. The sudden feeling of being full had you arching your back and curling your toes, nails clawing at his forearms as you writhed in pain from the sudden intrusion. Shigaraki buried his cock into you until his pubes brushed your outer lips, and he was balls depp inside.

"Fuck, fuck, ooh...holy shit you...are fucking tight." Tomura groaned with his mouth agape, eyes rolling to the back of his head. His breath hot against your skin as he leaned over for a moment, taking in the unbelievably hot sensation of you squeezing around him. "This fucking greedy pussy, hngg..." Your insides felt so good, better than he ever imagined, you were so tight sucking him in like you were trying to rip off his cock. Was this what pussy felt like, or was this just you? Seeing what a slut you were, he didn't think you were even a virgin. And yet your velvety walls wrapped around his shaft in a snug fit inside that scorching, pulsating heat, Shigaraki couldn't imagine anything else comparing to it.

He couldn't stop himself as he began thrusting his cock into your hole, pulling only slightly before sinking back, selfishly unwilling to let go of that delirious sensation around his length. The harder he snapped his hips, the better it felt, his balls throbbed as they slapped against your plump ass.

"Tomura, i-it hurts....mmm, oh!" Tears swelled in your eyes, and yet your hips were needly sinking on his cock like there was anything else of him to take. What a glutton for punishment you were, but soon that burning pain became something just as good, even better actually, delicious pain, and your were soon arching your back and bouncing on his cock with all your might.

"Guess neither of us are virgins anymore, huh?" You panted with a laugh. Shigaraki froze then for a second, his eyes stared at your face contorted by pain and pleasure with wide eyes, enraptured and burning with something a little hotter than desire. A virgin, so even after the truth of your character, you really were as untainted as he thought.

Shigaraki was scrapping your virgin insides with his cock, truly making you filthy in the most pure sense of the word. He was tainting you, breaking you, the perfect girl everyone adored.

That was it, Shigaraki cursed under his breath as he pulled out, earning a confused and disappointed sound of from your lips, that then became a little help when he grabbed the back of your legs and pushed them up, bending them against your chest. He positioned himself over you and stuffed his cock back inside, thrusting into you as hard as he could, taking up a new merciless pace. In that new position, both of you could feel him reaching even deeper inside you, the engorged head on his cock hitting the entrance of your cervix, that little orifice sucking at his tip like it was begging for his filthy, fertile seed. The thought made him fuck you even harder, the image of him pouring his cum inside you and impregnating your insides.

"Tomura, Tomura, Tomura!!"

His name was a chant on your lips, arms thrown around his shoulders to pull him closer. You could smell the sweat and grime on his hair, and the thought someone so gross like him was taking you made your insides flutter and twist with the build up of an orgasm. "Tomura, don't stop, fuck...don't stop!!"

He didn't and soon you were clamping on his cock, your orgasm making you so tight that Shigaraki was shooting his load too reaching an abrupt climax, pleasure hitting him as his cum flooded your insides with its warmth, painting your walls white and filling up your womb until it was overflowing out of you, steaming down your thighs and ass onto his bedsheets.

It was like a dream, the best dream he had ever had. And he would've thought that it was nothing but a dream, too. If not for the arms that were still clinging to him and refusing to let go, the pretty mouth breathing against his ear.

"Tomura, you...really are disgusting." A satisfied voice filled with disgust, and affection. His cock began hardening inside you and you barked a laugh.

He hated you for that, and he loved you for that. The perfect girl everyone wanted, that was just so perfect for him too.

[jishyucks]

Eight Count ‣ lmh

‣ genre: fluff, enemies-to-lovers, hogwarts!au, I think it's a slow burn

‣ wc: 10.8k

‣ summary: "There's honestly no way Minho would like me. And me of all people would know that." ; in which fate decides to be an ass and make you and Minho dance partners

‣ an: I'm sosososo sorry @ whoever requested this bc of how long it took. I didn't mean for it to be so long but it kept going and uni is to blame bc all of the work :(( but anyways enjoy !!

i.

You feel the beat of your heart quicken as you maneuver through the maze of corridors that you had begun to approach. Time was ticking. The first classes of the day had already started about half an hour ago, and here you were, racing down the stone hallways, tardy and a bit dazed.

It had only been a mere five minutes since you had woken up in the dormitories in pure panic, the realization that everyone had left and you were still cuddled up against one of the pillows in your bed driving you to act quick. You could accuse your housemates of not even bothering to check if you were alive, but you soon decided to place the blame on your body's restlessness and inability to go to sleep when you wished. You wouldn't call it insomnia, but your sleeping patterns weren't normal either.

Approaching the dance room with a quiet sigh of relief, you tug at the wooden door and peek in, hoping that you weren't barging in at such a humiliating time.

Scattered around the rather room, students were paired in twos. Each couple's bodies had been facing each other, hands sitting awkwardly in the other's while their faces were turned towards the dance instructors, Professor Shin and Professor Na. By the look on Professor Shin's face, it was evident that she was about to continue speaking, but the door swinging open had caught her attention.

"Ahh Y/N, nice of you to finally join us," she clasped her hands in genuine excitement, passion towards dance obviously bubbling up inside of her.

You grinned crudely and bowed your head, "W-what should I do, Professor?" Spotting your best friend Felix within the group of students, he tried his best to send you a look of 'we were supposed to be partners'. You shot him an apologetic expression back before turning your attention back to both professors.

After a brief pause in thought, Professor Na's face lit up, "Ah yes! Lee Minho lacks a partner as of now!" Following the eyes of your teacher, they brought your line of sight to the far corner of the room where Minho had been sitting. At the mention of his name, he raised his head to see that everyone had been gaping back at him in what seemed like total silence.

A sharp intake of air through your nose had replicated a gasp, eyes growing wide, "P-pardon?" Out of all the boys in the class, an amount you couldn't keep track of with your fingers, you had to end up with Lee Minho? The human embodiment of a wet sock?

Minho was… unbearable, to say the least. It wasn't that he had done something for you to hate him, which made you seem like a bad person, but in all honesty, your guys' personalities didn't seem to match. He was too arrogant, in your opinion. He has this energy that he carries that really didn't sit well with you, and by the looks of it, the feeling was mutual. It was as if you both ended up on the opposite bc end of everything.

It really doesn't help that you're a Hufflepuff, and he's a Slytherin. For some unknown reason, they always loved teasing the people from your house, though Hufflepuffs chose not to return their actions.

"Mr. Lee is the only student remaining with no partner."

You gulped and slowly approached him, only because your professors had motioned you over to him. If you could protest, you would, but what was holding you back was the attention given by the entire class and the teacher's who seemed too excited for their own good.

Minho pressed his tongue against his inner cheek, eyes lighting up in wrongly-fueled happiness. He hopped from the upper bench and down across from you. You blinked back at him dryly, maintaining calm yet trying to speak to him with your eyes.

Crossing his arms, he leaned forward and smirked, "Why the bitter face? You should relish in your luck for ending up with me."

"Stop talking, dead cells are coming out of your mouth… Luck my as–"

"Now! That everyone has a partner, I'd like you all to stick with these individuals until these classes are finished," Professor Shin had announced. It was quickly followed by groans and whining from many of your classmates. Though you hated your partner and wished you had arrived earlier and paired with Felix, you stood quiet, isolating the anger within your chest.

"And before we begin once again," Professor Na added, "I'd like to point out that this is still a class. We will be holding a class particularly focused on evaluation and your grade will be heavily based on participation over the length of this course." Once again, a chorus of grumbles had flooded the room.

You hear Minho curse under his breath, only because he was now two steps too far into your bubble, "This is utter bullshit."

This time it was your turn to taunt, "Why? Are you scared or something? Can't dance? Can't keep up with everyone?"

Narrowing his eyes, he scoffs, "Oh, shut your mouth, bumblebee. Just wait and see."

ii.

"Get up!" Felix tugged at your arm, voice sounding louder than it actually was. When you hadn't shifted at all in your bed, he sighed and tugged once more, "Y/N!"

"Wha– Felix you're not allowed in here!" You kicked at your blanket and sat up.

"We need to get to dance class," he clicked his tongue, "Let's go~"

"I really don't want to go," you whined, "I'd rather fail a class than hold hands with Lee Minho for an hour and a half." Felix dragged you out of your bed to see that you were already dressed in your robe, only your yellow and black tie had been carelessly tied.

"Wait, did you not change out your clothes from yesterday?" Felix jumped back in exaggeration, alarmed and slightly grossed out. His nose scrunched while he judged you through his eyes.

You glared at him and scoff, "Of course I did, you idiot. And don't act like you haven't done that." You take this as your victory as it was true, Felix had gone two days without changing, and it was a bit nasty considering all the places he's gone to in a day.

This time it was his turn to glare at you, "You shut your mouth! Now let's leave before Snape sees us roaming the halls once class starts."

Minho winced slightly, trying not to let your feet ruin the simple waltz routine that the class had finally run through, "If you step on my foot one more time, I'm shoving yours up your arse." His teeth were gritted in frustration, looking down at you with narrowed eyes.

"Then stop stepping on my feet," you muttered back, hoping that no one else, especially the professors, were hearing you two bicker.

It had only been about two lessons into the class and that amount of times that Minho had purposefully disrupted the routine… as if it were good, to begin with.

The two of you found it difficult to fall in sync with each other. It was always either going too fast or too slow, someone making an 'accidental' mistake, and Minho's favourite, holding your hand and hip with a tight and stubborn grip. It wasn't evident whether he was doing it on purpose, either, but you had pointed it out plenty of times, and he never seemed to loosen them.

"I'm not stepping on them," he pushed you back a little too early in the dance, causing you to stumble on your own feet. This caught the attention of those around you, though they carried on almost immediately after.

"Tell that to my bruised toe," you argued back.

As if you were being blessed, the music had finally come to an end. You promptly retracting your arms and to your body and taking a step back from Minho. He had done the same, going an extra mile to turn away from you and to the professors.

"Perfect! Perfect!" Professor Na's face lit up from excitement, "Now that we have learned this simple routine, next class we are moving on to one of the actual dances done in the Yule Ball as tradition. I hope you all are excited as I am!" Very few students had taken time to let out a "whoop" while everyone else, including you, chose to retrieve their books at the seats.

Felix approached you with a pitiful smile. He already knew what you were going to say, patting your back gently, "So how was it?"

Exhausted, you just shook your head and shrugged. Being partners with Minho honestly had been completely draining for you, mentally and physically, which was unusual as you could often live through such situations without feeling the need to scream.

"What else do you think?"

Felix nodded apologetically and puffed out his cheeks, "Is it as bad as the potions exam we had in fourth year?" He shuddered subtly and led you out of the classroom. Just thinking about that exam made Felix want to claw at his brain. If there was a way to take a particular memory and make it disappear from the chamber of long term memories, he would. Maybe then he'd be able to get a few more hours of sleep.

"Yes," you replied simply. The test was equally as horrible for you, but a test didn't force you to 'create chemistry' with a certain Slytherin.

"You're lying… can't be that bad," Felix laughed lightly.

"Easy for you to say," you sighed.

From behind, you feel someone bump your shoulder and pass by you, "Oops," he snickered, walking backwards to watch your reaction. The only thing he was missing was popcorn.

You turned to see Minho and rolled your eyes, "Ha-Ha, you're so funny, Lee Minho." Such a childish joke and you guys were almost leaving Hogwarts.

Though your reply had been dripping in sarcasm, Minho's wit had dodged it entirely, "Well thank you very much," he bowed, more like a manly curtsy, before he ran off, leaving Felix slightly puzzled at what just happened.

"Don't you see how much of a dingbat he is? He constantly chooses to pick on me just to get a reaction out of me," you utter, "He should be glad I was raised to be patient, if not I'd be hexing him like the world was near its end."

"I see a pattern," Felix hummed. The expression on his face looked as if he had come to an incredible epiphany.

Making a face, you click your tongue, "What do you even mean by that?" What pattern? Green, white, green, white? Minho and his constant need to be the crow to your crops?

Felix patted your head, "You're slow sometimes, you know that right?" He puffed his cheeks up and raised his brows as he looked down at you as if you were a kid.

"Can you just spit it out?" you narrowed your eyes at him before you physically pried his hand off your head.

"Minho does all of that just to get a reaction out of you," Felix presses his lips into a thin line, slowly forming a smile.

Finally arriving at the next classroom, you groaned, "You basically repeated what I said earlier…"

"If you didn't know this already, boys love getting attention from someone they are attracted to," Felix plopped into his seat. You followed right after, "I should know… I'm a boy."

You almost laugh at the tone of his voice. The confidence and the look he gave you to emphasize his statement; was all too funny, "So what you're saying is… Lee Minho has a – and god forbid– crush on me?" Felix nods like a young child, with eyes wide and a tight-lipped smile.

"Bollocks," You burst out laughing, "Felix, I love you, don't get me wrong, but you've never said anything more rubbish in the years I've known you."

"The chances are never zero," Felix put his index finger as if he were saying it in 'a matter of fact'.

You lean forward and sit your chin at your folded forearms. You eyed the teacher as she made her way into the room, "You're right there, Lix, but there's honestly no way Minho would like me. And me of all people would know that." You locked that statement in, feeling your words and emotions contradict.

Right?

iii.

"And then Y/N had the audacity to step on my foot," Minho kicked at the bench across from him, frustration released after what seemed to Seungmin was years of ranting. He didn't mind though, in years of being in the same house as him, he learned how to block him out yet still know what was going on when Minho asked for some sort of reply.

Minho tapped the end of his pencil against his textbook, eyes drifting off elsewhere in the grand hall. Students were clumped at their respective tables, studying for whatever class they had. Minho was trying to do the same, but his state of mind was not in the mood. But he was trying, he was pushing himself, that's what mattered in his opinion.

Turning his attention to Seungmin, who was seated next to him, he jumped, seeing that Seungmin's eyes were wide and directed at him, "What the hell!?"

"What?" Seungmin shifted back forward, facing his own books. In a sense, the scene was hysterical. He acted as if he hadn't done anything wrong or out of the ordinary, but Minho still tried to push an explanation out of him through looks.

"What do you mean what? Why were you looking at me like that?" Minho put his pencil down and closed his book on it.

"I was trying to see something," the boy shrugged and got back to his own work.

Again, Minho furrowed his brows at Seungmin's lack of detail in his response. What in the world was he even trying to do? "Trying to see what? If you don't answer me properly–"

"Okay! Okay!" Seungmin exclaimed a little too loudly, earning looks from other wizards in the room, "You know that saying that if you're in love, you start to glow?"

"No? What type of nonsense are you saying?" Minho scoffed, "Love? Are you sick or something?" Roughly, Minho brought the back of his hand to Seungmin's forehead, which Seungmin had thrown off almost right away.

"You've been talking about Y/N this entire period, you haven't stopped until moments ago," wiggling his eyebrows, Seungmin whispered his reply to Minho, making sure no one would be able to hear him this time.

Minho's face had contorted into one of disgust and confusion, "And?" Where was Seungmin even going with this? He was just relieving stress. It's not that deep.

"My point is that they're the only thing you've been talking about lately," Seungmin scribbles his pen at the top of his paper to get it to work, "Even if I start the conversation, it somehow just shifts to Y/N. Normally I'd be mad, but since you're in love, I'll let it pass."

"In love?" Minho's jaw dropped, a mixture of emotions swimming around inside of him, "In love!?" Trying to find words to perfectly reflect what he was saying, he fails, shoving Seungmin off the bench. Actions spoke louder than words, right?

Seungmin smirked and chuckled, unfazed, "What? Cat got your tongue?" He gets up, dusting his robe off before sitting back down, "It's because I'm right, aren't I?"

Minho gulps, "Will you quit it? You're…"

"I'm…?"

"You're confusing me. Quit it," Minho huffs, gathering all his things as he was planning to return to the dormitories. This was a different way of playing with emotions. There was a zero per cent chance that he liked you, or worse, loved you. That word was way too strong, dangerous like amortentia.

"I take that as a yes!" Seungmin stood his ground, just letting out a genuine laugh.

Minho held a finger up at Seungmin, who still laughed, unbothered. He didn't like you. And if he did, it wasn't wrong to do so. It was an ordinary mortal thing to have feelings. But that didn't matter right now because he didn't like you, not even a tiny crush.

But that slight state of unfamiliar panic in his heart says otherwise.

iv.

The muscles in your arm were aching from the horrible fact that Minho had been purposefully letting his arm go limp while he was holding your hand, which somehow led to you holding up his arm with your arm. You frowned at him, tempted to let your arm fall in the middle of the routine.

"Can you actually put in some effort?" you whispered through gritted teeth. Squeezing Minnho's hand, you directed a look of annoyance that only returned with an amused look. Underneath his robe, you could tell he had been intentionally dragging his feet, causing the both of you to slowly hold those partnerships behind you up.

"I'm not wasting energy on this," he shrugs quietly, "It's ridiculous."

"What don't you find ridiculous?" you rolled your eyes, "You Slytherins and the lack of interest in anything but yourselves. Where's the excitement in that?" No, you didn't want to generalize the entire Slytherin population, especially since you had family members from that house, but you knew exactly how to rev up Minho's engine. Just by the way his face twisted, you knew damn well you hit the right spot.

"Shut your mouth before I spin you a little too hard…" he said a little bit louder, "I don't find it ridiculous, I just find that us being partners is ridiculous… who in this entire school would want to be partners with you?" Before you could even reply, he had caught you, "That's not from your house."

"Jokes on you, I know plenty of people who would be partners with me," you scoffed, and it was true. There was Jisung who had somehow been sorted into Gryffindor, Hyunjin and their seniors, Bang Chan and Changbin. And there was Jeongin, who was a Ravenclaw. You could list a handful more, but that's beside the point.

"Silence is deadly," he stifled a laugh which had driven you to 'accidentally' stumble over your own feet. This caused him to stumble himself, only he wasn't prepared for it, "I'm blaming you for ending up being my partner. I was hoping someone else would've entered the room. But no, it had to be you."

"You're blaming me? For this?" You shake your head out of disbelief, not noticing that your voice had gone louder. You were catching the attention of those around you and the professors at the front of the room, "You could have found a partner you wanted in the first place but you probably decided to stay back and wait for someone to go up to you. No one wanted to be partners with you, which is why you ended up alone in the first place."

Minho's eyebrows furrowed, eyes almost on fire at what you had just said, "You know what?!"

Before he had been able to continue the banter, Professor Shin had cleared her throat. The glares that they both were sending your way had caused the both of you to stop with the squabbling, "Y/N, Minho, I know we've never talked to the two of you about your constant bickering, but it is simply interrupting the atmosphere of my classroom."

Taken aback, the both of you had stumbled over each other's feet, falling to the ground and causing a domino effect among the rest of the students.

Flustered, you turn to Minho, "That was all your fault, Lee Minho." You huffed and attempted to get up, failing once you noticed that Minho was practically lying on your leg.

"Oh be quiet," he rolled his eyes and dusted himself off, "That was all you! You and your two left feet." The rest of the room was silent, regardless of the incident. All ears and eyes were on the 'love birds,' not entirely sure whether or not they should blame you both on what had just happened.

Sliding out from underneath him, you scoffed, "Don't speak so highly of yourself, Minho."

Minho cackled, "Highly? Of myself?!"

"Stop this instant!" Professor Na had finally mustered up the courage to intervene, anger bubbling in his stomach, "Enough!" The two professors began helping the students up, scolding both of you as they did.

"Five points deducted from your respective houses," Professor Shin said sharply, "And you both are now in charge of polishing the floor every Friday for the following three weeks."

"But professor–"

Minho was cut off, "That, or ten points off for your houses…" And without another word, you both chose to polish the floors after all classes were done for the day.

Day one of polishing the floors was practically the most difficult. Not only did the professors restrict using magic to finish the chore, but the overall idea of doing something alongside Minho aggravated you, which was why you hated dancing with him so much. The comments he'd make, the taunting looks he'd give you, the jokes that were obviously uncalled for, they all were honestly bringing you to the point of near insanity.

At first, both of you had decided to start off on the same side, almost the same corner. But the moment you noticed Minho constantly glancing your way in the corner of your eye, you decided against it, "How about I start at that end."

"Whatever floats your boat," he mumbles, "I don't care."

The tone in his voice hadn't matched yours, which you assumed was polite enough not to spark some type of that energy in him, but it did.

"Whatever," you make your way to the other end, sliding your robe off on the way. You let it hang off one of the benches, making sure it wasn't touching the floor. You rolled up your sleeves and started polishing the further end of the room, a bit relieved that Minho wasn't hovering anywhere within your line of sight. It was better that way.

The second day, you were hoping that you could get through a period of cleaning without hearing Minho's ungodly voice. He had been moving back and forth from one corner to the other, feet squeaking seemingly endlessly against the floor. You wished that the volume of the music could be turned up louder.

"I'm doing more than you are," Minho pointed out. You turned to find that he was standing in the middle of the room, hair messy and beads of sweat lining his hairline. His collar was out of place, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows just as yours were. Did he, for some reason, look attractive, or was it the lack of light in the room? Probably the latter.

"What do you mean you're doing more than I am?" you feel your eyebrows knit together in confusion, "I'm doing the same amount of work as you." And you were, but you were working just a bit slower than he was. He had probably sped through his area with the idea that the sooner you both finished, the sooner you were able to leave.

"Just hurry up," he groaned. Minho dragged his feet over to a lone stool, pushing it against the wall before plopping into it. The music continued to play, drowning out the shuffle noises of his feet.

"No," you replied, keeping your speed consistent. It wasn't like you wanted to stay longer. It was the fact that Minho couldn't leave until you were finished that was making you act this way. Maybe if he did his job well, he wouldn't be sitting around doing nothing.

Tile by tile, you continued to carry out the chore given to you, not paying mind to the pair of eyes that were burning holes into your back. You ensured that the areas you had worked on were basically spotless, reflection or not, you assumed that shiny meant clean.

Minho had been humming along to the somewhat catchy tune, foot tapping to pass the precious time he believed you were wasting. Nonetheless, he leaned back and sighed, hoping you could finish in time, so he had time to nap before dinner.

"Why do they even need classes for dancing?" He sighed out. At first, you weren't quite sure if he was speaking to you or if he was just thinking out loud, "I feel like we'd be fine either way…" You turn to look at him, seeing that he was already staring at you down.

"I mean it's going to look nice at the Yule Ball,"

You replied.

"Yeah but not everyone's going… it's a waste of time," Minho had a point, yet you still found it somewhat amusing that the school would want to organize such things.

"I don't see why you don't just skip class if you find it a waste of time," you moved onto another spot and sighed, "No one's stopping you."

"Yeah but who'd be your partner then?"

Not knowing how to react to his question, you keep quiet. Minho decided not to follow up on the problem, thinking that he had said something out of the ordinary.

The sun had reached the horizon when you finished your portion of the room. You stood up to stretch, hearing the joints of your knees and back pop out of exhaustion. It was satisfying to see the difference between the used, scruffy floor and the clean, polished floor.

"Okay Lee Minho I'm finished," without taking a glance at the boy, you made your way over to the record player. You lifted the needle off and picked the record up, slipping it into its sleeve. It didn't occur to you that Minho hadn't shifted in the past thirty minutes, silence filling the room because you turned the music off.

"Minho?" Finally turning to him, you found him sleeping with his head sat back against the wall. His mouth was wide open, practically becoming a makeshift trap for bugs that happened to be flying around. The rest of his body was limp, legs spread out beneath him. It was surprising that he hadn't fallen off yet.

You walked up to his sleeping figure and laughed lightly, wishing you had a camera to capture this moment. It would've been great blackmail. Maybe then he'd start being nice to you. Naturally, your eyes followed the slope of his nose, then to the two front teeth that stuck out from underneath his top lip.

He had bunny-like features, and you didn't mean that in a wrong way. His face was still sculpted nonetheless. Anyone with eyes would have to admit that he was attractive.

"Done staring at me yet?"

You screamed and jumped back, pressing your hand up to your chest as if to calm you down. Looking back at Minho, you find that his eyes were still closed, yet a smirk had replaced his gaping mouth. The number of curse words that threatened to leave your mouth was countless, the embarrassment creeping up to your cheeks. He finally lifted his head to look at you, eyes still a bit droopy from his nap.

"I-I wasn't staring at you," you denied, shaking your head a bit too aggressively, "Well I was… but because I was laughing at how foolish you just looked."

An offended look surfaced Minho's face, scowling at you as he stood, "I have this feeling that you're lying, bumblebee… Anyways, this is where I leave. Finally, after years." He shook his rolled-up sleeves so that the cuffs slid back to his wrists. You let him leave without another word from the two of you, still in a bit of shock at what just happened. You knew he was never going to let you forget that.

You slumped next to Felix as dinner was being served, an expression almost as heavy as your posture. He looked down at you, debating whether or not he should interrupt the mini montage you were probably playing through your head.

"I want to ask you how the cleaning today was but I think I already know just by looking at you," he stated, sliding a piece of roasted chicken your way, "Unless you do want to speak about it. Just eat and the day's over."

You gave him a grateful smile and gestured for him to eat too, eyes lighting up slightly, "I'm actually not tired from cleaning that stupid dance room, but it's just… this thing that happened. It was beyond embarrassing."

Felix snorts and stuffs his cheeks with food. His words came out muffled as he still chose to reply with a full mouth, "What happened this time?"

You glanced towards the Slytherin table, eyes scanning it quickly to get one quick look at Minho before you whispered, "Minho fell asleep waiting for me to finish cleaning. He looked idiotic as he did so I sorta just—how do I say this— stared at him? But it wasn't like I was admiring him, it was more like I didn't want that stupid look on his face to go away. It was amusing."

"And?"

"In the middle of that he went, 'are you done staring yet?' It was like he had a sixth sense or something," you muttered, "Now I feel like he's making fun of me."

"Doesn't he always make fun of you," Felix had yet again stuffed his mouth, so his words were still muffled, "Why does it matter this time?"

"It's different. It's not some useless situation… it was genuinely embarrassing," you poke the food before taking a bite of your own, "He's going to it against me, I already know."

"Don't worry, I'm pretty sure he'll forget it sooner than you will."

"Hey remember when I caught you staring at me?" Minho's voice echoed faintly throughout the room. He stood up to stretch before he crouched back down.

"I never stared at you," you sneered, "And why are you talking about that as if it happened years ago. That was literally last week."

"That's long enough in my book," he retorted, "Good times." A small reminiscing type smile appearing on his lips.

"Can you not start? I sorta want today to be stress-free and you're literally ruining it," you roll your eyes and move onto the next tile on your side. Minho had decided to choose a different record to play today, one the professors had never played in class. It had been hidden behind all the other records being used, and it took Minho a good five minutes to rake through all of them just to get to it.

The songs were more upbeat than the waltz music you were forced to listen to, which was actually much more perfect for cleaning to. It made it a bit more bearable than the last two times you had to clean.

Minho didn't reply, though you didn't see how he switched glances between you and the mechanical polisher in hand. The track had shifted into a faster song, something that was easy to dance to. From where he stood, he could see your knitted eyebrows, eyes dropping from the slight fatigue blanketing over you after a long school day.

Upon awareness that his shoulders were slumped, he straightened himself and sighed. This week had indeed been a long week, and it was evident in some way in both of you. This was the last of the week's labour before he could go and relax while mindlessly saving his homework for Sunday.

The music had been tempting to let go earlier than he should for the week, the steady beat and the catchy melody filling the room.

Putting the polisher and the rag down, he took a few steps towards you, still contemplating whether he should do what he was thinking or not. He was unsure whether it was bizarre for him to pull such a thing. But you did say you wanted a stress-free day, so he thought he should switch up a bit.

He started moving his body to the rhythm of the music, head bobbing as it took over him naturally. It was easier dancing alone than with a partner, that's for sure, but he wanted to invite you.

"Y/N!" He was freestyling, arms flailing and legs bringing him across the room with a swift movement.

You sighed, "What now?" Turning to Minho, you find him in the middle of the dance room, doing what the room was made for. He had a foreign smile on his face, not the usual smirk you'd find him sporting.

"What the–"

"Join me!"

You went through several different emotions in seconds, confusion, amusement, joy, contemplation… how were you supposed to react to a goofy Minho?

"Join me!" He repeated. This time he approached you, hands out in invitation, "C'mon it's fun!"

"Minho, we have to finish this so we can leave, remember?" You tried to keep a stern look on your face, yet you couldn't hold back the smile that had been forcing itself out. Minho suited this look; It was happier and carefree. You didn't know that his eyes would light up when he smiled a somewhat gummy smile.

"I know, but let's take a break," being the impatient boy he was, he took hold of your hands and pulled you up. He led you in a dance that probably wasn't considered a partner dance. He just pushed your arms back and forth like those scenes in the movies.

"Minho!" You finally let out a laugh, feet unable to keep up with his. He was sidestepping left, then sidestepping right, then back and forth, all unplanned. You stumbled, letting out joyful laughter that was rare around Minho. He laughed along with you, eyes disappearing the bigger his smile got.

When your legs had gotten worn out from constant movement, you tripped over one of them, sending you and your dance partner to the ground. Instead of erupting anger that would have usually washed over you, fits of laughter fell in its place, echoing throughout the room.

Before you could ask if he was okay, you hear footsteps enter the room, a confused Professor Shin staring the both of you down, "What are you two doing?! This is not polishing the floors!" The exasperation changed the normal hue of her skin into a shade of crimson.

Quickly apologizing, you get up and return to your so-called 'stations,' not being able to say another word about what had just happened to each other.

You wouldn't admit it out loud, not in front of Minho at least… but that was the most fun you've had in weeks.

Little did you know, Minho felt the same way.

v.

There was a part of you who had gotten used to Minho's horrible dancing after two weeks of dancing classes. After what happened last week, there was a tiny sliver of toleration that had surfaced from both of you. It was mutual. But obviously, neither of you were going to admit it.

Though Minho was starting to get somewhat bearable, there were still days when he'd begin to act up, smirk pinned tightly on his lips while he mischievously pranced about in the dance room. Today was one of those days.

When Professor had slipped the record onto the play, dropping the needle onto the very edge and starting it, Minho had chosen to let his body go heavy, relying on you to haul him around like a giant, weighted ragdoll. You knew he wasn't tired, just judging by the look in his eyes.

"Give it up," you tugged him roughly in one direction, then again towards another, feet hardly following the steps the class was taught the past few weeks. If Minho let his body grow just a bit limper than it already was, his head would have fallen directly onto your shoulder. If you were being honest, you didn't want any attention from anyone else in the room, "Lee Minho, I'm not in the mood for this today, okay?"

Minho's ears perked at the foreign tone that had slipped from your lips, sensing that you were being serious. You would tell him to quit it most days, but never with that tone; It was no fun if you weren't fighting back. Sighing quietly, he had picked his body up and started to follow the eight-count that Professor Shin was practically yelling out.

This minor change didn't go unnoticed by you, feeling his body grow lighter just moments after you'd ask him to quit it. Did he just…?

Other students in the room were surprised that you two were going more than thirty seconds without arguing like a married couple. Many sets of eyes didn't bother leaving the both of you, watching what would happen next in the twist of events.

Minho's feet carried his body swiftly; for the first time, he was guiding you like he was supposed to, but his eyes were glued to his feet, not wanting it to become weird if he were to make accidental eye contact with you. He didn't like how quiet it was between the both of you. The music didn't even do its purpose by filling the silence.

"Are you going to the Yule Ball?" Minho asked awkwardly. He twirled you as part of the dance. He recognized that look on your face which was basically a wordless reply, "That was probably a dumb question." Shaking his head, Minho mentally slapped himself. Never in his life did he fail with words.

"Of course I'm going," you replied rather expressionless, "Why would I not?" You were almost as confused as earlier. Minho trying to make a civilized conversation. Who the fuck was this? It wasn't Minho.

He shrugs, "I don't know… I guess you have a date…?" Minho, what the fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut as if the stone floor would swallow him wholly to take him away from this situation.

As puzzled as you were, you still decided to keep the conversation as it was, "Nope… I think I'm just going with Felix for fun." You tried to keep your tone calm when really you were freaking out. The only thing was you had no idea why you were freaking out, "Y-you?" Facepalm.

"No one."

None of you chose to speak after, not knowing where the conversation was going. The song was slowly reaching the end, which you had wished came sooner. Minho's hands were growing sweaty, and you wanted nothing more than to wipe your hand off. It was getting hot in the room too. Your collar was growing tight, throat itching for water.

Minho's heart was beating a bit too fast for his liking, but it was probably because he was growing tired from the moving. He wondered if you could feel how sweaty his hands were getting. Embarrassing.

"Final counts!" Professor Na called out before the static of the record player replaced the music. The two of the professors had clapped in adoration, overlooking all the students in the room.

Professor Shin had a broad smile on her face, "Beautiful! Gorgeous! Best one so far!" She twirled in place, "Thank you everyone! The Yule ball is in two weeks so I am very pleased with the effort you all are putting into this class! Remember we still have the final class in which you are graded, which I'm sure you all will ace."

"I couldn't care less," Minho mumbled, only so you could hear.

You turn to him, squinting your eyes and tilting your head to express your slight frustration, "You know I'm your partner right?"

"Oh no~ really?," he stuffed his hands into his pockets, "And?"

"And? I don't want to fail this class, even though I'm forced to dance with you," you stated, "So don't you fucking dare fail us both." That tone in your voice was evident once again, catching Minho off guard. The only reason that it had this effect on him was that he was so used to you choosing to fight back. It was like some sort of reminder that everyone around him was getting old, and soon all those around him were expected to be serious.

Nevertheless, Minho shrugs to annoy you, "Whatever."

