#many a time on my way to school i turned back to double check my straighteners were off

[imaginaryberries]

Recently I saw someone on the Glasgow subreddit post about an experience they'd had in primary school of being taken to a 'safety centre' as a class where they were put through various simulations of dangerous situations - like loads of wee rooms, one for example being set up to be a train platform with a track that had a fiver on it, to show the dangers of jumping on to the tracks, that sort of thing. Reading the post was like a jumpscare because I remember this too, and the one that always haunted me was the one that was set up like a kids' bedroom and they showed you all the potential fire hazards - plug sockets by beds, charger cables getting hot etc.

Something I'd forgotten though, but then vaguely remembered once I'd read it, is that they also then simulated a fire happening. Like, room filled with smoke, people banging on doors and acting like it was real etc and you had to escape without making the mistake of grabbing the door handle (as it would be hot and your skin would melt and stick to it) and whatever.

The thing is. Obviously unbeknownst to them but still something that could be predicted to have happened to at least some of the children going through this. I had already had a traumatic fire experience very similar to this a few years previously. When I was a kid my dad's neighbour set his flat on fire and we all had to be evacuated. It was a Defining Childhood Event for me.

Like. The OP of the Reddit post only wrote it in the first place because they'd been explaining it to Australian friends who were horrified. It just seems an insane thing to put children through when like I said, there's bound to be a portion of them who will be legitimately retraumatised by it. I'm a lot better than I was but I have previously been, like, OCD-level anxious about fire, and those two incidents - in fact the 'safety centre' one more than the actual fire - are absolutely the reason why. Obv teaching kids to be careful is important but I feel like there are better ways to do it lol

[alexiroflife]

"five more minutes?"

part 2.

college au, grungy!choso, fluffff, beginnings of mutual pining

choso kamo x writing tutor!reader

Synopsis: your last tutoring session of the day catches you off guard when the hottest guy you've ever seen in your life walks into the writing center

to sum it up: you and choso didn't expect to enjoy each other's company so much and your giddy awkwardness shows it

WC: 3,700

Warning(s): none, just you and choso being cute as hell

-> guys i am speechless thank you so much for +2,000 followers y'all are amazing i love you so much

You, in truth, never wanted to be a writing tutor.

Your English professor had recommended you to do so, seeing that you had a tendency to excel in your creative and academic writing courses. Your major in english and the years prior you spent scribbling away the fantasies of your mind in middle and high school certainly were to commend for you exceptional writing skills now, but you find that any time you’re actually forced to put pen to paper instead of doing so on your own will dulls the experience entirely. 

You can’t necessarily complain too much because you are getting paid (certainly not enough as a junior in university), but you don’t exactly enjoy the tediousness of having to sit down with freshmen who are crawling their way through their introductory writing courses, fighting to keep their engagement as they try to rush you through your hour and a half appointment- despite how badly they need it.

Writing is an art, and should be treated as such, but god, the way the intro courses are treating it and how the students treat it accordingly truly hurts your soul. Especially because they’re required classes, and people never fare well in classes they’re forced to take. You have first hand experience with that.

You’re almost done for the day when you double check your schedule to see that you have one more slot filled before you can call it a day.

Sighing, you lean back in your desk chair and click on the profile of the boy you’re meant to be meeting with. Apparently he’s in a grade above you working on a seminar. You raise your brow, curiosity striking you. You don’t typically find many upperclassmen coming to your services since they normally already have the writing training that they need and have been crafting enough essays to get the hang of things, or are simply too lazy to be bothered with visiting the writing center.

You don’t have much time to ponder it before there’s a knock on your office door frame, signifying the arrival of the person you are to be mentoring. You look up, and the breath almost flies from your lungs when you see a tall brunette clad in heavy, dark cargo pants, a tattered band tee, and a puffy jacket. His heavily lined, violet eyes meet yours tiredly, though after a few moments, a sprinkle of light flickers its way into his irises upon registering the sight of you. 

“I’m… uh, here for my 3:30?” his remarkably deep voice mumbles out as he stares at you pensively, ringed fingers clutching the strap of his beaten satchel book bag. “You’re (Y/n)?”

You blink. “Oh, y-yeah. Sorry,” you clear your throat, hastily throwing on a friendly smile. “Come in. You can take a seat right here.”

You gesture to the chair before you at your desk, and he approaches, slinging his bag from his shoulder to the floor and seating himself in the cushioned seat. 

You scroll through your computer mindlessly to relocate his profile and exactly what he is here for, but you can’t deny the fact that your mind is immensely distracted by the presence of the man sitting in front of you. You can feel his pretty eyes wandering over the room, bouncing over you then to his lap. You clench your jaw to prevent yourself from practically screaming, for this kid is insanely attractive in a grungy, silent loner kind of way, and you’re unsure of how you’ll even be able to focus throughout the session.

“It’s Choso, right?” you ask, turning from your monitor to meet his diamond eyes.

He nods, pressing his lips together. “Yeah.”

“Okay, cool. Nice to meet you. Why don’t you walk me a bit through what you need help with?”

He releases a heavy sigh, scratching the back of his head and averting his gaze. “I don’t know, my senior sem professor said I needed to work on my paragraph structure for the essay part of the project,” he explains almost disinterestedly. “I don’t really know what she means, so I figured I’d just come here.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Do you have a draft that you can show me?”

Choso reluctantly nods once more, leaning over to collect his bag and pull out a thin stack of papers. He gathers them in his hands and as if embarrassed, slides them across the wood table toward you. You take it from him and briefly skim over the words, the title catching your eye.

“You’re a bio major?” you ask, interest piqued.

“…Um, yeah. I’m writing about blood coagulation… it’s kinda boring stuff I guess.”

“No way, I think that’s sick,” you say casually, flipping through the other pages. “I could never begin to understand that stuff.”

You miss the way Choso’s gaze lingers on your face in momentary, subtle surprise. Your eyes fly up from the page to him again, and he immediately looks away. 

You place the papers back down. “I can kinda see what your professor means just by first glance,” you tell him, reaching over to grab a red pen from your pencil holder.

“That fast?” Choso asks, raising a brow.

You chuckle slightly. “I mean, I didn’t get to see everything obviously. I was just browsing, but I do this a lot. I notice you tend to jump from one thing to another without a solid transition.”

“Oh.”

“That’s okay, though. And was it just paragraph structure…? Was there anything else you specifically wanted to look at?”

He shrugs stiffly. “I don’t really know,” he admits. “I’m… less of a writer and more of a researcher. I don’t really- I’m not too good with this kind of stuff in general. I just do the work.”

“That’s no problem. You’ve got the important parts down,” you assure him. “Here, why don’t we move to the center next door? It’ll be easier for me to help you with your paper when I’m next to you instead of sitting across.”

“Sure.”

You believe that you have sabotaged yourself in suggesting so, though moving to a less cramped room is something you always do with your clients. Even so, the second you and Choso seat yourselves beside each other at a rounded table in the next room, with another appointment taking place across the room and rather distant from you, his scent of woody cologne consumes your senses the moment his breeze blows past you with his settlement into his chair. 

Your eyes go slightly wide, his arm inches away from brushing yours when he throws his bag over the back of the chair. While he pulls out his computer and gets his papers and notes situated, you sneak a glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

He beholds the facial structure of a model, a rather bored, tired energy capturing his eyes but emphasizing his beauty nonetheless. His hair, you think, is styled uniquely into two ponytails, but it somehow complements his aura perfectly. Tendrils of chocolate brown sweep over his forehead and behind his ear, and that is when you catch a peak of a tattoo creeping up his neck from behind his jacket collar. 

This guy is too gorgeous for his own good. Part of you doesn’t believe that he is aware of his beauty himself, for he carries himself as though he wishes not to be seen, or more accurately, hardly pays any attention or care to how he is perceived by the surrounding world. He’s reserved, calm, and oh, the way his Adam's apple bops when he clears his throat softly is criminal.

You’re prepared to ask him about his tattoo when you recall that you are supposed to be maintaining a professional, yet amiable environment. To make it obvious that he’s captured your attention and then some would interfere with the entire purpose of his appointment, which he scheduled for academic assistance with you, a tutor. 

You immediately avert your gaze when reality smacks you in the face and you shift your focus back to his paper, sliding it under your palm and ripping the cap of your pen rather harshly. Just as you turn away, Choso finds himself peering over at you, but far less sneakily. 

He had come here expecting to despise the entire process, for his pride is slightly wounded that he even has to visit a writing tutor, but he refuses to allow his lacking skill in essay craft to debunk his grade in something he is so passionate about, and something that he desperately needs to graduate. Besides, he has come for help early enough in the process for it not to have much of a strain on the final product overall, but when he found you in your office, he hadn’t expected to be working with someone like… you.

He was expecting a stuck up hermit who was prepared to tear apart every single piece of his rough draft that he had thrown together, sneering down at him through round framed glasses and frowning at his sheer inferiority within the English department. Instead, he’s greeted with you; a fresh, friendly and drop dead gorgeous face that welcomes him in with no judgment. Aesthetically, and likely spiritually, the two of you can’t appear more different, but you don’t seem at all moved by his dark presence. You smile at him, and you compliment his work though no one has ever taken him as a guy interested in or withholding the brains of one who desires to study the inner workings of the human body. He half thinks you’re just being nice because it’s your job, but he can’t help but take a liking to you immediately solely because of how pretty he deems you to be.

Not only that, but you guide him through each and every one of his stand points within his draft, circling words, marking down sentences, scribbling little notes in the corner summarizing the main point he wishes to get across and how he intends to prove so with his research. You listen to him after asking him to explain something you don’t quite understand, and your eyes search his honestly as he mutters through his intentions that are yet to be properly conveyed on the page. You then nod along with him and tell him that he makes perfect sense when he talks, then you freely provide suggestions about how he can improve this portrayal of understanding in a different way.

And everything you tell him, he understands effortlessly. You have a way with your words and how you transcribe them into something that can be put into paper. You know absolutely nothing about what Choso does academically, but somehow, you magically transform that unknown into what you do know. You tell him that literacy is universal, so it’s easy for you to take any topic and help him construct it properly for literary intake. 

Choso finds himself enraptured by your tutoring. He’s agreeing with you, humming in interest and pointing at the things you write for him, typing away at his notes to record everything he’s hearing. He’s taken by the way your lips move when you speak passionately, intelligently; how your hands swirl animatedly with your speech as you paint physical pictures in the air of what you are verbalizing; how you grin widely when Choso adds onto your suggestions, proving that he is getting a hang of what you are telling him. And above all, Choso can see the joy in your eyes as you help him, how entranced you are by the chance to hold an intelligent conversation about what you have mastered doing and what Choso has mastered doing.

You actually like tutoring him, and Choso can tell because he has come to enjoy being tutored by you within the hour and a half block that you are given.

The two of you only make it through about eight of twenty pages before you somehow get off topic, minutes past your block has ended.