Instead of answering, you eyed him once more. Your dancing just a few moments ago says otherwise.

You had practically sighed out the total capacity of your lungs as you hung onto Felix's arms on the way out the door.

"What are you sighing about?" He chuckled.

"You already know," you elbowed him.

Felix rolled his eyes and sang, "I saw you guys dancing earlier~."

You pushed him away gently, shock littering your face and posture, "What the bloody hell are you on about now, Lee?"

"You guys actually look cute together when you aren't babbling and all," he grinned innocently. Your heart had the audacity to skip a beat, startling you just as much as Felix did.

"Cute?" You scoffed, "First you said you think he liked me, now this? Are you his wingman or something? Are you trying to get me to like him?"

Felix skipped in his step, "I don't even talk to Minho, Y/N, don't be ridiculous… wait… did you basically just say you're starting to like him?" He gasped, hand slapping over his mouth, which had fallen in shock.

"No," you say flatly.

"Liar," Felix poked at your rib, "Liar. At least confess that you find him less bad."

"Sure, whatever makes you happy, Felix."

When you had fallen out of Felix's line of sight, you let the corner of your mouths turn up slightly. He said we looked cute, you think, only followed by you flicking yourself in the temple.

-

"I thought you were staying here until it closed?" you frown at Felix, who started gathering his stuff. You both had planned on cramming everything in for a test the next day, but plans didn't go as planned when Felix was eager to go back to the dormitories to sleep until the morning.

"My eyes are going to fall out of their sockets if I don't go and sleep, Y/N," he pats your head as if he were talking to a young child, "You can stay if you want. I know how much you hate studying in the common room." He double-checks his area to ensure he hadn't forgotten any of his belongings before patting your head once more. He grins and turns towards the door of the library, leaving you sitting alone at the table.

"Felix ~" You called out quietly, only for him to wave with his back facing you. You sighed and slumped back in your chair, resting your arms on the handles. Libraries were so much better when you had company.

The words in the textbook were starting to turn into blobs of ink, and for a second, you were thinking about following in Felix's footsteps. After moments of consideration, you shook your head and sat up. You'll stay, even if it was against the will of your fatigue self that had been prompting you to leave. This was all your fault anyway. Procrastination was a cruel thing.

Hunching forward, you let your eyes trace over the words, trying to process the information. You rewrote the info you wished to remember carelessly. Your notes resembled chicken scratch, but at this point, you didn't care because it was simply supplementary to your studying. The sun was close to its horizon, and the library was close to empty. It was somewhat more motivating.

Slowly the information had started to get more interesting. It was easier to run through the key terms and ideas listed in the textbook, and you could feel the exhaustion simply leaving your body. I'll finish this one last chapter and then save the rest for lunch tomorrow.

Your focus on the book had hindered your peripheral vision that the presence of another wizard floating over your shoulder went unnoticed. It was only until they had sat down next to you when you finally noticed.

You jumped in your seat, eyes growing wide. You had luckily suppressed your scream with your hand, which you had, out of defense, swung forward, slapping the person in the chest.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You don't sneak up on people like that, Minho," you rolled your eyes at the Slytherin, shifting away from him before turning your attention back towards the textbook. He scooches closer with intentions of irritating you, pushing his face towards your book, "What are you doing?"

You push him away and stick one of the thicker books between you both, "What does it look like?"

"Studying?"

"You're smarter than I thought, Lee Minho," sarcasm dripped from your voice as you glared at him. Attempting to continue with the final chapter, you miserably fail when Minho interrupts your concentration by tapping his fingers loudly against the wooden table.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" you say numbly, voice muffled by your robe, "I was literally just sitting here and you decide to do this."

Minho shrugs and uses his arms as a makeshift pillow, "I was bored, saw you, here I am, I'm here to stay."

Your eyebrows furrowed at the fact that Minho decided to 'spend time with you upon seeing you. You had no idea whether to feel flattered or irritated, but you knew you were confused. He could've just gone back to the Slytherin dungeons to sit with his housemates, but he saw you and decided to sit with you.

Staring blankly at the bookshelves across from you, you huffed out the corner of your mouth, blowing a stray strand of hair by your cheek. You did say you wanted company. You just weren't sure if it was Minho's company that you wanted. Glancing down briefly at him, and looked back up to the bookshelves.

"Fine," you say after pondering about the idea.

Minho's ears perked up, raising his brows, "Fine?"

"Just don't be loud."

Minho's head tilts in confusion, though he still complies, sitting next to you patiently. You continued to read through the final chapter, which you had underestimated in length. The chapter was a good half a centimetre in thickness. Though it didn't seem as much at first glance, the pages were practically dipped in ink, words covering it from one corner to the other.

You could feel your eyes grow heavy as you delve deeper into the chapter. Your bed was calling for you, but there was no way you were going to give. Not until this chapter was finished.

The library had been silent except for the occasional click of the pen from the librarian's desk. You had been mentally counting down the number of pages left to skim over, eager to feel that feeling of satisfaction you usually get once you finish a task. It was the same feeling as crossing or checking off a chore on a to-do list.

Minho had settled his eyes on the centre of your book, keeping them steady even as you flipped the pages. He felt the lids of eyes gradually get heavier as each page went by, and by the time you shut the book in delight, he had fallen asleep.

"Again?" You furrowed your eyebrows, remembering the last time he had fallen asleep in your presence. You darted your eyes away from his dormant figure, not making that same mistake twice, "Minho, wake up."

He stirs right away, head rising from his arms. This time he says nothing, pushing himself off of the library's chair before stumbling over his own feet as he makes his way to your side. He looked like a toddler, and it was admittedly adorable.

"Why didn't you just go straight to the dorms if you were tired," you snorted at his dumbassery. Some students still littered the halls even if curfew was nearing. Instead of parting from your side at the library's entrance, Minho stuck by your side.

"I wanted to spend time with you outside of class," he grumbles. He blinks at the long corridor in front of you two, eyes barely staying open from exhaustion.

Feeling your heart skip a beat, you tried to pick out if he was joking or not, but his tone screamed, 'I'm tired.' Any other emotion was hard to comb out, so you sighed and shook your head, pressing your lips into a smile, "Sleep that cheesiness off, Lee Minho."

Minho continued to walk next to you, silent and confused about what you just had said. It wasn't like he was drunk. He was well aware of what he just said. Nonetheless, he subtly walked you to the kitchen corridor, parting ways with you with an uttered 'goodbye.'

vi.

Sitting against the stone wall, you watched the rest of the class carry out the dance routine, formation changes and all. You ran through it with them, only mentally as your partner was nowhere to be found, and the class was halfway done.

There were barely any classes left before the final graded run through, and Minho really thought it'd be funny to skip? You would have let it pass if you guys weren't the worst duo in the room, but you guys are the worst duo in the room, which made the situation different.

"Professor Na," You asked quietly, "Has Lee Minho been excused from today's class. Is he ill?" You didn't want to jump to conclusions, keeping in mind that people did have their own reasons. Maybe he had caught a cold or was doing a missed exam that was far more important than dancing.

"No word from Minho, Y/N," the professor hummed back.

You frowned and thanked him, turning back to the main dance floor, students moving in sync. Where was he?

Just as you had finished your train of thought, the door had swung open just like it probably did on the first day of class. Minho stumbled in, hair a mess and a rather sheepish smile stamped on his lips.

"I apologize Professors," he bowed deeply, following the perimeter of the room. He bowed again as he reached the two instructors at the front of the room.

Professor Shin stopped her counting, "No need to apologize to us, apologize to your partner." She gestured towards you, already looking back. Minho nodded and approached you, though when he did reach you, he didn't apologize.

"And?"

"And what?" Minho ridiculed.

"Aren't you going to apologize like what the Professor asked?" You tried not to laugh at how Minho had been acting.

Minho let out a cackle, “No? Why should I? Can you stand up so we can start dancing or something?" His hand was itching to reach out for yours, feeling like he should pull you towards him, but he hindered himself from doing so, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Instead of pushing the apology out of him, you decided against it, not wanting to waste any of your time, "Why are you even late?"

The two of you followed the crowd, joining in at the perfect time. Minho smirked, "Worried about me or something? I know I'm in your head twenty-four seven, but I didn't expect you to be so obvious about it."

Tightening your grip around his hand, you gritted your teeth, "I wasn't worried about you, nitwit."

"Then why are you asking?"

"Because you made me sit, doing nothing for nearly forty-five minutes?" You reply as if you were pointing out the obvious, "So why are you late and coming to class looking like a mountain troll?"

"Wow, ouch," he sighed, "I slept in. Am I going to hell for doing so? Because I can recall you did the same the first day and got us into this mess."

"This is about you, not me," you applied pressure onto his hands, causing him to stumble back slightly, ruining the rhythm he had built up. He furrowed his brows at you and did the same, only you were somehow ready for it.

"Oh please," Minho rolls his eyes, "You've done the same so you shouldn't even be mad at me."

"I'm only frustrated, not mad, there's a difference," you point out, "And I'm frustrated because we have that graded dance next week. If we fail, it's going to be your fault."

"It takes two to tango," he quoted, "And you already know where I stand on that. I don't ca-"

"Shut up, the professors are looking," you warned, flashbacks to the three weeks you had to polish the floors.

Minho laughed slightly, letting air blow out of his nose. He let his eyes drift down at you, keeping them there for a little too long.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, spinning you along with the other students, "You just looked way too terrified." The next move had the two of you closer than the initial space between you.

"I don't want to be spending an extra three hours with you after classes polishing the floor," you retort sharply. Instead of holding eye contact with him, you stared at the Slytherin crest on his uniform.

"I know you liked spending time with me, don't lie," he rolled his eyes teasingly.

"I'm not lying."

"You staring at me says otherwise."

"Oh hush about that already, I literally told you that I wasn't staring at you," Inwardly cringing, you felt relief once the music had stopped. You stepped back and eyed down the boy in front of you, "Why do keep bringing that up?"

Before Minho could give reasoning, Professor Na had spoken up from across the room, reminding everyone that the next class was the graded class. Though they wouldn't be strict with grading, he still wanted to see the students' effort 'flowing'. After a chorus of groans, class ended, allowing you to avoid Minho and find your way to Felix.

-

Someone tapping your shoulder had woken you up, head jolting up as if you were frightened.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Chaeryeong gasped sheepishly. She was hovering over you slightly, eyes wide. She was changed into her nightwear.

You sat up, only now realizing you had fallen asleep in the common room, "It's alright. What time is it?" You didn't even remember how you fell asleep, but you sure did have a good sleep.

"It's almost midnight," she replied, "I needed to grab water from the kitchen, then I saw you here and figured it'd be more comfortable for you to go to sleep in your own bed rather than this tiny couch."

You grinned, "Thanks Chae… I'll probably get something from the kitchen as well."

She nods and mumbles out a quick goodnight before disappearing to the girls' dorms. You return her farewell before standing up, eyes drawn to the wrinkles your nap had made on your robe. Attempting to straighten the robe and yourself out, you stumbled towards the Hufflepuff house entrance, exiting promptly.

The fireplace had been lit, a few house elves roaming about and carrying out their own duties. They paid no mind to you, as midnight snacks weren't out of the ordinary for Hufflepuffs.

You asked for what you needed, then was given it with no delay, "Thank you." The house elf nods before turning away with a grunt.

You sit at one of the tables, zoning out as you stared at the blazing fire across from you. School was getting a bit more stressful than it usually has, which was probably the reason why you had fallen asleep without knowing. You remember coming back from a long library visit. Maybe you collapsed on the couch once you did.

You made mental notes on the work still yet to be done before the following week, spontaneously creating a headache. Standing up, you figured it was best for you to go back to sleep. Slipping the dish into the sink, you started making your way back to the dorms.

You rubbed your temples and shook your head as you closed your eyes. It probably hadn't been a good idea to be wandering with your eyes closed as you had immediately bumped into something firm.

"Y/N?"

Looking up, you came face to face with Lee Minho, who was just as shocked as you were. He had been dressed down in a knitted Slytherin sweater and pyjama pants.

"Minho? What in the world?"

He backs up after noticing how close you were to each other, "Could say the same 'bout you."

"My dorms are right there," you point just down the corridor, "While yours is in the dungeon…"

Minho blinks before he tries to move around you, eyes avoiding yours.

"What are you doing here?" you grab his wrist, eager to find out why he was roaming the halls. It wasn't unusual for students to be breaking the rules, especially Minho, who loved living up to the stereotypes of a Slytherin. He smirks at the skinship, which prompts you to let go of him, heat rising up to your cheeks without warning. You're suddenly glad it's dim around the two of you.

"I was… taking a walk," he successfully pushes past you and into the kitchen, a glass of water already there for him. He thanks the house elf, leaving the glass, before turning back to you. By the looks of it, it seems like he's been doing this before, like a routine.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, "Taking a walk? You're painfully awful at lying." And the pause in his speaking gave that away. You followed behind him, expecting an honest answer as if you deserved to know.

"Weren't you just leaving?"

"But my question is unanswered," you shrugged.

"I answered you, I was taking a walk," he pushed the answer. Putting the cup down, he turned to you, "I have… sleeping problems."

"You just lied again," you nonchalantly, "Just tell me the truth. No judgment. A Hufflepuff's promise." You weren't usually one to push an answer out of someone, but this situation was different.

"You say no judgment but I already know how you're going to react to the truth," he takes another sip of water.

"So you were lying!" You raised your brows, "I knew it!"

"You don't deserve the truth," he sighs. Finishing the cup of water, he starts to make his way out, not even turning to look back.

"Lee Minho!" You groaned. Maybe it was your fatigue self or the fact this felt like some sort of game, but you weren't holding yourself back, "When I said I wouldn't judge, I won't. My mind's open to whatever you're going to say."

Minho spins around to face you, stumbling backward a few more steps before he halts, "I was practicing the dance steps."

No judgment.

The flat expression on Minho's face indicated that he had no intentions of lying this time. He had his hands hiding behind his back, eyeing you just to see if you would live up to your promise. Instead of his expected reaction, he finds you smiling, something he'd only see when you were around your friends.

"Wipe that smile off of your face, bumblebee," he mutters.

"Didn't you say you didn't care about that class?" you quoted, a smirk slowly replacing your smile, "Why are you practicing the steps?"

Minho licked his lips. He was at a loss of words, nothing but the truth occupying his mind… Why the hell not?

"Because you care."

You blinked back at him, lips parting and meeting several times as you tried to find the right words to say. The silence was deafening. "What?"

"Because you care," Minho repeated. He kept his expression still, eyeing you, trying to figure out how you were taking this in.

How would he further explain it? He didn't know. All he knew was that ever since that specific moment between the both of you the other day, he took it upon himself to better his partner dancing. He didn't want anyone else knowing, not you, and especially not his housemates, which was why he chose to stay up late to do this; it was the real reason why he had shown up late to class.

You weren't sure if it was because it was quiet, but you could easily hear your heartbeat as it quickened. You try to cover up the fact that you wanted to freak out, "I don't know whether I should laugh or–"

"Yeah, whatever, shouldn't have told you in the first place," he mumbles. For some reason, he felt his heart lub-dub in a way that it shouldn't. He frowned and sighed, "Just forget it."

"Wait, Minho," you call quietly. He stopped in his tracks and turned, partially facing the wall and facing you. He stared back at you with a vacant look, waiting for you to say something. If you weren't going to be saying something nice, he didn't want to hear it after exposing himself like that.

"'Because you care?'" you frowned, "You can't just say that and leave." You already made up a possible answer to the countless questions through your mind, but it was still unclear whether or not that was it.

"What else do you want me to say?" Minho stuffs his hands into his pockets.

"I just want you to explain it," you reply quietly.

Minho glanced out the window sitting by you both before sitting down on its pane, "Remember that other day… when I told you I didn't care?" You nod and move closer to where he sat, unsure whether or not you should sit next to him or not, "I don't know… you were really serious back then… I guess I wasn't used to that. So I figured…"

There was a quick moment of silence before he huffs, almost sounding defeated.

"Did you know that I genuinely don't dislike you as much as you think I do?" He says out of the blue, throwing you off. You wanted to tell him to sleep it off again—why did moments like this always happen at night?

"I don't either," you say back, "At first I did… but I matured."

"I only ever argued with you out of amusement. You're the only person outside of Slytherin that could out-talk me and it bothered me for some reason," he laughed as if he recalled a memory.

"Me intimidating a Slytherin? Just wait til the others hear about this," you joke. He glanced towards your direction and saw a clever glint in your eye.

"Don't you dare," he holds back a smile before standing up to face you directly, "Or…"

"Or what?" You challenged, "Imagine how Seungmin would react! Donghyuck and Renjun? What about Yeosang and Wooyoung?" You start listing the other well-known Slytherins off of the top of your head, holding back a laugh as you watch Minho's face crumble into an expression that looks far too close to fear.

Minho recollects himself and shakes some sense into himself, "Or I'll make you go to the Yule Ball with me." He hadn't planned on asking you today, but the timing was perfect. It fit with the situation. If you were to react unfavourably, then he could just joke about it.

His question shut you up. Your eyes widened at him as you processed what he had used as a threat, "What if I want to go to the Yule Ball with you?"

Minho takes a step towards you, a smirk appearing on his lips. His confidence was skyrocketing, and you can tell, "Then I guess it's a date?"

Rolling your eyes, you let a smile grace softly onto your lips, nodding, "It's a date."

Bonus:

"I told you to wear something with gold," you whined jokingly as you were greeted with Minho, who had completely dodged your request. Instead of the black and gold look you were going for, he decided to wear a black suit that had traces of emerald. As much you wanted to match with your date, you had to admit that he still looked as handsome as ever in the attire. He looked like a prince.

"And look like a Hufflepuff? No thanks," he scoffed teasingly. He pulls out a corsage, one that matches the clothes he wore, tying it gently around your wrist, "You look very beautiful."

"Well, you look very handsome."

Minho laughed as he sticks out his forearm, a brow raised in your direction. Music being played by the live band had been spilling out of the ballroom; the voices of everyone attending gave the ball more life. It was exciting.

"Minho!" Seungmin had called. Felix, who had slipped from your side the moment Minho approached you, was standing by Seungmin, smiling brightly. He had been hyping you up the entire night, telling you that there should be nothing to worry about.

He was right.

"Shall we?" Minho asked. It was cheesy, but it worked.

"We shall."

Hope you enjoyed it! A like would be appreciated <3

[barbecuebabybackribs]

Being in a Poly relationship with Emmett and Rosalie would include:

(Gender Neutral Pronouns

I hope you guys enjoy this! It just popped into my head so I decided to write it out for all of y’all. Also this is super long!! Just a heads up, Enjoy and stay safe guys:) )

To say you surprised them would be a big understatement

They’d both be really conflicted- neither of them wanted to admit they wanted to pursue you

Edward would take pity on them

“Emmett, Rosalie, you both want to be with Y/N- the other won’t be upset if you admit it.”

“...”

Emmett is absolutely pumped- having one mate? Amazing, fabulous. But having two? ABSOLUTE HEAVEN

Rosalie is a bit more conflicted- you’re a human, so fragile and vulnerable. Being around her would mean you’re constantly at risk, not to mention the fact that you becoming a vampire at one point or another shakes her to her very core.

Emmett agree’s to not ask you out until Rosalie is comfortable with it, IF, she agrees to befriend you in the meantime

The next time your in the cafeteria- sitting alone picking at the cheap school lunch, when two people sit at the table with you

When you look up you realize Emmett is on your left and Rosalie is on your right- your surrounded by the schools power couple- the schools very attractive power couple

“Um, Hello?” you say nervously due to the fact they never interact with others outside of there family- let alone you.

“Hello, I’m Rosalie, your Y/N, Right?”

“Yeah, and I know you, You’re Rosalie Hale, and That’s Emmett Cullen, your basically the talk of the school.”

“Oh really? So what have they been saying about us?” Emmett would laugh- knowing some of the rumors going around town were a bit wild.

You’d talk for the rest of the lunch period, telling them about yourself and all the rumors about them- some as simple as Rosalie being a bleached blonde, some being that Emmett ran a satanic sex cult and Rosalie flirts with people to lure them in- that one had Emmett and Rosalie nearly rolling on the floor with laughter

For the next week they’d always sit with you at lunch and you started to consider them friends

The next week they showed up after your last class and walked you to your car

The next week at lunch they started telling you about how they were heading up to Seattle during the weekend

“Hey you know what? You should go with us!”

“Oh? I would hate to impose and be a third wheel.”

“Come on, we’d love to have you there.” Emmett would smile and wrap and arm around you.

You’d look to Rosalie to see if she was okay with it, She had a smile on her face so you assumed she was down

“Yeah, it does sound like fun.”

They’d pick you up from your house the next day in their Jeep

Emmett was blaring music which caused you neighbors to give you a dirty look

Emmett insists you see the “Gum Wall” Which was both interesting a gross

Rosalie takes you to the top of the Space Needle

Rosalie almost has a heart attack- if that were possible- when you stand up to fast and get light headed

Emmett forces you to sit back down and tries to keep Rosalie from calling Carlisle

“I’m sorry guys, I just got light-headed since I haven’t eaten yet today.”

They both forgot you had human needs and Rosalie sits with you scolding you for not telling them you were hungry earlier while Emmett finds food for you

Comes back essentially holding enough food to feed 20 people

“UM! That’d a lot!”

“Well I didn’t know what you wanted so I got one of everything.”

You awkwardly eat as much as you can- offering a lot of it to them and being a tad confused when they decline

You end up giving the leftovers to homeless people

You end up having an amazing day, they take you and bid you farewell- saying you had to do it more often

Watching them drive away you realize you’d fallen for them

You low key feel guilty and the next time the sit with you, you can’t get the thought of you being a horrible person and homewrecker out of your head- I mean they’re in love with each other, who are you to think you even stand a chance?

They both realize something’s off with you and ask Edward later that day if he noticed anything in your thoughts- even though Rosalie told him to stay out of your head.

He tells them what you had been conflicted about

They’re conflicted

Emmett’s pumped you officially like them- and both of them, part of him was worried about you only falling for one of them

Rosalie was happy you shared there feelings but the fact you thought negatively of yourself because of them ate her up.

Rosalie tells Emmett it’s time to consider asking you out,

It still takes them a few weeks to officially ask but suddenly your receiving presents from them and being invited to all kinds of outings

You make them string friendship bracelets and they think it’s the cutest thing in the world- they both wear them 24/7

Movie “Outings”

Hiking “Outings”

Port Angela’s “Outings”

Going to lunch wear only you eat 

Getting ice cream where only you eat.

Basically any human thing they can do, you’re right there next to them

Emmett takes you to play football and only laughs at how bad you are

You’re jaw drops to the floor when you see Emmett throw the ball out of the field

“How the hell?!?”

“Oops, to much power in that one.”

Rosalie takes you on a self pamper day

Hair- Check . Nails- Check. skin Care- Check. Gossip- Check.

You go home that day having dirt on everyone in the town

One day your surprised to see they aren’t waiting for you after class, you stick around for a few minutes to see if they’re late- but they never show

Eventually you head to your car and see them waiting for you there and they finally officially ask you out

Rosalie starts to say it but hesitates and Emmett says it for her

“Y/N, We wanna go out with you.”

“... Like... to the movies?”

“No, we mean, we want to date you.” Rosalie says, tightening her grip on Emmett’s hand

Your silent for a few seconds and they’re worried you’’re going to say no

Pleasantly surprised when you break out in a big smile and say “Yes!”

“Awesome.” Emmett says pulling you into long bear hug- which he squeezes a little to tight but you just savor the moment 

Rosalie is standing next to the both of you, absolutely shocked and excited, gets a big smile on her face when she see’s you and Emmett’s smile and hears how fast your heart is beating

You all enjoy your evening together- your smiles never leaving your faces

They drive you home and Rosalie gives you a hug goodbye- which turns into a group hug when Emmett joins

They never tell you but they heard you call your friend practically squealing in excitement as you told them you’d just got back on a date with “Rosalie AND EMMETT”

They both went home down right giddy- they got cornered by Alice, with Jasper and Edward both in the corner snickering

After you officially start dating Emmett and Rosalie don’t hold back

Emmett has picked you up and carried you around school multiple times

Rosalie had to be physically restrained when someone had the audacity to grope your ass

She still gave them a piece of her mind tho- and it’s rumored they never laid a hand on another person again

They help you study and do your homework- they do have lot’s of experience after all

When your parents aren’t home you all stay up late in the living room watching movies- Rosalie finds your mom baby photo album of you and gushes over tiny you

You end up falling asleep on Emmett’s shoulder- Rosalie takes a photo of you two

Dates with each other but also dates where its just you and Rosalie, you and Emmett, or just the two of them

Emmett kisses you first- takes you surprise and kisses you after he dropped you off at home, then drove away with the biggest cheeky grin in the world

Rosalie is low-key jealous they kissed you first

Next time you see Rosalie? She dips you over and gives you a big ole kiss

Smugly smiles when she see’s you have the biggest blush on your face known to man

After the initial kiss it’s just part of the daily norm

A kiss when you first see each-other, when you say goodbye, a random smooch or two threw out the day

You get all kinds of envious glares from others

Also people who just think you’re sickingly cute

Rosalie decides it’s time for you to know about vampires when you start asking why they never eat on your guy’s dates and there eye’s always change colors

Take you on a long hike so there’s no one around to hear, also encase you feel the need to scream in confusion/fear

You think they’re joking at first

That is until Emmett picks up a boulder and throws it like it’s a baseball across the field

You sit down on a log to process for a second

“Y/N... Are you okay?”

“I made out with a vampire... I made out with two vampires... I’m  DATING TWO VAMPIRES!”

You have a million questions and they answer them all

You ask Emmett to pick you up with one hand- he does and laughs at how surprised you are

“You’re like the hulk!”

You dramatically lean against a tree and tell Rosalie she’ll need to carry you back since your just soo tired- you mean it mainly as a joke

To your surprise she carries you bridal style all the way home- laughing at how giddy you are over such a simple thing

They don’t have fully have sex with you while your human but they are willing to do a lot of other things

They forgot how much humans blush at simple things and it makes no-beating hearts ache

Introduction to the family is a bit awkward but pleasant

Esme absolutely adores you and loves cooking you complex dishes

Carlisle is so happy to see you making his “Kids” happy and also is happy that you’re such a lovely person in general

Edward and Alice basically already know everything about you

Alice gets a little to excited and talks about how good of friends you’ll be and how she’s already planning your new wardrobe

Rosalie pry’s her away from you

Edward doesn’t say much to you but is nice, a little moody but nice

Bella makes sure you feel welcome and tells her if your’re ever struggling to come to her because she’s been in the same situation and knows what it’s like 

After meeting them it basically becomes your second home

They get a bed put in there room so you can spend the night

They love cuddling with you while you sleep, adoring how you’ll softly mumble random words

Cute little picnic dates

You watch Rosalie work on cars and attempt to help her

She ends up teaching you the basics

Sometimes you read to her while she works on cars, or you simply keep her company

Emmett and you wrestle a lot- although he obviously always wins besides the few times he lets you win

You’ve randomly leaped onto his back to many time to count- he loves it

You all go on vacation together during the summer

You go to some private beach and gush over how there skin sparkles so beautifully

Rosalie and Emmett nearly die on the spot when they see you get hit by a car

Rosalie holds you while Emmett calls 911

They realize the cops won’t get there in time- but they don’t want to “doom” you to the life of a vampire

“It’s okay guys, you don’t have to do it.” You would smile weakly at them

“Don’t say that, you’ll be fine.”

It was a lie and you all knew it

When your heart beats starts to slow down and you’re eyes flicker closed they silently agree they have to do it

Emmett is the one who bites you- a lump forming in his throat as you groan in pain as the venom starts to take affect

Rosalie cradles you softly as you start your transition- they end up moving you when they hear the ambulance coming close

They calls the rest of the cullens and let them know- Alice had already seen it but she was to late to call and warn them

They all come to you but all silently agree to only let Rosalie and Emmett in the room your in until you’re ready- most newborns want to be alone

When you wake up and your blood red eyes flicker around the room, you jump up so fast you break the bed frame

All previously dull colors are now vibrant and almost headache inducing, you can hear everything in a room that was previously silent, and the smells- the smells were the worst part, everything was so overwhelming

Not to mention the almost unbearable burning in the back of your throat

“Y/N, are you alright?”

You look over to see a very stressed looking Emmett and Rosalie

“Uhm” You rasp out before clearing your throat, “I.. think so?”

Rosalie offers you a cup of blood Edward had caught for you

You hesitantly take it and ask “What... What does it take like.”

“Take a sip and find out!” Emmett slaps your back and then rubs it supportingly

You take a small sip, surprised at how much it lessens the burning in your throat “It’s.. okay.” You say not wanting to admit it was really good to you- although you do finish the glass

Alice proceeds to carry a whole mirror into the room so you can see yourself- you stare awkwardly at your reflection that now seems foreign

Vampire lessons by everyone

Jasper and Emmett teach you to fight

Carlisle teaches you restraints

Edward and Bella teach you the whole cover story

Rosalie and Alice teach you “How to act human 101″

Emmett and Rosalie both find you one day obviously upset when you realize you’ll have to leave behind your friends and family

They help you learn to cope and let you know it’s completely normal to feel what you feel

Emmett cheers you up by throwing you fifty feet in the air- which was a unique method that worked wonders

Emmett sneak attacks you and you flinch so hard you put a hole in the wall

You get him back by tackling him to the ground- which only works for a second before he’s rolled on top of you and hungrily looking at you lips

You end up making out in the middle of the woods

When the rest of the cullens go back home you decide to stay at the beach for another week

During that week you all agree to take the next step- multiple times

It’s a good thing jasper is out of there because you are full of lust for literal days

You all go home and Edward immediately cringes at Emmett’s thoughts

You home to reveal all your previous rooms stuff had been moved to Rosalie and Emmett’s room- Well now Rosalie, Emmett’s, and Your room

You all are cuddle bugs

Resting your head on Rosalie’s chest is your favorite thing

Well, Clinging to Emmett’s back while he makes his way threw daily life is also up there

You all go hunting together and are one powerful gang

In Rosalie’s eyes your all damned but at least you’re damned together

You all spend the rest of your very long lives protecting and loving each other- even threw the roughest of times nothing could break you apart

You all love each other and that’s enough

[kannra21]

Not Weak

Geten found herself in a tricky situation and she doesn't want Re-Destro to find out. How can a certain fire-user help her by making things even more complicated?

characters: dabi (todoroki touya) x f!geten

word count: 3.2k

warnings: angst, past memories, scars, abuse mention, foul language, comfort, making out

notes: I'd like to thank @seenalready13 for proofreading this work since I can be v clumsy with grammar haha. I'm v grateful for the help! And also, the picture above belongs to 九わん (@91qwn), here's the link to the artwork. Please support their work!

✂-------------------------------------------------------

Geten, as the keystone of the entire army, had the task of leading her group and ensuring that anyone within their ranks followed her instructions. The loyalty of their people was unquestionable as everyone adhered to Destro's teachings, and she was immensely proud of her Cryokinesis. 

The ice-user was grateful to their grand commander for granting her this amazing opportunity of making up for all the great things that he's done for her. She wore an honorable title, and her reputation has risen a lot since the hooning of her meta ability for years. However, she did experience all sorts of things their organization had to offer from the moment Re-Destro promoted her to his right-hand woman, believing that she'd be strong enough to take on the responsibility and he was right. It wasn't like she was bothered too much, especially since dealing with a couple of thugs on her own was no big deal for her. Still, this didn't mean that after performing their duties the soldiers couldn't relax and show their true colors.

This was the case with one guy in particular, who was casually hitting on her and calling her pet names which were utterly gross and humiliating. She had the utmost need to wipe the fucker out of the face of the Earth, but she also knew damn well that Re-Destro would disapprove of such actions considering that the army must avoid inner conflicts at all costs. Of course, she wanted to take matters into her own hands, to prove to the commander that she was deserving of her title, but the jerk simply wouldn't take her seriously as she wanted to be through with whatever problem she had without necessarily dragging Re-Destro into it. That's why she decided to take the easier route and use someone to her own advantage.

"What's in there for me?" Dabi asked, uninterested as he fixed the staples on his burnt skin.

It's true that they were partnered up to share their leading spot at the Vanguard Action Guerilla Warfare Regiment: Violet, but this didn't mean that they had to play nice with each other. Especially after Geten's offensive speech of power and people's place in this world. 

She clenched her fists in her pockets; of course, she should've known that he'd ask for something in return. "I don't have much to offer,” she said through greeted teeth. 

She looked almost pitiful if it weren't for her leading position; she felt stupid to even ask for help when she could've just ended the whole mess with one swift motion of her ice, and bam, the fool's dead. Well, if things could be that easy.

"I... I'M THE TOP LIEUTENANT AND THEREFORE I DEMAND OBEDIENCE! LIKE I NEED TO CONFIDE IN YOU, BURNT CHICKEN NUGGET SCUM!"

"THE FUCK-" Dabi stood up, fire flaring up in his hand and ready to strike as he saw Geten backing off with ice covering her right arm, bracing herself for the upcoming attack.

And then he saw it, at this very moment, the look of hesitation and unease covering her blue eyes. She... didn't want to fight? Was she defending herself? It reminded Dabi of something else from his past, or rather someone, defending themselves from his flames, wearing the exact same expression on their face while protecting his youngest brother. The dripping water from her ice washed over his memories as he obtained one after another in a frantic blur. Nostalgia soon followed the guilt, and it tore him apart, except he didn't want to show it, but Geten already noticed his anger faltering which was her cue to relax.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered under his breath, barely for her to hear. 