“How long have you been a tutor?” the purple eyed man beside you questions suddenly. You look up, closing the cap of your pen with a gentle smile. You don’t even notice the other appointment in the room leaving, the two of you now completely alone.

“Just for a little over a year,” you say. “I started at the beginning of sophomore year last year.”

“So, you’re only a junior,” Choso observes.

“Didn’t you know that when you clicked my profile on the tutoring site?” you tilt your head.

Choso shakes his head, looking down as he reaches his hand to his keyboard and bouncing his leg. “I… wasn’t paying attention,” he mutters and you laugh slightly.

“You could have picked anybody to help you, then.”

“Yeah, apparently,” he hums. “I’m glad I got you though.”

A certain giddiness captures you as your light smile brightens. “Really?”

“I- just mean, you’re a good teacher,” he adds quickly, brows drawing together. His jumping knee leans over the slightest in his manspreading position beneath the table, leading it to bump against yours clumsily. The two of you look down at the same time, and he brings his leg back in hastily. “Sorry.”

“You’re good,” you bring your shoulders up as you crowd your hands in your lap, his brief contact having startled your nerves. “And thanks. I try my best. I actually had fun during our session.”

He turns to look at you. “You had fun trying to fix my awful writing?”

“No, no,” you chuckle. “Usually I help a lot of freshmen and they don’t really care what they’re writing about, but you really seem to.”

He hums. “I get it.”

“So… why biology? Why blood function?”

“I don’t know. It’s always been cool to me, how much stuff happens inside the body that we can’t see,” he says lowly. “I also… got money to come here in high school for science and all that. It’s kinda always been something I’m good at.”

“You say that like it’s not a big deal,” you raise your brows, turning in your chair to face him completely. He glances at you momentarily from the side, but keeps himself awkwardly forward as he clicks randomly away at the keys on his computer. You can see a dust of pink creeping over his pale skin as he eyes his screen. 

“It’s not really. Plenty of people have scholarships and stuff.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make yours any less impressive,” you say, and his blush brightens. He’s so cute. “What would you wanna do with that when you graduate? This is your last year, right?”

“Oh, uh,” he tilts his head back. “I’m looking for work now… but I don’t know, not a lot of jobs in my field would really…” he tries to find a way to explain. His lips tug to the side and his brows angle, hand finding his locks. “...approve of the way I present. I could probably get away with being a lab tech, but if not, I’d do something behind the scenes. Maybe get another job in retail, too.”

You hum, looking over him. “Is it because of your…” you stop to point to his neck. He looks at you quizzically, reaching his hand to where you point. His face relaxes in realization.

“Yeah,” he breathes out a light laugh, and you shiver. “Didn’t know you could see that.”

“Only a little…” you grin. “What is it?”

He takes in a deep breath, looping his fingers over his jack and pulling it down from the skin by his ear. His face is still lit with a pinch of color as he averts his gaze, tilting his chin so that you can see the sharp lines of ink swerving from behind his ear down to his collarbone, a cyber sigilism design. 

You gulp, your own face growing warm with heat as you examine the way his muscles ripple beneath the tattoo, his face bored though leg still jittery with nerves. 

“I like it,” you say as he releases his jacket and lets it rise to conceal his neck once more. “It suits you.”

He looks at you, pursing his lips. “Thanks. I have a lot more.”

“Yeah?” your eyes dash over his frame out of curiosity.

“You won’t be able to see them,” he tells you, and you snap your eyes right back up to his face. A small smile plays on his lips.

“O-Oh. Right,” you stammer. “How many do you have?”

“At least, like, twenty by now.”

“Really?!” you gasp, rather impressed. “Did they hurt?”

“Only a few, but you get used to it after a while.”

“Hmm. You’re making me think I should get a tattoo.”

Choso’s lips curl into a full fledged grin as he examines you, seemingly amused by the idea. You falter slightly when his teeth reveal from behind his soft lips, a dimple prodding in the corner of his cheek with his smile. “You’d get one?”

You pick up on his slightly playful tone and raise a brow. “Why? I don’t look like I would?”

He shakes his head. “I mean- well, no, but-” he paused. “I guess I don’t look like I’d want to be a medical professional, so.”

You can feel your smile widening, your heart brimming with excitement as he opens himself up to bantering with you. And his smile… you would have never expected such an angelic sight on someone like him. You knew he was handsome before, but now with his eyes shining with humor, his cheeks flushed, and a tumble of shy laughter spilling from his throat, you’re willing to risk everything for a chance to hear him laugh again.

“See?” you muse as he finally closes his laptop.

“Where would you get one?”

“Uhhhh,” you try to think. “Maybe… on my shoulder?”

“Yeah?” he pokes out his bottom lip and nods. “I think you’d pull it off,” he goes to tuck his papers back into his bag, keeping his eyes down as the next phrase falls from his mouth. “Maybe I should take you to get one.”

Your brows jump at his suggestion, unsure of whether he is joking or being serious. He catches your eye when he pulls himself back up, heliotrope pools simmering with that hint of bashfulness as he looks at you through his long lashes. 

“Y-You know,” he starts once more. “After you finish helping me with the rest of my essay.”

Your mind clicks when the topic at hand shifts back to the reason why you are sitting with him in the first place. You turn to look at the clock on the other side of the room and widen your eyes when you find that it is half an hour past when you were meant to be finished. “Speaking of,” you start. “We ran really late.”

Choso perks up, following your gaze. “Oh… shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to… keep you.”

“No, it’s okay! Really. I didn’t even notice what time it was,” you say. Choso stalls with his hand on his computer, having prepared to put it away, but something in his mind is making him hesitate.

“So-”

“Did you-”

You both stop, having talked over each other, and you laugh nervously. “Sorry, you first,” you tell him.

“No, you go.”

You oblige. “Well… when are you free next? We can keep working on your draft. Maybe in the library soon if you want a change of scenery? Or not, we could just stay here.”

You don’t know why you’re all of a sudden acting like a child struggling to speak before him. You are meant to be scheduling a follow-up, as you do with everyone you tutor, but somehow it feels as though you’re asking Choso out on a date.

Before you can say anything more, the brunette is nodding before he even comprehends what you’re asking. “Yes. The library is good. Let’s do that.”

You grin, relieved. “Okay. Cool. Great. When-?”

“Whenever,” he rushes. You blink, and he reels in upon noticing how quickly he answered. He turns away. “I mean- whenever you’re free.”

“Next week? Same time?”

He hums. “Yeah. That’s- that’s perfect.”

You go to stand as Choso reaches for his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The two of you stand before each other, silence taking you as you find yourselves unsure of what else to say. 

You look to the side and notice that Choso’s computer is still sitting on the table. You reach out for it, gathering it safely in your hands and presenting it to him. “Here. Don’t forget this.”

He looks down at the device and his brows lift. “Oh, yeah. Right,” he takes the computer from your hands, brushing his fingers accidentally with yours, before pulling it into his grasp and tucking it into his bag, lowering his head to hide his flustered expression. “Thank you. And thanks for the… the help.”

You nod, smiling. “Anytime.”

You remain before each other for a moment more, neither of you desiring to leave just yet. 

“Should I, you know, give you my contact?” Choso suggests, and you perk up. “For next week, and I guess in the future when we schedule other appointments…”

“Oh, yeah! Sure, here.”

You pull out your phone and let him hover over you, his scent invading your senses once more as he types his number into an empty contact. You call it once he is finished so that your number can pop up on his phone, and he leans away. “Got it.”

“Great,” you smile at him. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

You watch his tall figure trudge away, out of the doorway and down the hall with his face into his phone as he works to save your contact. The moment he leaves, you heave out and press your hand to your chest, excitement fluttering through you in the form of butterflies. 

Hell. What you would have given to get just another five minutes alone with that beautiful stranger. Maybe he would have asked you to hang out sometime properly. 

[fandomwritingbit]

William Afton x fem reader

Babysitter

A/N: This is a second stab at the babysitter trope because it’s just delightfully filthy, it’s not at all connected to the go I had before (which you can find - here). Also this is my first time writing somnophilia so I hope it’s good. 

Synop: Reader is a regular babysitter for William, one night she stays the night as he is working a late shift. He comes home annoyed and the sight of her asleep is just too tempting.

Warnings: smut, non/dub con, somnophilia, age gap, inappropriate relationship.

You pull the duvet cover up over one of the children you’re babysitting, her voice catching your attention with its whiny tone. “I can’t believe you’re making us go to bed this early.” 

You smile at her and shake your head. “Lizzie, it’s half nine on a school night. You know the rules.” She pouts looking at you with pleading eyes. You know that she just wants to stay up and spend some time with you, it’s not surprising, with two brothers it’s no wonder she wants some time with another girl. She looks up to you and as sweet as it is, you know better than to delay her bed time. 

“Pleease, y/n.” She tries again and you chuckle as you turn on her nightlight then her big light off, coming back over to prop her pillows up. 

“Nope.” You say through a grin, “Now lie down if you want tucking in.” She does, though her dissatisfied expression doesn’t shift. And so, bringing the duvet up under her chin you tuck it tight at her sides, just how she likes, knowing that despite the whinging she’ll be asleep in 10 minutes tops. You stand up and head for her door, stopping just before you leave, “Night night, Lizzie. Remember the quicker you get to sleep the sooner we can make breakfast in the morning.” The little lass smiles and you notice the sleepiness of it even in the low light of the room. 

~

Elizabeth is asleep before you can gather your stuff and lock up downstairs, just as you thought. So you go about checking on Evan asleep in his room as of an hour or so ago, happy to find him still settled. They’re good kids, never any trouble really. You’ve babysat for the Afton kids many times, as a local young lass with a liking for extra pocket money it was a handy job. You would pick the two youngest up from school, take them home and cook dinner, help with homework, all the good stuff. Their dad worked long shifts at his restaurant, so usually you’d stay and put the children to bed, getting yourself home once he’d come back. But tonight was different, Mr Afton had told you he won’t be back til the middle of the night and offered you to spend the night in the spare room; which you took him up on. 

The room is probably the smallest one in the house, not that you mind, it is a double bed with an end table and a chest of drawers. You put your bag on top of it, taking out your wash bag and heading to the bathroom, where you then ready yourself for bed. As it’s only one night you didn’t bring any pjs, only your clothes for the morning, so you strip down to your panties, take off your bra and keep the shirt you’ve been wearing today on, thinking that that should be good enough to sleep in. Yes, it’s revealing but if you need to tend to the kids you can always put your trousers back on. 

You don’t notice your discarded bra, abandoned on the bathroom floor.

Once in bed you set your alarm for seven in the morning, knowing you’ll have to help Mr Afton with the school run tomorrow. Again you don’t mind and you’re paid well for your time. And you like Mr Afton. God, how can you not? Such a handsome bloke, lean and sharp. Smart as anything too, you’ve listened to him talk on the phone, all business, shrewd and confident. Yeah, you like him alright. 

~

William gets home in the early hours, some time after 3am and the happy silence of his home isn’t enough to quell his silent anger. An incident at the restaurant has left him with paperwork up to his nose and a tonne of wasted stock, and with rent and utility on the way he was stressed to all hell. Even after staying nearly all night, there was still some much to do when he went back in tomorrow afternoon, and lord knows Henry won’t be helping much. 

He moves through his house as quiet as he can, careful not to wake anyone up even with his terrible mood. Poking his head in on his children, he smiles in satisfaction at your work. You’re such a good little lass, looking after them so well, you’re more than worth what he pays you. Honestly, the kids love you, even Michael isn’t annoyed by your presence and he couldn’t ask for a prettier thing to be milling around his house. He chuckles at that thought, you’re a damned tease even if you don’t realise it. What with all your tight jeans and shirts that pull away when you bend down, it’s hard for him not to look at you, but so far that’s all he’s done. That and a bit of harmless flirting. 

He pops into the bathroom to wash his face, hoping that will help clear away the stress of the day, except he doesn’t make it as far as the sink. Stopping still at the sight of your bra left on the floor. It’s a surprise to say the least, you’ve never struck him as the black lacy type, least of all when looking after his kids. And especially so given you’re not a careless individual. He grins as he picks it up, rubbing his thumb over the peak of the cup where your nipple would harden at such an action. The image goes straight to his cock, he’d wager you are much too inexperienced to wear such an article.

It would be a shame to just leave it there all night, so he keeps it in his clasp as he leaves the room, a naughty idea crossing his mind. 

But as he passes the spare room that he notices you’ve left the door cracked open. He’s not delusional, he knows it’ll be to hear the kids if they need you, but a very persuasive part of him wonders if you could have left it open for him. After leaving your bra in the bathroom it doesn’t seem outlandish, rather like you’ve left him a trail to follow and he wouldn’t dream of denying that invitation. 

The light from the hall cuts through the room as he cracks it open, his eyes quickly finding your sleeping frame laid on the bed and an almost sinister smirk creeps across his face. Such a lovely girl just laid there, having no clue that he was taking in the sight of you. Whether you did do this on purpose or not is irrelevant to him, there is only so much teasing a man can take.

He stands there in the doorway for a moment listening to the tickly feeling in his chest of doing something he knows he shouldn’t, his silhouette casting a large shadow into the room. It’s a familiar feeling but one that just never dulls. 

Still careful to be silent, William slowly enters the room, reaching behind himself to close the door, the room remaining dimly lit due to a lamppost outside the window. His hands move automatically to the buttons of his shirt, still unsure of what he was going to do even as he took it off, dropping it down to the floor. His belt was harder to take off without the suspect clinking noise but he manages it and his trousers follow suit. Standing over you there with his cock rock hard behind his boxers, he feels like some all powerful monster and it’s just delicious. 

The bed dips as he gets in beside you, lifting the duvet up and scooching in until his chest is pressed against your back, your warmth utterly intoxicating. You stir, a soft sleepy moan leaving your lips that makes his dick twitch. This is wrong in so many ways but he doesn't care, especially when his cold hand finds your leg, tracing up to the soft skin of your thigh and groaning when he feels the fabric of your panties. Though he skims over them for now, eager to feel more of you. It’s so easy for him to reach up under that shirt, trailing up over your stomach whilst softly grinding his stiffness into your behind, the knowledge of no bra making precum coat the tip of his cock. 

A cold hand grabs your breast, gently squeezing your flesh before taking your nipple between his fingers and tugging it lightly, it hardens instantly which makes him grin wolfishly. You again stir, arching your back into him, your behind rubbing against his erection. Your body subconsciously leans into the touch so he can’t help but give you what you want, largely because it’s what he needs.

So he shifts position, lifting your leg forwards to gain access to the part of you that was calling for him. He traces over your clothed pussy, brushing over your clit a few times and feeling your body tense with the slight stimulation.  

“Is that what you like, sweetheart huh?” He whispers, his breath spreading goosebumps along your skin, it doesn’t wake you but it’s close to. The throbbing of his cock makes him want you to notice. From there he slides his fingers under the fabric, immediately finding your core slick and gooey, he glides them through your folds, gradually becoming more risky with how he grinds his hips into you. The stimulation makes you moan, your eyes fluttering open and body instinctively trying to pull away, but he holds you firm, his other arms sliding under you to clamp over your mouth, disguising the sounds that tear from your throat. 

He shushes you repeatedly, his voice low in your ear, “Shush, sweetheart. It’s alright.” You’re ravaged by confusion, unable to tell if this was real, the fingers coated in your slick teasing your entrance and rubbing your clit felt achingly so, but how could this happen- it couldn't possibly be happening. 

You groan something into his hand and he briefly pulls it away enough to hear you, prompting you to say it again with a hum. Your brows are knitted as you speak, still trying to pull yourself away from him and the growing feeling building in your core. “...Mr Afton?” He grins into the back of your neck when you say his name like that.

“Yes, lovely.” 

You moan as his fingers find a perfect rhythm on your clit rubbing it vigorously and making the coil in your stomach tighter by the minute. “What… what are you doing?” It’s hard to speak, you’re so shocked that he’s doing this, that you’re living through it right now and that it feels so good. 

He doesn’t answer you, just chuckles into your skin, you aren’t riving away from him anymore but rather grabbing at the quilt now sticking to your sweaty skin, unable to decide if you want all this to stop or if you need him to continue. Your lower stomach is riddled with knots that are just begging to snap, the sensation completely overwhelming. You’re moaning pathetically, causing him to shush you again, you sound so good right now he’s dying to relieve himself somehow and just rubbing against you isn’t enough anymore, not when he knows how sweet and wet you are for him. And just, just as you’re screwing your eyes up ready to slam into your climax he stops, leaving your pussy twitching on the brink of your end. 

“Mr Aftonnn.” You whine, devastated that ecstasy was ripped from your tongue and desperate to feel it again. He moves behind you, pulling down his boxers enough to let his cock out, hissing as he strokes himself. You feel him pressing against your behind, then the stickiness of his precum smearing on your skin. 

“You gonna let me fuck that sweet little pussy?” The sound of his voice is so insanely dirty it has your head spinning, you nod, not remembering that he can’t see you. “Huh?” He prompts again, sliding his cock between your legs, the head notching against your entrance in such a way that it almost makes you jump.  

“Yes. Please.” You manage your voice hazy with tiredness and arousal, he doesn’t wait a moment, pressing himself inside the size of him stretching you to accommodate him. You whimper before he even gets to the hilt, your hands balled up in the sheets. 

He groans, sniggering slightly at how good you feel around him and unable to resist he starts fucking you. It’s an earth-shatteringly slow pace that has his tip pressing flush into your sweet spot, each time feeling like he was stealing the air from your lungs. The bed creaks with the movement, though he only just notices over the pretty sounds you’re making. You can’t help it, your orgasm is raising its head almost immediately and you want it so bad that you’re begging incoherently, grabbing at his hand which has found itself squeezing your breasts. And despite trying to keep the noise down his pace grows faster and more needy, the lewd sound of your wet cunt taking him in becoming more frequent. He’s muttering the dirtiest of things in your ear, mixed in with praise for how good you feel and how well you’re doing.  And it’s too much. Shuddering you hit your climax hard, muscles tensing as your wall clamp down around him and fluttering in the most perfect way. 

He grunts, fucking you more selfishly as your tightness begs him to cum. His pace wavers before he does shoving himself as deep as possible as he bursts inside you, filling you up without thinking. You gasp a little, still reeling from your orgasm but still aware enough to feel the sensation of his cum leaking out of you as he pulls out, leaving your cunt twitching. 

“Such a good girl.” 

[ripdragonbeans]

Love In The Darkest of Places // Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: You and Aemond have been best friends from the moment you met. Growing up, there were many ups and downs but one thing was always constant: Aemond was always there.

Warnings: loss of a body part, gore, blood, profanity.

Masterlist

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3

One thing that has always drawn you to Aemond, even when you two were in elementary school, was his brain. In the afternoons you would work on homework together and on the weekends you would play. School was very important to both of you, even at such a young age.

“That's not the answer!” You cried when you double checked your work. “Math is hard.”

Aemond laughed at you. “Math isn't hard, you just need to think.”

“Says you. You're like a genius!”

You stared at your paper. “Do I have to do this?”

“It's homework!”

“Ugh, fine.”

For a few minutes you worked in silence. It was so until Aegon, Aemond’s older brother by two years, came bounding down the stairs with their sister, Helaena, in tow.

“Give me back my butterfly!” She yelled at her older brother.

Aegon turned around and danced the stuffed butterfly in her face. “Whatcha’ gonna do about it?”

Helaena was near tears. “Please, Aegon!”

Huffing in frustration you turned to the one holding the butterfly hostage. “Give Helaena back her butterfly.”

“You're interrupting our homework time,” Aemond added.

“And Helaena needs her butterfly back, too,” you reminded him. 

“Quit being a bully and give it back.”

“Ugh, you're a bore,” Aegon drawled. He threw the butterfly at Helaena. “Here you go,” he mumbled.

Helaena held her butterfly tight to her chest. “Can I stay with you?” She asked you and Aemond.

You smiled brightly. “Yeah! We're working on homework right now so you can bring yours.”

Helaena bounded up the stairs to get her homework and was quick to come back. 

“Let's take a look at your homework,” said Aemond. He looked it over and hummed. “I don't think I can help you because I don't know how to do that math yet but you can still work with us.”

“Yay!” Helaena plopped down on a chair and held her butterfly in her lap as she worked on her homework.

You snuck a glance at Aemond. He worked hard on his school work. Always wanting to be the best, always wanting to be the smartest. Even as a child he had that drive. Back then you didn't know it, but you had fallen for Aemond Targaryen.

Two years later, you, Aemond, Helaena, and surprisingly Aegon, were as close as could be. You spent every weekend with them. Even if one of them was sick, it wasn't enough to keep you away.

“Sweetie, you're running a high fever,” Alicent, the siblings’ mother, told you. “You should go home.”

“But I want to be with my friends. And I don't want to see my mother,” you mumbled the last part.

Alicent nodded her head. She knew full well what you meant. Having her own history with your mother, Rhaeneyra, she didn't blame you for wanting to stay away. Rhaenyra and her husband Daemon, your step father, didn't care much for you. They cared for your brothers, Jace and Luke, but couldn't be bothered to look your way. Even then, Jace and Luke didn't get the full affection a child should have from their mother. They simply got more than you.

“My mother has a video conference today and I don't want to be there.” You crossed your arms to hug yourself.

Alicent sighed and ran a hand over your hair. “What about Jace and Luke, sweetie?”

“They're out with the dogs and Daemon. Something about training them to be the best.”

“And you didn't want to go with them?”

“No,” you pouted. “I'd rather be here with my friends.”