"What?" as the question rolled out of her mouth, she internally lost herself in delirium "BLUEFLAME CRISPY MCBACON JUST APOLOGIZED WTFWTFWTFWTFWTWTF-"

"Geten?"

"YES?" she snapped, too loud for what she initially intended. 

"I'll help you, and there's actually something you can do for me in return."

She crossed her arms and smirked confidently at him from her previous ego boost, much to his frowning expression. 

"Whatcha suggestin'?"

"I'll scare the fucker off, and you'll then... cool down my skin from using my flames. Deal?"

Geten looked at him for a moment to determine if he was joking about the offer but from the looks of it and his deep husky voice that she got used to oh so many times during the past week of working with him, she concluded that he was, indeed, not messing around. Dabi expected her to laugh it off or straight up refuse whatever suggestion he had on mind, but from the manner she weighed her choices in her head and the way she looked at him, with those bright, beautiful eyes and long lashes fixated to his own... Wait, when did they get this close?

The two backed off and cleared their throats in embarrassment. They were freaking staring at each other, and for fucking what?

"I... It's a deal then."

"Good."

�� 

"Just... don't hurt yourself too much while dealing with the idiot."

Dabi turned his head so fast his neck hurt. 

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING SO WEIRD?!"

"SHUT UP AND MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASS!"

As they reached the place where their target was supposed to be, the man soon showed up by Geten's side and started pestering her with all kinds of bull he made her deal with on a daily basis. And just as she felt sick enough, Dabi put his hot hand on the guy's shoulder, making his skin sting in the first-degree burns. The guy then backed off and glared at the fire-user with utmost disdain.

"THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?"

"Listen up freak", Dabi took Geten for the waist and gently pulled her towards himself, her body leaning on his own and fitting perfectly under his larger frame, "I saw what you did there. You’d better stop messing with my girlfriend, or else you'll burn to ashes."

Geten internally screamed and pinched him on the side for being a fucking idiot. "HIS GIRLFRIEND!? THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO PLAY OUT LIKE THAT!"

"You sound too confident, guess I should give you a nice beating to teach you a lesson."

He soon regretted his decision because Dabi was entirely down to realize his threat, and after a couple of burns, the moron retreated while he still could and left Geten alone.

And while she hated that they needed to make a scene in front of the other soldiers who were whispering to each other and exchanged who knows what kinds of things, she couldn't leave Dabi alone like this so she put his hand over her shoulder and helped him reach a more secluded area. They entered his room because he said that he kept the first aid kit in a drawer. It was also the first time that Geten came by but it didn't look at all exciting either; the room had a very plain interior, darkened space with the shutters down, piles of dirty clothes creased to the side probably waiting to be washed, the bed left unmade since this morning, a bunch of disinfectants sitting on the nightstand and some used medical gaze forgotten to be thrown away. Geten almost felt sorry for him. It's not like she was doing any better but at least she knew how to take care of herself.

She seated him carefully on the bed, and he started digging through drawers until he found what he needed. When he was all set, he began to take his jacket and shirt off but then Geten panicked and lowered his shirt. 

Dabi's confusion mixed with annoyance was now directed towards the ice gremlin's pretty face. "Aren't you going to cool me down?"

"I THOUGHT YOU ONLY MEANT HANDS AND THINGS LIKE THAT! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF!?" she shouted with blushing cheeks covering her face with her hands.

Dabi soon understood what she meant and closed his eyes, wearing a disheartened smile. 

"It's not like you'll see much. Just a bunch of patched-up skin and bruises. It's not even that hot."

"THAT'S NOT WHAT-,” but then she noticed that his expression never actually faltered, he looked to the front and waited patiently for her next move, sadness surrounding his wounded features. It's not like it was his first time reconciling with the facts, but still, being this burnt and knowing that it wasn't entirely his fault, but his father was also to blame, which made him remember the days when he wasn't in such a fucked up condition as he was now. It made him feel a bit of regret too. But he needed to acknowledge that the path he took was the one with no return, and he needed to accomplish his mission. Endeavor needed to be brought down at all costs; maybe then he'd gain a sense of worth and show him, prove to him, that he was deserving of more incredible things. The ice-user sighed in defeat and gave up on her embarrassment, "just show me what you got.”

Dabi was brought out of his train of thought, and he took off his shirt. It turns out that he was right, some of his scarred skin was sizzling slightly, and his wounds looked terrible because they were situated further on the back where he couldn't reach. She took the disinfectant from the nightstand and tapped it lightly on the freshly made scars. He made a slight grimace, but didn't flinch, didn't wince, like he was afraid of showing his weaknesses by putting on a tough act. It'll all pay off, he assured himself, once he gets rid of his dad. 

When she finished, he allowed Geten to scoot closer to make her do her thing. Her icy hands on his skin felt so good that suddenly he forgot about all of his problems. He turned his face to the side so she wouldn't notice, but the goosebumps on his skin told her otherwise. 

She made a sly smile and cocked her head to look at him from the corner. 

"What's up, tough guy? Can't hide the way I make you feel good?"

He laughed under his breath. He liked when she was this flirty. It made the situation less awkward. But he also felt uncomfortable with how he needed to depend on someone, just like her, when she asked for his help. Were they that similar?

"I need to ask you something,” Dabi asked quietly like he was probing the waters. 

"Yea?"

"Do you still think that I'm weak?" 

The silence filled the room, and he had the need to explain himself. 

"You said that there's no worth living if the user doesn't possess a strong meta ability. Hooning your power was the only thing worth your time as you didn't wish for anything else. You always thought that our Quirks defined us, that they're things we identify with for life. Now that you've taken a closer look at my condition, tell me, what do you think?"

Geten suddenly grew interested in the laminate floor under their feet as she couldn't look anywhere else, her eyes deep in thought.

"That was very mean of me, and I'm sorry, especially since you risked your own health for my reputation."

"... by calling you, my girlfriend?"

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT IT DIDN'T MAKE ANY ACTUAL SENSE!?, her teeth grew sharp, and her eyes furrowed like some rabid cartoon character. 

"It did, actually. Because of my threat, the fool is now afraid of looking at your general direction, knowing that I'd kick his ass whenever he says something stupid again."

Unbothered, he drank his painkillers from the glass of water. 

"... Wait. You'd really repeat all of this... for me?"

Just as he drank, so did he spit, coughing and wiping his chin with his forearm.

"Of course I would, but don't get the wrong idea."

""WRONG IDEA"? YOU LITERALLY CALLED ME YOUR GIRLFRIEND IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!"

"IT WAS JUST TO CONFUSE THE FUCKER!"

"THEN WHY WOULD YOU REPEAT IT?"

"IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU REALLY!"

"THEN WHY'S IT!?"

"I JUST NEED YOU FOR YOUR STUPID ICE FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

The room fell in complete silence once again, and the tension became so thick one could almost cut it with a knife.

Her expression grew cold, and her eyes bore nothing but pure disgust. "So that's what this was all about."

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING SO SURPRISED NOW? IT WAS OUR DEAL, REMEMBER?"

She sat up from her seat and went straight to the door, readying herself to leave.

"Wait."

Just as she was about to step out, she turned around, his tone of voice catching her off guard only to see him sitting miserably on his bed, head hanging and elbows leaning on his knees, grieving.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

Geten stood at the doorway for a minute and then slowly entered again, closing the door behind her. Dabi continued.

"I say things that I don't mean and push the people I care about away."

The white-hair watched his back in silence until she decided to speak up again "... So you actually meant it... the other way?"

"I'm such a sick fuck."

She sensed the crack in his voice and came closer, undoing his hands only to see blood trailing down his face. 

"Whoa, what's going on with your scars?" she tried to wipe it off only to smear it across his cheeks, and Dabi smiled a little.

"Aren't you disgusted by it? Now all of your fingers are red."

She didn't mind his words but created an ice cube to wash it with the water.

"I should call Sceptic. He’s much better at this medical shit than I am."

"No one can help me with it. My tear ducts are all burnt out, and I can't really tear up much."

"Wait, you're crying?"

Dabi refused to say anything as she tried to wipe the rest of the blood off, pressing gentle circles on his now iced skin.

"Blueflame…"

"Hah, actually, you're right. Maybe I really am as weak as you told me back then. I literally am falling apart. How pitiful."

Without a second thought, she slapped him across the face, and he took his stinging cheek in his hand.

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!"

"Thanks...."

"I'm sorry. Look, you're everything but weak, so don't you dare call yourself that. You endured so much pain, your skin is the proof of the things you've gone through in life, and you freaking survived. No one would be able to do this but you. You're not weak, Blueflame, far from it."

"You think so?"

"Of course I do! If it weren't for your help today, I would have talked to Re-Destro, and he'd think that I was too weak for my leadership role. I never actually thanked you for this, thank you."

"You're not weak either, doll. I'm pretty sure that you've beat my ass the week before."

She just smiled at him, and then they looked at each other the same way they did when they made their offer, except they didn't back off this time. They leaned into the kiss that was slow at first, but then they applied more pressure, and it grew more passionate. It was also their first time, so they couldn't really make fun of each other's clumsiness. Whenever their teeth collided, they laughed a little but continued until it felt right. She melted against him, her lips working in tandem with his and his hand slid up her outer thigh as he leaned forward to deepen it. She grasped his lower lip with her teeth before pulling away for some air, and he groaned.

"God, this felt good..." his chest heaved, his words a gravelly whisper.

She stood up and widened her stance, legs bracketing his own as she reached out to grab the back of his neck. She leaned over, forehead resting against his.

"You're not so bad yourself, gorgeous-eyes."

"I differ, yours are much more gorgeous."

"Really? Kinda sappy coming from your side." she grinned, but this didn't discourage him in the slightest.

"I could get lost in them, I mean it."

He caught her face in his palms, drawing her in deeper as his tongue slipped between their lips and slid against hers. His Quirk activated, his kiss is fierce and sweet all at once, and her head spins as his hands slid up her thighs, warming her up. Her mouth became much cooler now, and it sent shivers down his spine. She planted her icy hands on his shoulders and pushed them both backward, landing on the comfort of his bedsheets.

He drew circles over her back and waist, taking in her beautiful features as her head hovered over his own, hair tickling the skin on his face. She gave him a little peck that made him smile, and she cupped his face, thumbs stroking the side of his cheeks.

"So we're official now?" she didn't know why she asked. It was kind of obvious now, but she wanted to hear it coming from his lips.

His expression became serious again as he looked to the side concerningly. He really didn't want to spoil whatever they had going on with his fucked up story about his family, hero society, his mission that could possibly cost him his life for the sake of achieving greater good. Now the last thing he needed was to fall in love with someone and die when he finally found his reason. Life was such a bitch sometimes.

"I'm currently dealing with a very unfortunate situation. I'm afraid that you'd get affected, and I don't want to endanger you by it."

She tilted her head questionably, "And I thought that we'd overcome everything as long as we're fighting together."

He looked at her worryingly, but his words bore a tad bit of curiosity in them, "You want to fight by my side?"

"Of course, you have my full support." she grinned widely, and he smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. It was amazing how much optimism, or rather confidence, could be stored in one single ice gremlin. But he loved her more than everything.

"Very well then." he turned them over and planted a kiss on her forehead before getting on his feet and pulling her up towards himself. "Boss told me about some business we need to take care of in the neighborhood. Cocktail hours?"

"FUCK WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY EARLIER!?"

"Relax, we'll arrive on time." he took his shirt and jacket and put them on.

As they walked towards their location, Dabi took her hand in his while some of the soldiers watched them in confusion, remembering when the two fought against each other.

He couldn't care less. She was the first person who ever supported him, so if his days were outnumbered, then he'd as well spend them with the only person worth his time.

[angrylizardjacket]

dirtbags // 5: Charlotte

Summary: High School AU. 1985. Winter. Charlotte and Razzle are officially not dating, while Lola’s not dating someone but won’t say who, though she’s contemplating sleeping with Tommy in an effort to get him to stop pining for her, which Charlotte thinks is a terrible idea. Except that Charlotte lets slip to Tommy that that’s Lola’s plan, and he doesn’t take it well. The whole pack ends up at the Drive-In, which is going great for Charlotte and Razzle right up until Nikki decides to be an ass, and Charlotte realises that Tommy has spoken to Lola about their fight. It looks like things will be getting worse before they get better.

A/N: 6655 words. long overdue sorry!! @misscharlottelee and @evaangelics my beloveds this is, as always, for you both. ft. asofterworld quotes

my sister and i both hate antique shopping. but we love hating things together.

So yes, technically Charlotte and Razzle spent the better part of Heather’s party in a dark corner being altogether gross, as an incredibly drunk Peach had informed them both before she was pulled away by a far more sober Vince, which Charlotte hadn’t thought much of at the time, herself more than a little tipsy, but hearing Eileen rant in the diner the following day had made her feel a little guilty for not paying more attention. Not that anything bad happened, but still, she felt partially responsible for the young ginger girl. 

But the point is that Charlotte and Razzle are not dating, despite what everyone in their weird and ragtag bunch of lunchtime delinquents likes to imply. If Charlotte could justify punching Nikki again, she absolutely would. It’s not her fault that Razzle’s interesting and kind and honest and funny, and if she finds herself feeling a little heady, a little good-nauseous, like she had back when she and Duff had first been dancing around the idea of being a couple, she pushes those feelings to the back of her mind and distracts herself with something, anything else. 

Right now, she’s got a terrible headache and is having a whisper argument with Lola in the middle of art, trying to talk her out of pity-fucking Tommy.

“You make it sound so crass and heartless,” Lola’s lip curled, frowning at the red pencil in her hand and the cartoon drawing of a flower in her notes, “pity-fucking,” the word sounds wrong on Lola’s lips, tone derisive, “you say it like I don’t care about him.”

“Don’t pity-fuck my cousin, you can both do better,” Charlotte rubs at her temples, eyes closed, as Lola makes a noise like she’s not too sure if that’s a compliment, “a few weeks ago, you promised me you were just friends -”

“He’s a hopeless romantic who keeps hearing about cheerleaders sleeping with people who aren’t him, lemme put him out of his misery -”

“By fucking him? What if he catches further feelings for you?”

“I dunno, I’ll kill him?” Lola suggests flippantly, and when Charlotte cracks her eyes open to level a glare at Lola, the dark haired girl is grinning, clearly joking.

“Why Tommy? Why can’t you sleep with someone less related to me?” Charlotte hisses, tone vaguely annoyed and desperate, “I thought you were getting laid? What’s up with you and Nikki anyways?” There’s a shift in her tone, and Lola makes a face, pressing a little harder with her pencil. 

“I am sleeping with someone less related to you,” Lola says, though there’s a strangely guarded quality to her voice, “not Nikki, for the record; he’s the one who suggested I sleep with Tommy to begin with. He’s too much of a bitch to fuck me himself,” she mutters, mostly to herself, a little wrinkle creasing the bridge of her nose as she thinks about it. 

“Wait, you’re seeing someone? For real? And it’s not Nikki?” Charlotte’s expression lit up, and Lola gave her a calculating looking out of the corner of her eye.

“I bet we both know another person I’m not sleeping with,” and Lola’s tone is mean and a little venomous as she deftly changes the subject, “how is our favourite exchange student, by the way?” Charlotte realises too late that her excited questioning of Lola’s private life may have touched a nerve. For all that Lola’s become more open in the few months they’ve been friends, there were strange lines Charlotte kept finding. Lola never really acted as though she cared much about Charlotte and Razzle’s vague status, so to use it against Charlotte was a surprise, and a clear giveaway that one of those lines had been crossed. It got Lola’s message across well enough, and Charlotte’s mouth snapped closed. 

Lola was a terrible distraction when she wanted to be.

“Lola’s not seeing anyone,” Nikki says flatly around his cigarette, and when Charlotte realises she’s gossiping with Nikki Sixx, she wonders idly where her life went wrong, “she’s fucking someone,” he corrected, “and she refuses to tell me who, but she’s not seeing anyone.” He sounds far more annoyed than Charlotte had anticipated, and she can’t help herself. She tugs on that string.

“Wait, so it’s actually not you?” 

“Lola’s dad is built like He-Man, Master of the Fucking Universe, have you seen him, Charlie? I couldn’t stick it in his daughter and bring myself to look him in the eye every other day; and I’m past worrying if he’s gonna toss me into space like he’s an Olympic hammer thrower,” Nikki considers for a moment, before heaving a sigh, “I just don’t wanna disappoint him.”

“You think fucking Lola’s gonna disappoint her dad?” Charlotte’s brow wrinkled with slight confusion, “why do you even talk to her dad every other day?”

“We work together?” Nikki says, like it’s the simplest answer in the world, and oh, suddenly Charlotte knows exactly why the back of the fry cook in Leo’s looked so familiar. Nikki can obviously read it on her face as the realisation, the full understanding of the situation dawns on Charlotte, but it still doesn’t stop her from bursting out with laughter.

“Oh dude, you definitely cannot fuck your boss’s daughter, no matter how much you so clearly want to -”

“Hey!” Nikki snapped, “bold words coming from you, Miss Lee; you already made sure Razz has had the full American High School Experience, or are you waiting for Prom to go full cliché about it?”

“Nikki, I’ve already punched you in the face once, so help me -”

“Yeah but now I know what to expect, I’m kinda into it,” Nikki’s grin is all teeth, and he leans across the table, into Charlotte’s space, “do it again, Miss Lee,” he teases, offering up his cheek to her, grinning from ear to ear. Charlotte makes a disgusted noise, leaning back, crossing her arms.

“You disgust me; can you please quit your job so you can fuck Lola?” 

Thankfully, this seems to take the wind out of Nikki’s sails, his expression falling to something irritated as he huffs and drops his gaze, sitting back dejectedly, and pointedly refusing, unable to come with a snide comeback in time to save face. 

“Lola would punch you in the face,” Charlotte pointed out, tone a little smug, and Nikki presses his lips together, trying very hard to keep his expression neutral as a blush creeps up his cheeks. 

“So would that leggy redhead of yours,” he’s quick to change the conversation, “isn’t she in the musical? You know my band’s still looking for a singer -”

“Lemme stop you right there,” Charlotte stops Nikki in his tracks, holding up a single hand for silence, “first of all, the only person Eileen hates more than you is Vince Neil, and she told me personally that she’d rather eat glass than join your band, secondly -”

“You talked about my band with her?” There’s something a little bashful in Nikki’s voice, and the blush hasn’t left his cheeks; the whole picture would be endearing if he wasn’t such a colossal asshole.

“Secondly,” Charlotte tries again, “you know her name’s Eileen; everyone knows her name is Eileen, stop calling her my leggy redhead,” she ordered, before taking a deep breath, trying to let her irritation subside, “and thirdly, Lola was the one who asked Eileen to be in your band, Eileen just brought it up to me because she knew Tommy was in it.” Nikki, who had already been pink all over, was steadily turning red, trying to hide it as he made a show of patting down his pockets looking for his cigarettes.

“Lola... uh, she talks about my band? She asked if Eileen wanted to join us?” He’s shooting for casual and missing the mark miserably, much to Charlotte’s delight.

“You’re so in love with her,” she smirks. Nikki scowls at her. The bell rings.

i have found a way to watch video in your head. high definition, with instant replay. it is called having regrets.

When Eileen invites Charlotte to the drive in, and suggests bringing Razzle, she insists it’s not a date, that some of the people from the musical were just getting together to watch the new horror movie, and she thought it would be good for Razzle to experience a proper, drive-in movie. That probably should have set of alarm bells in Charlotte’s mind, since everyone knew that if you take someone to a horror movie at the drive-in, you generally don’t end up actually watching much of the movie. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book. 

But Eileen’s adamant, and Charlotte honestly wouldn’t actually mind sneaking off with Razzle at some point, if the opportunity arose, not that she’s admit that. 

“I should ask Lola to go,” Tommy says, tone a little wistful, when, on Thursday, Charlotte tells him her plans for the following evening; alarm bells definitely start ringing. 

They’re in Tommy’s kitchen after school, with his mom at the supermarket, and his dad at work, they’ve got the house to themselves, apart from Tommy’s sister upstairs, monopolising the phone. Charlotte’s sitting on the counter, while Tommy’s staring into the refrigerator, not actually looking at what’s in there, thoughts miles away as he considers his own words.

“Shut that if you’re not going to get anything, and no you shouldn’t,” Charlotte shuts him down immediately, to which Tommy frowns, asking derisively when she became the boss of him, slamming the fridge closed, “I thought you two were just friends,” Charlotte counters with.

“I can ask a friend to the drive-in,” though the way he suddenly can’t meet her gaze betrays him, and he flits over to a cupboard, opening it and staring at the food inside, trying to decide on an afternoon snack, “why are you here, anyways?” At this, Charlotte goes quiet and pensive, looking down at her knees as her heels kick softly against the cupboards below, trying not to think about how her mother keeps leaving college brochures out, with Law, Accounting, and Medicine courses all meticulously highlighted, or how whenever they’re in the same room, she’s treated to passive aggressive questions about whether she’s seen the brochures her parents know she definitely hasn’t touched.

“Am I not allowed to hang out with you?” Charlotte finally surfaces from her thoughts to see that Tommy is waiting for an answer.

“Not if you’re going to be an asshole.”

“If you’re going to daydream about Lola, I’m going to be an asshole,” Charlotte fired back, snarkily, and Tommy narrowed his eyes at her.

“You’ve become kind of a bitch since you started hanging out with Nikki,” he huffs, and Charlotte straightens up where she’s sitting, eyes going wide with disbelief, with slight outrage.

“I’m just fucking sick of hearing you chase after girls who don’t want you! It’s all you ever talk about!”

“Lola wants me! Lola fucking wants me, Charlie!”

“She doesn’t want you, she wants to pity-fuck you so you’ll get off her damn case! Just how naïve are you, Thomas?” Charlotte yells back, and immediately smacks her hand to her mouth, regret written all over her face. Tommy’s expression falls like his heart is breaking. “Tommy -”

“A real, fucking bitch,” there’s a shake in Tommy’s voice that is breaking Charlotte’s heart, and she tries to apologise, but he tells her to go home. 

Yes, she leaves, she shuts the door behind herself, but she can’t bring herself to go home. Her feet carry her while her mind is blank, but when she looks up, she’s pushing open the door to the gas station, seeing Mick Mars look up from his magazine. Before he greets her, she sees the way his eyes search the space around her, roam the empty fuel pumps, as if expecting Tommy to pop out behind her. Then, once he considers himself safe, he puts down his magazine, tilting his head curiously at her, at her dejected demeanour. 

“Charlotte?” She’s actually surprised that he knows her name, and Charlotte hovers in the door, letting in the cold air from outside as she deliberates. Why had she come here of all places? “Are you okay?” The words sound strange, like he’s not used to saying them, not used to showing any sort of care, but she appreciates them nonetheless.

“I was a massive asshole to Tommy,” the words spill from her before she can stop them, and she watches Mick’s expression, can almost see him fight back several sarcastic or congratulatory remarks, suppressing his own well-worn irritation for her cousin, instead, just making a noise in the back of his throat that she can’t quite decipher. Then, he looks out the window, looks to the clock on the wall, and takes his feet off the counter carefully. 

“Do you want a slurpee?” He asks, obviously a little uncertain of how to proceed.

“Not really,” Charlotte admits, and Mick awkwardly looks around, as if to offer something else.

“Do you smoke?” He’s already pulling a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Charlotte shoves her hands into her coat pockets, shaking her head, looking at the floor, not quite sure where to go from here herself, “do you mind if I smoke?” 

“No,” her voice is small.

They sit on the step by the door outside the gas station, side by side, silent for a few minutes as Mick smokes his cigarette. No cars approach, but they watch some drive by as the sun sinks lower in the sky. 

“I told him Lola doesn’t want him, that she’s just interested in pity-fucking him because she thinks it’d get him off her case,” Charlotte admits, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Mick wince, a sign that what she’d said truly was a dick move. 

“That would’a broken the kid’s heart,” Mick muses around his cigarette, and Charlotte, who’d had her knees curled up to her chest, rests her chin on them, with a quiet ‘I know’. 

“He said I turned into an asshole since I became friends with Nikki Sixx, and then I just managed to prove him right,” she seethes, disappointed in herself more than anything else. 

“That’s your first problem; being friends with Nikki Sixx.”

“That was an accident,” Charlotte tried to defend herself, “and I’ve been friends with Nikki for kind of a while, honestly, but I was just so sick of hearing Tommy moon over girls who don’t even look twice at him, like they hung the stars in the sky -”

“Charlotte,” Mick interrupts her, his voice soft but insistent, and when she finally looks at him, he’s actually frowning at her, hands stilled with another cigarette half-pulled from it’s packet, “that’s not... you know why what you said hurt him, right? You know you could’a said that about any other cheerleader he was into and it would’a rolled right off his back, right?”

Oh. Oh no. Slowly, Charlotte’s expression crumbles as the full weight of her words dawns upon her, her guilt skyrocketing. Face in her hands, she actually wails, and Mick gives a firm pat on the back as a show of support. 

“They’re friends, Mick.”

“I know, Charlotte.”

“God, fuck, he probably thinks that I mean she doesn’t even like him as a friend, Mick!”

“Yeah,” he sighed deeply, giving another pat, “I know, Charlotte.”

“I just... don’t want him to get his heart broken,” she admitted, her only attempt to justify herself, which Mick didn’t accept as a proper answer for a moment.

“He’s sixteen, he’s gotta make his own mistakes, and,” at this he hesitates, lighting up his cigarette and taking a long draft as he deliberated saying his next words, “don’t ever let her know I told you this,” he adds seriously, “but the last thing Lola wants to do is hurt that kid; if anything, she’s hoping hooking up with him will strengthen their friendship, and raise his confidence for when he goes after other girls.” This... is a lot to process.

“How do you even know this?” Charlotte asked, bewildered, and Mick scrunches his face up and takes another long inhale on his cigarette.

“We’re friends,” is what he settles on.

“What?”

“Lola and I... are friends,” he sounds like he doesn’t want to admit it, and visibly cringes as he follows it up with, “she cares about that kid, and speaks very highly of him, and of you, honestly, and maybe the kid’s not as irritating as I had him pegged as. He’s still irritating, but he,” and he audibly groans, hanging his head for a moment, as if disappointed that he’s even saying any of this, “he’s a good friend to Lola.” It’s like the words themselves hurt him to admit, so he changes the topic quickly, “she told me he’s in a band with Sixx, actually,” and his tone is thankfully much less strained as he straightens his posture a little, ignoring Charlotte’s frankly flabbergasted expression, “I’ve been seriously considering joining them.”

“You sing?” Is what Charlotte hears herself say, without really registering it. Mick snorts derisively.

“Fuck no, I play guitar.”

“You sho- you should join them,” Charlotte babbles, trying to make sense of everything that she’d just learned, and now this of all things, but it’s going to take her a while. 

“I should,” he agrees with the barest hint of a smile, once more clapping her on the back. He hesitates before he stands, like he wants to say something else, but instead, he gives an awkward smile and gets to his feet, heading back inside, leaving Charlotte in silence. 

Eileen gives her a lift to school the following morning, seething about how Peach got a part-time job and their parents still aren’t happy. It’s conflicting for the older sister, who hates hearing the derisive way her parents refer to Peach as a ‘burger flipper’, while Peach herself had sneered when Eileen had asked about the job, telling her older sister that she was done grovelling at their parents’ feet just to exist, with an implied ‘unlike you’ which had been so uncharacteristic of the usually kind and upbeat Peach that it had sent Eileen spiralling. It was the third day in a row Eileen had been ranting about it, about how she just wanted to support Peach, but that her whole family appeared to be turning on each other.

Charlotte found herself relating to that particular sentiment far too well.

Half their ragtag bunch of lunchtime misfits is notably absent from their usual lunchtime hang out, so while Charlotte spends the forty minutes picking apart her food like she’s trying to deconstruct it atomically, Razzle sits diligently as Eileen carefully and meticulously braids his hair, while he asks if he needs to bring anything, or wear anything special to the drive in that Friday. Charlotte’s not paying them any attention, just letting her gaze roam distractedly essentially until the bell rings, and Eileen pulls the hairband from her own hair to secure Razzle’s braid, before taking off. 

“Anybody home in that head of yours, Charlie? The bell’s gone,” Razzle’s offering her his hand where he’s standing, and Charlotte finally returns to reality from her blank, concerned mind, wiping the last few crumbs of her sandwich on her jeans picking up her bag with one hand and taking Razzle’s hand with the other. Today he’s chosen to wear a royal purple collared shirt, several sized too big for him, with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into tight, acid-washed jeans littered with naturally-made holes, his backpack on his back, and a black, corduroy jacket slung over one shoulder; with his newly acquired braid, the whole look is quite fetching, quite -

“You look like a prince,” Charlotte feels rather foolish for even saying it, can feel as the blush rises on her cheeks, but Razzle’s beaming as he pulls her to her feet, and doesn’t let go of her hand for a moment. 

“Well then I must be truly lucky to get court a princess like you,” and coming from anyone else, it would have sounded cheesy, or the phrase princess would have been derisive or snide, but he’s sincere, almost painfully so, and Charlotte ducks her head, “not courting,” Razzle corrects quickly, and Charlotte doesn’t think about how her heart sinks at that, despite how they’d talked through this.

“Princess Charlie -” something about the way he says her name always hits her hard, because hearing how it sounds, the reverence with which he says it, the nervousness, she leans in and kisses him quickly, can’t help herself, can’t stop herself. But then she’s leaning back, getting a better grip on her backpack, but - “wait, wait, wait, Charlie, wait -” Razzle, for the barest moment, tightens his grip on her hand, and she’s terrified that she crossed a line, that she’s done something wrong, but she turns back, and he doesn’t seem to be mad or concerned, instead he drops the jacket he’d been holding, gently taking her face in his hands, “can’t spring that on me and get away with it; lemme do it proper.” 

i am going to build a new boyfriend out of garbage and dirty feathers. no one else will touch him. 

 “Did you tell Tommy we were coming here?” Eileen hissed, startling the hell out of Charlotte at the concession stand at the drive-in before the movie began. Charlotte, who had been hovering in line, nervously retucking her nice blouse into her skirt every few minutes, almost jumped out of her skin at her friend’s voice in her ear.

“Yeah, I - why?” Looking around, Charlotte thankfully can’t see Tommy’s shitbox of a car, but it becomes readily apparent the source of Eileen’s frustrations, when she spots a shiny, red sports car parked four cars past where Keanu and his good friend and well known fellow theatre kid Alex Winter were sitting on the hood of Keanu’s car, chatting animatedly with Razzle, who they had been quick to warm to him upon meeting him about twenty minutes ago. 

“Charlie!” The name came out as a frustrated noise from between Eileen’s clenched teeth, her eyes glued to Vince Neil’s ostentatious car, and Charlotte looked down for a moment, before adjusting her skirt again and retucking her shirt as she spoke.

“I didn’t know he’d tell Vince; I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday afternoon,” and she hesitates before adding, “we got into this fight and I’ve been trying to figure out how to apologise but I don’t know how, so it kind of slipped my mind, I didn’t know -”

“We’ll talk about you and Tommy later, I promise, but right now I need you to tell me three convincing arguments as to why I shouldn’t pop one of Vince Neil’s fucking tires.” Eileen’s hatred of Vince is perhaps getting out of hand, Charlotte considers, prying Eileen’s vice-like grip from her upper arm, considering for a moment.

“I know you have no qualms about becoming a felon to protect Peach,” Charlotte says with half a smirk.

“Absolutely none,” Eileen agrees without missing a beat, which was both amusing and heartwarming.

“- but your mom would probably pull you out of public school to enrol you in that strict, girls-only, future-nun-school, Our Lady Of Perpetual Sorrow,” Charlotte’s trying so desperately not to smirk, not to give her amusement away at the concept, “and you can say goodbye to any chance you had of ever making out with your co-star on or off stage.” 

Eileen turns as red as her hair, but at least she takes a moment to calm down, glancing over her shoulder at the three boys who were waiting for them. Keanu looks over for a moment, catching her gaze, waving and grinning from ear to ear, and Charlotte practically cackles as Eileen’s blush deepens. 

“Look, Eileen look,” Charlotte pointed insistently back at the boys, to where Alex had hopped off the hood of Keanu’s car, and was making his way over to the pack of kids Eileen had vaguely gestured to earlier, mentioning that they made up most of the technical theatre department, despite their leather jackets and motorcycles, leaving Razzle and Keanu chattering away, “Alex is going to hang out with the Crew boys, leaving Keanu free to comfort you during the scary movie.”

Eileen takes a deep breath, not even pretending like that wasn’t what she wanted, steeling herself to head back, and ignore Vince Neil’s goddamn car. After a beat, however, she turns to Charlotte, looking altogether stern and collected.

“I know I said you and Razzle could stay in my car, since I’m hanging out with Keanu, but don’t have sex in there -”

“What?!”

“Don’t have sex with Razzle in my car,” Eileen practically ordered, and Charlotte nervously looked to the guy ahead of her in line. He looked back at her, between the two girls, then thankfully stepped up to the counter without a word. 

“I wasn’t planning on it!”

“Well you also weren’t planning on being make out buddies after getting drunk and being the gross PDA couple at Heather’s party,” Eileen sniped back, “listen, I just want Peach to be able to sit in my car without either of your bare asses having touched any of the seats.” 

“I won’t let either of our bare asses touch the seat,” Charlotte agreed, mortified.

“And no stains -”

“Eileen!” Charlotte all but screeches, right as the messages before the movie started playing.