Footsteps came running down the stairs.

“Is she coming out to play?” Aegon asked his mother.

“I don't think so, she has a fever,” Alicent told him.

Helaena appeared behind Aegon. “Is she going back home?”

You shook your head before Alicent could answer for her.

“She is going to stay here but she's not going to play, okay?” She told her children.

They sighed. “Yes, mother.” And off they went back upstairs.

Alicent took a blanket from the couch next to you and draped it over you. “You know you are more than welcome to stay here at any time, sweetie. Just take it easy and rest.”

Closing your eyes, you settled into the loveseat and soon drifted away to sleep.

You awoke to a soft voice. “Hey? You awake?”

Mumbling something incoherent, you buried yourself deeper in the blankets. You were hot and cold at the same time and you hated it.

“I have soup.”

You pulled your head out of the blanket and slowly opened your eyes. Aemond was kneeling next to the loveseat with a bowl of broth.

“Soup is good to have when you're sick. I always have some when I'm sick so I thought you'd want some, too.”

Your stomach rumbled at the mention of food. As you pulled the blanket further down to your lap, you gratefully accepted the soup Aemond offered.

He was silent as you slowly slurped it down.

You looked at Aemond and found him smiling at you.

“What is it?” You asked when you finished your soup.

A bit of color dusted his cheeks. “Nothing.”

You handed him your empty bowl. “Thank you, Aemond. I feel better already.” 

Throwing off the blanket, you were ready to hop into action but Aemond stopped you.

“You're still sick!” 

“But I feel better,” you countered.

“You only feel better because you had soup. You still need to rest.”

You plopped back down on the loveseat and grabbed the blanket. “Fine.”

A comfortable silence fell between you two. You cuddled into a pillow next to you and played with the blanket.

Aemond broke the silence. “Can I stay with you?” 

You yawned. “Yeah.”

A few minutes passed.

“You can be on the chair if you want,” you told him.

Instead of answering, Aemond climbed onto the loveseat next to you and seated himself between you and the armrest. He sat with his back to you but enjoyed the company nonetheless. With your backs pressed together you were calm and happy. Happier than you've been in months.

Alicent was startled to see you and Aemond both asleep on the loveseat but wasn't surprised. She knew her son harbored feelings for you, even if they were buried. She hoped one day she would see the two of you happy. Childhood was not easy for either of you even though she did her best to make it easy. Carefully, she walked to the two of you and gently woke you up.

“Sweetie? I'm sorry, it's time to go home. I'll drop you off,” Alicent whispered to you.

“Can Aemond come?” 

“Of course he can.” She gave you a small smile.

You roused him from his sleep. “I need to go home, Aemond.”

“No,” he mumbled.

Alicent sighed before reasoning with him. “Aemond, it's late and I'm sure her mother is looking for her. You can come with me to drop her off.”

He mumbled something you couldn't hear but got up nevertheless. As he did, he made sure not to hit you and helped you out of the loveseat as well.

As you stretched, a large groan came out of your mouth. There was still sleep in your eyes and you really didn’t want to go back home. You looked at Aemond and caught his eye. He offered a small smile that you gladly returned. Even though you were sick, Aemond made you feel better just by being there. When you were both asleep it took everything in your power not to cuddle up to him. His warmth was pulling at you but you didn’t want to get him sick, too.

Alicent nudged you and Aemond to the car but you were both slow. You still weren't feeling the best and Aemond just seemed groggy.

The car ride to your house was silent. Both Alicent and Aemond knew you didn't enjoy going home; it was like a prison to you.

But they couldn't keep you forever. 

One day you’d break out of that prison.

By the time you were thirteen you had grown closer to Aemond, Helaena, and Aegon. It wasn’t unusual for you to spend weekends at their house or for you to go there after school. Their home was a second home for you and Alicent was basically your surrogate mother. 

One day, your mother wanted to visit Alicent. She was insistent that this had to be done today.  Alicent, being too kind to decline anything, allowed her, you, and your brothers to spend the day with them. When you saw Aemond, you immediately went to him and left your brothers behind. You heard them huff about how lame of a sister you were but you pretended like you didn’t hear them at all. 

“We’re just about to have breakfast, if you’d like to join us,” offered Alicent after a few minutes of awkward silence.

“That would be lovely,” your mother said as she gave her a sickly sweet smile. 

There was something off about her but you couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

All of you, children included, sat around the table in a tense silence. The only sounds were the occasional slurp, chew, or the ring of utensils hitting a plate or bowl.

“Alicent,” your mother started. “I came here to talk to you. I think we need to put our past behind us.”

You tilted your head in confusion.

Alicent leaned forward and whispered, “This isn’t the time and place to be talking about it.”

“There is no time and place so I decided to make one. Let’s bury the hatchet; be friends again. You know I never meant to hurt you.”

“You never meant to hurt me?” Alicent laughed coldly. “And what hatchet? You mean the one where you left -” She suddenly stopped. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and cleared her throat. “How about you children go play in the backyard. Go jump on the trampoline or play knights and princesses.”

“Yes, mother,” Aemond replied. He quickly grabbed your hand and dragged you outside.

The other children left at various speeds. Helaena and Aegon neadered out towards the back while Jace and Luke wanted to stay with your mother. The two boys were concerned about her. They always were and always would be. Eventually, your mother was able to shoo your brothers away. It was only then that they made it outside with the rest of you.

It was tense at first. You all just stood there and stared at each other. You wish you could say you were close with your brothers to help ease the moment but that would be a lie. You were as distant from them as much as a sister could be. Sure, you lived with them, but they never really included you in anything. Whenever they did anything with your step father, he would only bring the boys and not you.

“So…” you let the word die. “What do you want to do? I like jumping on the trampoline when I’m here.”

“Of course you have a favorite thing to do here. You’re not at home a lot,” Jace said.

You balled up your fists at your side. “At least here I have people I can talk to.”

“Luke and I aren’t enough?”

“You never let me play with you! I’m always by myself, so yes, I come here a lot.”

“We would let you play with us if you weren’t so weird!”

“I’m not weird, I’m your sister. If I’m weird then you’re weird, too.”

Jace looked like he was about to bust, his face all red.

Aegon stepped between you two before anyone could say anything bad. “Let’s deal with this the best way. Stick fight.”

“Stick fight?” Luke piped up.

“Yeah.” Aegon grinned. “A stick fight. Find a stick on the ground to use as your sword and we’ll fight for the hand of this girl.”

“Ew, for my hand?” You made a disgusted face.

“For your honor, whatever,” Aegon corrected himself. “Now, who shall fight whom?”

You grabbed Helaena’s hand. “Helaena and I are staying out of this one.”

“Boo, okay,” Aegon frowned. “That leaves me and Aemond versus Jace and Luke!”

Luke stepped forward, his chest puffed out in an attempt to look intimidating. “I’ll take on Aegon.”

Aegon nearly burst out laughing. “Okay, little guy,  I’ll fight you. That means Aemond fights Jace.”

Jace’s stare burned into Aemond’s. You knew this was dangerous, letting the boys fight, but apparently it was the only way either pair could find peace when it came to you. Aemond and Aegon wanted to fight for your honor and Jace and Luke wanted to show you that your friends were weak. 

“You get five minutes to find your stick sword!” Helaena announced. “Ready…and��go!”

The boys sprinted off in different directions hoping to find the biggest, baddest stick sword in the backyard. That in itself was massive so finding a stick would be no big deal for them. Finding a good one is a different story, however.

Looping your arm around Helaena’s, you strolled around watching the boys dart back and forth. It was entertaining to watch them run around like this. You found yourself specifically following Aemond. Blushing at the mere thought of him, you turned away.

“What has you all red?” Helaena asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You tried to wave it off.

Helaena looked to where your focus once was. “Ah.”

“Stop it, Helaena, he might see!” You tried to get her to look back at you.

A small smile played across her lips. “You have a crush on Aemond.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Oh, my goodness.”

Helaena squealed, “Oh, I knew it! You two are always so close and always together and -”

You grabbed Helaena by the shoulders. “You can’t tell him, okay? Pinky swear?”

Her shoulders dropped when she saw the seriousness on your face. “Fine. I pinky swear.” 

Holding one pinky up in the air, Healena intertwined hers and made the promise. “Do you promise to not tell Aemond Targaryen that I have a crush on him?” you began.

“I swear that I will not tell my brother you have a crush on him,” Helaena promised.

Once you let go you breathed a sigh of relief but still kept an eye on Helaena. She wasn't malicious or anything, but the happiness of her younger brother has always been a priority for her. The possibility of you being someone he could be happy with had her vibrating with excitement.

Together, the two of you continued to watch the boys dart about to find their sticks. You couldn't help but follow Aemond. His hair was getting closer to his shoulders and it bounced behind him as he ran around. At one point, Aemond and Aegon met up in the middle to talk about which stick would be better but Jace and Luke yelled at them for planning, so they dispersed. When you saw Jace and Luke do the same thing, you were tempted to call them out but held back. Leaning against Helaena, you let out a pleasant sigh as the boys wrapped up their five minutes.

Jace and Luke stood facing Aegon and Aemond. Both sides looked at the other with such hatred they were practically smoking. It was no secret that Aegon and Aemond didn’t like Jace and Luke. Aegon and Aemond didn’t like how your brothers, how your whole family, treated you. You were constantly discarded in favor of the two sons and it wore you out. You did your best to hide it but the Targaryen siblings knew better. Jace and Luke didn’t like how close you were with the Targaryens siblings. Sure, they were related in some weird way but being related doesn’t mean that the relationship was automatically good or healthy. You were a prime example of that.

Aegon took a step towards the other two boys. “Ready to lose, losers?”

“As if!” piped up Luke. “I’m gonna beat you so bad!”

Aegon rolled his eyes. “Sure, little guy.” He looked back at his brother then at the other two. “Are we ready to start?”

Jace crouched down in a fighting position. “We were born ready. Both fights at the same time?”

“Yeah.” Aegon nodded his head. “You and Aemond will fight over there,” he pointed towards the trampoline. “And me and Luke will fight by that big tree.” He turned towards you and Helaena. “Will you two referee the fights?”

“And how do we do that?” you asked him.

“All you have to do is stand there and make sure no one goes for the face or,” he gestured to his crotch. “And whoever is on the ground for three seconds loses.”

You looked at Helaena. “I think we can do that.”

She nodded her head. “I’ll watch over Aemond and Jace.” She brought her voice down to a whisper, “Aemond would distract you too much.”

You bumped her with your shoulder. “Oh, whatever.” But the blush was already forming on your cheeks.

“Okay,” Aegon clapped his hands. “Let’s these stick fights going.”

You followed Aegon and Luke to the big oak tree. Both boys were buzzing with excitement, both ready to hit each other. There was a lot of pent up aggression apparently. When you got to the tree each boy stood facing each other about. They held their sticks up like swords and crossed them in the middle. There was a distinct height difference but you knew Luke wouldn’t let that get in the way.

“On the count of three start fighting,” you instructed them. 

Both Aegon and Luke gave you an affirmative nod. 

“One…Two…Three…FIGHT!”

Aegon and Luke reeled back their sticks only to meet each other in the center once again. They pushed in on each other, forcing the other to back off and lose their balance, but they each held their own. 

“Remember, the one who ends up on the ground for three seconds loses!” you reminded them.

Aegon took one hand off his stick to push Luke backwards. They weren’t locked in a standing battle anymore. Aegon smiled a wicked smile as he took a few steps back to gauge what he would do next. Luke breathed hard, taking the push back a little harder than you anticipated. He was frowning but determination was written all over his face. 

“Aw, was that push a little too hard?” Aegon taunted him. He played with his stick, swinging it around.

“I’m. Going. To. Kill. You.” Luke breathed out.

Laughing, Aegon ran at Luke with his stick brandished and ready to hit. He swung hard and hit Luke in the arm. He pulled back and hit him again on the opposite arm.

Luke flinched whenever he was hit but he still refused to back down. Aegon’s constant attacking caused him to take many steps back, he was almost flush against the oak tree. But when Aegon took a big swing, Luke ducked low and went for Aegon’s legs. He swept him off his feet and then got on top of him to keep him from getting up.

“How’s that for being little?” Luke bragged.

Aegon roared and flipped them over so Luke was the one pressed on the ground. 

Luke screamed. “Ahhhh!”

Their sticks forgotten, Luke and Aegon wrestled on the ground. They kept flipping each other over so neither was down for three seconds. After tussling on the ground for a minute or so, Aegon was able to stand up. Luke followed right behind him. He took a few steps back then ran straight at Aegon, tackling him. Luke was so small, though, that his tackle did nothing but force Aegon to take a few steps back. 

Aegon cackled. “This all you got?” He pushed Luke off of him then tackled him to the ground.

This time, Luke was pinned down. He flailed but couldn’t get any hit on Aegon. Aegon soon had all his limbs trapped on the grass. 

“Call it!” Aegon yelled at you.

“One! Two! Three! Luke, you’re out!” you announced.

Aegon got off of Luke and offered him a hand. Luke merely glared at him and got up himself. Grass stains littered both of the boys’ clothes, something neither mother would be happy about. Luke grumbled something about cheating and walked off to the other stick fight by the trampoline. Aegon fell in time with you as you also made your way in that direction.

From what you could see, Aemond and Jace were in a heated battle. They hadn’t lost their sticks, unlike Aegon and Luke. It was as though you were watching a true sword fight. They lunged and parried like they’ve been training for this their entire lives. 

“She’s gonna leave you behind, one day. She’ll figure out how boring you are!” Jace yelled at Aemond.

“She’s always liked us better than you. You might be her brother but you treat her like crap!” Aemond shot back.

You were confused. They were fighting about you?

Jace let out a primal scream as he ran at Aemond, ready to thrust the stick into him. Aemond blocked it and was able to disarm Jace. 

“No!” cried Luke.

Jace, empty handed, stepped backwards away from Aemond. Aemond took his time, stepping slowly. Head slightly bent, he looked at Jace through his eyelashes. He had a sinister look on his face. 

“She’s always deserved better. We’re better than you and Luke will ever be to her. You will regret all the times you’ve made her feel like less than nothing.” Dropping his stick, Aemond charged at Jace and tackled him to the ground.

Helaena started her count down. “One! Two!”

There was a blur, some scuffling, and the next thing you knew, Aemond was screaming with a giant cut up through the side of his face and over his eye.

You and Helaena shrieked at the sight of blood running down Aemond’s face. Immediately, you ran to him. Your eyes went to Jace but he was still on the ground breathing hard. What you saw next to him, however, shook you. Luke was kneeling next to his brother with a bloodied stick. Blood lightly splattered his clothes as well.

“LUKE!” Aegon roared. “What the fuck did you do to my brother?” He picked up Luke by his collar and threw him to the ground.

“Hey! Don’t hurt my little brother!” Jace got up in Aegon’s face. 

He reeled back a fist and was ready to throw it but you grabbed his fist. 

“Stop it, both of you! We need to get Aemond inside,” you pleaded.

“He got what was coming to him,” muttered Jace.

Ignoring the bickering boys, you gathered Aemond in your arms. He was a little heavy for you but you were able to carry him. “Keep your hand on your eye,” you told him. There wasn’t anything for you to use to staunch the bleeding. “Helaena, go get your mother.”

Helaena simply gave you a small nod before racing off to find her mother. Aegon was still yelling at Jace and Luke but was holding himself back. You could tell that much just from hearing them argue. When Aemond groaned you did your best to pick up the pace and get to the house.

“I wanted to make him pay,” he said weakly.

“Shh. It’s okay,” you assured him.

A scream pierced through the air. Looking up, you saw Alicent rushing towards you. 

“Give me my boy, I need to get him to the emergency room.” Alicent looked at you children. “What happened?” She asked as she took Aemond from your arms.

“They were playing stick fights,” Helaena said quietly.

Alicent glared at the boys. “You will have to do a lot of explaining. Now, quickly, to the car.”

You and Helaena ran to the car while Jace and Luke stayed behind. Their mother slowly walked out of the house. She saw Alicent holding Aemond and concern flashed across her face but was soon replaced by indifference.

“Boys, it’s time to go home. I can see that we are not needed here anymore,” she called to them.

While you didn’t want to go with your family, you asked anyway, “What about me?”

“Don’t you want to stay with your other family?” your mother spat at you. “Come home whenever you’re done here.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes but you blinked them back. You could deal with your family later. What mattered first was Aemond.

When you got to the car, Alicent already had it running. Aemond was slouched in the passenger side seat in the front. You, Helaena, and Aegon squeezed in the back, all three of you worried for Aemond. Looking ahead, you could barely see Aemond. Every now and then he would groan but that was it. Alicent would look at him then back at the road. Normally, she was a very safe driver, and she still was as she drove to the emergency room, but she went fast this time.

Arriving at the emergency room, Alicent quickly parked then scooped Aemond out the passenger seat and ran to the entrance. She went straight to the front desk. You and the siblings scrambled out of the car behind her.

“Please, my son, I think he was stabbed in the eye,” she pleaded with the front desk lady.

The lady took a look at Aemond. “Remove your hand for a second, sweetie,” she said softly.

You gently took Aemond’s wrist and pried it off of his eye. Seeing all the blood, you gasped. There was so much of it. It didn’t seem like the flow stopped, only slowed down.

“Yes, we’ll take him in immediately,” the lady said. “Nurses! We need a stretcher over here now! Child with massive head injury!”

Nurses quickly surrounded Alicent and Aemond. They took him from her arms and placed him gently on the stretcher. Without his hand covering his face, you could see the jagged scar on Aemond. Your heart tightened at the sight of it. Aemond being hurt was the last thing you wanted. He got hurt defending you and that was something you’d have to carry for the rest of your life. You watched as they wheeled him away to the back. There was silence.

“It’ll probably be a long wait,” the front desk lady told Alicent. “You’re more than welcome to stay and wait for him but be prepared.”

“Yes, thank you,” Alicent replied. “Come along, children.” 

She ushered you and Helaena and Aegon further into the waiting room. Luckily, there was an open semi comfortable couch for you all to sit on. You and Alicent sat in the middle. Helaena sat next to her mother and Aegon plopped down next to you. In the rush to get Aemond to the emergency room, no one brought anything to pass the time. Instead you all sat there quietly for a few minutes before Alicent broke the silence.

“I need you to tell me what happened, exactly what happened,” she requested.

“Like Heleaena said, they were playing stick fights,” you started off. “When we first got outside my brothers were being mean to me and Aemond and Helaena and Aegon. That made us all upset so Aegon came up with the idea to do stick fights. Helaena and I didn’t do any fighting; it was just the boys.”

“I don’t like how her brothers talk about her. They act like she’s not even their sister,” Aegon murmured. 

Helaena picked up the story. “It was Aegon against Luke and Aemond against Jace. Everything was relatively okay, I think. No one got too badly hurt until everyone joined to watch Aemond and Jace fight.”

“I heard Jace,” you added in. “He was telling Aemond how I’d leave you all, how I’d forget you and never come back.” Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes for the second time that evening. “I would never leave all of you.”

“I know you wouldn't.” Alicent brushed back a stray hair. 

“Aemond gained the upper hand. He was gonna win. He got Jace’s stick out of his hand and he was gonna tackle him to win it. But then out of nowhere, Like came in with a pointy stick and slashed Aemond's face.”

Aegon huffed. “He didn’t want to see his brother lose like him.”

Helaena shushed her brother.

“And now we're here,” you concluded. “I know my mom saw Aemond and the blood on Luke. She didn't seem concerned at all.”

“No, she did not,” agreed Alicent.

“I’m sorry my mother treats you like she treats me sometimes.”

“You don't need to apologize for her, sweetie. She is a grown woman and should know how to act better.”

A calm silence fell upon all of you once again. All of you were worried but knew there was nothing to be done except to wait.

[diamond-rozie]

original prompt: Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program

scene 1

table of contents

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

scene 2: tim’s arch nemesis 

“Have a good day at school Masters Tim, Thomas, and Damian.” Alfred wished, as they all got out of the car. 

“Later, Alfred.” Duke waved as the car left the drop off zone.

The three of them walked together until Tim remembered the conversation from Bruce’s study. He peered over his shoulder at Damian who was trying to act nonchalant as he ditched the principal's office. Tim turned and stopped right in front of Damian ``Ohoho, and where do you think you’re going Damian?” Sneaky little plans for a sneaky little kid, huh.

“Tsk.” He rolled his eyes at being caught 

Tim smirked at him, the words hillbilly civilians echoing in his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the principal’s office?” 

“I was just on my way.” Damian said, trying to seem unbothered as he walked away. 

“Y’know one of these days he’s gonna snap and finally murder you.” Duke mused next to him, before they split into their separate hallways. 

“Better people than him have tried.” They shared a small laugh. Finding his usual seat in homeroom, Tim scrolled through his phone until class started. 

At the bell Ms. Kross stepped to the teacher’s podium to start the daily announcements. “Hello class, happy Wednesday.” She smiled at them, “You’re all chipper as usual,” she commented humorously to herself at the silent audience. “Well today is the day I’m sure all of you have been waiting anxiously for. Before I announce everyone’s placements after the midterms, I just want to remind you all that grades only matter so much in the grand scheme of things, and if you did not score as well as you would’ve liked, there's still time to do better.” Ms. Kross gave them the yearly pep talk, as the system booted. 

Tim had been attending Gotham Academy since the first grade, and he was familiar with the ins and outs of the system now, as opposed to the many students that often filtered in and out of the Academy. Gotham Academy is one of the best schools on this side of the coast and many affluent families would send their kids here. So naturally the Academy was incredibly competitive and so much as one point could move you from 5th place to 50th. 