“Eileen, the charming Mister Reeves wants a word with you,” Razzle’s voice joins them just moments before Charlotte’s pretty sure she would have expired from embarrassment, and at the mere mention of Keanu, Eileen relaxes a little. All three of them glance over to Keanu’s car, to see the man himself leaning against his windshield, cigarette idle in one hand as he watches the first of the preview trailers. As much as he makes gestures like he’s about to take a drag, the cigarette never quite makes it to his lips before he extends his arm out beside him again, like he’s going through the motions without really following through. Eileen, as if drawn to him by a spell, practically floats away.

“She’s a strange one,” he says fondly, though Charlotte kindly doesn’t point out the hypocrisy in his words, “Keanu and Alex act like she’s some aloof, inscrutable woman; weren’t sure we were talking about the same woman,” he huffed a laugh, much to Charlotte’s disbelief.

“Eileen... she is an aloof, inscrutable woman, you just happen to live with her arch nemesis, and- you’re- we’re- you know, we’re...” Charlotte gestured between herself and Razzle, flushing, as his smile widened, “and you know, I’m her best friend.”

“Guys, are you buying food or what?” The concierge asks; a tired-looking kid Charlotte recognises from Tommy’s year. She hops forward, ordering food, and waiting for it to be prepared, all while standing by Razzle’s side, his chin on her should as they watch the preview trailers. He’s behind her, warm and solid and grounding, which is exactly what she needs as her cousin’s beat-up excuse of a car screeches into the lot, almost spraying gravel thanks to his sharp turn into the first available space. 

“Oh god, oh fucking hell,” Charlotte breathes, clenching her eyes tightly shut, “if you see a blonde-haired, six-foot stick-insect, who looks like he’d cheat on his girlfriend,” she starts, whole face scrunching with frustration, “and-or Nikki fucking Sixx, well, that would be about right; that feels like how tonight would go,” she lets out a long, frustrated breath, and she feels Razzle lift his chin from her shoulder right as he makes a noise of confusion.

“Tommy just arrived,” she clarified.

“Oh?”

“And we kind of got into an argument yesterday.”

“Oh.”

Charlotte’s name is called and she collects the bucket of popcorn she’d ordered for the pair of them, and Razzle picks up their drinks, heading back to the car as the movie opens. 

“You wanna talk about whatever’s going on with you and that Drummer Boy?” Razzle asks as they’re settling in the back seat together. Charlotte’s detaching the front seat’s headrests with possibly too much vigour, but declines, despite the frustration written all over her face. Razzle keeps a careful hold on the drinks that he’d thought were safe to balance on the centre console as Charlotte foisted herself over the back seat to pull the blankets she’d packed from the trunk. 

“You sure?” Razzle tried again, still with one hand nervously keeping the drinks in place, the other firmly holding their bucket of popcorn out of harm’s way. With a blanket securely bundled in her arms, Charlotte gives him a flat look, that quickly disappears in the face of his genuine concern.

“No, Razz,” she sighed, “I’m just mad at myself for letting this, like, fester, you know? I should have apologised sooner,” she huffs a sigh, unfurling the blanket with far more care now, draping it across both of their laps. 

“You’ve a good heart, Miss Lee,” Razzle assures her, but Charlotte’s face scrunches reflexively at the nickname, having only ever associated it with Nikki Sixx’s dreadful attempts to hit on her.

“Thanks, but please don’t call me that,” Charlotte gives a strained little smile, but Razzle nods and takes it in stride, finally getting himself comfortable and sitting back against the seat, one arm draped across the back, the other holding the popcorn in his lap.

“No worries, Love; I could call you Charlie, but I always thought it sounded a bit weird coming from me,” Razzle is rambling as Charlotte settles against him, tucking herself up close to him, “had a mate back home called Charlie, but short for Charles; absolute cockhead,” he clicks his tongue as Charlotte can’t help but giggle, “I could always keep just calling you Love, but it’s not as personal, you know? And Charlotte... it’s a pretty name, but it would be like if you started calling me Nicholas, be a bit weird, don’t ya think?” He mused, and Charlotte’s eyes drifted from the opening scene of the movie, where a menacing looking knife-glove was being created, to Razzle’s face as he chattered away. 

“I could keep calling you Princess Charlie,” as he says that, he looks to her, and seems a little startled to see her looking back at him, “like the other day,” his voice is softer, eyes wide, roaming her face, as if trying to capture her fond expression in his memory forever.

“You wouldn’t imagine your friend Charlie from back home a tiara?” Charlotte’s voice is amused, as is her expression, and Razzle’s eyes crease in the corners as he smiles; his eyes as so blue, so honest.

“You’d be the only Princess Charlie in my life,” he assures, giving her shoulder a squeeze where his arm is wrapped around her, and Charlotte doesn’t even think about how they’re less than a minute into the movie before she’s kissing him. 

At least it gets her to stop thinking about Tommy. 

Honestly, it gets her to stop thinking about everyone and everything that isn’t Razzle in this car in this moment, which is fine for her, because her life is somehow currently a stupid, complicated mess of people and emotions, and Razzle is nice to her, and a damn good kisser, and gentle, and his hands are warm -

“Miss Lee, does the Declaration of Independence mean nothing to you?” Comes shouted through the wound-up window of the car, startling Charlotte, who’s been in Razzle’s lap with his lips on her neck, so much that she jumped, smacking the back of her head into the roof of the car. Razzle reached out for her, expression concerned and lips kiss-bruised, as Charlotte held her head, wincing. Looking to the window, however, she could see Nikki Sixx pressing his face to the glass, looking altogether unsightly, with Lola a few feet behind him, drawing something in the gravel with the toe of her shoe. 

Assholes!

“I’m gonna kill him,” Charlotte says with deadly calm the moment she understands the situation, though Razzle seems to have anticipated this, and has his hands on her thighs, keeping her secure in his firm grip.

“No,” Razzle says, voice equally as calm, his gaze focused on Charlotte, and not on Nikki who had put his open mouth on the window, puffed out his cheeks, and proceeded to lick the glass. Charlotte scrunches her expression for a moment, internal debate raging between her desire to stay in the car with Razzle, and her need to beat the ever-loving shit out of Nikki Sixx for being a smartass.

“I’m gonna crack the window and inch and tell him to fuck off,” Charlotte says, looking back to Razzle, who was wearing an expression of faint amusement, and his grip became a little less firm. Reaching over, she wound down the window an inch. Immediately, Nikki looked through the gap, cheek still pressed to the window as his gaze darted around the cabin of the car, no longer obscured by the window tint. 

“I’m surprised you know what the Declaration of Independence is,” Charlotte said, tone icy as she moved to sit next to Razzle. 

“Honestly I stole that line from Lola,” Nikki admitted, and upon hearing her name, even faintly, Lola joins them, thankfully not pressing herself to the window, instead standing close to Nikki, her hip by his, hands in her jacket pockets. 

“Were they doing it?” Lola asks far too casually, almost too quiet for Charlotte and Razzle to hear, though they do, and both blush, even as Nikki pulls back, making a face. 

“No,” Charlotte calls back, and Lola’s expression turns smug as she holds out her hand, making a ‘hand it over’ gesture to Nikki, only for him to begrudgingly hand over a five dollar note. 

“Shoulda waited ‘til the end of the movie to ask,” Lola’s grin stretched wider, even as Charlotte tried to splutter a protest, and Razzle had to press his face against her shoulder to muffle his laugh at the whole situation.

“Why are you assholes here?” Charlotte hissed; strangely, Lola’s expression fell, and she stepped back again, adding more to her gravel drawing with her shoe, not looking at the car. 

“We’re at the drive in because I’ve heard this is a good movie,” Nikki goes back to staring at them through the inch crack in the window, “and we’re here-” his tone turns proud while his smile turns sharp as he taps his nail against the glass, “because we’re trying to give Tommy and Heather privacy,” he all but sings. There’s... a lot to unpack there, however before Charlotte can process any of it, Lola grab’s Nikki by the elbow, pulling him away.

“Come on, I didn’t take a night off to talk to people I can see every day, did you bring weed or not?” She insisted, tone frustrated leading him towards the concierge stand. Something about it had Charlotte’s heart sinking, even as Razzle’s still chuckling and confused about what was going on, Charlotte’s heart was sinking. 

Tommy had driven Nikki and Lola - and Heather? What? - to the drive in. Tommy and Lola had almost definitely spoken about the fight Charlotte and Tommy had had, which means Lola almost definitely knew what Charlotte had said. 

“Everything okay, Princess?” Razzle had asked gently, his arm around her once more as Charlotte had buried her face in her hands. 

“My whole life is fucked,” Charlotte muttered, and Razzle pulled her in close to him. Her legs bridge over his thighs, and he’s holding her close with both arms, keeping her warm and secure, and Charlotte takes a moment, then another, then a third, to take comfort. 

She’s going to miss this. Going to miss him. Fuck, she can’t think like that, can’t keep reminding herself of the time limit on their friendship, the reason she’s scared to call it anything more. 

Everything is fucked, but this one moment, how Razzle was holding her close, devoid of it’s context, it was pretty damn great.

a friend will help you move. a best friend will help you move bodies. but if you have to move your best friend's body, you're on your own

Charlotte goes to see Tommy on Saturday morning, but when she gets there, he’s not home. 

“He’s at a movie~ with a girl~!” Athena sings, when Charlotte asks, and Charlotte, confused and concerned, looked to her aunt, Tommy’s mother, who gave a kind smile and nod of confirmation. 

“He was so nervous and excited, spent a long time doing his hair just right,” she giggled fondly, pride in her voice, but Charlotte’s heart was in her throat. Had what she said somehow guilted Lola into dating her cousin? That could only end badly for both of them, oh fuck -

Except when she bursts into Leo’s at eleven, after most of the breakfast diners had vacated, and the lunch rush was still about half an hour away, Lola was standing behind the counter... with Peach? Teaching her how to fold silverware in napkins correctly? 

“Do you know... do know that thing where you fold it into a swan?” Peach asks, giggling, right as one of the other kind-faced staff members approaches Charlotte and asks her how many people she’d like a table for. Lola instinctually looks to the door, and Peach catches on a moment later, and suddenly both girls behind the counter are frowning in Charlotte’s direction. Lola mutters something to Peach that’s too quiet for Charlotte to hear, and the younger redhead immediately takes the silverware they’ve already wrapped, going around and dispensing it amongst each table’s silverware holder. Peach is in uniform. 

“I just...” Charlotte’s voice is soft, while her gaze is locked with Lola’s, brushing past the host who’d greeted her, “I need to talk to Lola.” The host looks over his shoulder at Lola, who looks his way for the barest moment and gives half a shrug. The kid backs off, looking past Charlotte to the street outside to see if anyone else was coming in after her, and upon seeing no-one, he heads back to the counter. 

“Hey Peach,” Charlotte says as the redhead slides past her to get to another table. Peach doesn’t even look at her when she gives a flat greeting in response. 

“How can I help you?” Lola’s painfully sweet customer-service voice hurts more than any sarcastic remark she could have come up with, and it’s eating Charlotte alive to know what Tommy told her, what Lola thinks Charlotte thinks of her to make her act so hostile. The way she’s smiling so widely coupled with her dead-eyed stare is unnerving. 

“Keola!” It comes as a shock when a firm voice comes from the kitchen, and Lola practically jumps from her skin. Looking to the source, Charlotte sees the face of the man she’s only ever seen the back of in the kitchen, taller than anyone else in the restaurant, and he looks like Lola.

“What?” Lola hisses, surprising Charlotte, and the man looks to Charlotte, giving her a warm, friendly smile, before he answers.

“If you need to talk to,” and the man pauses, tipping his head a little as he looks to Charlotte, “Charlie?” And Charlotte, kind of confused and nervous as to how he knows her name, nods in confirmation, “you can take your break, okay? Water, fresh air, outside -” and without waiting for a confirmation, he calls the kid who had greeted Charlotte to come and take Lola’s place at the counter, as Lola begrudgingly grabs a bottle of water from beneath the counter, and storms out from behind the counter, past Charlotte to the door. 

Charlotte, a little terrified, looks to the man, who gives another bright smile.

“Sorry we haven’t properly met, I’m Leo, glad to finally meet you, Charlie,” and immediately everything makes total and complete sense, and Charlotte nervously greets him, and takes off after Lola, who had disappeared down the street. 

[neverthrive]

Just gonna leave this old ass fanfic here

Adventuring is a rewarding occupation, providing an abundance of wealth, the respect of peers, and even a fulfilling sense of self worth. Even so, the constant action takes its toll, and every once in a great while an adventurer has to take a step back, breathe in deeply, and just get away from it all. Which is exactly what Jake had been planning for himself and his human brother.

It was a simple idea; take a break from their regular schedule of evil slaying, butt-kickery and all around, nonstop awesomeness. Find some remote location that holds nothing but tranquility in store for the duo to just chillax at for a few days. Just the two of them, a dog and his boy. It was perfect, but like any other well laid plan, there was a monkey wrench destined to find its way into the cogs of said perfection and jam Jake's precise synchronization up something awful. This particular monkey wrench goes by the name of Marceline.

"What are you dweebs up to?" Inquired a melodically cynical voice that belonged to none other than the ancient noirette in question. Marceline stared down ever curiously at the mixed species siblings and their growing mess as she liesurely drifted on the air over their heads. From what she could tell, her mortal friends appeared to be gathering heaps of useless garbage and stowing the junk in their already cramped luggage, for some reason or another.

Finn took a moment to acknowledge the vampire's presence, looking up from his loaded pack to face her. "I'm not actually sure, myself... Jake just told me to start packing my crud, and I guess that's what I'm doing, so does that answer your question?"

"Not in the least." she replied curtly before turning her now suspicious gaze in Jake's direction. The dog paid Marceline no mind as he continued to toss his various and mostly useless possessions into a sack. A rubber duck, a length of rope, a jar of peanuts, a pair of socks... Finally, he stored two empty glass bottles and closed the sack, still oblivious to the vampire's questioning stare. "Jake, what the plum is with all the hullabaloo?"

"Nope." Jake snapped, mildly irritated.

"'Nope'? Nope what?" She pressed him, ignoring the dog's tone.

"No. I'm not gonna tell you because you'll just want to come with us and muck it up. It's s'pose to be just me and mah bro, and you have no part in it. So no, Marceline, you can't come camping with us." Jake retorted in his best attempt at sounding authoritative, but in trying to iterate just how serious he was, the fact that he was suppose to be withholding information had slipped his mind a tad. He soon realized his mistake and growled in frustration. "Forget I said that last part!" But ironically, that last part about ignoring that previous last part was ignored by both teens.

"We're going camping?" Finn and Marceline asked in unison, excitement bubbling up in their throats.

"Yes, Finn, WE are. And no, Marceline, WE are not. Got it?" Jake answered pointedly. "It's camping time with Finn and Jake. I didn't hear Marceline anywhere in there, so step off sister!"

"Well fine! Maybe I didn't want to go on your stupid trip anyway!" Marceline pouted sorely and turned to leave, but Finn, being the model peacekeeper he is, blocked his friend's exit. "Get out of the way, Finn. I'm obviously not wanted here anymore." The vampire queen tried to push the boy aside, but no matter how hard she shoved, the squishy blob of flesh and heroism persisted to keep her from leaving.

"Come on, Jake's just being a butt. You don't have to leave on account o' him bein' a Mr. grumpy pants." Finn gently wrapped a hand around Marceline's forearm and began to lead her back over to his brother so as amends could be made.

"He doesn't even wear pants, dude." she huffed out in retortion as she let herself be pulled back towards the junk heaps that the magical dog was still busying himself with sorting through and packing into napsacks and suitcases and the like.

"Jake..." Finn verbally nudged his brother to outstretch the olive branch to Marceline, but an apology seemed hesitant in forthcoming. "Come on, man. You know you done bad in yourself bro, and I know you know how to make it right again." Finn's prompt appeared to have worked this time, eliciting a defeated sigh from Jake.

Dropping his bags of assorted and worthless loot, Jake turned to face Marceline who now had her arms crossed over her chest and was avoiding eye contact with him. "Look, I'm sorry, alright?" Marceline untensed a bit at that. "It's not you, It's just that I really wanted to have some bro time with Finn, y'know? To recapture those times we used to share when we was wee pups." Jake inhaled deeply, breathing in the musty scent lingering about from the, until recently, long forgotten contents of that once overstuffed closet in the corner. He had a feeling in his gut that he'd regret this decision later, and his gut was almost never wrong, but he couldn't ignore his guilt and empathy for Marceline. She just wanted to hang with her friends. "So... You want to come with us, then?"

The vampire's sour mood dissipated immediately, her pout rapidly shifting to a grin stretched from pointed ear to pointed ear. "Heck yes I wanna go camping with you guys! So when are we leaving?" Marceline asked almost giddily.

"Well I guess since you're coming with us, we probably shouldn't be heading out 'til just before sundown." Jake answered thoughtfully. Having so much time before they were to depart allowed Jake some spare moments to cool it with all the preparations and freed up his thinkin' schedule a bit. Suddenly, a thought pervaded his mind that the dog rather took a shining to. "If we're bringing guests along now, Lady Rainicorn's coming too!" and with that, Jake took off to go inform his girlfriend of how he'd decided she would be spending the next few days. The matter was entirely non negotiable.

Finn and Marceline stood idly by as Jake hastily absconded out through a nearby window. The young hero turned to his immortal friend "You know, he actually does wear pants..."

"Really?"

"Yup."

A quarter hour before dusk would settle in, the four campers had reached the landing Jake scouted out beforehand. It was a small pocket within the forest, not too far from a river, vacant enough to comfortably fit everyone but with a dense enough canopy to shade any vampire from daylight at high noon. Having acquired a suitable base of operations, the only thing left standing in between Jake and his cherished relaxation was setting up camp. The duties were divied up between two groups.

"So Lady and I are gonna pitch our tent, by ours I mean hers and mine. I don't know what either of you are doing so... Sleep under the stars or whatever. But also, we need a campfire, so you guys should maybe gather some sticks and twigs and stuff, and it'll be math. 'Kay." Jake then spoke something in a language neither Finn nor Marceline could comprehend to Lady, who laughed in response, and the two magical creatures diligently began piecing together the frame of their shared tent. The rainicorn giggled lightly every time Jake slipped a tent pole into the corresponding connector she held.

Marceline narrowed her eyes at the spectacle and made a face. "Gross..." She thought it best to linger around the couple and their disgusting adorableness as little as inhumanly possible and began to head towards the surrounding thickets. Finn soon followed suit, tailing behind his friend into the thick of the forest to gather materials for their fire.

"So like, sticks, huh?" The human remarked as he bent over to scoop a discarded twig from the earth.

Marceline turned to see Finn's pitiful offering. Their fire would need a lot more fuel than some measly green branches. "No man, we need bigger stuff than that." she explained. "And preferably a little more dead." she added.

"Bigger?" Finn thought it over for a moment. "Alright, bigger." Turning to face a tree, the stout teenager grappled the trunk and with all his might attempted to pry the poor unsuspecting eudicot from the soil. "I need your wood, tree! Give it up, yo!" Finn continued his struggle while Marceline cackled at his random act of foolishness.

Seeing no sign of Finn relenting any time soon, his undead friend intervened. "Finn, we don't need a whole tree. And you most def don't gotta yank one out'a the ground. C'mere, ya goober." she beckoned while barely supressing her laughter. Finn looked from Marceline then back to the tree in his grasp, releasing the bark from his grip and gaining nothing from his efforts but sore arms.

"Look," she pointed to a fallen branch that looked as if it'd been laying on the forest floor for a few seasons now. "This is the kind of stuff we're gonna need. Big enough to burn, and not impossible to pick up, got it? Now get it." Finn did as instructed, bending to take the dry, rough chunk of high octane campfire fuel in his arms. "Alright, now just find a lot more like it and we're good to light 'em up."

"How many more?" Finn asked wearily.

"I don't know. Lots, I suppose. Have to keep it going for a while." she replied, venturing deeper into the woods to search for any more decent firewood she might per chance stumble upon. Figuratively, that is, it's hard to sumble when your feet don't touch the ground.

"Bleh..." Despite his contempt for such menial labor, Finn once again followed the vampire to gather what they needed. It was an easy enough job, but way too dang boring for a man of action. Finn needed excitement, and lugging sticks around wasn't providing.

When they'd finished gathering the firewood and the time came to actually light the fire, Finn demanded he be the one to do the deed. And so there they sat across from one another, a neatly arranged pile of dead wood between them. Finn furiously stroked the sticks together in a fruitless attempt to catalyze a spark.

"This usually works! These things must be broken, or something..." Finn pouted and heaved the useless wooden shafts into the nearby shrubbery in frustration.

"Here," Marceline moved herself closer to the bundle and spawned a small flame in the palms of her hands. Touching the flame to the tinder, the pile of miniature lumber and bark ignited almost instantly. Finn stared down at the blazing fire, then glanced up to Marcleline, a smug, toothy smirk plastered across her face.

"You cheated!" he yelped, pointing accusingly at the girl who succeeded so easilly where he so miserably failed.

"Finn, don't be jelly of my totally sweet vampire powers." Marceline replied, her expression never faltering.

"I'm not jelly! Maybe jam, but not jelly. Just admit you cheated! Vampire powers is cheating fo' sure." he insisted.

"Nope." The vampire playfully let her forked tongue slide out from between her fangs, mocking the disgruntled human.

"Whatever..."

"Hey, you guys made the fire! Rad!" Jake exclaimed as he padded his way over to the two from his now fully assembled tent.

"Yeah, we totally did it! 100% group effort here." Marceline chimed almost sarcastically. "So who wants to roast marshmallows?"

"... Then the puppy looked under his bed, and saw two glowing green eyes! The pup was so scared, it almost wee wee'd!" Finn stood over his three friends, the crackling fire below lighting his features in distorted illumination. He raised both hands above his head, digits stretched and curled as claws in the most menacing display the boy could muster. "The nebelung under the bed reached out to the scared little puppy and..." Finn paused, turning to Jake who'd heard the story right along with Finn in their youth and knew what came next. "TICKLED THE PUPPY!" Finn pounced on his brother and poked his wriggling fingers into the dog's soft flanks. Jake snorted and snickered at the human's tickle attack as the two women watched on. Lady found the sight to be quite amusing, adorable even. Marceline just sucked the red from a can of kidney beans in stark indifference.

"If you two are done with your brotherly gropefest yet, maybe I could tell a real ghost story?" Marceline cut their fun short and assumed her position over the campfire as current story teller as the brothers returned to their seats. "This isn't the first time I've been in these parts of the woods. I came through here some years back, how long ago exactly is a little fuzzy. But I wasn't alone. No, I had friends with me, just like I do now, and just like now, there was a dog among my group.

"We were just hiking through, you see, we had no intentions of staying. No, that would be foolish! We knew better, we'd heard the stories of what happens around here after dark. Weird stuff... Spooky happenings, y'know? But the dog, he got lost-"

"Oh no! Not the dog! The dog always dies first!" Jake interrupted with his sudden fearful outburst.

"Well anyway..." Marceline shot him a scornful look, and continued. "The dog must have started straggling, because when we stopped to rest, he was nowhere to be found. Of course we looked for him, we stayed together as a group, we weren't about to split up so we'd all be lost in 'The Forsaken Forest'. But no matter where we searched, there was no sign of the poor lost doggy. It wasn't 'til well after dark when we found him. He was huddled in a bush maybe twenty or so yards from where he was last seen, shaking uncontrollably with his face in his hands.

"He wouldn't show us his face. He just kept on mumbling some nonsense about 'whispering trees' and 'eyeball rockets'. When we finally pried the dog's hands from his face, he had no eyes! Just two gaping sockets where his looking globes used to be! Once we got him to calm down, he told us the whispering trees of the forsaken forest used some hoodoo to turn his eyeballs into jet packs and they flew right off of his face. Wait..." Marceline stiffened and tilted her head to one side as if intently listening to some faint noise off in the distance. "Did you guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Jake squeaked, cowering into his girfriend's embrace. Cuddling with Lady Rainicorn made him feel secure, but it wasn't enough to make him totally forget he was in the alleged 'Foresaken Forest'.

"It sounds like..." she leaned in toward Jake, and with a completely straight face, with a hint of what might pass for something distraught in her tone, answered "Whispering."

That's all Jake needed to hear. He gave his friends a surprise performance of his scream song and tore off to his tent as fast as his four legs would carry him, separating himself from the 'evil' trees outside with a thin layer of nylon. No way in the flippin' Night-o-Sphere was he letting some piney mischief makers steal his precious eyes. Lady chuckled and followed after him, knowing Jake wouldn't be able to sleep alone tonight after that fright.

Finn and Marceline shared a laugh at Jake's expense. When their howling merriment subsided, they realized they were alone once more. Finn fed a few more branches from their dwindling supply into the blaze, stoking the flames.

"So, have you really been out in these woods before?" The boy asked, now feeling uneasy not knowing if the vampire's story was true or not. Finn'd witnessed stranger things, so believing tall tales came easily to him.

"Yeah, I have. But not how you're thinking I did, that story was bogus." Finn was relieved. "Naw, my old man took me camping somewhere around here when I was younger, before that whole 'fry incident' happened. It's one of the more pleasant memories I have from my upbringing." Marceline sighed and watched the flames consume their fresh meal through hazy, half lidded eyes. The age-old young woman contently recalled the time she and her father shared out in this forest so many years ago.

"Is that why you like camping?" Finn pulled her out of her train of thought. "Becuase your dad brought you?"

"Yeah, probably." she admitted. "It's just nice to chill out in the wild, with some friends or family or whatever. It's kind of peaceful. So how 'bout you, Finn? Have you ever been camping?"

"Well, once pop took me, Jake and Jermaine out for a weekend of fishing. Y'know, a father and his boys." Finn still missed his parents, they were such kind old folk. No one else would look twice at the human freak, but they raised him as their own. "But it was actually just the back yard, there was a pond there too, and we were told we couldn't go inside the house 'til the weekend was over. Dad made us some sort of little shelter out of some dead trees and ferns and all we ate was the fish we caught, but Dad made sure to stock the pond with lots of fish beforehand, so we had plenty. It was a pretty good time, even if it wasn't the wilderness like this."

"It's not where you're at, Finn, all that matters is who you're with." Marceline asserted, and felt a certain truth to her words resonate. In her experience, this was an immutable fact, in good company, fond memories could be made anywhere. Finn always seemed like good company, and he'd given the vampire an abundance of fresh memories she hoped would not fade any time soon.

"Yeah," Finn nodded gingerly. "that's deep." The human stretched his arms wide and yawned in deeply. It was getting late, and an adolecsent boy needs his sleep. "I'm gonna hit the sack."

Finn took a few paces away from the campfire and found one of the various packs he'd brought with him on this excursion at the base of a large tree. Opening the zipper, he reached inside and withdrew a very large, very new looking gortex sleeping bag and unrolled the bundle of fluff and warmth, laying it across the ground. The tuckered hero wasted no time before hopping into the over sized, silky feeling cocoon, but before he could drift of to the land of Sweet dreams, he was disturbed by a familiar voice.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" demanded the very abandoned feeling vampire queen.

"You're nocturnal." Finn retorted bluntly before rolling over to face away from the dying fire.

"But I've been up all day!" she protested. "My sleep schedule is wack, and it's pretty much entirely your fault."

"Hey, it's your own choice to pester us during the day. You made your bed, now you gotta sleep in it. Hehe." Finn laughed at the irony of that figure of speech used in this particular instance and noted that he's not exactly one to be clever with irony, and it was mostly just coincidence, but an awesome coincidence at that. "Can't you just like, sleep hangin' from a tree or somethin'? Bats do that all the time."

"No! For one, that's actually an insulting generalization, and two, I don't think I can maintain myself in bat form while I'm sleeping." Marceline explained. It sounded logical enough of a reason to rule out sleeping in trees, and there was no way she was about to sleep atop the cold dirt. "Scootch over, I'm getting in with you." she ordered.

"No way! Why didn't you bring your own sleeping junk?" Finn countered.

"Because I didn't think of it and vampires were never bestowed with the gift of foresight, now make room!"

"You can't!" Finn barked.

"Why can't I?" she challenged.

"Because... You're a girl..." Finn's face brightened with reddish hugh.

"Are you saying you'd rather sleep with a boy?" Marceline asked slyly, raising an eyebrow in playful inquiry.

"Well no... But..." Finn sputtered, "This isn't fair!"

"Life ain't fair, get used to it," the dead girl shot back while making her way to Finn and his comfy looking sleeping bag that he was being oh so greedy trying to keep all to himself. Finn hesitated, but after seeing Marceline was dead set on gettin' all up in his bag, he reluctantly relented his opposition and allowed her entry, slipping in beside him.

Marceline noticed how spacious it was inside, still comfortable enough even with the both of them fully encased up to their necks in the puffy fabric, and she almost couldn't help but to be suspicious that Finn's end game was to share this sleeping bag with someone all along. Silly human, he'd only have to ask, no need for reverse psychology and mind games. But then she realized this was Finn she was thinking about and how his intentions never run any deeper than face value. Marceline couldn't see Finn, the genuine goober he is, devise some elaborate plan entailing sleeping bags and psychological warfare all to result in getting her to sleep with him, speaking only in the most literal sense of the term.

Then Marceline realized something else. She was dreadfully uncomfortably laying in this position. "Finn. I need a pillow." she informed.

Disturbed once more from the verge of slumber, Finn exhaled audibly and cracked his sore and crusty eyes. Scanning about the surrounding darkness for something that might sate the relentless vampire's pestering, Finn peered a fairly large, stout stone not far from where they lay. Removing his arms from the confines of the sleeping bag he was now being forced to share, he grabbed hold of the rock and placed it by Marceline's head with a dull thud. "Use that." he instructed coarsely before returning to his previous position and trying once more to sleep.

Marceline stared at the rock in awe for a long moment before deciding it was a horrible candidate for a pillow. No, she'd need something softer, with some give. Something... Squishy. And per chance, it just so happened that there was something exceedingly squishy laying right beside her. So with no further thought or reasoning, Marceline curled herself around Finn and layed her head on the softest point she could find between his shoulder and chest.

"What the flip are you doing?" The hero questioned when feeling his friend's arms snake around his body.

"Shut up." she hissed, momentarily lifting her head from his chest to make eye contact. "You're lumpin' comfortable, so deal with it. Now lay there and be quiet like a good pillow." And with that, she nuzzled back into the fleshy swells of Finn's torso.

As awkward as this situation was, Finn couldn't deny that it was maybe even a little pleasant. But also mostly uncomfortable, for him at least. So to right this, Finn hauled his arm out from beneath the cuddly vampire and repositioned it around Marceline, so now they were in some ungraceful, and clearly completely platonic embrace. Nope, nothing going on here, just a couple o' bros in a sleeping bag is all. Snuggling? Naw, none of that going on here, bro.

Feeling Finn's arm wrap around her back and rest somewhere near her waist, reciprocating her cuddle, Marceline grinned into the adolescent adventurer's chest. "I know you're enjoying this, probably more than you're letting yourself believe, but don't expect it to happen often." She took a moment to glance back up to meet Finn's embarrassed gaze. "You just so happened to have been the most comfortable place for me to spend the night." Reaching up to play with the ears of Finn's hat, she added "Y'know, you're no Hambo, but you're quite the snuggly little bear."

Finn's face flushed skarlet, or maybe it never stopped being that color, he couldn't tell. But either way, he definitely felt significantly warmer around the collar after that remark. He wasn't too sure he liked being Marceline's 'snuggly bear', he imagined it might be something reminiscent of what Lady Rainicorn would call Jake, if she spoke english. And Finn for sure didn't think he was ready to have with Marceline what Jake had with Lady. But here they were, closer to any other girl than he'd ever been, unburnt by her touch and unscalded by any callous words that carelessly fell from her mouth.

Finn gave some thought to this and realized it wouldn't be so bad to be more than simply friends with Marceline. She was probably the greatest gal he knew, and almost certainly the least complicated, even if that's not saying all too much. But he could easily envision their relationship taking a turn for the romantic. By the time he'd worked up the courage to profess that thought to her, a rather obnoxious snore seized his attention. Finn snapped his eyes down in his bed buddy's direction to find she'd already fallen fast asleep. So, the adventurer, pushing all silly thoughts of relationships aside, closed his eyes for what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening and was finally allowed rest.

It wasn't the muted sunlight shining through the leaves overhead, ticking at his eyelids, that woke Finn that morning, nor was it the stirring of the girl still in his arms. It was the earpiercing shriek of utter shock and surprise let loose from his older brother's agape maw. Finn's eyes shot open, sitting up quickly and turning his attention from Jake to Marceline, taking in the situation and how it might look to anyone outside of the sleeping bag.

"This probably isn't what it looks like!" Finn piped up defensively almost without thinking. His brain kicked in and told him that whenever someone says those particular words, it's almost always exactly what it looks like.

"Oh my grawd, dude! You guys didn't... Did you?" Jake gasped, flabbergasted. "Just tell me you kept it PG13, please."

"Dude, what the hey! We're both fully clothed, okay!" Finn stepped out of his sleeping bag to prove he was, in fact, not in the nude. "She just forgot to bring any camping gear, so I shared. Alright?"

"Yeah, alright... I guess I might have been overreacting a bit..." Jake mumbled ashamedly, averting his gaze from his two friends he just so blatently accused of indecency.

"A bit?" Finn chuckled. "It's a'ight man, let's just forget about it." Finn's stomach let out a low growl. "So what's for breakfast, homie?"

Jake felt a mite cheerier now that they'd moved on past that terrible misunderstanding. What an awful, horrible revelation to wake up to first thing in the morning. "Canned food, yo. It's all we got since we pollished off the marshmallows last night."

"Sounds good, man." Finn responded with a nod. He looked back to his vampire friend who was still wrapped in his sleeping bag. She was in a sitting position, watching the two brothers, holding the poofy top of the bag up to under her chin with strangely bare arms. "C'mon Marcie, stop being a lazy butt. It's time to get up." The human coaxed.

"Remember that thing you said about how we're both fully clothed?" she asked with a bashful smile. "If we've learned anything this morning, it's that you guys are great at jumping to conclusions." She motioned with her eyes, directing Finn and Jake's attention toward a pile of her discarded flannel shirt and ripped jeans.

"What the flip, Marceline!" Finn cried out, bordering on the hysterical.

"What, I got hot! Besides, it's not like I'm completely naked. Glob Finn, don't be such a perv!" Marceline huffed indignantly, floated up from the ground sleeping bag and all, snatched the shirt and pair of jeans from where they lay and was gone into the dense forest, presumably to get dressed.

"What in the flip just happened, Jake?" Finn asked flatly as he continued to stare dumbfoundedly out into the woods where he last saw the lunatic who wore his sleeping bag like a toga.

"Sounds like you're having girl troubles, bro." Jake answered, gingerly giving the confused human an empathetic pat on the back.

[bnha-dumpster]

あの夜みたいに Info + Prologue

Tohma has always found Shindo to be a pain. Shindo has always found Tohma to be amusing. The night before graduation, they crash into each other and begin the spiraling of their twisted feelings. It’s the start of a festering, rotting love.

Pairing: Shindo Yo x Watari Tohma Fic content warnings: Ableism, bullying, emotional manipulation, dubious consent, toxic relationships, verbal abuse, gaslighting

A/N: this will be written in second person as to make things a bit easier for me.

Character Intros

Tohma: he’s Quirkless and wheelchair-bound for the most part. He suffers from tremors that affect both his arms and legs. Tohma attended Ketsubutsu as a support course student and was in the same grade as Shindo. He’s usually quiet and prefers to keep to himself. Easy to agitate but tends to only show extremes of his emotions. (Another note: I’ve been researching SMA these past few weeks in relation to muscular atrophy- which I suffer from due to my inability to be active- and might introduce a diagnosis of it through this fic.) He is 20 years old.

Mikito + Hime: two of Tohma’s sisters. They’re twins and three years older than him. Since they’re in the fashion industry, they use Tohma as a design model and often have him wear/try on their clothes. They are 23 years old.

Risu: Tohma’s younger sister of two years. A recent graduate of Ketsubutsu who is currently working under the hero Mirko as a sidekick. She has a squirrel mutation Quirk. Risu is 18 years old.

Bibi: Tohma’s senpai and the reason he attended Ketsubutsu in the first place. She works out of a hero agency in Okayama and tries to visit as much as she can. Socially inept but cares deeply for those around her. She is 25 years old.

Prologue

The third years at Ketsubutsu are unable to sleep, trying to calm their nerves for tomorrow. The anxiety and excitement of graduation is weighing on everyone’s shoulders. Some lay in bed restless, some third years from the hero course can be heard sparring- everyone is doing something. You are no exception. 

You sit alone in the workshop, focused on the project in front of you. It’s an accessory for your wheelchair, something you’ve been fiddling with since being accepted to Ketsubutsu. The custom motor for your wheelchair was originally just to tinker with in between projects. Now though, you’ve been working on it seriously for your current one. With the strength in your arms dwindling despite your best efforts, having help with moving around is a good idea. You’ve looked at electric wheelchairs before, but they’re all too bulky and heavy for you. The small motor in front of you is now your best idea. 

Besides the sound of metal and your humming, the workshop is quiet. Being the only one in it right now is a plus. The other support course students must be off somewhere talking about tomorrow. You’re not surprised that you weren’t invited. You never wanted to make friends in highschool, more focused on getting a career off the ground. As an individual of the Quirkless population in Japan, you’re subject to pity and not having equal opportunities. It doesn’t bother you too much. You just hate being looked down on. If you can work your ass off and become known for your support tools, then your Quirklessness will be overlooked… hopefully. 

“So this is where you were! Should’ve figured. You’re always buried in your work.” 

The voice makes you tense. It’s the last person you want to see. 

“Fuck off, Shindo.” Your voice is low and frustrated. You don’t bother to look away from your project; the soon-to-be hero doesn’t deserve anything from you. 

“So mean. This is probably the last time I’ll get to see you after graduation.” Shindo grabs the wheelchair and spins it around to face him with a practiced motion. He’s probably the only person who can make you hate your physical issues with such a passion. When you’re in your wheelchair, he can cage you in with ease. There’s no escape when he’s standing over you, caging you in place with his body. 

“Yeah. I’ll finally be free of you.” The sincerity in your voice manages to make him flinch. That’s a small victory for you. “Now fuck off and let me work in peace.”

“Keep talking like that and you’ll hurt my feelings, Tohma.” As the tone in his voice shifts and you can hear the rumble when he speaks, you’re forced into a memory of your first year. 

“Can’t I visit you?”

“No, not in the workshop.”

“And why not?”

“I don’t want your gross smile distracting me.”

“So, if I’m like this,” Shindo’s voice lowers slightly and without warning, You’re shoved back against the wall of the workshop. A grin, a real grin, is plastered on his face. “You want this me, right?”

You turn your face away quickly. With how close Shindo is, your heart is racing and you don’t know what to do. The real Shindo is overwhelming and he’s barely done anything.

“Shindo-” Your words are caught in his throat when fingers grab your jaw and yank you back to face him. “You- this is-”

“Do you like the real me, Tohma?” 

A wave of anxiety rushes over you and it shows. Shindo loves the way the true him changes how you react to him. Your defensive nature melts away and he feels like he could eat you up. He has once but that didn’t do what he thought it would. He expected you to fall for him but it only made you detest him even more. 

“You’re cute. You always have been.” 

He leans in and your nerves get the best of you. You lift your leg straight up and it hits Shindo’s crotch with a thump. Hero training doesn’t magically harden your balls and he curls in on himself as he growls. Your legs might be out of commission right now but you still slide out of your wheelchair. Awkwardly grasping the counters in the workshop, you begin to stumble your way out of the room. It’s more like you’re dragging yourself since your legs are shaking too much to allow you to stand. You get a few feet away before Shindo recovers. 

“You brat!” 

His voice rings out and a hand grabs your hair, yanking you back towards him. Your grip on the smooth counters aren’t enough and you end up falling on your ass. Shindo pulls you towards him and smashes the side of your head into the table you were working at. 

“I’m trying to be nice but you just have to fuck everything up, huh?” It feels like he might actually pull your hair out. “You should be grateful that I pay any attention to you. You’re just a Quirkless idiot bound to a wheelchair. You’ll never find love, never find a place to belong. But I’ve been giving you a chance to be by my side!” 

Words fly out of his mouth and there’s a moment of confusion. It’s quickly overcome by the feeling of fury. 

“Who said I wanted to be by your side? I’m fine on my own, I don’t need anyone except myself and my family! Why would I want to be by your side anyways? You’re just a two-faced piece of shit who’s parading around as a hero!” 

Shindo leans in towards you after you yell at him, face coming far too close to yours. You use one of your hands to try and push his face away. A thumb presses against his eye before he uses his other hand to keep you from touching him. Once again, you’re stuck under his control. But this time it’s more aggressive, full of emotions that should never be expressed. You swear you can see sorrow in his eyes. 

“Tohma-“ He stops himself, voice cracking slightly. “You’ll never amount to anything, I’ll make sure of it. I’ll make you wish that you were with me.”

He lets go of you and leaves the workshop without looking back. You sit on the ground, head spinning from the whiplash of the situation. As you crawl back into your wheelchair, you look out the window. 

Ah, it’s almost morning. 

[silverlightqueen]

Grease - Teaser

greaser!Hoseok x cheerleader!reader - fluff, angst, humour, potential smut

Rating: PG13

Word Count: 5k+ (not really a teaser lmao, but let’s just roll with it)

Summary - During the best summer of their childhood, good girl y/n and greaser Jung Hoseok indulge in a sweet and innocent love affair before parting ways, believing they will never see one another again. But fate has other plans, and it is only the beginning of the story for y/n and Hoseok in this tale of cars, chicks and high school cliques... (ft. Red Velvet and NCT Jaehyun)

Warnings - mild profanity, mention of sex, mild threat of violence, misogyny and sexism (it was the 50s lol), a lot of 50s slang (it took me longer to find relevant slang than it did to actually write this lmao), bts and red velvet flirting, gross overuse of pet names, I think that’s it but tell me if I missed anything lol

a/n: this is actually edited and proofread by the love of my life @silverlightprincess​ who made me even more excited about this story than I was before. I hope y’all like it x

song I listened to whilst writing: Bad Boy (English Version) - Red Velvet (the album cover inspired their outfits - yes, I know Rydell’s colours are red and white but I don’t care lol)

divider credit: ? (lmk if you know whose it is pls)

silverlightqueen masterlist

‘Six strawberry milkshakes for the paper shakers!’ the chef behind the counter shouts. A waitress, stood mere feet away from him, winces at the volume of his voice in the quiet diner before picking up the tray of our milkshakes and heading over towards us. ‘Six strawberry milkshakes,’ she says softly, and we all thank her as she puts them down on the table in front of us.

‘You girls look neat. Rydell trying out some new threads?’ she asks, and we all look at Irene, the Cheer Captain, and the unspoken leader of our little group. ‘Yeah, but Coach didn’t really… dig them like I hoped he would. Says they’re impractical or something lame-brained like that,’ Irene says ruefully, and the waitress rolls her eyes. ‘And those skimpy little cheer kits aren’t? Coach is such a pooper – he’s probably just peed off he didn’t come up with these,’ she says, and Irene smiles, a hint of pride in her grin – she likes a little compliment. ‘He’ll warm up to them. Well, he has no choice – all the other girls have bought them too. Our parents will blow a fuse if we can’t wear them,’ Irene says, and the waitress nods, us five just sipping on our milkshakes as we listen. Just as she opens her mouth to reply, we hear the chef shout, ‘Mina! These tables ain’t gonna clean themselves!’ She rolls her eyes with an apologetic shrug before trudging over to the counter where the chef throws a cloth and disinfectant at her.

‘Irene, where did you get the idea for these duds?’ Joy asks, straw between her teeth as she speaks. ‘You know that girl group, Red Velvet? They dropped a new record a few weeks ago – you’ve heard it right? It’s all over the radio. Well, anyway, they did a video for it, and they were wearing these cute little skirts and tops, all in blue and yellow plaid,’ she explains, but I get the feeling Yeri and I are the only ones listening, all of the other girls staring out of the window behind us.

‘Oh, no. I recognise that hunk o’ junk. That’s Kim Seokjin and his little gang. They’ve just pulled up in the parking lot,’ Seulgi says, though the way she checks her reflection in her little pocket mirror shows she’s not quite as distressed about their arrival as she seems. ‘Don’t say that in front of Kim Taehyung. He calls it a ‘hot rod’; he’d flip out if he heard someone call it a hunk o’ junk,’ Wendy says warningly as she fixes her hair.

‘Wait, sorry, but who is Kim Seokjin? And who’re his gang?’ I ask, the girls all looking at me shock, quickly followed by realisation. ‘I keep forgettin’ you’re a newbie. They’re greasers – you’ve probably seen a couple of them at school. They’re… bad news. They have a reputation of humpin’ and dumpin’. Still doesn’t put all the girls off them though,’ Seulgi explains, saying the last bit under her breath.

‘What’s humping and dumping?’ I ask, the five of them shushing me instantly. ‘Keep your voice down, y/n, we can’t be heard talkin’ about things like that in public. Humpin’ and dumpin’ is, like… one minute, they’re all friendly, then they’re suddenly in your bed, and then they’ve forgotten you existed,’ Wendy explains quietly, and I nod in understanding, feeling my cheeks warm up a little bit at discussing something so crude.

‘That Jeon Jungkook did it to Lisa,’ Joy whispers as she applies fresh lipstick, and I picture our fellow cheerleader in my head, feeling a little bit of pity for the poor girl. ‘He’s so dreamy, though,’ Yeri says softly, and Irene rolls her eyes. ‘They’re all dreamy, Yeri, but they’re bad news,’ the girl says forcefully, echoing Seulgi’s earlier words.

And then the bell above the diner door rings behind me, followed by an absolute hubbub. ‘I’ll have you know, I got an A in Miss Lee’s class through workin’ my ass off!’ ‘No, it’s ‘cause you’re a little brownnoser, Jeon.’ ‘Hey! I am not!’ ‘So, if you’re workin’ your ass off in her class, why can’t you work your ass off in all the others? You’re failin’ everything else!’ ‘I’m not failin’ anything! I just don’t have time to do extra sessions with any other teachers.’ ‘You’re doing extra sessions with Miss Lee? Lucky fucker.’ ‘Lucky? How am I lucky?’ ‘She’s stacked.’ ‘So what? She might be a sex-pot, but we’re doin’ history work, not makin’ out.’ ‘Maybe you should make out with her. Drive her home, a little backseat bingo.’ ‘Jeon’s too much of a sissy for that.’ ‘I’m not a sissy! I could easy… backseat bingo with Miss Lee if I wanted too.’ ‘So you don’t want to? Are you queer?’

‘Hey, fat-heads, put a lid on it,’ one voice rises above all the squabbling. ‘Get a load of those dollies,’ the voice says softly, not softly enough for us to not hear. I feel a sudden rush of panic, knowing they’re about to join us. ‘Are those paper shakers I spy?’ ‘It can’t be.’ The teasing voices get louder and closer, and Irene gives me an encouraging smile, obviously telling me not to worry.

‘Ah, if it isn’t Rydell’s resident greasers,’ Seulgi says with a small smirk, and then ‘Rydell’s resident greasers’ come into my view. All of them have their hair slicked back and wear black leather jackets over black or white t-shirts, and black or blue jeans, but that’s where the similarities end. All of them are handsome, but in their own ways; Irene was right – they’re all dreamy. ‘Speak for the rest of ‘em, my hair ain’t greasy,’ one of the boys says with a boxy smile, pushing himself into the booth beside Joy who welcomes him with a flirty grin. He’s right too; his hair isn’t greasy at all. None of their hair is. A little shiny and sleek, but not greasy. At the mention of grease, one of the boys begins singing ‘Grease Is The Word’ obnoxiously loud, another hitting him over the head.

‘Don’t you skirts look cute?’ another of the boys says with a smirk as he pulls a stool up to the side of our booth, and the girls all smile back. ‘Thanks, Jungkook,’ Yeri says with a little flutter of her eyelashes, and he ever-so-slightly leans over me towards her, ignoring me completely. ‘You’re most welcome, doll,’ he replies, and she giggles behind her hand.

‘Oh. Who’s this?’ one of the other boys asks, looking at me, and suddenly all of them are looking at me. I will myself to be confident and flirty like the other girls, and I sit up a little in my seat. ‘She’s new ‘round here,’ Wendy says, not giving me a proper introduction. But it seems it’s better she didn’t, all of the boys suddenly intrigued, eyes scanning me intently. I spot Seulgi and Joy exchange a little grin; they’ve been bugging me all week to try and talk to some boys, saying it’d be super easy for me because of how much of a ‘dish’ I am, but I’m way too shy for that. ‘Obviously. I woulda noticed a cute little piece like this before,’ a disembodied voice says, and when Jungkook moves his head to the side, I spot the source of the voice.

He’s… hot, to say the least, his good looks making my stomach turn a little. His skin sports a golden tan, his eyes and hair a dark brown, and he has nice proportions, not too built but not exactly small either. He gives me a little grin when he spots me looking at him, and I’m endeared when I notice his lips form a heart shape when he smiles. I’m certain I’ve seen a smile like that before.

‘Don’t call her a piece, Hoseok. That’s derogatory towards women,’ Irene says, all eyes turning to her with surprise. Hoseok. Nice name. ‘What? We all know I’m a feminist, it’s not a surprise,’ she says matter-of-factly, as though it’s the most normal thing in the world, before taking a sip of her milkshake. ‘We’re just surprised you know a big word like derogary,’ one of the boys says, coaxing laughter from the rest of them. ‘It’s derogatory, doofus, not derogary,’ Irene says but her voice is lost under their laughter.

‘Hey, Yoongi, Mina’s workin’ tonight,’ one of the boys says, nudging another, presumably Yoongi, who instantly looks up with eager eyes, everyone else laughing. ‘Excuse me, ladies, knuckleheads. My lady awaits,’ he says, the other boys hollering and hooting at him, pushing him towards where poor Mina cleans tables on the other side of the diner.

‘So, what’s the dealio with you, sweetie? How’s a cute little dish like you managed to get in with the socs?’ one of the boys says to me in a teasing tone as he leans against the booth beside ours, the other girls rolling their eyes. ‘I hate it when you call us that, Jimin,’ Seulgi says with wide eyes and a little pout, and he grins at her, blowing her a kiss before he says, ‘sorry, baby, but ya know it’s true. Popular teeny queenies, you five.’ Seulgi certainly seems appeased, a satisfied little smirk on her face when she turns to take a sip of her milkshake.

‘I was a cheerleader at my old school, so the girls got me on the team as soon as I started at Rydell,’ I explain softly, the boys all listening with interest. ‘Ain’t you a cutie? So softly spoken, an’ all posh soundin'. Not like this noisy broad,’ the boy beside Joy says, nudging her, and she nudges him back with a scowl. ‘Shut it, Tae,’ she snaps, and the boy, Tae, grins as he throws an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side, Joy’s scowl quickly disappearing.

‘Ain’t you in one of my classes?’ Jungkook says, and I look at him for a moment, before nodding, realising he’s in my Math class. ‘Mmhmm. Math, right?’ I say, and he nods with a little grin at me, an unreadable expression on his face. ‘You’re awful quiet in class.’ ‘And you’re awful loud.’ The entire group bursts out laughing, Jungkook included, and he looks impressed.

‘The kitten has claws, huh?’ Hoseok says, my eyes flitting up to meet his amused ones, and then I realise – I’ve seen him before. ‘I recognise you,’ I say without thinking, and a little bit of surprise appears on his face before he quickly masks it with a grin. ‘That’s a line I usually use,’ he says, and everyone laughs, a little bit of embarrassment unfurling in my chest as I let out a giggle.

‘So what’s your name, sweetheart?’ the boy that thought ‘derogary’ was a word asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘What’s yours?’ I ask, and he grins, more laughter rippling around the group. ‘Kim Seokjin, Jin for short. I’m surprised you don’t know. Irene’s neighbours sure do,’ he jokes, a little gasp escaping my lips as everyone laughs, Irene shooting him a death stare. ‘Aw, ain’t you adorable?’ Tae says with an amused grin, having noticed my gasp, and I feel blood rushing to my cheeks as I duck my head to take a sip of my milkshake.

‘What’s the name then, doll?’ Hoseok asks, my heart fluttering at the nickname. ‘y/n,’ I say, and his mouth falls open. ‘Get outta here. There’s no way. y/n y/l/n?’ he asks, and I nod mutely, shocked that he knows my full name. ‘It’s me, Jung Hoseok,’ he says, and I vaguely recognise the name, but can’t remember where I know him from. One of the boys whistles to fill the awkward silence, another whispering ‘sheesh, ain’t that a bite?’. Hoseok looks at me with intense eyes, almost willing me to remember him. ‘Come on, y/n, you remember me. That summer. At the beach. You know me,’ he says, almost desperately, and then I realise exactly who he is, ice cold shock filling my veins.

‘Hobi! No way!’ I exclaim, a grin spreading across his face as he nods. ‘Hobi? Who the fuck is Hobi?’ Jimin asks, and Hobi rubs the back of his neck embarrassedly. ‘I am. It was my nickname when I was a kid,’ he admits, the boys all laughing, and annoyance appears on his face. ‘Put a lid on it, dipsticks. My old lady gave me that nickname, an’ I’ll be damned if you make me embarrassed of it,’ he says seriously, the boys all falling silent. ‘I like it,’ Seulgi says evenly, taking a sip of her milkshake. ‘Yeah, it’s cute. Hobi. Definitely suits you,’ Wendy says, and suddenly, Hobi’s sporting a little grin, and the other boys seem a little jealous at the attention from the girls.

‘So, you two childhood friends or somethin’?’ the only boy whose name I don’t know yet asks, and both Hobi and I nod. ‘We met a couple years back, when we were… 15?’ he asks me, and I nod. ‘Yeah, 15. I was nearly 16. It was summer, an’ our villas were next to each other on holiday. We spent the whole summer together,’ he says, the others listening with interest. ‘Ain’t that just adorable? Who woulda thought our big bad wolf would turn out to be a little softie?’ the boy replies, and Hobi glares at him. ‘You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’, Namjoon, so can it before you get a knuckle sandwich. I’m sure Wendy wouldn’t be too happy to see your face busted,’ Hobi threatens, and I’m shocked to see a new side to the gentle and kind boy so full of sunshine that I met a few years ago. He spots the look on my face, and suddenly looks ashamed of himself, the anger in his disposition instantly disappearing.

The conversation quickly moves on to Namjoon and Wendy, and I’m lost in my memories of that summer with Hobi. He was such a lovely boy, so funny and full of laughter. We made a lifetime of memories that summer, and I’ll always treasure it as the summer I fell in love for the first time.

‘Oh, y/n, your milkshake’s finished. Why don’t you get another one?’ Yeri says, nudging me out of my own mind, and I look down at my glass. Sure enough, it’s empty. I didn’t think I’d had that much. ‘Oh. Yeah, okay. Does anyone else want anything?’ I offer, and Yeri hands me some money to get her a basket of cheesy fries, and tells me to get my milkshake with her money too. And it’s then that I notice her glass is suspiciously full, around the amount that I had left in mine. She grins at me sneakily before her eyes flit to Hobi, and I know she’s plotting for him to follow me.

I slide out of the booth, and head up to the counter, my white cheer shoes squeaking against the clean vinyl floor. I cross paths with Yoongi, who’s glowering a little. ‘Any luck with Mina?’ I ask, my courage at speaking to a virtual stranger surprising me. ‘Not really,’ he admits, and I supress an amused laugh. ‘Maybe bring her some flowers next time you’re here? Girls love it when boys do things like that. It’s cute and romantic,’ I say, and he nods, digesting my words. ‘Yeah. Good idea. Thanks, new girl,’ he says, heading back to our booth with renewed energy.

I order a strawberry milkshake and Yeri’s fries at the counter, poor Mina looking like she could kill the chef when he shouts at her to clean the machine before getting my milkshake. ‘Shall I bring it over, or you gonna wait?’ she asks me, but I’m saved from answering, a voice behind me replying, ‘we’ll wait.’ Hobi appears, sliding on to the stool beside where I stand with an easy grin at me, my heart jumping.

‘I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,’ he admits, and I smile. ‘Me too. You’ve changed,’ I say, and his smile slips a little. I feel guilty, and so I make up for it by saying, ‘you’ve grown into a dreamboat.’ A grin instantly appears on his face, and he puffs out his chest a little, coaxing a laugh from me. ‘But look at you, y/n. You were always a pretty little thing, but now… well, you got a classy chassis, alright, an’ your face ain’t half bad either,’ he says as offhandedly as possible, a little grin on his face, and I can practically see his new greaser image fighting down the sweet boy that I know is inside. What he says is a little… not offensive, but I know Irene wouldn’t be too impressed if she heard it, and yet I can’t help but feel a little flattered. ‘Thank you. I think,’ I giggle, fingers toying with the hem of my skirt nervously, and he leans back against the counter, eyes skimming over my figure. ‘It was a compliment, doll. This new uniform’s cute, too. Reminds me of that little dress you wore, our last night that summer,’ he says, smiling widely, and my heart warms at him remembering.

I know exactly the dress he means; it was yellow and white plaid, sleeveless, and the hem came to just above my knee. I remember feeling so grown up in such a short dress, but it’s nothing compared to the outfit I’m wearing now. My grandparents would be scandalised if they saw me in my strappy, yellow plaid top – revealing my arms, the majority of my chest and a little bit of midriff when I stretch – and my blue plaid skirt, swishing around my thighs, with lacy white ankle socks and a yellow plaid scrunchie on my wrist. All the other girls are in variations of the same outfit, colours switched around on their tops and bottoms, different shape tops, different length skirts. It’s a little risqué, but times are slowly changing, and Irene is a firm believer that people like us will help to change it.

‘I barely remember that night,’ I say shyly, and he raises an eyebrow, knowing I’m lying. ‘I could never forget,’ he says lowly, eyes locked with mine, and the memory appears in my head. I shared my first kiss with him that night and whilst the memory is one that I treasure, I’m surprised it means anything to him. He’s a greaser, and they have a reputation for… ‘humping and dumping’ as Seulgi so eloquently put it. ‘You were my first kiss,’ he says casually, and I smile shyly, a little surprised at hearing so. ‘I never would’ve guessed,’ I say softly, and he grins. ‘I haven’t been a… greaser forever, you know,’ he says frankly, and I laugh. ‘Well, you were my first kiss too,’ I admit, and he grins even wider. ‘I know, kitten,’ he replies, and I feel my face fall a little, his face falling too. ‘No, no, I don’t mean it like that. It wasn’t bad, or anything,’ he says hastily, and I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. ‘You were just so…’ he trails off, and I give him a pointed look, prompting him to continue. ‘Innocent. Practically jail bait. A cute little Quentin Quail. It’s hot when a girl’s like that. Hotter than easy girls,’ he says, and I nod, holding back a laugh, and trying to mask how embarrassed I am at the flattery.

‘Here’s your milkshake, y/n, and your fries,’ Mina says, suddenly interrupting mine and Hobi’s eye contact. ‘Hey, Mina,’ Hobi says with a flirty grin, and I try to stop my smile from faltering. ‘Hi Hobi.’ ‘Why’s the diner so quiet tonight? It’s like Nowheresville in here.’ ‘Everyone’s at the bar, watching the football.’ ‘Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Well, anyway…’ ‘Yes, Hobi?’ Mina replies in a bored tone, and I suddenly like the girl. A lot. ‘Why don’t ya give Yoongi a chance? He’s real sweet on ya,’ Hobi says easily, and my heart warms when I realise that he’s trying to be a good friend. ‘And I told him already, I got a boyfriend,’ Mina says, and Hobi nods, impressed. ‘Yeah? What’s his name?’ ‘He goes by Bambam.’ ‘Still at school?’ ‘Na, he works at the garage ‘round the corner.’ ‘Good pay?’ ‘You writin’ a book or somethin? What’s with all the questions?’ ‘Just askin’. I wanna work there.’ ‘I’ll put in a word if you get Min over there to leave me be,’ Mina says, Hobi holding a hand out to her with a grin. ‘Deal,’ he says, Mina unable to keep a small smile off her face as she shakes his hand.

‘Come on, doll, let’s get back before Yeri’s fries go cold,’ Hobi says, his attention back on me as he hands me my milkshake, picking up the fries in one hand and snaking the other around my waist. A little thrill runs through my body at the feeling of his hand on me. He leads me back over to the table as I thank Mina over my shoulder. When we reach our booth, everyone’s staring at us, continuing to do so when Hobi puts Yeri’s fries down in front of her, slides into my seat and pulls me down onto his lap. My heart nearly pounds out of my chest.

‘You two look awful… close,’ Wendy says cautiously, and Hobi shrugs offhandedly. ‘We spent a whole summer together, ‘course we’re close.’ ‘Yeah, like two years ago.’ ‘So what?’ ‘Nothin’. Hobi.’ ‘Are ya laughin’ at my nickname?’ ‘No.’ ‘So, tell us more about this summer you two spent together,’ Taehyung says musingly, his elbow on the table and his chin resting on his hand. ‘Yeah, d’you get in her drawers?’ Jimin asks with a mischievous grin, and blood rushes to my cheeks from embarrassment. ‘Hey! Shut it, bozo, they were little kids,’ Seulgi exclaims, hitting him over the head, and he continues grinning, still looking at Hobi for an answer. ‘Mind your own beeswax,’ Hobi replies as his arms slide around my stomach. ‘Come on, let’s hear a little at least,’ Namjoon says softly, the others all nodding in agreement. ‘We wanna hear about your summer lovin’. Did you get friendly down in the sand?’ ‘D’you get far?’ ‘Did she put up a fight?’ Shut it, clods! Don’t ask questions like that, ‘specially not in front of her,’ Hobi exclaims, all of them exchanging grins. ‘Jeez, whatta grouch. You oughta tell us somethin’, since you didn’t even tell us about her after that summer,’ Jungkook says, leaning away from Hobi when the boy goes to hit him. ‘What are ya, the FBI? Lay off a little. There’s nothin’ to know. Like Seulgi said; we were little kids. Ain’t that right, kitten?’ Hobi says, and I nod in response to his question, butterflies in my stomach at being sat on his lap, having his arms around me, and having him speak to me like… like I’m his girl or something.

‘Well, whatever. I’m bored. Let’s cut out,’ Taehyung says, and I can see Joy deflate a little, my heart going out to her. ‘Na, let’s stick around a while,’ Jimin grins, eyes locked with Seulgi who grins right back. ‘Thought we were gonna hit the passion pit,’ Hobi says, Irene rolling her eyes. ‘The flick’s probably finished by now,’ Namjoon says, and Yoongi grins. ‘Let’s head down to Thunder Road,’ he says with a glint in his eyes, and the others exchange a glance before looking to Jin. ‘Na, my old lady said I gotta be home before midnight,’ Jungkook says, the others all mocking him. ‘Candy ass. Your old lady won’t say nothin’ if you’re late, let’s just go,’ Yoongi says, and Jin shakes his head. ‘Ice it. We get in enough trouble, let’s not go lookin’ for it,’ he says, surprisingly wisely, and the other boys respect his words, nodding.

‘We makin’ tracks or what? I really gotta get home or my old lady’ll crown me,’ Jungkook says, Yeri practically melting at his words – obviously she’s got a soft spot for a momma’s boy. ‘Yeah, let’s split. You dollies hangin’ ‘round here, or ya wanna come with?’ Jin asks, and the girls all look to Irene. ‘Where ya goin’? We ain’t comin’ if you’re goin’ to Thunder Road,’ Irene says, and I’m still unaware of what exactly Thunder Road is. ‘Na, we’re gonna drop the kid off an’ then… head to the bar,’ Jin says, the other boys cheering at his words. They all start to get up from their seats, and I feel Hobi fidgeting a little beneath me. I get out of the booth, and he gives me a smile before sliding out himself, and I take the empty seat. Irene looks around at us all before answering, ‘I think we’re gonna head home.’ ‘Any of ya need a ride?’ Jin offers, and Irene shakes her head. ‘I’m drivin’ Yeri and y/n home, and Seulgi’s old man said he’ll pick her, Joy and Wendy up on his way from work,’ Irene says, Jin nodding. Whilst he seemed a little immature at first, it’s obvious he’s a lot more grown up and responsible than the others.

‘Well. We’ll see you dollies at school on Monday then,’ Jin says, the other boys giving various goodbyes. Tae squeezes Joy’s thigh, the girl jumping a little in her seat as he grins, Jimin blowing Seulgi a kiss as he heads towards the door and she giggles, pretending to catch it and tuck it into her top. Namjoon gives Wendy a wink and she rolls her eyes, unable to hold back the grin on her face, as Jin exchanges a little glance with Irene and Jungkook presses a kiss to Yeri’s hand with a smirk, Yeri giggling as a blush colours her cheeks. ‘See ya Monday, y/n,’ Hobi says with a grin, and I smile back. ‘Bye, Hobi,’ I reply, the boys leaving moments later.

The diner seems eerily quiet now that they’re gone, and all of the girls look at me. ‘You and Jung Hoseok, huh? Who woulda thought?’ Joy says, looking at me with both curiosity and amusement in her eyes. ‘You’re so good, and sweet, y/n. I never woulda guessed you had the hots for him,’ Wendy says, and the true words are unspoken. So I say them. ‘And you never would’ve guessed he had the hots for me?’ I say plainly, Wendy looking a little guilty. ‘It sounds bad when you say it like that. I mean… the greasers, they flirt with us and all, but they’d choose an easy girl over us any day. And you’re not easy. You’re so innocent and soft, and I’m just surprised Hoseok would like someone like that,’ Wendy explains herself, and it makes perfect sense. ‘He wasn’t the same back then. He was… really nice, and gentle,’ I say, the girls exchanging a glance. ‘y/n, he’s been in that gang since he was, like, 14, ‘cause his big sister dates one of the older boys in the gang. Meanin’ he was a greaser back then too. Maybe… he dropped the act with you, though,’ Irene says, though she sounds sceptical. ‘Yeah. Maybe,’ I say, questioning our summer together in my head.

‘Speak of the devil,’ Wendy says gently, just before Hobi reappears beside me. ‘Hey, doll. I was wonderin’ if ya wanna do somethin’ with me? Maybe next Friday, after school?’ he asks, rubbing the back of his neck, and he looks almost nervous. My stomach turns with butterflies, and it’s only when Yeri nudges me that I remember I need to answer. ‘That… sounds real nice, but the pep rally’s next Friday. Maybe another day?’ I ask, and he nods, looking down at the floor, a little disheartened. ‘I can do something on the weekend after the pep rally?’ I offer, and he looks back up hopefully. ‘Yeah. Yeah, the weekend sounds good. You wanna… go to the passion pit? They’re showin’ Sunset Boulevard,’ he suggests, and I nod with a small smile. ‘I… I’d really like that, Hobi,’ I reply, and he smiles, real wide, his eyes practically shining. ‘I’ll pick you up. It’d be nice to see your parents again.’ ‘Yeah, that would be nice. They’d like to see you too.’ ‘Yeah. Neat. We’ll talk about it at school, but I gotta go. The boys are waitin’ for me,’ he says, and I nod, smiling. ‘Bye, Hobi,’ I say softly, and he grins back at me. ‘See ya, y/n,’ he says, taking a sip of my milkshake and laughing when I swat at him, before jogging towards the door.