The competitive atmosphere of Gotham Academy had never been too hard of a burden on Tim’s shoulder. Since grade 3 Tim has easily been placed first in his grade without so much as a sweat, no matter the amount of Robin, or Red Robin responsibilities on his shoulders. Knowing this year would be no different, Tim let his chair lean back leisurely as his other classmates sat forward in anticipation. 

“With no further ado, this year’s first place as for now is Daniel Fenton.” Yup, just like every other- Wait. 

“What?” Tim asked, the front two legs of his chair hitting the floor hard. Tim looked at the screen in disbelief, only to have his suspicions confirmed. 

“Mr. Drake, is there a problem?” Mr. Kross asked, surprised. 

“Are you sure this is right?” Tim asked incredulously pointing an accusing finger at the screen, there's no way that he- Timothy Drake - placed second?

“Yes, Mr. Drake, I assure you this sheet has been double, triple, even quadruple checked. There are no errors.” Ms. Kross smiled exasperatedly. 

Ms. Kross continued down the list of names in the class, announcing their places but Tim wasn’t paying attention. Tim glared at the spreadsheet at the front of the class, waiting for it to correct itself. But no changes were made. The name placed at the top of the list had been burned into Tim’s skull. 

Who the fuck is Daniel James Fenton? 

----

Bonus:

Bruce waited his turn in the pick up line, ready to see his kids' surprise when they found out that he came to pick them up instead of Alfred. When it was finally his turn to pull up to the curb he smiled happily as Tim, Damian and Duke entered the car. 

“Surprise.” Bruce smiled at them.

“Oh, Bruce. Alfred didn’t come today?” Duke asked with a smile. 

“Nope!” He said driving into the street. “Since it’s just us today, how about we go grab ice cream?” Bruce offered, looking at his passengers in the rearview mirror. 

“Ooh ice cream after school!” Duke cheered. 

“I could appreciate some ice cream.” Damian nodded from his seat. 

“Oh how did meeting Daniel go today, Damian?” Bruce remembered. 

“It was fine. Daniel is not entirely despicable.” Bruce blinked in surprise, Damian seemed to have taken a great liking to the kid if he was already calling him by his first name, especially on day one. “Not entirely despicable” and “it was fine” in Damian-speak usually meant that he had had a phenomenal time. 

“That’s great, buddy.” Bruce turned to tell him when he stopped at a red light. “Duke, how was your Chemistry Test?” 

“It went okay, I think. We’ll just have to wait till the results come out, I guess.” Duke shrugged. 

Bruce nodded at the information. He was doing a good job. Engage, Assess, Appreciate. That’s what Dick had said. 

Tim. There was something today, he had mentioned it offhandedly. What was it? Right! The placement release. 

“Tim, how did your-”

“Shut up.” Tim seethed from the back seat. Bruce saw the irritation radiating off of him and decided that today, nor any day, would he be ready to deal with that.

“Ok.”

[dulcewrites]

ewan in the saltburn trailer is j sooo giving private school filthy rich aemond i love it

AND YES HE NEEDS HIS POC GF

I have been feeling…. less than inspired lately about hotd tbh but hopefully this will spark something. I know no one asked for this lol. This was inspired by Beyoncé’s Upgrade U. Honestly, I don't think Aemond would be much of a loser in a modern setting. He would be far too elusive and people would find him interesting simply based on that. But I am combining/changing some lore here so he is a #loser in this like I am assuming Ewan's character is Saltburn is.

Upgrade You

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x rich!reader (wc: 2k)

Summary: You have always enjoyed having a project to build or fix up and Aemond Targaryen is no different

You flick a spoolie brush over your brows as you finished up your makeup. The lights from your vanity mirror illuminating you as you put the last touches on your face.

"I don't get it," Melanie sighed as she hugged one of your pillows to her chest. She sat crossed legged on your California king bed. "You're like the smartest person I know. Why do you need to be tutored?"

"Everyone can improve themselves, no matter what someone's specialty may be. Remember that."

Melanie nodded enthusiastically. Sweet girl, you think. A little daft at times but nothing some time under your guidance cannot fix.

She tilts her head curiously. "You are pretty dressed up for a library meeting too."

"Another lesson," you fluff your curls then turn from the mirror to her. "Do not let anyone tell you that you are overdressed. Does the library have a dress code?"

Melanie shakes her head slowly.

"So, who is going to tell me to change?"

"... No one?"

"Exactly."

Melanie chews on her lip in thought as if she is taking mental notes in her head. Though she is not wrong you are quite dressed up just to be studying. But your advice was also not wrong; any moment to be noticed should be taken and made the most of. If are to come into contact with any of your peers, why not make the best impression possible. You also do not have in it in you to tell your new pupil about the real reason as to why you were making this little trip. Best move through life with your cards close to your chest as your mother tells you. You can only imagine how wide Melanie's hazel eyes would get if you told her what you had up your sleeve.

Much like how you help the girls around you cultivate their futures, you must look out for your own as well. Your phone dings, and you smile when you check the notification.

Aemond Targaryen.

Archaic, some would say. Sending the feminist movement back 50 years, many could argue. Being realistic is more how you would put it. You have money, sure. Your parents have afforded you all the opportunities they wanted you to have, and for that you are grateful. But you are not naive; this is still very much a man's world. No matter how much money you have, there will be people who will look at you and hate you for having the gall to want more. For having ideas and wanting to express them. For looking the way, you do - for using the way you look against them.

You may not be able to have a seat at the table... but you can have someone build another for you.

Your family may have resources and money. But they do not have 'my father can use company family buy his way into politics; my mom has ancestry that traces back to French royalty' reach.

Luckily for you, there is someone who does have that access.

A little rough around the edges, but nothing some TLC cannot fix. It was one of your best traits: finding the diamonds in the rough and polishing them off so they shine brighter than before.

You go over to your closet and open the double doors. As your eyes search over the different handbags, you call out back to Melanie.

"Watercolor Dior saddle or creme Bottega Jodie?"

"Dior," she calls back.

You check yourself in the mirror before existing the closet.

"Well," you twirl for Melanie. You run hand over your midi turtleneck dress. You knee length boots clanked around as you moved in a circle.

"Perfect," she beams.

She sees you out to your car. With the window rolled down, she waves you off like a mother seeing their child off for kindergarten.

"Happy studying!"

Sweet and simple, just how you like em.

———

You always thought the best thing about Oxford was how it looked in the fall. The leaves begun to change, sprite green to a blend of red, orange, purple, and brown. Made the most picturesque background. But it seemed like how gently the leaves fell from the trees was the only thing that was coming easily.

Maybe it was naivety on your part, but you thought when you showed up in four-inch patent leather Aquazzura heels and literally no books, Aemond would have got the hint. And yet, here you were talking about the components of stockholder’s equity, as if you cared.

"So," you interrupt him mid rant. "Any fun plans for Winter break? I know it is a while away, but everyone is already taking about what they are doing."

He wrinkles his nose, his glasses being pushes up in the process. "Probably just dinner with the family."

Right. The compound. At least that is what the Targaryen main home looks like. You of course needed to your research.

"Well, there is this crazy Christmas that happens before everyone leaves," you shuffle closer to him, and you hope he gets a whiff of your perfume. "Maybe we can go together?"

Aemond snorts and looks down bit sheepishly. "Highly doubt, I am invited."

You fight the urge to sigh wistfully. Cute, smart, wealthy as fuck... and apparently awfully insecure. Everyone throwing the party should be falling at their knees to have him around. But you have since understood during your time at Oxford that many students here do not understand the opportunities in front of them.

If Aemond had any real confidence, he'd say fuck it because he could buy everyone going if he wanted to. They ignore him because he allows them to. And then you realize he is one of those people; the delusional 'I want to get by on my merit not my name' kind of people.

Oh sweet, silly boy.

"That doesn't matter," you wave him off. "Besides, if anyone says anything, you can just say you're with me. Consider it a thank you for doing this for me."

You let your hand slip on his thigh and squeeze slightly.

"Better yet, let's call it a date."

Rhaenyra would think for the amount of money her family has; they would be able to afford stronger liquor. But she has a feeling that it has nothing to do with money, and more about the 'champagne only' rule Alicent liked.

The expansive backyard was decorated impeccably, as it always is for the annual holiday party that they throw. Twinkly lights in the trees, red and green everywhere, and even a frankly nouveau riche ice sculpture. The affair was black tie, and Rhaenyra could feel the eyes of some guess when she showed up in a red fitted suit. Taking small sips from her glass, she looks around the area. She swears the more years go on, the less she recognizes who is invited to things like this.

"Don't tell me step-mommy has put you in timeout."

She rolls her eyes when she hears a familiar voice. Daemon comes to stand next to her, with a small glass in his hand.

"No, you fucker," Rhaenyra rolls her eyes then frowns. "Where did you get the scotch?"

"Why do you think I am in timeout?"

Her uncle always found a way around the rules. Rhaenyra blows air out of her cheeks in annoyance. She looks down at her watch; another rule is that they were required to stay at 2 hours. Only 45 minutes has passed since she arrived.

"Heard you are going to the company retreat this year," Daemon downs the rest of the drink and winces at the burning.

"Someone has to represent the family with dad," she shrugs, a small amount of smugness seeping into her tone. "He asked me to go."

"Hmmm," Daemon smirks at her smugness. "You and Aemond."

Rhaenyra blinks confused. "What?"

"Yup," he leans against the wall. "I suppose Viserys has found a new muse."

Rhaenyra snorts at his words but then licks her lips curiously. It sounds cruel to think, but it was never something she ever really worried about - her father possibly preferring her siblings over her. At least not something she worried about in her adulthood. Sure, as a girl, freshly off the passing of her mother and seeing her father marry a woman only six years her senior, rattled her. Aegon being born shortly after only made things more tense. But, and to his own detriment really, Viserys had made sure she came first.

"I did not know Aemond had an interest in the company in the first place."

"He didn't," Daemon's mouth pinches a little. "Not until... recently."

Rhaenyra follows her uncle's gaze out to where Aemond was standing. He always managed to look more grow up than his sibling, more than Helaena and Aegon. A mimicry that Rhaenyra thinks he picked up from his mother, but something seemed different now. New haircut, no glasses, new suit. Armani? No, Tom Ford. With a Cartier tie clip and sparking cuff links to match. He is surrounded by some of the lawyers that work at the company.

"Looks like university has done him well," Rhaenyra tries to sound as even keeled as possible. "Good for him."

"No," Daemon sounds bored with her strained pleasantries. "That is what pussy does someone who has never got any before."

Rhaenyra blanches. The last thing she wants to think about is her younger brother having sex. She sets her champagne down in disgust.

"Don't be gross."

Daemon huffs before directing his attention towards the other side of the courtyard. His eyes zero in on Alicent, who tosses her auburn hair over her shoulder as she laughs with a young woman. A pretty young woman.