I sigh happily, looking around at the girls, who all look back at me amusedly. ‘Oh, she’s a goner,’ Yeri says gently, and I laugh, rolling my eyes. ‘So is he, by the looks of it,’ Joy says, and Irene raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m not so sure. You know why people go to the passion pit,’ Irene says, and I look blankly at her. ‘Why?’ ‘To have the movie as background noise for… backseat bingo,’ she says quietly, and I feel my happiness deflate a little. I’ve met the first (and only) boy I loved again after a couple years, and I’m finding out he’s a horndog. ‘But maybe he just wants to watch the flick. I heard Sunset Boulevard’s real good,’ Seulgi says encouragingly, obviously trying to cheer me up, and I nod, though Irene’s words still ring in my ears. ‘I could be worryin’ for nothin’, y/n, don’t get sad about it. I just wanna look out for ya, that’s all,’ Irene says, and I smile at her, feeling gratitude for her being so kind this soon into our friendship. ‘Thanks, Irene. Don’t worry, I won’t let him… get into my drawers,’ I joke, repeating Jimin’s earlier words, and the girls all burst out laughing. ‘I sure hope not ‘cause my momma’s goin’ to watch Sunset Boulevard next weekend,’ Joy says between laughs, coaxing more laughter from us. I meet Irene’s eyes, and she gives me a gentle smile before mouthing, ‘be careful.’ ‘Don’t worry,’ I mouth back with a smile, ‘I will.’

[darker-soft-starker]

Can I request a starker no-powers au where Peter watches construction worker Tony from his bedroom window as the older man works across the street ?

His name is Tony.

Peter knows this tidbit because he heard it yelled once or twice as he’d walked by the construction lot, the same dark haired man perking up at the name. 

Work had begun on the old house across from Peter a few weeks ago. The weathered colonial used to belong to old Christiansen, a bitter and lonely man who used to yell at Peter as a kid for the frisbees that used to land on his lawn.  

When the elderly man had passed no immediate family had come to claim the property, and for three months while his estate was settled it stood empty. 

One day, a brother and sister duo, estranged cousins of the late William Christiansen arrived to declare the property as theirs, as so declared in his Will.

A month later the old property was being gutted by heavy machinery. Bricks tumbled into a splintered, woodwork carcass, noisy bobcats scraped and upended the earth until a new landscape was formed. 

Once the last of old Christiansen house had been razed, there stood the skeletons of three, tiny townhouses, cluttered close on the same lot.

In the beginning, Peter had only watched the proceedings with a vague sense of interest. He’d mourned the disappearance of the old house and quietly seethed at the likely uptick in traffic three new houses would bring.

It wasn’t until one afternoon, walking home early from his last class of the semester, that he notices the crew of workers wrapping up for the afternoon. The weight of academia off his shoulders and in no hurry, Peter had peered curiously at the workmen and their seamless teamwork. 

Just as his fill is fulled Peter’s attention is hooked by a man emerging from the bare bones of one of houses. A sagging bag of concrete is slung over broad shoulders, biceps exposed from the cut of his shirt. Peter doesn’t mean to stare at the sway of the mans hips as he moves, lugging the bag around like it doesn’t weigh a thing. 

He must be staring longer than he thinks - the man abbreviates his path, sunglasses sliding down his nose to wink at Peter lasciviously before continuing on his way.

Struck, Peter’s heart had skipped a beat at the attention, mind replaying the way the mans eyes crinkled in the corners, the easy confidence of his smile.

That had started it all, really. 

Sat by the bedroom window that overlooks the street, Peter props his hand on his chin and looks out upon the building site in the waning sunlight. 

It’s been six days since the guy, now known as Tony, winked at him. It’s been six days, each one spent with his free time by his bedroom window, watching as the man lumbers logs of timber around over his shoulders like they were matchsticks, watching the smooth swivel of his torso as he strikes old drywall with a sledgehammer. 

Window cracked upon ever so slightly, the good-natured banter amongst the crew can be heard between the music and the mayhem. Tony quips and cracks witty one-liners and in his colleagues respond in kind.

And so summer begins.

—-

Having an active construction crew in close proximity to your sleeping quarters eliminates the ability to lie in, Peter quickly discovers. He’s heard more AC/DC, Black Sabbath, Cold Chisel and Dr. Hook in the last few weeks than he’s heard in his entire twenty-one years. 

Once, Mrs Cunningham from three doors down tried to scold them for the bass laden 9:00am wake-up-call, but Tony’s scathing, insouciant response was to tell her to contact her local council. 

She didn’t come back.

May also grumbles at the noise and disruption, but Peter still catches her swaying her hips and mumbling to lyrics on the odd occasion, so he thinks she doesn’t really mind all that much. 

Nonetheless, it provides adequate gossip fodder for the old neighbourhood. It hadn’t really changed in the last fifty years, the same families growing up and out and back in again. So, whether it be bemoaning the line of trucks that clutter the street, querying the one woman who works among the crew or her pegasus emblazoned truck - or the inevitable unsightliness of the yet-to-be finished project - it gave everyone something to talk about.

Personally, Peter has never had such incentive so to study until now. 

Oh yes, his window allows the perfect sum of sun into his bedroom for poring over textbooks. If anyone asks, he’s being proactive. Just trying to get a head start on next semesters readings.

And maybe when he looks up from his books he has the perfect view of the worksite across his house. There’s nothing shifty about it, just people watching during a study break.

Maybe he procrastinates and watches too long, long enough to hear the entire EP of an obscure band Peter has never heard before. It’s not his fault the crew sometimes use their hammers to amusedly imitate drumsticks or sing vulgar renditions of the tunes on their playlist.

Mostly, Peter finds it endearing how Tony appears to oscillate between the most theatrical or the most withdrawn, depending on the day. 

Peter tries not to feel all Rear Window about it. There’s just something weirdly magnetic about the way the man moves so animatedly and is almost never still. Even sat upon the curb for a break, cigarette dangling between his lips, he’s captivating.

There are worse ways to pass the summer, right?

It’s not weird, no matter what Ned says.

“It’s kinda weird,” Ned says, sat beside Peter on one of the wooden chairs on the front porch.

“It is not,” Peter insists, bringing a pretzel to his mouth, snapping it in half with his teeth. He chews thoughtfully, gaze once again drawn across the street to the site. “I’m just making sure that they’re, y’know, doing it properly.”

“What, their jobs?”

“Yeah,” Peter nods, licking the salt off around his lips. “That.”

“With all your experience and expertise in construction?”

Peter grins, offering the bag out to Ned who takes a handful. “Hey, I built some mean Lego back in the day, didn’t I?”

“My mistake,” Ned rolls his eyes, directing his attention back to the noisy site. “So, which one are you hot for?”

“What?”

“Which one has you hot and bothered.”

Peter rolls his eyes, “I’m not hot for any of them.”

Neds eyes slide over to him in a glare laden with such scathing judgement it makes Peter feel like he’d just sinned in church. He shrinks back in his chair.

“….The one with the black hair,” Peter replies meekly.

With renewed interest Ned peers back over, rising up on his seat a little. The grimace on his face once he settles back down is telling, however unappreciated. Ned’s never shared Peter’s predilection towards older men.

“Gross, but okay. Are you going to ask him out?”

Peter snorts incredulously, shoving a handful of pretzels into his mouth to avoid answering the question. 

“Dude,” his friend prods. “Have you even spoken to him?”

“Yes,” Peter answers defensively. “Last week he said ‘hey, watch out’ so I wouldn’t walk into my letterbox, and I said ‘thanks’.”

The stink eye returns. After years of friendship that’s all that is needed for Peter receive the condemning message, properly cowed. They fall back into staring out at the lot, transfixed by the shrill screech of the buzzsaws.

It’s not that Peter is never going to say anything, he just hasn’t figured out how to do it yet. How precisely does one approach an older man to tell him you’d like to bang his fine ass, but would also like to pet his hair and take care of him long-term? 

Something about the guy makes a giddiness swell in his chest, reminiscent of his boyhood crushes where he would doodle hearts in his notebooks and find reasons to be in the same room as his infatuation.

“Gotta suck working in this heat though,” Ned says, interrupting his thoughts. 

“You’re right,” Peter nods, an idea forming in his brain. “It would.”

Standing up suddenly and startling Ned, Peter rushes back inside the house, into the blissful airconditioning and aims for the kitchen. 

Ned finds him there after following his bee-line, torso half emerged in one of the lower cupboards as he rummages through it.

“Peter?”

He studiously ignores his friend in favour of hyperextending his arm into the bowels of the dusty cupboard, crowing with delight when he finally grasps the still-sealed stack of plastic cups.

Quick as a fox, he fills each with water from the sink, placing cubes of ice from the freezer in each. Hands trembling with excitement he places them all on a tray and nods at his friend who only extends him a look of fond exasperation.

Anticipation sets his nerves aflutter, his feet flighty as he carefully balances the tray out the front door, Ned trailing behind him. 

His face flushes as he crosses the lawn, hands tightly clutched around the handles as he mentally rehearses an introduction.

I’m Peter Parker, I bring some water - no, wait - I’m Peter, you’re really hot and I’d like you to drink my fluids - definitely not - I am Peter and I have water, you must be thirsty - better. 

All his efforts are for naught in the end. 

Upon pausing to check the road is clear he catches sight of old Mrs Carrington and her young, pouting grandson carrying perspiring pitchers of lemonade and a tray of sandwiches into the lot. The workers suspend their work to greet them with surprised glee, and Peter feels his own smile dropping off his face. 

He looks down at his own pitiful offerings, the ice having all but melted in the cheap, plastic cups, bobbing sadly as they lose form. 

“Better luck next time,” Ned says from behind him, patting his back in consolation.

Peter nods. Yeah, next time.

—

Unwilling to be disheartened, Peter tries his hand the following day. A renewed vigour jumpstarts his efforts early, already in the kitchen before the guttural vocals of Thunderstruck start playing. 

Ned’s right. He’s an adult now - there are no lockers to leave love notes, no one is going to ask him to the prom. This is what real adults do - they see who they like, they ask them out. Simple.

But Peter has never been a locker love-note kinda guy. He wouldn’t know how to craft a slick pick-up line, doesn’t have the arresting good looks that do the talking for him.

Eager not to be bested by an ailing octogenarian again, Peter uses an entire loaf of bread and a full pound of half-price bacon to create a veritable tower of BLT’s. With their one sharp knife he cuts them into perfect angles, remembering the amputee he’s seen on site he ensures they can be gripped easily with a single hand. 

The only two pitchers they own are poured full with freshly-squeezed orange juice, Peter’s wrists working themselves into a strain to drain the fruits dry. 

May stumbles in sometime around nine in her sleep clothes, hair wild like a lion’s mane. She fixes him an odd stare as she fumbles for a cup of coffee. 

“A bit hungry, Pete?”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” is all he says, shaking his head and adding a plate of apple slices to a tray for good measure. “By the way, we’re out of bacon.”

It must require a lot of energy doing all that work, Peter thinks. It gives him a warm feeling, providing, thinking his efforts might go some way into nourishing someone else. He’s a Parker through-and-through after all.

Even if the guy doesn’t like him that way - it’s fresh, good food. Far better than that delivery truck thing he sometimes sees stationed out the front of the site that sells greasy, microwaved meals. At least the whole crew will have something wholesome and heartfelt, if nothing else.

Stomach squirming pleasantly Peter lifts the two trays, balancing the items precariously as waddles on, opening the front door with a kick his foot.

This is it. He’s finally going to have a reason to say hello, to introduce himself, maybe ask Tony out on a date, if he’s single and willing. Peter smiles to himself as he imagines having the guts to do it in front of the entire crew.

It takes a bit of coordination to get down the porch steps without spilling anything, eyes trained on the ground for any impediments, but he makes it - this is it.

Except, when he looks up from his feet to glance across the street his heart sinks.

Mrs Dawes from four doors down is already there. She’s set up a fucking portable table and brought a feast; sautéed vegetables, breakfast potatoes, scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. All accompanied by fruit salad and a variety of brightly colored smoothies. As appetizers. 

Appetizers.

From where he is rooted in spot Peter can hear her say with all honey sweet modesty: Oh, it’s no problem! You are doing such a good job, it’s my absolute pleasure.

Looking at his own offerings Peter can’t help but pout, a feeling of inadequacy sinking down his spine. Briefly, he entertains the idea of coming back for the lunch period instead, but knows by then the apples and lettuce will be an unpleasant brown, the bread soggy. 

Shoulders slumping, he sighs and turns on his heel, looking up at his house with weary consideration. His arms are beginning to hurt with the weight of his aborted efforts. 

A dark, doleful strain of self-pity wells up inside him before his gaze slides to the house next door. Mrs Martinez has four kids home for the summer and her husband is still on tour - suddenly his heart is twinging for a whole other reason.

Diverting his course, Peter rings their doorbell instead.

He can’t be too disheartened he decides later that afternoon, taking a break from his laptop to stare outside the bedroom window again. 

He’ll try again tomorrow.

—

It doesn’t occur to Peter the next day, halfway through icing a luscious three-tiered chocolate cake, that it is Saturday. 

Mournfully, he eats the cake himself.

—-

The next attempt at wooing - at providing - comes Monday morning.

This time Peter is prepared. He’d already gone to the store the night before,  had bought everything he required with a too-eager swipe of his credit card - and okay, sure, he’s going to have to cover a few extra shifts at the bookstore, but it’s worth it, right? 

If all else fails, at least someone will appreciate the food - if not his neighbours then at least he and his aunt will have food for the week.

The Parkers are not particularly renowned for their prowess in the kitchen, if he’s honest. Their friends and family are treated to many an over-seasoned dish or charcoaled toast to have any sort of claim over that domain. 

But the one thing they can master is the work of Peters great grandmother, a recipe handed down from generation to generation, perfected over decades - a bastardized version of goulash, brimming with hearty beef chunks bought especially from the butcher, copious potatoes and carrots, noodles, some secret spices. It’s a home-run every time.  

The key is to pour your heart and soul into it, his family would always say, that was the most special ingredient. Sure, stock and a generous helping of paprika were crucial, but it was the love you put into it that made the meal a veritable gustatory delight.

Maybe it’s the fond memories that make it anything but a chore, a highlight reel of his childhood playing as he cooks. When the stew is finally done simmering Peter prepares a loaf of fresh bread from the bakery, cutting it into satisfyingly thick slices, adding a side of oil. He has homemade iced tea ready in the fridge, and a bowl of diced watermelon as a palette cleanser.

To round it all off he has chocolate chip cookies made from scratch, still gooey and soft in the centre. 

By lunch time he was done. Sweating a little from the steam, Peter transfers the goulash into a big, portable container and beams proudly down at his work. 

Everything has his soul infused into it, like he was taught. He has a really good feeling about it this time.

Eager anticipation makes his stomach swoop. He double checks his reflection in the glass cabinets, attempting to tame his wayward curls into something a little less wayward, baring his teeth to make sure nothing is stuck in between them. 

Finally, he smooths down the cotton of his tee he gives himself a shake. He’s going to do it this time. Mrs Dawes is at work and Mrs Carrington is at her crochet group. He’s checked, all the schedules line up - it’s his time.

So he grabs the two trays, food precariously towering upon each other in a quivering porcelain pyramid and takes slow, cautious steps towards the front door. 

To save the trays from hitting the unlatched door he turns backwards to use the breadth of his back to push the door open, carefully reversing onto the porch.  

“I have a delivery for –”

Peter whirls around quickly.

It’s a mistake because the next thing he does is roughly collide with a solid body, the trays under his arms slipping from his grasp. Everything goes crashing to the ground with a shriek of shattering porcelain and the sad gurgling of all the upended liquid. 

“Shit, kid, I’m sorry,” the mailman says, but Peter doesn’t hear him, staring in abject horror at the food splattered all over the porch.

None of it salvageable. 

He spent eighty dollars and four hours on this. He poured his heart into this. He was going to share this, he was gonna -  

“It’s not meant to be,” he whispers to himself, slowly lowering himself into a squat, holding his hands out uselessly.

“Kid?”

Peter looks up in sorrow at the greying FedEx worker. “It’s not meant to be,” he repeats.

“Um… I just need you to sign for this.”

Peter wordlessly takes the small parcel and signs the E-POD, still staring at the  perverse Jackson Pollock impression all over the woodwork. The parcel isn’t even for him.

Once the mailman has left and the fast-food truck has pulled up to the construction site with a giddy toot of it’s horn, Peter has accepted it.

It’s just not meant to be.

—

“You taking up bird watching or something?” May asks from where she is leant against his doorway three days later.

Peter shakes his head, abandoning his forlorn gaze to give his attention to her. 

“Or something. What’s up?”

May holds up a stack of envelopes and smiles wryly. “We keep getting Mrs Carringtons mail.” 

“Still?”

“Yeah. I can’t tell if it’s her mistake or the mailman though.”

“Probably the mailman,” Peter mutters.

She shrugs. “In any case, I gotta get ready for work. Would you be able to take these over to her?”

“Sure,” Peter says, stretching as he stands, taking the stack from her hands.

She sniffs him subtly. “It will do you good to get out of this room. It smells in here.”

Taking his aunt’s comments to heart he freshens up in the bathroom first, brushing the grime off his teeth and fixing his appearance, making himself feel somewhat presentable.

Cooped up indoors all day didn’t prepare him for how exceptionally balmy the weather was outside, sweat already forming at his hairline by the time he crosses the road. He studiously ignores the urge to look over at the construction site as he makes his way to his neighbor, however conditioned he is to do so at the Black Sabbath riffs playing through the air.

Mrs Carrington greets him with a smile when he knocks and invites him inside. She has her frail fingers circled around his wrist before he can begin to decline the offer, pulling him in, already talking a mile a minute. 

Inside, it smells overwhelmingly like potpourri and her floral perfume.

“Thank you for bringing these over,” she says, leading him to the kitchen. “I don’t know why it keeps happening. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs C,” Peter assures, setting the mail on the counter.

She dodders past him to grab a cling-wrapped plate, holding it out to him with trembling hands, her gait noticeably uneven.

“Would you do me another favor?” She implores earnestly, pressing the plate into his hands. “Would you take these to those hard working folks next door, please? I’d go myself, but my hip…”

Clutching the plate, he looks through the layers of transparent cling-wrap to spot a dozen or so home-baked lemon slices. 

His heartbeat accelerates, thinking that he’s finally going to talk to get a chance. But of all the moments he’d imagined, it wasn’t here and now, clutching an elderly lady’s sickly sweet lemon treats arranged on a floral plate. 

When he looks back up to see her eager expression he knows he can’t turn her down.

“Yeah, sure thing, Mrs C - can I help with anything else?”

She squeezes the outside of his hands gratefully. “You’re a good boy, just this is fine. You help yourself to one too, okay?”

“Sure.”

Despite Peter’s protests, she walks him to her door, patting his back gratefully as he departs. He waves her off with his free hand, pretending like his nerves doesn’t have his stomach doing somersaults.

Pulse pounding, he enters through a gap in the construction site fencing, immediately drawn to the dark haired man that caught his attention all those weeks ago. 

A few of the others notice his approach and tell him to watch his step, but Peter can’t hear them over the booming echo of his heart in his ears.

Tony straightens from where he’d been penciling in marks on a long slat of timber, crossing his arms over his chest as Peter nears. The movement shows off the impressive swell of his biceps and for a moment makes him forget why he’s there.

“Umm, hi,” Peter says. 

Tony slides his sunglasses upon his crown to look at Peter, the full attention of his big, brown eyes making Peter’s mouth go dry and his palms sweat. 

The man smiles, slow and appreciatively, stance loosening when Peter smiles back.

“Hi yourself,” Tony responds, placing his hands on his hips. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“P-Peter. Parker. I’m… Peter Parker.”

The mans grin at his inelegant introduction has Peter’s face flaming, his hands shaking.

“Nice to finally meet you, Peter Parker. I’ve seen you around, but you never come and say hello like the rest of your neighbors.” 

“You have?”

Tony nods, ambling closer. “I didn’t know if I should be offended or not.” 

“Oh, I –”

“I forgive you, in case that was an apology,” Tony interrupts. “So, what do we owe this pleasure?”

Heartfelt explanations rise and are arrested in his throat, recalling the humiliating discomfort of all his failed attempts at courting. Instead, he extends the plate to Tony, holding it out like a sacrificial offering.

Tony accepts it, looking dubiously down at the garrish floral design before looking back at Peter.

“You make these yourself, doll?”

Stomach squirming at the attention, Peter shakes his head. “No, uh… my neighbour –”

“Oh thank god,” Tony says, indelicately dropping the plate on the nearby worktable. “Everyone in this neighbourhood is crazy nice or whatever - I have never been more well fed in my life –“

“Don’t lie,” one of the workers yells from behind them. “I’ve seen your high school photos.”

“Hey fuck you, Barnes,” Tony calls back, shaking his head. “Anyway, baby fat aside, I didn’t want to break your heart when I say I’m definitely more of a beef and potatoes kind of guy.”

“You are?” Peter perks up. “Me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I make a mean goulash. It’s really good.”

“That so?” Tony scratches his beard, stepping closer. “I do like goulash.”

Steeling his nerves Peter inches forward, he can smell the sweat and musk from the man and the pursuing undertones of nicotine and cologne.

“Maybe I could make it for you sometime.”

“Like on a date?” Tony asks, dipping his chin to catch Peters eyes. 

Heat floods his insides when he nods. “Yeah…you could come over? I’ll cook for you.”

Tony’s fingers comes up to toy with the cigarette tucked behind his ear, nestled amongst the black hair. He twirls it deftly between two calloused fingers, a crooked smile illuminating his features as he drinks Peter in.

“I’d like that a lot, Peter Parker.”

“That’s good. I mean - y’now, me too.”

The smirk Tony sends him is utterly devilish, corrupting Peter in the best of ways.

“Wish you’d come by and asked sooner, darling. Woulda given me more time to appreciate your pretty face.”

Cocking his head, Peters mouth stretches into a grin. 

“Guess it was never the right time.”

—-

Two days later Tony knocks on his door donned in form-fitting dark denim and a button-down shirt. His usually wild hair is neatly combed back and arranged into a quaint quiff. 

A smile breaks out on Peters face when notices the bouquet of red roses held in one of Tony’s hands, a box of expensive chocolates occupying in the other. 

“Not the most original,” Tony concedes, kissing Peter on the cheek when he lets him in, passing the gifts over. “But it’s still heartfelt, I assure you.”

Tony looks at him with genuine fondness that Peter doesn’t have to taste to know it’s true. Peter leans in to place a chaste, tentative kiss on the corner of the mans mouth.

“It’s perfect.” 

[thrushpot]

playing hooky

“Now a fun one... eleven and eighteen.” requested by @fortheloveofhargrove​

#11: “We could get arrested for this.”

#18: “Watch me.” from dialogue prompts

warning(s): alcohol, swearing

a/n: i love these prompts so much. hope you dig it !

—

You swore that you knew better than this.

You’d like to think you were raised right and had enough self respect to not fall under peer pressure like everybody else always did in cheesy high school movies or real life. Maybe right now you’re about to ditch the so-called ‘good girl’ philosophy, or handbook or whatever the fuck it was, to be free from the constraints that high school labels always puts on girls like you. Those bullshit stereotypes about smart girls that actually care about grades and education, saying that they’re all just bummers with no experience that will never learn how to let loose. Well, you’re through with all of it. It felt as if there had always been this hidden lingering temptation that was just itching to be unleashed, it just needed the right push, from the right somebody.

When the very chief, cliché bad boy Billy Hargrove himself approached you himself in the halls on a regular soul-crushing Monday, you wanted to prove not only to him but also to yourself that you were not this cookie cutter mold of a person. You were just as capable of crazy as anybody else is. So fuck him for underestimating you, and double fuck him if he was gonna laugh in your face when you said so.

“Of course I know what it’s like to have fun,” you defend, pointing your finger at him for emphasis at the arrogant blonde that had been ridiculing you far too long during passing periods at school everyday. He went further than usual today in particular, calling you ‘Plain Jane’ and ‘sugarpuss’ just to get a rise out of you, unknowingly setting off the ticking time bomb. “In fact, I’m the one who fucking invented fun, asshole.”

Billy widens his eyes comically as he takes the cigarette that had been tucked behind his ear and puts it between his lips.

“So, little kitten does have some scratch in her, doesn’t she? Who would’ve known,” he asks rhetorically, sarcasm lacing his tone as his fingers work to drag a little red match across the matchbox. Just as he was about to burn up with the audacity to smoke inside, at school for Christ’s sake, Mr. Jameson from wood workshop snags it from Billy’s mouth as he passes by you both in the hallway.

“No smoking inside, Hargrove!”

Billy turns his head with attitude to the teacher that just walked away with one of his precious cigarettes. How could he be that surprised of the consequences, you had no idea how thick his skull really was.

“I still have another one in my pocket you know!” he calls out, taking out the mentioned extra pack he kept in his jacket pocket as he shouted obnoxiously across the hall, catching the attention of everyone else scrambling to get to class.

“Lung cancer can wait another day!” Mr. Jameson reprimands the teen, pausing at the door of his destined classroom. “Get to class, Hargrove. And leave the poor girl alone,” Jameson pities you, probably wondering just what the fuck a girl like you, the polar opposite of Billy, was doing chatting and wasting time with him in the hallway.

“Yeah? I’m shaking in my boots over here, Mister J. And she could leave if she wants to, she’s a big girl,” he says, eyeing you as the words leave his mouth. You’d been impatiently standing there, somewhat annoyed yet entertained by the exchange with a tight lipped smile, still holding your usual boat load of books. Billy can see that you’re pissed because you think he’s misjudged you, but for fuck’s sake, it’s like you don’t even know that there are lockers at school for a reason. You’re practically begging to get made fun of, and Billy’ll be damned if he doesn’t take the bait, see where it leads him. Maybe you’ll surprise him, or maybe he’ll surprise you.

“You done flirting with school staff?” you raise your brows, pointing your thumb back towards Jameson’s classroom. Billy chuckles at your wit, eyes glazing down your fitted schoolgirl-esque sweater, daring to guess what’s hidden underneath it. As well as what’s really under your carefully crafted bitchy persona. It’s so easy to get you kicking and screaming, he plans on using that to persuade you further to him.

“Are you? Don’t think I can’t see the way you looked at ‘em, batting those cute little eyelashes, maybe even bending over in class to—“

You stop him from going further into his detailed imagery with a gag noise spewing from your lips and a hand raised to get him to please shut up already. “Okay, gross. I used to be best friends with his daughter in middle school.”

Billy chuckles at that, then continues on with his weird ass fantasy. “Makes you a dirty bird then, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck off. You’re disgusting,” you step closer into his personal space bubble, shoving one of your books into his chest resulting in him pretending it hurt like a drama queen. After another roll of your eyes, he’s satisfied with how much he’s annoyed you then wants to remind you of what he’d asked.

“You never did answer me, you know.”

“About what, genius?” you fix your hair, fidgeting under the pressure of his earlier proposition. You’d hoped he had forgotten he even asked and move on to pull the pigtails of the next girl that strolled by. Clearly he hadn’t, to your dismay.

“‘Bout you playing a little hooky, comin’ with me. Get to see how the other half lives,” he offers, pulling yet another item out of his pocket, and of course it’s a toothpick. He always needed something in his mouth when he’s talking to you.

“Where would we even go?”

He plays with the toothpick in his teeth, flicking his tongue over the stick before answering. “Anywhere. Wherever you want. But if you can’t think of somethin’ to do, I have my usual hiding spots. No one would find us.”

This is the part where the cartoon devil and angel on your shoulder fight, the good side of you worried about what trouble he’d be dragging you into. The bad side tells you that it’s about damn time you do something out of the ordinary, something you’re not supposed to. This time, for the very first time in your life, the devil won.

“Fine. Let’s do it. But I’m not going ‘cause I wanna be your little girlfriend or whatever, this is just because I’m bored, and... and I do know how to have fun,” you declare, staring at your clean Converse as your palms start to sweat from nerves. Just what the fuck are you getting yourself into? It’s your grave that you’re digging here. But why would anybody pass this opportunity up? The only lame excuse you could come up with for the imaginary angel shaking it’s head in disapproval for being defeated was that he was as hot as he was charming, and you felt like you’d been held at gunpoint to resist. You were weak, and you can admit it now. So fuck you if you can’t break bad for once.

Billy licks his lips in triumph, grinning like he finally caught the mouse that had been eyeing the peanut butter in the trap far too long, and had just now decided to take a lick and get sucked in.

“Well alright, little lady. Glad to hear it. Your chariot awaits outside,” he jingles his keys with his fingers, not waiting any longer as he eagerly struts out of the building, with you meekly trailing not far behind him.

—

Billy knew he’d get you to crack. Delighted that he’d get to pop your skipping class cherry, he unlocked his Camaro and even took the time to open the passenger’s door for you. After looking at him in disbelief for a beat, he raises his brows and beckons you further to get in. Something akin to a strange man telling you to get in the car, with a promised bribe of candy and puppies.

“What was it you said back there, that you invented fun? C’mon, think of it as an adventure, like in all those books you read or whatever.”

Yeah, in all those books you read with circumstances like these, something stupid always happens. You’re still on the edge of willing to take that chance, with the voice of every adult that’s every lectured you to not go out with strange boys. Fuck it, maybe something good will come out of this.

You sigh in defeat, done fighting with yourself before giving the ground a shy smile, letting out a quiet “Yeah, I guess.” Getting strapped in with your seatbelt, because safety first, you tightly clutch the several books that had stayed in your grasp like a vice. You’re still quite apprehensive, but there should be no problem in maybe needing a little more convincing. Billy feels like he won the lottery, hopping in and enthusiastically starting the engine up before zooming out of the school parking lot. He even tells you you can pick any music tape in his entire collection to play, which he almost never lets anybody do. However, you’d declined the playing of any music, stubbornly staring out the window at the views passing by. Billy is still determined to get you out of your comfort zone, and if music won’t do it, there must be some radical adventure you’d be excited for that will.

“How ‘bout a movie? You gotta like some genre. Everybody likes movies,” he tells you, still driving aimlessly with no destination in mind for the two of you yet.

“What kind’s your favorite?” Billy wonders aloud, seeing as though you could be a secret cult-loving, horror flick addict, or maybe even a hopeless romantic. He likes the idea of you snuggled up in the theatre munching on popcorn as you watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers, or maybe even Sixteen Candles. That would be a fucking sight to see.

“Uh, all of them. I like all movies.”

“Yeah? How ‘bout the new Ghostbusters? Heard it’s the next classic—“

“I don’t know anymore, Billy. Maybe... maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” you overthink, chewing on your lip from the anxiety that had been eating you away. This is against the rules, and according to your routine, you should be in class right now. The whole idea of this ridiculous outing was just some heat of the moment, fortuitous decision that you’re beginning to regret right now.

Meanwhile, Billy makes a frustrated scoffing sound at you for already wanting to give the fun up. He could’ve easily been mistaken by the connection you two shared through your playful banter, now just passing it off as weak flirting which you clearly didn’t reciprocate.

“Fine. Let’s just go back to school then. Why not, right? Listen to the boring old fuck of a bogus dude like Jameson. He’ll probably scream at us ‘cause we’ll be fifteen minutes late, then the cherry on top being a pink slip to show your folks at home.” Billy had been looking over at you as he ranted, then back to the road to find a place to pull over. He’s already tired trying to make you comfortable when your mind was set on staying uncomfortable. “Your folks’ll really love that. Wait ‘til they find out that I was the one that convinced you to come—“

“Shut the hell up, alright!” you finally snap, throwing your arms in the air and in turn making the tower of textbooks fall with a loud thunk to the floor. Billy is shocked at your outburst, now intently engaged in what you have to say. “You act like you know me, but you don’t, alright? Nobody does. Not my parents, not Jameson, and certainly not you either, pal.”

Billy calls bullshit on that one, letting out a menacing chuckle before judging you harder.

“Oh yeah? I don’t know you, yeah right. I think I really fuckin’ do, actually. You’re just some priss, yet another snobby little girl with a broken little heart, not to mention the ginormous stick up her ass—“

“I do not have a stick up my ass.”

“Do too.”

“Nuh-uh, assface!”

Billy sighs dramatically at the childish banter you’re still keeping up, now finding a lonely space where he can stop the car and really get under your skin, prove you wrong. Because he thinks he really does know your type. He kills the engine as he turns to you.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Wanna prove me wrong? Why don’t you open the glovebox and take out what’s inside. Go on.” he instructed, looking to you and then the glove compartment expectedly. You try masking your hesitance with false confidence before going for it, pulling the lever open and finding what looks like a decent hand-held size bottle. Curious, you look closer and read the sticker on the front, observing the bronze liquid that’s filled a good halfway up. “If you know how to have fun, why don’tcha try taking a swig?” he nods to the bottle, biting his lip in excitement the show you’ll likely put on. He briefly worries for a moment that you’ll actually do it, but that thought is quickly stored away after seeing your reaction upon unscrewing the cap and sticking your tongue out in disgust at the heavy stench. Billy’s sure that there’s no way you had the balls, thinking this test will more likely prove his point that you’re all bark no bite. You regain your composure before speaking.

“Oh, I could so drink this. You’re making this way too easy, man.” Billy chuckles at your crass attempt at trying to sound cool to impress him. “What’s so funny, huh? Think I won’t?” you raise your voice defensively, gesturing to the swirl of what’s left in the bottle. Billy can’t hold in his revolting laughter anymore as he holds his stomach and slaps the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be kidding me,” he pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “Ah, that was some comedy gold right there. Thanks, Y/N. I didn’t know how bad I really needed that.”

After sitting and listening to his whole schtick about how hilarious the idea of you misbehaving is, you’ve been riled up to the point of clenching your fists at your sides. Steam might as well be shooting out from your ears. Of course he’s exactly like the rest of them, the bullying, ridiculing, and constant underestimating.

“Oh yeah? Well if you don’t believe me, then...” you lick your lips, taunting him with a filthy, no-good glare as he grows weary under the tension, “Watch me.”

You’d taken the bottle and swallowed your pride, giving the finger to everyone who expected you to stay impossibly innocent forever, then gulped at least a mouthful from the bottle. It felt freakishly foreign and warm as it went down, settling deep down your belly and the aftertaste stinging your tastebuds. The bottle’s contents had diminished significantly from the dent you put in, and Billy can’t believe anything he’s seeing with his own two eyes. It’s the first time he’d been stunned to silence, with the late reaction of snatching the bottle away from you before you could poison yourself, or do more damage than what has already been done.

“You’ve — you gotta be fucking kidding me! That didn’t just happen. That did not just happen,” he stumbles, furrowing his brows and throwing an arm in the air in utter disbelief, while his other holds the bottle like a baby, keeping it hidden away from you. “Holy shit, Y/N! I said a swig, not whatever you just did!” he scolds, eyes as wide and frightened like a goddamn cartoon.

Meanwhile, you’d been coughing up a storm having chocked from some of the liquor going down the wrong pipe then cringing at the leftover taste bleaching your mouth. Your head feels whoozy, not that the liquor’s kicked in quite yet.

“That tastes like gasoline,” you point to where Billy has white-knuckled the bottle in his hands, making damn sure you don’t pull that move again. It was his fault, though, and the guilt is stalling right beside his mind for the chaos that has yet to come. He was the one pushing your buttons, pressuring you just as much as everybody else, ultimately making you so tired of it to the point of drowning yourself with the rest of his backup bottle of Smirnoff he kept for safekeeping.

“Yeah, no fucking kidding. That’s why you gotta sip it!” he runs his fingers through his curls stressfully, having burdened himself with carrying the responsibility of taking care for this poor almost-drunk girl in his car. Of course you’d try overcompensating by downing an outrageous amount and being smug about it. He guessed you’d never drank anything before, or at least that’s the only logical explanation as to why you were surprised at how vile the taste had been. Drinkers often know how shitty the taste is, and use a chaser to get rid of the vomit-inducing touch it leaves.

“You people drink that garbage for fun?” you snort, not understanding the slightest bit of why someone would do that to themselves willingly.

Billy rubs his eyes frustratingly, then safeguards the vodka from your reach as he starts up the engine again and pulls out from where you two were parked.

“Yeah, well, it hasn’t hit you yet. You’ll know why when it does.”

—

Half an hour later, Billy had gotten over the stress of being the one responsible for your drunkenness, now just sitting and listening to the weird shit you’re rambling on about. Of course you’d be a lightweight given your inexperience in the matter, but with how much and in such short time, you were an adorable mess. He thinks it’s sorta cute the way she slurs and jumps from one topic change to the next, such as her opinions on how uninteresting Star Wars is right to how sexy she thinks Corey Haim is. The vastly different ideas mingling together all in one conversation nearly gives the boy whiplash, but he can’t help loving it.

“Oooh, oh! Stop the car. I said stop the car! There’s a lake here, we gotta get out,” you rush, poking the window and even shoving your face up excitedly and fogging it up with your breath.

“Why do we have to—“

“No questions!”

Billy holds his hands up in surrender, not believing that he’s really taking orders from a blasted schoolgirl on her first time ever skipping class. School ended awhile ago, but you’ve yet to mention wanting to go home. Although the teen would like to know you’re getting there safely and not getting into any shit with your parents (if they’re anything like his), he’s still up for granting you your first good time.

Pulling in to the deserted area, Billy puts his Camaro in park and getting out, watching as you fumble to unlock your door and nearly fall out in a fit of giggles. He shakes his head at you with an involuntary grin, then scratches the back of his neck as he wonders just what you’re planning to do here. He then catches you when you’re about to fall for the second time getting out, your palms grabbing at his chest and nearly falling to your knees. A smile has still plastered his expression, unable to keep his poker face at the joy you are when you’re drunk.

“This is your first time drinkin’, isn’t it?” he asks, holding you and keeping you upward because you couldn’t walk in a straight line to save your life right about now.

“Whaddya think Popeye? Oh wait, I remember what you think, ‘cuz you told me so! Didn’t it go something like... you’d strongly argue that there’s a giant stick up my ass?” you put your finger to your temple and hum, pretending to think. “Well no one as boring as that would do this,” you exclaim, moving your arms down and doing a drunken cartwheel on the dirty ground. Billy quickly acts, going to pull you back up to stop you from laying down any longer on the gross pavement. When he does, you yank his arms towards where you lay, resulting in him foolishly landing on top of you. You’d yelled ”TIMBER!” while he’d let out a squawk sound at your surprising strength.

“Y’know, I think I offically figured out why people drink gasoline so much,” you point out, getting ready to give him your analysis on your liquor consumption.

“It’s Smirnoff actually, but go on,” Billy smiles and waits for you to keep going on yet another drunk tangent.

“It’s b’cause like, I feel the ground moving real fast. I can feel the way that earth is rotating on it’s axis, like what Jameson talked about in class,” you’ve put your palms to the ground as you spewed, putting your ear down as if to listen to it moving. You suddenly picked yourself up, swingy as you quickly lost balance and using Billy’s hand as a way to stay off the floor.

“I already know you think I’m this bogus loser with bogus friends and does nothin’ but bogus homework all the time, but, I think you’re opposite. You’re cool. Too cool for school. You’re this daring dreamboat, this cliché heartthrob that picks on girls and hands them a bottle and says, ’drink up!’” you conclude the statement, slapping his thigh with another roar of laughter tumbling out from your mouth. Everything is so indescribably funny, and you barely ever laugh at anything anymore, so you’re having the time of your life not holding anything in like you usually have to. Billy, in contrast to you, now feels shame creep back up and wants to give you the apology you deserve. Even if there’s a chance you’ll forget all about it because of your drunkenness.

“I um, I’m sorry you know. For pressuring you to take it that far, I was just upset because you wouldn’t hang out with me,” he murmurs, coming back up from the ground and looking everywhere else besides your eyes. You shrug, not finding any deep meaning in anything anymore, crossing your arms.

“Forgiven. Only if you do a little something with me,” you smirk, coming up to him and tugging at his jacket, making Billy draw away from you. He will not do anything with a girl that’s drunk, and that’s a vow.

“C’moooon, who’s the boring old fuck now? Hint hint, it isn’t Jameson! His name starts with capital B and ends in Y!” you snort, barely balancing on one foot as you struggle unlacing your Converse and throwing them off your feet. Next comes you sweater, and now Billy feels like he can’t breathe properly seeing you in your bra and your jeans marching towards the near freezing lake.

“What— uh, Y/N stop, this isn’t right at all, what’re you fucking doing!” he shouts, jogging over to you in a midst panic. You’re grinning like a baby that stole all the candy, not refraining from snaking the rest of your clothes off. Sober you would be absolutely appalled, while drunk you is having a fucking blast. Billy rushes to you and rips off his jacket, covering your nakedness and snapping his head in every direction as to make damn sure no one is witnessing this right now.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Take more off and join me,” you make a come hither gesture with your finger while heading towards the water, before dunking right in. The alcohol has warmed you up, making you completely impervious to the cold wetness. Billy thanks God that he sees your head peak back up from the water, almost shitting himself at the thought of losing you from drowning or the million other things that could go wrong here.

“Hurry it up, Hargrove! Chop chop, water’s feelin’ fucking great out here!” you shout, both your hands making an O-shape around your lips so he could hear you better. Billy shakes his head, deciding that he only lives once, and this is going to be the most wild thing he’s ever done with a girl. Even though he’d been around the block and done some pretty questionable things.

The teen hurried to yank off his jeans and shirt, and stops for a moment to ponder if it’s really smart to keep his boxers on. He hated being a hormonal boy right then, given that his dick had started waking up at the sight of you waltzing around naked and teasing him. He decides that if you, the school’s perfect good girl could hop in the water in your birthday suit, he had to follow your footsteps and do it too.

“We could get arrested for this,” he calls out, shoving his boxers off and folding both yours and his clothes together in one neat pile before joining you in the freezing cold water. He’d swam much more gracefully than you had, watching you doggy paddle over to him and laugh as you jump scare him with a splash of water into his face.

“Jesus, what was that for?” he wipes the water out of his eyes, his dirty blonde mullet now drenched.

“For taking too damn long,” you smile while spitting out some water that had seeped into your mouth. Billy swims closer into your personal space and holds onto your back, extra careful about where his hands lay because of your being utterly exposed to him.

“Okay, I guess this is when I gotta admit that I stand corrected,” he confesses reluctantly, keeping his eyes on yours and refusing to look down any further. You may be drunk and naked and fucking wet right in front of him, but he remains respectful. “You’re way more ballsy than I am.”

“That’s right, bitch, and don’t you forget it!” you show off, before swimming away with your back floating on the water.

“Where you goin’ now, crazy?” he asks, trailing behind you. You’ve gotten out now, not giving a shit about drying off and shoving your pants back up, along with stealing his jacket and putting it on over where you just wear your bra. Billy can’t unsee you naked, and he certainly never will forget seeing you in his jacket with almost nothing underneath with his own two eyes. His dick has definetely not reacted kindly to the practically below zero temperature water, but it sure as shit tries going back up because of you.

—

Both teenagers barely dried off still, have taken to cranking up the heat to the point of it being similar to a sauna in his car as you both giggle about what just happened.

“I can’t believe you,” he thinks aloud, still so baffled by your drunken nature and what stupid shit you’re really capable of.

“Hey, Billy?”

“Yes, oh-so-crazy one?”

“Remember when I told you, I told’ya I liked all kinds a movies,” you remind him of earlier, and he listens and nods intently, wondering what’s gonna come flying out of your mouth now. “I really do. I cried while watching The Breakfast Club, even When Harry Met Sally. Or Jaws too. Like, all’s movies do is make me cry. Because the characters go and have fun with their friends, or meet someone and fall in love, and I never’ve gotten to do that before. But you’re so fun, and I feel like I got to live in one of the movies today,” you mumble, now having been worn out by the day you’ve had and propping up your arm to the window and resting your head on it.

Billy’s heart and face have flushed to the point of soaring at your confession. He takes on one of his hands off the wheel, keeping one steady on making sure he won’t crash you two, and pets your wet hair and combing his fingers lovingly through.

“Alright, beautiful. Well, I’m glad you had fun, but uh, the truth is that this was all you. You’re hardcore, seriously. It’s pretty bitchin’. But I kinda felt like I lived in a movie today with you too,” he murmurs the last part, still tucking your damp strands behind your ear carefully then gets greeted by the sound of your soft snoring from the passenger’s seat. He chuckles at that, then focuses back on the road. The boy knows this night will always be lodged into his memory, and he’ll never underestimate you again.

—

this was so fun writing! I’ll be starting up on another prompt request soon, don’t worry fellas and ladies and gents

[cherrybracelets]

Silver Linings (Chapter 1)

pairing: nurse!ben hardy x reader ; lawyer!gwilym lee x reader

summary: after just breaking up with your boyfriend of 6 years, gwilym, you find yourself sulking in a bar being chatted up by a handsome young blonde, ben

word count: 4k / warnings: 18+!!! smut!!!! also mentions of getting sick, drinking, and pregnancy

AN: okay i know this is my second fic I’m working on currently but guys this one is gonna be sooooo good I’m so excited to share it with you. love u all❤️

It wasn’t the worst bar in the East Village. It wasn’t the best, either. You had been to both the worst, and the best. This was medium. In between. The drinks were good and cheap, but the crowd was mostly middle aged men drinking away the troubles of marriage. The nice thing was, everyone seemed so preoccupied with their own bullshit that no one saw you sulking in the corner, nursing your third soda water.

You slurped down the last sip of it, making a loud obnoxious sound. The bartender walked over to you and smiled, taking the empty cup away.

“Are you sure I can’t get you something a little stronger than that? It looks like you need it,” he motioned at the bottles of alcohol behind him, his face filled with pity. I’m sure he was used to treating people with pity at a place like this. Everyone had something that lead them here.

“I can’t. I’m pregnant.” You pointed at your stomach, which wasn’t showing yet, and looked back at the bartender. “So just another one of these. It gives me the allusion that I’m drinking.”

“I’m guessing this wasn’t a planned pregnancy, then?” He asked, pouring you another drink.

“Not at all. And it all happened in this bar, by the way. So I blame you.”

“You got pregnant in my bar?”

“No, no. Gross. No. I just met the man that got me pregnant in this bar. And it fucked my life up.”

“I’m sorry about that. Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s a long story...”

“I have plenty of time.”

You took a long sip of the drink in front of you, and placed a hand on your belly. You were sure the bartender could actually care less about your situation, and was just looking for a little extra tip, but you needed to tell your story. You needed someone unbiased to hear it. Someone who wasn’t Ben or Gwil or your parents. Someone who could give you their opinion, without already having an opinion going in.

“Alright, well like I said, it all started in this bar. About four months ago...”

The night in question four months ago was almost exactly the same as tonight. Except you were drinking alcohol. And a lot of it. And you were sad. Very sad.

And then he walked in. A handsome blonde, also bearing a sad face. This was a bar for sad people, it seemed. He walked up next to you and took a seat, clearly not understanding the ‘Let Me Sulk In Peace’ vibe you were trying so hard to give off.

He flagged down the bartender and said “Can I get a gin and tonic, and get her another of whatever she’s having.”

“Thanks, but I’m alright. I probably shouldn’t.” You smiled nicely at him, hoping he would get the message, but also secretly hoping he wouldn’t leave. The company of a handsome stranger was nice.

“I can tell by the look on your face you need another. I know that because we currently have very similar looks on our faces.” The bartender placed both of the drinks down in front of you and you hastily grabbed yours, taking a large sip and letting it burn your throat.

“Why are you drinking tonight, handsome blonde stranger?”

He giggled, and took a sip of his drink. “You can call me Ben. And I’m drinking because I didn’t get a job I was really hoping for.” He took another sip, and sighed. He shook the ice in his cup around, watching it intently. “Why are you drinking?”

“I just got dumped.” You raised your glass in the air and laughed. “Six years of my life, just gone. We were supposed to get married. We talked about it! But apparently a job in San Francisco is more important than all of that.”

“Did he ask you to come with him?”

“Of course. But I can’t give up my life here. I love my job, and my friends. My family isn’t too far, either. I’m not a Rachel, I won’t give up my life for a guy.”

Ben took another sip of his drink, and looked directly at you. He was very handsome, almost like a model. It was kind of stupid how good looking he was. Maybe you were just drunk, but you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the perfectly chiseled angles of his face.

“I didn’t catch your name.” He raised his eyebrows in question, waiting for an answer.

“Sorry. It’s (Y/N).” You stuck your hand out in front of you, smiling brightly. He took your hand gently in his, and it sent shivers through your body.

Ben drank the rest of his gin and tonic in one swallow, and swiftly ordered another. You were still working on yours, trying to drink a little slower, because things were definitely getting a bit fuzzy.

Your brain kept taking you back to thoughts of your relationship, to thoughts of Gwil. You weren’t mad at him, you didn’t hate him at all. You loved him, to be completely honest. And you missed him.

You had spent six years of your life with him. You honestly he thought he would be your be all end all. You had told him the kinds of engagement rings you liked, your kids names were picked out... God, you lived together! What the hell were you going to do?

"Do you want to talk about anything? It looks like you want to talk." Ben turned his body to face you, his eyes wide and full of kindness. He clearly needed a friend right now, and honestly so did you. Although you usually put up a cold front to strangers, maybe this should be the time you break down your walls.

"I do want to talk, but not about this. I'm not ready." You felt your face get hot, the rush of tears coming up, but you managed to take a deep breath and swallow your emotions. Whatever you did, you were not going to cry in front of this guy. You weren't at that level yet.

"Well, do you want to hear about my problems?" He asked, laughing loudly as he took another large sip of his drink.

"I'd love to hear about anything as long as it doesn't involve Gwil."

"I take it that's your ex?"

"Yes. And that's all you get to know for now," you winked. "Talk to me about you."

"Well, as you know, I didn't get my dream job. But it's a bit more complicated than that, you see..." he took a large sigh and swirled the ice in his drink around, his blue eyes catching the neon lights of the various beer signs around the bar. 

"My roommate secretly applied for the job and got it. I guess he was better suited for it than me... but the thing that pisses me off was that he knew how much I wanted that job... I had talked about it all the time." Ben's cheeks turned a bright red, a rush of anger and frustration coming over him. He balled his fists up and dug his nails into his palms to stop him from crying. It made you feel a little better about almost breaking down in front of him.

You reached your hand out and set it on his knee, offering just the lightest touch to let him know he was not alone. He smiled at you, although it was barely a grin, but he did the best he could. He was thankful for you, too. He just couldn't say it at the moment.

"I'm so sorry. That's terrible. People can be so..."

"Selfish," he said, finishing your sentence exactly as you had thought it. "I kicked him out, I couldn't bare to see him everyday after what he did. I'm sure he was planning on moving out anyways but... I won't lie, it felt a little bad ass to kick him out." Ben smiled, this time a full and meaningful smile.

You and Ben sat and talked for about another hour. You both tried to avoid the things that brought you together in the first place, but every once in a while something would come up and you couldn't stop yourself from talking about Gwil. Ben had finally caught up to you on number of drinks, and you saw him release a little bit of anger one sip at a time.

"Thank you, for chatting with me." You smiled gently at Ben, really feeling like you were a little better off now than you were when you walked in.

"Thank you, too. I needed this." Ben stood up, and you finally realized just how attractive he was. His arm muscles were bulging through the sleeves of his shirt, and his thighs went on for days. Again, this may be the alcohol talking, but your brain was thinking about doing a lot of things to him.

You stood up as well, realizing it was probably good to get out of here while you were feeling this happy. To your surprise, Ben wrapped his arms around you and gave you a hug. You were shocked at first, but quickly melted into his arms and let yourself feel something other than pain. He was warm, and strong. He smelled like lemons, and it reminded you of the stuff your mom used to clean the kitchen with in the house you grew up in. You buried your head deep in the nape of his neck and absorbed him for a moment, letting him wash over you.

When you finally decided to let go of him, it felt like ripping away a band aid. You didn't want to do it, but you didn't have a choice. You couldn't stay here forever, just holding him. But in that moment, if you could've, you would've. You guys walked outside together, the sky dark but the streets still illuminated by life going on around you. The smell of street food and cigarettes filled your nose, and you got a queasy feeling.

"You alright?" Ben put a hand on your shoulder, looking at you with concerned eyes.

"Yes, just need some water. And possibly a snack," you said.

"Let me take you home," he blurted, and then laughed a bit, before saying, "Not like that, I mean. I just have food there, and water of course. And you said you were just going to stay in a hotel for a few weeks until Gwil moved. I'd much rather have you somewhere safe."

"And you're the safe option? I just met you like an hour and a half ago, Ben. That's crazy dangerous." You laughed, and raised your eyebrows at Ben.

"I'm not a serial killer, I swear it," he teased, putting a hand on your cheek and holding your face in his hand. You looked at him for a moment, taking a deep breath of city air. And then you leaned in and kissed him. You kissed him intensely, your lips taking charge and telling him where to go. He wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you closer to him, his body pressing against every inch of yours. His tongue moved about aggressively in your mouth- he was not holding back. He wanted you, every inch of you, and you wanted him, too.

When you got to his place, he walked you through the door and immediately started kissing you again, barely giving himself time to lock the door. He pulled his shirt off quickly, revealing a nearly perfect body.

You started giggling and Ben looked confused, shielding himself with his arms.

"What's wrong?" He nervously asked.

"Oh, god, nothing! I'm sorry... it's just amazing. You're amazing. Good work God." You ran a hand over his stomach and giggled again. Ben just laughed at you and rolled his eyes before picking you up and bringing you into his bedroom. He took your clothes off quickly, desperation and need taking over his thoughts. He kissed down your stomach and finally reached your center, devouring you like a midnight snack. He made you cum twice before finally stopping to kiss you again. He hovered above you, kissing you and biting at your lips.

"Can I?" He asked, his tip placed right at your opening. You nodded and smiled, bucking your hips towards him. He pushed into you slowly at first, letting you take a moment to get adjusted to him.

"Go faster," you moaned, ready to have him. He quickly started pumping in and out, his hands dug deep into the sides of your hips. He continued to kiss you, although after a few minutes he asked you to turn around and put your ass up for him, which you did without question. He slapped your ass hard, making you squeal with pleasure. He continued pumping faster and harder until he came. He flopped down next to you and kissed you again, this time much slower and with less energy.

"Wow..." you muttered, breathing heavily and wiping sweat off your forehead.

"You should stay here... with me..." He turned on his side and faced you,  wrapping his fingers in your hair.

"I already said I would. Besides, I don't think I'm walking tonight." You winked at him and kissed him again, just for a few seconds.

"I know you are tonight... I meant until you get your place back. Until he moves out. Just stay here."

"Let's talk about it tomorrow... you're not in the right state of mind to be asking me that kind of question..."

"Alright, fine. But I'll still feel the same way in the morning." Ben kissed you once more, and then rolled on his back. You were both asleep within minutes, the emotions of the day, and the alcohol, finally getting the better of you.

So, the next morning you and Ben both decided that you would stay with him for a few weeks. And things were great. You loved living with Ben, he was respectful of your privacy but also knew when to bother you. It had been about four weeks now, and you had only about a week left before you were going to go back home. Although you would miss Ben, you were ready to be back in your place.

You were both hanging out tonight, just watching a movie, ordering takeout. You usually didn't like Indian, but it was all you were craving the past week, so you ordered Bens favorite and a lot for yourself. You were scrolling through Netflix looking for a movie when the doorbell rang.

"I got it Ben, it's probably the food," you yelled to Ben, who was finishing up some work in his room. You walked over to the door and opened it excitedly, your stomach growling at the thought of eating. But it wasn't takeout. It was Gwil, standing in your doorway, cheeks flushed and eyes red and watery.

"What the... how did you..." you stood, baffled, trying to comprehend what was happening. Gwil had tried to contact you multiple times over the past month, but you decided it would be best not to answer. He was leaving, and you needed to do your best to break the connection.

"I called your mum... she told me you were here. I'm sorry to do that I just... had to see you." Gwil looked exhausted and desperate, falling apart at the seems.

"Gwil... why are you here? You're leaving in just a few days... I don't think I can do this." You felt your heart pounding, and your eyes were tearing up at the sight of him. You wanted to hug him, hold him. He looked so broken, just like you.

"I'm not leaving, not anymore."

"What do you mean you're not leaving?" You shook your head in confusion, about to ask more questions when Ben walked out of his room.

"Hey sweets, is the food here?" Ben stopped in his tracks when he saw Gwil, the look on his face changing instantly.

"Is this the guy you've been staying with?" Gwil asked, his eyes examining Ben. "Yes... he's a friend," you whispered, trying to break the tension between the two.

"How come I never met him when we were together?"

"I met him after we broke up..."

"Oh, bloody hell (Y/N)... you're staying with a stranger? He could be anyone, he could be dangerous..." Gwil shook his head, judgement and worry on his mind.

"I think you better stay in your lane, mate... I was the one that took care of her when you left her alone." Ben walked closer to you, puffing his chest to try and look more intimidating.

"Stop, Ben. Let me handle this, please. Gwil, can we talk in private, in my bedroom?" You motioned for Gwil to follow you, and he nodded and walked in your direction, not taking his eyes off Ben until it was impossible for him to look anymore. You and Gwil walked into your room and you sat down on the bed, throwing your face in your hands and sobbing.

"Love... I am so sorry. I fucked up so bad... I messed everything up. But I am still in love with you, and nothing, no job... nothing is worth leaving you. Please, you have to forgive me... I'm falling apart. I've never been this unhappy." Gwil started crying, a sight that you had only seen a few times in your relationship. He really was broken, and so were you.

"I miss you so much. Every day... I love you, Gwil. I want to come home with you."

Gwil cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, smiling as he did.

"Come home, baby. Come home."

You found out in the bathroom at work. You knew it, though. Or at least you knew something was wrong. You had only been back home with Gwil for about a week and a half, and almost that whole time you'd been puking and exhausted. All it took was the two little lines to confirm your suspicions. You were pregnant, probably a little over a month along if you had to guess. And that meant it was with Ben's baby. You were almost certain of it, and the thought made you... confused. You didn't know how exactly you felt, but you knew you were terrified.

Your brain was fuzzy, and you had to get out of there. So you told your boss you were sick and had to leave immediately. They didn't question it, because they could tell by the look on your face you were serious. You got on the subway and just stood, staring at the anti-vaping poster in front of you. You missed your stop, but you couldn't go home anyways. You couldn't tell Gwil. You couldn't tell anyone. So you got off at the next stop, which so happened to be Bens, but you didn't really realize where you had gone until you found yourself staring at his front door, waiting to knock.

And you knocked. And he came to the door, a bit surprised to see you, still a little mad that you chose to go back to Gwil, but he would never tell you that to your face. He knew you were upset, he saw it in your eyes. He was very good at reading you, and it scared you a bit. It was like he knew you for a very long time.

"Ben..." you muttered, tearing at the hangnails on your fingertips. "I have to tell you something. And I don't know what I am going to do, yet. But I need you to know."

Ben just nodded at you and whispered, "You can tell me anything."

"I'm pregnant."

You both were silent for a few moments, and Ben cracked his knuckles.

"It's mine?" He asked, his eyes tearing up.

"Yes... I'm sorry. I know it's not what you want. I don't expect anything from you... I just... think it might be what I want... and I need you to know." You felt tears streaming down your face now, and saw tears on Bens, too. You figured he was angry, and frustrated. But you weren't very good at reading people, you weren't like him.

"Whatever you decide... I am here for you. I want to be apart of this, whatever it is. And if he... if he turns you away, you both always have a place with me." Ben stood up and hugged you again, much like the hug he gave you the first night you met him. You melted into his warmth, and the two of you stood there for a long time.

"I need to go home... I need to tell him." You looked at Ben and kissed his cheek, before walking towards the door.

"Please call me..." he spoke. You nodded and walked out the door, heading home.

You walked through the door of your apartment, hoping somehow Gwil would not be home, but he was, and you had to face up to this now. You walked into his office where he was laid up with papers everywhere and his laptop whirring away. He smiled up at you and then frowned, noticing the obvious distress on your face.

"You alright?" He questioned, setting down his pen and shifting in his chair.

"We need to talk..."

You told Gwil everything. You told him about the night you met Ben in the bar, about the type of relationship you had with him... and the pregnancy. He was quiet for most of it, just nodding along and biting his lip occasionally.

"Gwil... I don't think I can give up this baby. I want it... as terrified as it makes me, I want this. And I know it's not what you want, I get that. I'm not asking you to be involved. But I do love you, and if you want to be apart of my life somehow I... want you to be there."  You felt yourself wanting to cry again, but it seemed your body had used all its supply of tears, because nothing would come out.

"What about... him? Does he know?" Gwil looked you directly in the eyes and refused to look away.

"He does. And he wants to be involved." You looked away from him, unable to handle his gaze.

"Okay." Gwil sat back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, blowing air out of his mouth. "Do you remember what I wrote to you in the card I gave you on our First Year anniversary?"

"Of course... I have it framed in my office."

"I said, no matter what, I would love you. No matter what, you were mine and I was yours. I'd always be there every night to tell you I love you and every morning to do the same..." Gwil looked at you again, this time his eyes soft. "I may have messed that up a bit ago, but I'm not going to again. You and me belong together. If this is what you want, and you still want to be together, we will make it work. Somehow."

"Gwil... you don't have to... this is a lot..."

"My love, life is a lot. It will take me some time to process this all but... I am not going to walk away." He took your hands in his and squeezed, smiling lovingly at you. He really was the perfect person, you couldn't believe he was going to stay with you.

"So, it's been about a month since I told them both. None of us have told our parents, we're not... exactly sure how to explain it. But I am here, again, and I'm exhausted." You took another sip of your drink and smiled at the bartender, who was trying to find the right words to say.

"I'm sorry about all that... I wish I knew what to tell you..."

"Thanks. I should get home, soon. How much do I owe you?"

"It's on the house, tonight. It's just soda. You deserve a bit of a break, anyways." You thanked him and left the bar, walking outside to another night of city life. You felt your phone vibrate in your bag and grabbed it to see Gwil calling.

"Hey, love," you answered.

"Hey, just checking when you'll be home? Wanted to go over some stuff for tomorrows appointment."

"Heading over now."

"Alright, see you in a few. I love you."

Gwil hung the phone up before you got a chance to say I love you back, but he knew. Just as you were putting your phone back in your bag, you got a text from Ben.

"Which crib do you like better?" He asked, attaching two photos of very pricey cribs he found.

You smiled, your heart fluttering at the sight of Ben being a father. Future father, you should say.

'Fuck,' you thought to yourself. 'I am so fucked.'

[miasswier]

miasswier’s ultimate glee ranking: no 36

36: The First Time

Written by:  Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa Directed by:  Bradley Buecker

Overall Thoughts: This is one of those episodes where the Klaine of it all kind of blinds me a little. Listen, I know it’s not actually that great of an episode, but I love it. I’ve watched it a thousand times and I know I’ll watch it a thousand more. It’s basically the first good episode of season three, and considering what it follows, it really shines. As always, there are definitely things I don’t like about it, but the Klaine of it all really outranks everything I dislike; plus, there’s a few other little details that I enjoy.

What I Like:

Sebastian is hereeeeeee. He’s an asshole, but I love him.

Karofsky is back! I’m glad they didn’t just ship him off into oblivion after “Prom Queen”, and I like his scene with Kurt here.

When Kurt is done talking to Karofsky and looks over at Blaine, who is staring at him and literally begging him to come dance with him, and then Kurt gets between him and Sebastian, and the fucking face he makes at Sebastian when he keeps trying to get on Blaine’s other side fuck.

The scene in Blaine’s bedroom. We so, so rarely got to see what Kurt and Blaine’s relationship was like behind closed doors. In fact, we so rarely got to see what any relationship was like behind closed doors, seeing as most scenes, even between couples, on this show take place either at McKinley or Breadstix. So it’s really cool to see them just goofing off and being the giant fucking dorks that they are.

“That’s why they invented masturbation”

Listen, I have as many mixed feelings about that backseat of the car scene as anybody, but can we all just agree that at least it gave us Blaine looking into Kurt’s eyes and saying, in a raspy voice, “I want you. I want you so bad.”

“I just want to live here and make art and help people.”

I LOVE when Tina is telling Rachel about how she lost her virginity to Mike. It’s such a sweet moment, and I think it’s one of the only times a girl on this show actually talks about the fact that she had a good first time and really enjoyed the sex.

Also, speaking of Tina, her outfit for West Side Story is just… damn. I actually have a very specific memory of watching this episode for the first time and literally getting a full body shiver when I saw her. I think that’s the first time my body visibly reacted to the sight of a beautiful woman. Fuck me.

Mike’s mom coming to see him in the play!

Coach Beiste being so fucking oblivious to Cooter’s romantic attempts. Because literally me.

The cute moment when everyone gives Artie flowers and thanks him for all he’s done. I don’t know why they don’t show boys getting flowers on TV more often? Look how fucking happy he is.

I do like the scene in the auditorium between Kurt and Blaine after the show. It’s nice to actually hear them talking out the argument they had, and hear Blaine apologize for how he behaved. I wish they could have done this more often throughout the show.

Also, Kurt’s breathy “I want to go to your house” and Blaine’s eyes all wide and excited, “Okay”

Finn freaking out because he thinks it’s all over for him. Fuck, that’s such an amazing scene. Probably one of the best Finn scenes ever. He absolutely kills it, and it always brings a tear to my eye because it’s so raw and real. The most relatable Finn moment, actually.

What I Don’t Like:

Artie getting involved in Beiste’s love life, literally going as far as to ask if Beiste has ever had sex. What the fuck. He’s a student? That’s so goddamn inappropriate.

Actually, the fact that Artie told Blaine and Rachel they needed to have sex to really understand the roles of Maria and Tony is kind of gross too. Just, not good advice, at all. And super inappropriate, and also highkey none of his business.

I always seem to forget about that awful rape joke about Brittany. Ugh.

The fact that they cut that mash-up of You Spin Me Right Round/Do You Really Wanna Hurt Me that Klaine was going to sing. That would have been awesome and I’m sad.

They kind of do the same thing they do in “The Break-Up” here, where they set it up for Finchel and Klaine to equally be the A plot, but it’s really obvious that Finchel is the A plot and Klaine is the B plot. It just feels like they didn’t know how to do a single episode of this show that involved a gay couple in any way without shoving Finchel in particular down our collective throats.