"Only met this semester and managed to get a holiday party invite, and a seat next to mother dearest. She must some charmer."

"You know," Rhaenyra starts. "Not every woman that is around this family is some sort of ruthless social climber."

"Of course, not every woman. Only the smart ones."

She sighs. That was not just pointed at the girl, but at Alicent too. Even though Alicent grew up with an even cushier life than they did. A type of old money that even the Targaryens had to give credence to. Strangely enough, Daemon seemed to take Viserys remarrying worse than Rhaenyra did. Hellbent on insisting that this was some sort of grand plan of the Hightowers. Even Rhaenyra over the years had grown to accept the fate that is their blended family. Accepted it enough to be cordial, albeit sometimes still awkward, with Alicent. They have forever been bonded in having to deal with the ever changing moods that come with being in Viserys Targaryen’s orbit. But Daemon... it seems like he has never forgiven his brother for moving on. He seemed to only grow more jaded since the divorce from Laena.

"How do you even know this?"

"Aemond told Aegon who told Helaena who told Rhaena who told Baela who told me."

Rhaenyra breaks her gaze from the two women. "Keeping tabs on your nephew that you barely speak to?"

Daemon gave her an empty smile. Almost a little cruel like he would crush her like a bug if it was not so pitiful. "You naive little thing. When you figure things out, let me know."

Rhaenyra wants to ask him what he means by that, but Daemon pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against to leave Rhaenyra alone.

Alone was a feeling she was used to. Rhaenyra often found solace in the loneliness that she found herself stuck in. If she did not find comfort in it, it would swallow her whole. Jaw unhinged and bloodthirsty.

Her eyes went back to the where Alicent and the girl were sitting, but Helaena seemed to replace the girl's place to speak with her mother. Instead of getting chummy with Alicent, the mystery woman had gone over to Aemond. Rhaenyra felt a little queasy watching them. Like watching two little dolls or those silly little cake toppers people get. Picture perfect like the stock photos that came in picture frames.

She shook her head at herself with an internal laugh. Here she was picking apart her baby brother's seemingly first real relationship; she was no better than Daemon if she did that. It was what she told herself when she watched one of the wives of the company's lawyers come up to the girl and give her kiss on the cheek. Like they were old family friends. Rhaenyra suddenly finds herself straightening out her jacket and her heels moving across the outdoor area. Might as well introduce herself... as a kind sister figure, of course.

She had a funny feeling she will be seeing this girl around more often.

[sunarots]

so high school ━━━ atsumu miya

24. dinner date ♡

You look at your reflection in the mirror, regretting not bringing some basic makeup. The fear of someone seeing the two of you and taking a picture (or ten) and uploading them online has your heart pounding, but knowing that it’s Atsumu with you makes you feel slightly more at ease.

And, of course, the worries in your mind on why Atsumu asked you for dinner on this ‘date’. Could you even call it a date? A pretend date? Who knows… The complexity of your fake relationship has played a major part on you not wanting to leave the house, knowing that someone would spot the two of yous and rip you apart even more. But, you couldn’t deny that you were relieved how close you had gotten to Atsumu. Even more so that he seemed to forget that you were pretending in private, what with your many evenings spent together on the sofa watching movies.

Did he want a relationship? Is that why he asked you here? Was he going to confess?

You splash some of the cold water in your face, an attempt to distract yourself from the thoughts running rampant in your mind. Taking in a deep breath and flattening out your dress, you gather your things from the hook on the back of the bathroom door and make your way out from the staff area and head towards the table. You give a small smile to the bar supervisor in passing, who'd shown you the ropes and basics for serving drinks and how they take orders.

You try to avoid the tables where people are sitting to get over to Atsumu as unnoticed as possible, sliding into the seat facing towards the door. "Are you sure you don't mind paying? I can pay-"

"If you say yer gonna pay me back for anything ever again, I'm gonna have Omi chase you around the apartment with a spider," he threatens, pulling his mask down to sit beneath his chin. He takes a sip of his coke, running a finger around the rim of the glass. "Do ya know what yer having?"

You nod your head, picking up the menu and pointing to it. "Kelp and soy sauce onigiri. It caught my eye immediately. What're you having?" You lean forward, elbows on the table for support to see what he'll say.

"Tuna mayo, I love tuna." Atsumu closes over the menu, setting it down carefully on the table top. He fills up a glass with the water he'd got for the table and slides one over to you before filling one for himself. "So, how was the first day? Think yer gonna be back?"

You nod your head, taking a sip of the water with a small smile. "Yeah. It was really good. It's not the first customer service job I've had. The hardest thing is remembering how to take the order. It's numbers and letters, and I'm so lost half the time. But I'll get used to it. I was also shown the ropes on the bar, too. So I can now make very basic alcoholic drinks."

Atsumu grins. “Well, I just got even luckier.”

You can’t help but laugh at his comment, covering your mouth with your hand and leaning back in your seat. “What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.” You shrug your shoulders and try to stop yourself from laughing even more, taking another drink of water to try and help your drying throat. “How did practice go?”

“So productive,” he answers, his eyes rolling as he speaks. “Apparently it was my fault that Bokuto wasn’t feeling his best, but I’ve not done anything to him!”

You scratch the back of your neck, avoiding eye contact so you can get out, “Well, we are kinda forcing him to keep this secret…”

When you look back at him, he’s running his fingers across his chin, visibly cringing. “Shit… I didn’t think about that.” He sips his coke, setting it back down. He goes to speak, immediately stopping himself when his brother appears by his side.

“Hey, I know what her having, but I need to double check what y/n’s having.” He looks at you, waiting for your response. Once you confirm your order, you turn back to face Atsumu your anxiety returning.

He’s playing with the chopsticks once set carefully on the table, twirling them in his hands. You can feel his knee bouncing beneath the table. When his eyes lock with yours, you try to read his expression. There’s an unfamiliar look in his eye, a strong fear.

He clears his throat, looking around to make sure no one’s near enough to hear him and sets the chopsticks back down. “Do you…regret this?”

You furrow your eyebrows, heart stopping. You adjust the strap of your dress, straightening your posture and trying to hide the hurt on your face. “Oh… Um, I- I don’t. Do you?”

Atsumu rapidly shakes his head, holding up his hands. “No, no, no. That’s not- that’s not why I asked. I don’t regret it. Like, at all. I just…” He takes in a deep breath to calm himself, regain his thoughts. “It’s just that my fans can be a lot sometimes, and I don’t want ya to feel like they matter more to me. They do matter, but not the mean ones. I don’t claim them.”

You feel your nerves melt away, a warmth growing in your chest. Your smile grows, a soft laugh of relief slipping past your lips. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’re a hot and famous guy.”

You realise what you’ve said when Atsumu reacts, his eyes wide and his signature cocky grin. “Y/n l/n. You think I’m hot.”

Feeling the heat rising to your cheeks, you’re thankful that one of the waitresses is approaching with your food.

“Hi, Miya-san. I’m assuming the fatty tuna is for you?” He nods, picking up his chopsticks and saying a quiet thank you.

Once the waitress has set the food in front of you and backed away, you immediately start eating to try and stop Atsumu from saying anything else. For the most part, it works. The meal is silent, save for compliments over the food. Once you both finish, you take Atsumu’s plate and set it atop yours.

“I’ll take these up-“

Atsumu stops you, taking the plates from your hands and shaking his head. “You’ve been working all day, I’ll do it for ya.” You don’t have a chance to offer, because he’s already out of the seat and away from you.

Settling back in your seat, you keep your eyes fixed on him. Your eyes scan his outfit, the tight-fitted shirt framing his muscles and a pair of baggy jeans that are hugging his thighs. Atsumu leans across the bar, handing over the plates and saying something that makes the supervisor laugh. He waves to his brother, before turning around locking eyes with you, the corners of his mouth tugging up. He taps his hand against the bar, pushing himself away and making his was towards your table. He slips back into his seat, dusting his hands off on his jeans. “Don’t think I’m letting ya forget ya said that I’m hot.”

You press your lips into a firm line, trying to stop yourself from embarrassing yourself anymore. You fight back the smile wanting to show, running your fingertip along the edge of the table and considering your options: deny it, or push your luck. “I have eyes,” you mumble, a part of you hoping he doesn’t hear it.

Unfortunately for you, he does. He straightens up, laughing louder than he should have, and raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the same one who said ya can’t have my ego getting too big?”

You shrug your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ears. “You know you’re hot. Your ego’s already big in that area.” You tuck your hair behind your ears.

Atsumu takes in a deep breath, forcing out, “I really like ya, y/n. A lot.”

It takes a moment for you to process his words, leaning further back into your seat. Your heartbeat grows faster, taking a sip of water to try and keep yourself calm. “What?”

He looks around himself before clearing his throat, leaning forward over the table. “Um, I like ya. I have for… a bit. A few weeks. And I’d like to see where this takes us.” He waits patiently for your answer, elbows rest on the wood. Despite the confidence on his face, you can see the concern in his eye.

“Really?” Eagerly, he nods his head. You can feel the smile breaking through. “I’d like that.”

Atsumu’s quick to rise to his feet, the chair squeaking against the wood. He tucks it under the table, outstretching a hand to you. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

# fun facts !

unlike y/n, atsumu didn’t go through her drawers

masterlist. previous | next

summary. after your best friend reveals he’s moving out of your shared flat, you’re presented with a tough choice: let one of the creeps who are begging you to let them move in with you, or find a cheaper flat in another area of town. a do-over couldn’t have come at a better time for you, but your only option for a place to stay is with someone your best friend knew from high school, and his two teammates.

taglist (open!). @reignsaway @yuminako @thiisisntlovely @diorzs @aboutkiyoomi @spicana @bakingcuriosity @kr1nqu @savemebrazilhinata @dazqa @sereniteav @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @sleezzsister @hermaeusmorax @giocriedpower @sophosphorescent @gigiiiiislife @zazathezaer @rrosiitas @iaminyourfloors @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sillygooseymood @ellouisa17 @wakashudou @punkhazardlaw @arminswife12 @libbymeows @thomatri @nanamis-right-tiddie

[anzulvr]

How would first kiss with Karma look like?

♡ Karma x reader, oneshot! ♡

Korosensei is DEFINITELY playing a part in this.

He’s dragging the entire class down with him too.

It’s like the same vibe to what they tried to do with Karasuma and Irina. ( Where they’re over here trying to play Cupid and matchmake people.)

Neither one of you will admit to the other you like eachother so they take it into their own hands

The first Step of Class E’s plan was set in motion, Korosensei had handed everyone a personalized pop quiz.

He made sure to give you math questions he knew you’d struggle with because that’s Karmas strongest subject.

He did the same with Karma giving him very complicated questions on (your favorite subject but anything other than math).

He pulled Karma and you aside asking you to tutor eachother.

Karma would be helping you in math and you’d be helping him in (subject).