The way they go about the set-up for the Finchel sex makes me really angry and uncomfortable. They try and talk their way out of it, but they can’t, they’ve already said it: Rachel is giving Finn her virginity to make him feel better about not getting recruited. AND, before she was planning on doing it to be a better actress. Like, I don’t get what was so hard about “Hey Finn, I love you and am ready to have sex with you,” like why couldn’t that be the reason? Why did they have to do it in such a way that it’s literally just a pity fuck to make Finn feel better. Considering they made such a huge stink about Rachel saving it for the right guy and “for a girl it’s a big deal” they really fucked her over.

I’m not as annoyed about Klaine, but it does sort of frustrate me that, again, the reason for their having sex wasn’t just “I love you and am ready”. They had a fight, and now they made up, and while they both made it clear earlier in the episode that they are ready to have sex, I still think it kind of feels weird that they basically did it as a way to make up. I have nothing against make-up sex, trust me, but for your first time? I don’t know.

When this episode first came out, I loved the Cooter/Beiste storyline. Now that we’ve seen how it plays out, I want to claw my eyes out every time he is on screen. Especially watching Artie push Cooter to ask Beiste out again.

Okay, look, there were not enough Latinx characters on this show to pull off West Side Story. They pulled a few out of their ass for the “America” number, but really, they still had a lot of non-Latinx characters as Sharks. Honestly, they didn’t even have enough people of colour to pull off an “ethnic Sharks vs white Jets” deal. I am entirely convinced that this entire plot was just an excuse for Lea Michele to play Maria, since she was so heartbroken back in like, 2008 or 2009 when she auditioned for Maria and they cast a Latinx actress for the role instead. Cause god forbid they not white wash the role for once.

I don’t really know why they wanted to include the Jets in “America”? It just makes them even more obviously racist than they already are.

Once again a major Kurt Hummel episode where he doesn’t get to sing (made even worse by the fact that he was supposed to sing but it got cut)

Songs:

Tonight: Eh. Tina sang it better in season one. Also, what’s with Rachel still looking down at her sheet music? This is the girl who supposedly was off-script for Shakespeare within 10 minutes yet somehow still doesn’t know all the words to a song she demanded be her solo two years ago?

Uptown Girl: Cute and fun! I missed the Warblers.

A Boy Like That/I Have a Love: I like how they weaved these songs into the narrative of the show. I particularly like the intercutting of “A Boy Like That” with Blaine and Sebastian having coffee.

America: Again, I don’t know about the whole adding in the Jets. I think Puck and Santana sound good, though.

One Hand, One Heart: It’s still funny to me that they had Blaine and Rachel sing this song instead of making it a Finchel/Klaine number. I’m also 90% sure that they spend more time on Blaine and Rachel on stage than on the couples having sex.

Final Thoughts: Yeah, I’ll admit it, I have my Klaine goggles on for this one. There’s a few other things I really like, but there’s also stuff I don’t. Still, nothing will ever be bad enough to make me not watch this episode a thousand times over. Especially the Klaine scenes.

[itsreddiebitch]

Fuck This Shit Eddie/Richie

Hey, this is my first Reddie fic! Please let me know what you think! : )

Eddie knew this was a bad idea.

He wanted to scream at all the teens grossly pushing into each other as the music blasted throughout each room. So many germs, so many diseases, and too many drunk kids. Going to a high school party was not something he usually did on a Saturday night. No, he would rather watch movies with Bill and the losers. Heck, he would rather hear Ricky go on and on about fucking his mom rather than be here. Yet, here he was. Bill had persuaded Eddie to come.

“C-come on Eddie. I-I-It could be fun.” Eddie glared at his best friend who stood at the front door with him. He knew the reason Bill wanted to come and she came quickly to the door to greet them.

“Hey, guys you came! Even you Eddie!” Bev smiled at both boys, her eyes lingering on Bill more than Eddie. Bill blushed and smiled back at the vibrant redhead.

“W-wouldn’t m-miss it for the w-world.” While Eddie was sure that line sounded smoother in Bill’s head Bev did not seem to mind and pulled the two boys into the front room. Eddie turned his nose at the feeling of heat coming from several bodies in the room. Even though this house was not a public place, he could count how many health violations there would be if it was.

“I thought you said there would only be a few people here.” Eddie tried to get Bev’s attention so he could understand how she magically had more than 100 friends. Beverly shrugged not seeming to be that worried about it.

“It was only going to be us but Richie had other ideas.”

“Did I hear my name? Bev, have you finally recognized by undying love for you?” Speak of the devil. Richie swung his arm around Beverly’s arm which earned him an eye roll from Eddie. In Richie’s other hand was a bottle that defiantly was not root beer. Eddie could tell by the look of Richie that he was already tipsy maybe even drunk.

“Eds! You came! What did Bill have to bribe you with to get you here?” Richie put his other arm over Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie looked at the bottle by his ear and pushed Richie off him.

“Don’t call me that! You’re disgusting.” Eddie looked at Richie with disgust which only made Richie’s teasing worse.

“Aw, is someone getting angry? You are just the cutest Eds.” Richie grabbed Eddie’s face a lot more gently than he expected. Eddie still found himself grossed out by Richie’s fingers on his face. This guy could have put his hand all over the house without washing it once. However, Eddie couldn’t help the blush that spread on his cheeks.

“Shut up trashmouth.” Beverly nudged the two boys to get their attention.

“Come on guys, we are sophomores we need to stop fighting and have some fun. High school is not going to last forever.” She was right. They only had two more years till they all would go their separate ways. While application season was far away, Eddie would see pamphlets of different school appear on the kitchen counter every week. His mother wanted the best for him and unfortunately for Eddie that meant a college not too far from her. Eddie felt that his relationship with his mother never was fully repaired after what happened three years ago. He felt that he couldn’t trust her but still loved her as a son should. She didn’t have to know about those pamphlets of schools in California under his bed.

“You are absolutely right beautiful! Eddie, how about we get you a drink huh?” Eddie felt pressure under Richie’s gaze. It didn’t help that the teen only became more handsome and charming as he grew older. It was almost impossible to say no to Richie. All he had to do was smile and Eddie was a goner.

“I don’t know Richie.”

“Oh come on, I’ll grab you one!” Eddie felt himself being pushed away from Bill and Beverly. He turned to see that they didn’t even notice. They both were shyly smiling to each other as Bev took Bill’s hand to lead him to some other room.  “I’m surprised your mom let you come out tonight Ed. I was planning to stop by later to give her a good night kiss.” Richie’s comment grabbed Eddie’s attention.

“Not funny.”

“She can’t sleep without it and a good f-“

“Beep Beep Richie.” Richie smirked down at Eddie before passing him a beer. Eddie looked at the can with disgust. “You know I hate beer. It tastes like piss.”

“Well, it will get you drunk fast.” Richie finished off his beer before grabbing another one.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk Richie?” Eddie’s eyebrows raised as he waited for the older boy to answer. Richie awkwardly laughed before leaning in close to Eddie’s ear.

“What if I am? What are you gonna do about it?” Richie’s voice sent a chill down Eddie’s spine. Richie would always do this. Richie would flirt with everyone boy, girl, it didn’t matter to him. Yet, he flirted with Eddie that most. It confused the fuck out of Eddie. As they got older the flirting only got worse. Eddie would sometimes flirt back which would always stop Richie in his tracks. Eddie would laugh which caused Richie to laugh with him. Recently, it seemed to be more consistent. Eddie found himself thinking of Richie more often than before. The real reason he came other than to support Bill was to see Richie. Eddie knew it was stupid and would try to suppress the warm feelings Richie gave him when he touched Eddie’s arm or gave him a kiss on the cheek. Eddie’s thoughts were interrupted by a girl tapping on Richie’s shoulder.

“Hey Tozier, got a cig?” Eddie turned to see Amy Huston smirking in Richie’s direction. The same Amy Huston that Richie would admire at lunch. Richie would talk about her ass and how he would love to get her in a room alone. The losers would usually beep Richie before he could get into the naughty details. Every time Richie would go on about Amy Eddie felt sick. At first, he thought it was the thought of sex that made him sick but he soon learned it was the idea of Richie having sex with someone else. The day Eddie realized he had feelings for Richie was a Friday. He was walking down the hall, one more class and he was off for the weekend. He took some time from his fifth period to go to the bathroom. On the way there he saw Richie leaning on a locker with some blonde chick close by. Eddie couldn’t help but stare as the girl twirled her hair and moved closer to Richie. Richie responded by letting his free hand trace circles on her arm. The same thing he did for Eddie when he was having a panic attack. Eddie booked it before Richie could seem him but the familiar pain of jealousy settled in his stomach.

“Fuck me.” Eddie slammed his fist on a locker as he realized he wasn’t jealous of Richie but the girl Richie was eyeing. He almost had a attach right there and reached for his inhaler but stopped as he accepted the facts.

He was in love with Richie Tozier.

So as Richie gave all his attention to Amy Huston, Eddie only looked down at his feet feeling the jealousy rise in his chest.

“Anything for a beautiful woman like yourself.” Richie reached into his jacket pocket and handed her a cigarette. She smiled and let her hand glide across his to take the cancer stick into her own hand. She looked at Eddie for a second before bringing her attention back to Richie. She looked at Eddie as if she was weighing her options like he would want her too. Eddie scoffed to himself. What a bitch.

“How about you join me.” She was assertive with her statement, making it known it was never a question to begin with. Richie looked at Eddie with an excited smile and Eddie felt his heart drop. Amy took Richie away to the front porch, leaving Eddie by himself. High school fucking sucks.

An hour passed but Eddie stayed in the same corner he was in before. He watched all the people dance and make out like there were no consequences for their actions. He decided to not look for the rest of the losers. He knew Bill wanted time with Bev and Stan wasn’t even here. He could see Mike talking up a few girls across the room and Ben trying to be a wingman but not really doing much. A few girls looked him up and down as they passed but eventually moved on to find another victim. Eddie did not want to kiss any of these girls. He didn’t want to kiss any girl at all which he struggled with for a few years. He would vent to Bill and Beverly about it till they came to the conclusion that girls were not meant for Eddie. He found them beautiful but not attractive. He never told Bill and Beverly about his feelings for Richie. Why would he? He would just get pity looks from them for the rest of his life and eventually the rest of the losers when they found out. Richie was like a magnet. Even though people complained about his mouth and how annoying he could be, he could get people to like him just as fast. When they started their sophomore year it was like a light switched went off for girls. That light switch was Richie Tozier. Girls from all grades would try to get to know Richie. Rumors began to spread about how many girls he slept with and his constant remarks began to be backed up by them. Only the losers ever groaned when Richie talked about his dick size or how many girls he slept with. He would always add how he had a special place in his heart for Eddie’s mom which Eddie hated.

Eddie continued to look around the room. The beer in his hand untouched. Watching with annoyance until he saw Richie with his arm around Amy. She was even closer to Richie than she was before. Eddie wanted to look away but he couldn’t stop himself from watching Richie hold this girl like how Eddie wished he would hold him. Their lips began to inch closer together while Eddie watched Richie lean in. Eddie wanted to throw up. Eddie’s grip on the can began to tighten. Beer began rushing out of the opening onto the floor. Richie made eye contact with Eddie just as his lips touched hers. He didn’t close his eyes even though it was a kiss. He continued to stare at Eddie who couldn’t look away. Eddie felt his face change from angry to confusion. Richie had concern in his eyes as he watched the smaller teen from across the room. As the girl threw her arms around Richie’s neck Eddie had enough.

“Fuck this shit.” Eddie pushed people out of his way and he made his way to the door. Once he got outside he threw the can into the bushes, making a mental note to pick it up later. The cold fall air felt refreshing on his hot skin. His body was getting red from anger or was it jealousy? He didn’t care as he continued to move towards the back of the house to find someplace to cool down. Tears began to spill from his eyes as he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Eddie, wait.” Eddie stopped but did not turn around. He knew it was Richie but he didn’t know why he was here.

“Shouldn’t you be making out with your dream girl right now?” The question was loud and harsh. Luckily no one was near the back of the house to hear. Richie did not respond right away. Eddie almost thought he walked away.

“Why are you so upset?” Richie did not ask in his normal teasing voice. He sounded concerned as if he was worried. Eddie finally turned around. Richie’s eyes grew wide as he saw tears dropping from Eddie’s chin.

“Why? Are you fucking kidding me Tozier? You have been torturing me for months!” Eddie couldn’t stop himself from shaking with frustration as Richie walked closer. “You walk around with girl after girl right in my fucking face. You flirt with me all the fucking time but drop me when a girl gives you an ounce of attention.” Eddie stepped back almost tripping over a hose trying to keep the space he needed. Richie didn’t get the hint or decided to not care as he kept trying to get closer to Eddie.

“Eddie I-“

“I’m not fucking done here. It is killing me to see you with these girls that don’t give a crap about you.” “ I am sick of feeling like shit after you brag about sleeping with some girl you barely know when I have been here this whole fucking time. I have loved you for years, Richie. YEARS. And you have the audacity to-“Eddie found himself unable to speak due to Richie’s lips pressing into his. Eddie froze in shock. His eyes wide open as Richie kept his closed, applying light pressure hoping the teen would kiss back. Eddie relaxed into the kiss and kissed Richie back. Richie pulled back and looked at the dazed boy in front of him.

“And you say I talk too much Eds.” Richie laughed as he held Eddie’s face in his hands.

“Don’t call m-“Again Richie stopped Eddie by using his lips. This time Richie pushed Eddie against the wall of the house. The music still blasting from inside as people yelled and hollered. No one could see the two teens only a few feet from the window kissing each other fiercely. Richie began to explore Eddie’s mouth with his tongue which made Eddie dizzy. Eddie grabbed Richie’s hair which earned him a giggle from Richie.

“Wow, Eddie you are more of a freak than in my dreams.” What? Did he just say in his dream? Implying that he thought of Eddie the same way? Eddie had a lot of questions that would have to be answered. Richie began to kiss Eddie’s neck which emptied his brain of all thought. Yes, he had a lot of questions but for now, they could wait.

[ohnojustimagine]

Crimes of Passion

Drew Gulak/Gender-Neutral Reader, Breezango Fluff; 1700 words

***

Drew Gulak is, to put it simply, a pain in your ass. And Drew’s a pain in everyone’s ass, but he’s a particular pain in yours. All of the other technical staff refuse to deal with him and his pedantic fussiness, and as you’re the lowest person in the hierarchy, your boss has decreed that you’re the one in charge of keeping Drew happy. But Drew is never happy, always complaining about the most trivial shit imaginable. Nothing’s right, nothing’s ever good enough. Once you shifted his “NO FLY ZONE” sign a few feet from where he’d left it so you could get to some equipment, and he berated you for a solid half hour afterwards, on and on and on until you were about ready to punch him, but you want to keep your job, so all you can do is grit your teeth and take it.

Tonight you watch 205 Live from backstage with some of the other crew members, laughing in meanly satisfied pleasure as you watch Breezango drag Drew off in handcuffs. Couldn’t happen to a more deserving guy, you think, and the show’s just finishing up when your phone vibrates in your jeans pocket. The number’s unfamiliar, but you answer, knowing you might be needed elsewhere in the venue.

There’s some garbled shouting, and you could almost swear it’s Gulak, but you can’t understand a single word he’s saying. “Hello?” you say, hearing the sound of some kind of commotion in the background and then another voice comes on the line. “You’re needed in Fashion Jail,” it says, and there’s no mistaking Fandango’s distinctive half-whispered tones.

“I’m what?” you ask.

“Fashion Jail,” he repeats. “Two doors down from catering.” The call ends abruptly, and you frown to yourself. Perhaps you should just ignore it? Breezango seem to live in their own weird little world where the normal rules don’t apply, but you know they wouldn’t hurt Drew. On the other hand, it’s been made clear to you that the guy is your responsibility, and you know if something untoward happens you’ll get the blame.

So you head off, and just past catering, you find Fandango and Tyler, arms folded, standing guard outside a door. There’s a small glass panel set at head height, and through it you can see Drew’s face, distorted red with anger.

“What’s going on?” you say.

“We need you to make Fashion Bail for Gulik,” Fandango says, like that’s a perfectly normal thing to say.

And you’re not even going to question the logic of the statement, so instead you ask, “Why me?”

“Sorry,” says Tyler. “You were like the tenth person we called, no one else cared.”

And yeah, that’s not exactly surprising. You’re tempted to just leave Drew here, but that seems too much even for him. “Okay.” You sigh in resignation, playing along. “What’s the price?”

Tyler and Fandango look at each other, then look at you.

“If you promise never to wear that hoodie again,” Tyler says, “then your boyfriend can walk, for now.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, and this is my favorite hoodie.”

“Really?” Fandango says, giving you a pitying look. “That’s your favorite?”

“It’s soft,” you reply, feeling defensive. You love this hoodie.

“Softly ugly,” he scoffs.

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll never wear it again.”

“No.” Fandango shakes his head. “Fashion Bail is set at confiscation of this hooded monstrosity.”

“Hand it over,” Tyler says, and you hesitate, but then grudgingly unzip your hoodie, slipping it off and passing it to Fandango.

He takes it, holding it away from himself like it’s on fire, lip curled up in disgust, and Tyler unlocks the door. Drew steps out, furious. “Uncuff me,” he demands hoarsely, turning around. Tyler and Fandango nod at each other, approving, and Tyler unfastens the fluffy blue handcuffs.

Drew rubs his wrists, glaring at you, not saying anything.

“You’re welcome,” you say, sarcastic, but he only rolls his eyes.

Tyler and Fandango both glance back and forth between the two of you. “You feeling what I’m feeling, Breeze?” Fandango says.

“Oh yeah,” Tyler says.

“What?” you ask.

“There’s some weird chemistry going here.” Fandango wiggles his fingers at you.

“Some sexual chemistry,” Tyler elaborates.

“There’s no chemistry here,” says Drew, seeming vaguely alarmed at the prospect. “Believe me.”

“We don’t even like each other,” you chime in, pointing at Drew for emphasis. “I can’t stand him.”

“Yeah,” Drew agrees. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“You need to kiss,” Fandango says. “Now.”

“No!” you and Drew both exclaim in unison.

“Police order!” Tyler barks.

“I thought you were Fashion Police?” you say. “This has nothing to do with fashion.”

“This transcends jurisdictions,” Fandango tells you. “The denial of sexual chemistry is a serious crime.”

“A crime against humanity,” Tyler adds, nodding.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not,” Drew points out impatiently.

Fandango regards him condescendingly, explaining, “The chances of two uggos like you finding a spark like this are so remote that we can’t just let this go.”

“Well,” you say, “you’re going to have to.” No one speaks for a minute, and then before you can even react, you’re grabbed, right off your feet, and you and Drew are shoved unceremoniously into the room that’s serving as Fashion Jail.

“Great,” you say, as the door slams shut and you hear it lock. “Fucking great. Well done, Gulak.”

“How is this my fault?” Drew says, indignant.

“It’s always your fault,” you snap. “Why do you have to have this affect on people?”

Drew doesn’t answer, and so you take in your surroundings. This seems to be some kind of storage room, filled with old office furniture, desks and filing cabinets and shelves.

You sit down on one of the desks, and Drew leans up against the wall near the door, pouting, while you studiedly ignore him.

The silence continues for what feels like a long, long time, until Drew finally says, “Sorry about your hoodie.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, suddenly too tired to stay angry.

“I liked it,” he says. “I like a good hoodie.”

“Yeah,” you say sadly. “It was a good one.” You look up, and Tyler and Fandango are both watching you intently through the glass. “Do you think if we wait long enough they’ll give up and let us out?”

“I doubt it.” Drew exhales, seemingly defeated. “They’re pretty committed.”

“I guess we have to kiss then,” you say.

“I guess.”

“Don’t sound so excited.”

“I’m not.”

He doesn’t say anything further, and of course you’re going to have to make the first move, so you stand up, walking over to him. He’s scowling slightly, and you take a deep breath, pressing your mouth against his. And, to your surprise, it’s not actually as bad as you were expecting. His lips are soft, and kind of warm, and you linger for a moment before pulling back.

Drew looks at you, eyes strangely unfocused, and you glance over at the door, seeing Fandango and Tyler making encouraging motions at you. More, seems to be the general point, so you sigh, again leaning into Drew, and this time, you kiss him for real.

Your mouth falls open, and Drew not only tastes shockingly good, he smells amazing, and you inhale, breathing him in, wondering how you’re never noticed this before. You hear yourself make a tiny whimpering noise and all at once Drew’s tongue seems like it’s halfway down your throat and he grabs your ass, pulling you flush up against him. You can feel his hardening cock, and you reach down between you, stroking it, and things are just getting good when the door of the room is flung open, and in stroll Tyler and Fandango.

You and Drew both jump back, both panting, and he looks like he’s blushing almost as embarrassingly badly as you are.

“See?” Tyler says. “Chemistry. We told you.”

“Oh god,” Fandango says in horror, covering his eyes with his hand.

“What?” asks Tyler.

“Captain Underpants has wood.”

“Gross,” Tyler says, almost absently, as he stares wide-eyed at Drew’s crotch, at the erection very clearly visible through his trunks, while not, you note, actually sounding even the slightest bit grossed out.

“You’re free to leave.” Fandango moves away from the door. “Go,” he says. “Go have your…” he gestures in front of himself with an expression of utter distaste. “Your unattractive person sex.”

“Don’t think about it, Dango,” Tyler says, placing a sympathetic hand on Fandango’s forearm.

“I’m trying not to,” he replies, visibly shuddering.

“You know,” Drew says, thoughtfully, “you guys could give us the key, and we could stay here a while longer.”

Fandango takes a step towards him. “Are you suggesting we let you desecrate Fashion Jail with your hideous lovemaking?” he says. “We facilitated this…” he waves at the two of you “…connection as part of our job, but our duty to you is over.”

“Come on,” says Drew. “Why does it matter?” He’s not backing down, and the last thing you want is for things to escalate again.

“Wait,” you say, holding up one hand. “Will you be making any more arrests tonight?” you ask, looking at Fandango.

“No,” he says. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Then surely this room can be decommissioned as Fashion Jail?” you say, hopefully.

Fandango frowns. “Maybe so,” he concedes. “What do you think, Breeze?”

Tyler nods. “I think we can allow that.” He tosses the keys at Drew, who catches them neatly.

Fandango reaches into his pocket, handing you a condom. He seems to consider for a moment, then takes out two extra, passing you those as well. “Be safe,” he says. “Enjoy your unsightly… relations.”

Tyler slides his arm around Fandango’s shoulder as they start to leave. “They’re going to be naked, aren’t they?” Fandango says.

“Shhh,” Tyler soothes. “We don’t have to watch.”

Fandango stops. “Maybe we should watch?”

Tyler pauses beside him for a minute, but then says, serious, “No, Dango. This isn’t something we need to see.” He glances back at you, adding, “Good luck,” and then they’re gone.

Drew locks the door, and then turns to face you, smiling almost shyly. It suits him, you think.

“So,” you say.

“So,” Drew echoes.

And then you’re kissing, again, and this time, you don’t stop.

[jupiesthoughts]

Kasamatsu, Hanamiya, and Kise trying to confess to an American transfer who doesn't speak/understand Japanese very well?

UESS WHO’S BAAAAACK!!

Okay, I first want to say that I couldn’t have figured out how each boy would confess without the help of my friend, who was blessed to teach in Japan in the next few months. She’s a great Murasakibara cosplayer btw.

Secondly, I changed this scenario up a little bit. The transfer student actually does understand and speak Japanese, but prefers to keep up the appearance that she doesn’t.

So I will be posting the actual translations of the phrases and meanings at the end of the post.

So lets begin!!

KEY

bold/italic = English is being spoken

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hanamiya

You were not happy that you had to attend Kirisaki Daiichi. Yes, it is an excellent school, but you were not happy at the reputation that the school’s basketball team has.

You sighed as you saw two members of the basketball team begin to harass a random student, mocking and insulting them. You were used to the amount of bullying in America, but the amount that was happening in your high school-especially by one person? That was a shocker to you.

You couldn’t help but watch as Hanamiya Makoto laughed as the student he and his teammate had been harassing ran away in tears. Even though it was only your second week in Kirisaki Daiichi, you were warned by the vice president of the student council to beware for Hanamiya.

Yet, despite the warnings you’ve received, you still found yourself secretly crushing on the male. Maybe you liked bad boys and you’re just now realizing it? Or maybe you’re insane and are slowly losing your mind.

Regardless, you were finding yourself liking him, little by little each day.

“Oi, (L/N),” you heard him say, as he approached you.

You slowly turned around and raised an eyebrow, faking that you couldn’t understand him.

Before you could react, you found yourself kabedoned to the wall; his grey eyes connecting with your own.

You tried so hard to hide your blush; you secretly have dreamed of being in this situation…just not with Hanamiya. It was a bittersweet feeling.

“Don’t play stupid. I know you understand Japanese,” he smirks. “So listen to what I’m going to tell you, since I’m only telling you once.” Your breath hitched in your throat as he brought his lips close to your ear. “Suki yo. Ore igai darenimo awanaide.”

“What?” You stared at the male, as you felt butterflies in your stomach. The guy you’re slowly crushing on, actually likes you?

“You heard me,” he said as he turned away. “You suck at hiding your emotions, just like you suck at faking to not understand or speak Japanese.”

As he walked away, his brief confession played over in your head.

…..Maybe you’ll like it here afterall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kise

“Kyaa! Kise-kun!!”

“Kise-kun, sign my photobook!”

“Kise-kun, go out with me!”

You couldn’t help but clench your teeth in annoyance as the chorus of annoying fangirls echoed throughout the hall, making its way into your classroom.

You despised Kise. You honestly didn’t see the appeal of the blond; you couldn’t. He’s loud, annoying, obnoxious and dramatic. And to make matters worse, you knew that he’s fake.

And nothing annoys you more than someone who’s fake.

You will admit that when you first met him, you did have a crush on him, like the other females in your class; however, the moment you noticed his true colors, those feelings changed. Especially once he started to spread rumors about you.

You noticed that he tried everything in his power to get to know you. The one thing that you had a slight advantage on was that everyone in the school assumes that you don’t speak a word of Japanese, when in reality, you’ve been studying it back in America.

“(F/N)-cchi!!”

You groaned as you heard the owner of that voice walk over to you. Closing your shoe locker, you saw him walk closer to you, his golden eyes gleaming with excitement.

“What?” you asked.

“Are you going to come watch me practice?” he asked, excitedly.

You scoffed as you put your school shoes back into your locker, ignoring the glares of hatred from his fangirls who were watching your interation. “Why would I waste my valuable time watching an idiot like you bounce a ball around?”

Kise’s eyes narrowed as the excitement vanished from them. “What is your deal? What have I ever done to you?”

Your eyes widened at his words. The nerve of him to actually say that to you; after starting those horrible rumors?

Before you could emit a response, the blond was suddenly on the ground, a black haired male standing behind him, putting his leg down.

You just stared at Kasamatsu who knocked Kise to the ground and took a mental note to ask him for pointers.

“Senpaiii!! That hurt!” he whinned.

“Kise, stop flirting with your fangirls and get your ass to practice!” the other male said, frowning as the blond got up.

“I was asking (F/N)-cchi if she was going to watch our practice-” he paused and stared at you.

“I don’t care who goes to our practice to watch. I do care that our idiot ace is there.”

“But senpai-I want to tell her that I like her-ssu.”

You froze at that statement. Kise Ryouta, the ‘thorn in your side’ actually liked you?

….You weren’t sure if you should be flattered or grossed out, but whatever it was, something was boiling inside of you.

“I don’t care if you like a damn dog. Don’t waste our practice time asking someone out!”

“Haaaaa?” you said, grabbing the attention of both of the males in front of you. “Did you say that you liked me?” You didn’t care to keep up the charade of not speaking Japanese; you were pissed.

Kise nodded.

“I call bullshit,” you add. “After starting those rumors about my weight and my appearance, you honestly think that I would end up harboring feelings for you?”

“I only started those rumors because I didn’t want anyone else falling for you,” he says quietly. “I don’t know how you figured out my true self, but I’m impressed. So naturally I’d fall for you.”

You pursed your lips together, contemplating the words that he said.

“(F/N)-cchi, mecha mecha suki -ssu.”

You scoffed. “If you want me to even consider liking you in that way, you have a long way to go; you gotta show me that you mean it.”

“Challenge accepted,” he grinned, only to pause. “EEEHHH!? YOU SPEAK JAPANESE!?!”

“Wow…”

“…You just noticed?” Kasamatsu stated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kasamatsu

“So how do I say it?” Kasamatsu asked Kise.

“It’s easy. Just say, “(L/N)-cchi, I like you. Please go out with me.” He paused as Kasamatsu bonked Kise ontop of the head, emitting a whine. “Why did you hit me-ssu?”

“No way in hell am I going to add your weird suffix to her name,” he growled.

“Then don’t,” he replied. “Now repeat after me. ‘I like you’

“ I rike you-”

“No. There’s no ‘r’. It’s ‘l’. ‘Like’” Kise said. “Try again. ‘I like you’ “

Kasamatsu sighed and tried again. “I….l-like you-”

“That’s great, senpai!!” Kise exclaimed, only to shut his mouth as he saw his senpai glare at him. “Continuing on, ‘Please go out with me.‘”

Before Kasamatsu could reply, a laugh echoed throughout the gym.

“It’s finally happened. Kise has confessed to Kasamatsu,” Moriyama laughed only to duck as he saw a basketball fly towards his face.

“No way in hell, you idiot,” Kasamatsu growled as Kise grinned.

Turning around, Kise saw his other two senpai’s at the door. “I’m helping senpai confess to his crush in English-”

“I’m still in shock that it’s your best subject,” Kasamatsu said, interrupting the blond.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” he whined.

Once again, before Kasamatsu could reply, the doors opened again; this time revealing you.

“Kise-kun” you said, as you ran towards the blond.

Kasamatsu couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that he felt; how he was jealous at how comfortable Kise was with you, and how you were with him.

“Hi senpai,” you said with a smile.

“H-herro,” he stuttered, embarrassed at how he stuttered saying a simple word.

You smiled at him. “You ready to go?” you asked, only to get a nod from him and Kise.

When Kasamatsu had first met you, he discovered that you walked home in the same direction that both he and Kise did. So naturally, with Kise being Kise, convinced you to join the duo on their way home after school.

“Senpai. Ask her now,” Kise said.

You raised an eyebrow at the blond’s words. What would Kasamatsu want to ask her? You’d be more than happy to help him in English. Then again, you knew Kasamatsu was a proud man and wouldn’t like to admit that he needs help.

“Now? You’re crazy,” he replied.

“Just do it!”

Before he could react, Kasamatsu found himself standing right in front of your face; a bit too close for his liking (he could hear snickering and a ‘hi-five’ from behind him).

A blushing mess, you both backed away from each other, Kasamatsu glaring at Kise who had just pushed him.

“Did you need something, senpai?”

Its now or never, Kasamatsu thought. Taking a breath, he started to say the words that Kise had taught him. “I…I r-ri-ke-prease-”

As he was struggling to get the words out, Moriyama and Kise were laughing, as Kobori was struggling to hide the smile on his face.

You giggled, causing him to stop and he felt his heart sink. The only reason you would be giggling is because you found this pathetic.

“…Senpai, are you trying to ask me out?” you finally said in Japanese, taking pity on the struggling male.

Kasamatsu’s head perked up at your sentence. “Haaaaa?!”

“EEEHHH!?”

“(F/N)-cchi! You speak Japanese?!”

You nodded. “I’m half Japanese,” you shrugged. “I was born in America, but grew up speaking the language-” You let out a yelp as you felt something hard hit the top of your head. “Oww! Why did you hit me, senpai!?” you asked.

“Because I had to go to Kise to learn English to impress you…only to now learn that I really didn’t need too.”

“He’s embarassed, (L/N)-san,” Moriyama said as he avoided yet another basketball.

“He’s not wrong though,” Kasamatsu said, as he looked back to you. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you just find this funn-”

“You’re too cute, you know that?” you chuckle, grabbing all of the males attention. “Why would I laugh or make fun of you for trying to ask me out in my own language? If anything, I think its sweet.”

Gently, you grabbed his hand, and noticed that his face turned an even deeper shade of pink. “Did you want to try again, Kasamatsu-senpai?” you ask with a smile.

Returning the smile, he too, gently gave your hand a light squeeze. “(L/N), suki yo. Tsukiatte kudasai?”

The smile you had on your face, gave the male the answer he wanted to hear.

“Wait,” Moriyama said, grabbing the attention of everyone. “Does that mean that this whole time, you could understand what we were saying?”

Pursing your lips together in a smile, you nodded.

“So you understood what I said in regards-”

“In regards to my boobs?” you asked. “Yea, I did. No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend yet, you perve.”

Kasamatsu let out a snort as the others laughed.

Guess I had nothing to worry about, Kasamatsu thought, a small smile on his face as he saw you inching closer to him.

TRANSLATION

Hanamiya

“Suki yo. Ore igai darenimo awanaide” (好きよ。俺以外誰にも会わないで。) = I like you. Don’t meet with anyone but me

Since some people consider Hanamiya to be a closet tsundere, another option for a phrase for him to use would be “Deeto ikanai?” (デート行かない?); which is extremely casual, however isn’t as emotive.

Kise

“Mecha mecha suki -ssu” ( っちめちゃめちゃ好きっす！) = “I really really like you”

Its a cutesy way of saying this, and it ends with the classic “ssu”, (which is a shortened version of desu)

Kasamatsu

“Suki yo. Tsukiatte kudasai” (好きよ。付き合ってください ) = I like you. Please go out with me

Due to him being nervous around girls, he would most likely be extremely embarrassed and just get straight to the point

I hope this was enjoyable!! I’m running on a few hours of sleep, so even though I edited this twice, I’m going to do a final edit after work.

Until next time!!

~Orca