You were both pretty confused because Korosensei could help the whole class study at once if he wanted to but neither of you said it since it was a good excuse to hang out with eachother after school.

Step 2 was up and done by the time you were headed to Karmas house to study.

Thanks to Itona and Ritsu they’d gotten a couple of tech tricks down their sleeves ready to go.

You start working on the assignments and after a few minutes of talking the song double take by DHRUV starts lightly playing in the background.

“Can you hear that?”

“..yeah what the hell??”

Step 3 is set in motion

Sugino is in charge of dimming the lights and so he does 😭

Then [favorite flower] appears in your hand.

Korosensei put it there at mock 20, he also shoved Karma towards you.

Muramatsu and Hara were in charge of dropping rose petals down the stairs.

It’s so awkward and Karma gets back to his spot so quickly.

Now both of you are visibly embarrassed😭

“I swear I don’t know where any of this is coming from.”

“This has to be Korosenseis way of messing with us.”

You both start looking around, then, lo and behold Rio and Fuwa fall out of the cabinet they were hiding in.

“Rio I told you you were taking up too much space!”

“I was trying my legs were hurting!”

Korosensei gets out of his hiding spot to frantically checking to see if they’re hurt.

Since their cover was already blown the rest of the class came out of where they were hiding.

It was actually pretty impressive how so many of them managed to hide in silence for long, minus the way Rio and Fuwa fell, everyone had been really sneaky.

You look around and notice Korosensei had a camera on him, Maehara took a step forward getting out of the curtain he was hidden behind of and winced when he realized he accidentally pulled the rope that was attached to a “Congratulations on your Relationship!” Banner. (They couldn’t find one in store so Sugaya designed it and Ritsu got it printed out.)

After seeing Maehara messed up anyway Okajima pops one of those little confetti cannons when he notices everyone turned to look at him he goes “sorry the urge was too strong I really wanted to do that.”

Everyone starts frantically apologizing like:

“We shouldn’t have done this we’re sorry for being pushy!”

“Yeah- also Karma we ate the brownies in your fridge, planning this was a lot of work.”

Except for Terasaka and Hazama both of them are just like “You’re telling me we were dragged here for nothing??”

Nagisa is the last person to say anything “We were being pushy I know- but we only wanted to help you out since you like eachother.”

Before you can reply they’re out the door. (They were too scared to hear anything Karma had to say)

The second they leave you both are laughing so hard and just poking fun at the whole situation.

“What where they even going for they made it seem like a proposal—”

“Right! I thought I was imagining things until Rio and Fuwa face planted!”

After a while of joking back and fourth you decide to bring Nagisas apology up.

“About what Nagisa said… you like me?”

“what about you- do you like me?”

“Hey! I asked you first.”

“I thought it was obvious I do.”

Karma leans closer to you

“Can I?”

You kiss him and *click*

Korosensei was at the window with the Camera still, he flew off fast when he realized the flash was on.

“Huh maybe they’re plan wasn’t as stupid as we thought.”

“Do you think the whole “im sorry” act was apart of the plan or just a happy accident?”

“Happy accident? I take it you liked the kiss then?”

“Shut up.”

[deathshallbethelastenemy]

where you go, i go (2)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader (soulmate AU)

TW⚠️: angst, toji being toji, reader thinks about killing someone, gojo is in his tweaked out enlightenment era soooooo gojo a little creepy and eerie

Part 2 of what you see, i see

She had been going through the motions for the rest of the day, she hadn't even bothered to stop by her school clubs, until she arrived home. A sickly sweet scent of pastries attacked her senses the second she entered. Her house doubled as a bakery for the first floor. It was a popular hang out place for people her age especially for couples. There was a parade of them this time - cheerful couples were already sharing their coffees and sugary pastries.

The universe was laughing at her. It had to be. Why else would there be so many happy couples in the store right now? It was pointing and laughing hysterically on the ground saying: "That's what you get for ignoring me! That's what you get for resenting my gift to you!" Because that's what a soulmate was, a gift. A rare and wonderful gift that no one believed in, except for those who have experienced it themselves, and she had lost it; lost him.

She almost cried on the spot.

Her mother waved gleefully from behind the register, her daughter seldom returned it as she went up the stairs. She dropped her school bag in her room besides her desk and, face first, flopped on her bed.

She closed her eyes. Nothing, there was nothing.

Her lip quivered as tears began to sting her eyes, but she couldn't cry. Not when her mother was expecting her to change and put on an apron and help as she always did after school. She could silently mourn him tonight.

She let out a shaky breath. Did she even have the right to mourn him? She had never met him or talked to him. Everytime she thought of him recently was only to insult him or dismiss him entirely. No, she did not have the right to mourn him and she deserved to feel empty on the inside.

She put on a clean apron and slugged her way down stairs with a smile as she took over her mother's place at the register. Her mom kissed the top of her head and beamed at her with a thumbs up.

She never understood why so many people hated working retail, but now, she did. She had to force a smile and treat every customer kindly, all the while, she was dying on the inside.

A man had come in. Tall and insanely buff, a scar on his mouth. He ordered the cheapest pastry on the menu and handed her a wadded up yen. Her blood turned cold when their fingers brushed.

Her mother quickly took the money away from her as she gave her a quick command to check on the oven in the back.

She swallowed and listened to her mom. Her steps were quick as she pushed the double doors that led to the kitchen, she hugged herself.

It was him. It had to be him. That was the man who killed Gojo Satoru. She reached for a knife and gripped it tight. She should kill him. Her soulmate was dead and he was the reason why. She should try and avenge him.

Sheshouldsheshouldsheshouldsheshould-

The oven blared next to her. Her head snapped to it as the knife clattered on the ground, and with shaky mitted hands she opened the oven, and took out the fresh pastries.

Those were dangerous thoughts; thoughts she never thought she would ever have against anyone. She took off the oven mitts and looked outside the circle window of the kitchen - he was leaving and her mother was watching him like a hawk, even when the bell rang sharply with a muffin in his mouth as he walked outside with the rest of the crowd. She didn't know what possessed her to run after him, but she did. Maybe, all she wanted to know was why he had killed Gojo Satoru. Maybe, she wanted this man to kill her too, so she wouldn't feel empty inside anymore.

A blur of a conversation as the words tumbled out of her mouth: "Why? Why did you kill Satoru?"

She didn't register anything other than his gruff voice, "Ah, he had a soulmate. If I were you I'd keep that information to yourself from now on." Uninterestedly, he continued, "You wouldn't want the Gojo clan to know about you. No doubt, they'll try to marry you off to another member of the clan." and then, kept walking.

She didn't hear the interest in his voice when he said to himself, "But she would be worth a lot of money if I did take her to them." He would negotiate a price first to see if he was right about her being worth any money. He would worry about that later, right now, he had a star plasma vessel to turn in.

A sharp tug on her arm is all that stopped her from running after him again.

"______! What were you thinking?" her mother gritted out as she led her back into the bakery. Her mother's voice is strict and unwavering, "Go to your room."

And she did.

She tossed the apron on her desk and kicked her school bag. How was she supposed to live like this with the rest of her entire life half-full?

A sob violently escaped her.

This was how everyone else in the world lived, she realized.

Aching and alone.

Desperate and searching.

Wanted and unwanted.

Now, she was just like everyone else like she had always wanted. She supposed, she couldn't complain.

She laid in bed, wrapped herself in a blanket - trying to keep warm, but she doubted, she'd ever feel warm again as she cried herself to sleep.

She dreamt about Satoru. Flashes of a long chain, of red, of purple, of blood, of a crowd clapping, of someone wrapped in a white sheet, of a long dark hallway.

The universe was laughing at her again. Why else would it give her dreams about him?

An uneasiness settled into her bones. Someone was watching her. The grim reaper, no doubt wearing the face of her soulmate's assassin. If death wanted her, so be it.

She kept her eyes closed.

She saw herself sleeping soundly in death's gaze. She saw the time pass through her window changing from sundown to night as death continued to watch her intently.

Hours had passed.

00:57:39

She wondered at what specific time the grim reaper would take her.

1:13:01

Did it want her to open her eyes?

1:13:10

Probably.

1:13:15

The grim reaper has been patiently waiting for her.

1:13:17

Why keep death waiting then?

1:13:20

Her eyes fluttered open.

Beautiful, vibrant cerulean blue.

It was not death. It was -

"Satoru," she whispered.

"______," he whispered back.

Satoru was sitting down on the floor extremely close to her bed with his legs crossed while his hands rested neatly on his ankles. There was dry blood on his face and on his white dress shirt.

Her mouth moved but no sound came.

"You were crying," he said as he caressed her cheek soothing his thumb along the trail of stained lines that her dried tears had left, "alot."

So, he had seen everything.

She put her hand over his and gently rubbed circles.

Satoru scooted closer to her bed, "I didn't like seeing you cry," his hand trailed up to her scalp, "or frown," and gently ran his fingers through her hair.

He laid his head down on her bed and stared at her with those vibrant, sparkling eyes; eyes that could see everything she could never see.

She touched his cheek gently, "I didn't like not feeling you."

Her whole body shivered. Satoru was here, in front of her, and she was still cold.

"Are you still cold?"

She nodded.

Never letting go of her, he kicked off his shoes and climbed under the blanket with her. He wrapped his legs around hers as her arms wrapped under his uniform jacket.

With his hand still tangled in her hair, he said, "Better?"

His heartbeat had returned to her. They were beating in unison again.

"Better," she hummed. "You?" She asked.

His lips pressed softly on her forehead, "Much better." He tugged her in closer into his chest.

She smiled.

She was warm again.

@whatamidoing89 @mr-underhills-things

Part 1: what you see, i see

Part 3: you know i adore you

Part 4: i'm crazier for you

Part 5: baby, you're the life of the party

Part 6: something's made your eyes go cold

[lalal-99]

of dirty cheats {h.j.} | track 6

©July 2023, June 2024 by lalal-99

Han Jisung x afab!reader | trope: slice of life, coming of age | word count: 5.8k

Synopsis: The one where you're hungover and visit home.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: Aaaand, I'm back! I'm sorry for the long wait, but if you've kept up with my life, there's been so many things going on... Anyway, this chapter concludes the overwork of previously posted chapters, and the next one will be brand new. I hope you enjoy this. If you do, please leave comments and reblogs. They always encourage me so much!!!

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Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You

You woke up the following day with the sun shining in your face and your head spinning.

Nausea overtook you within seconds, so you rushed one hand to your temple in an attempt to massage the pain away. It lifted some of the discomfort while also shielding your irises from the light, but it was hardly enough. Every effort to get up got cut short when you noticed Jisung’s arm snug around your waist, holding you close. It took you a couple of seconds to untangle one arm and reach for your alarm on the bedside table.

7 am. You shouldn’t have gone out yesterday.

Five more minutes of dozing and some careful wriggling later, you sat up, taking a moment to asses your state. The initial urge to throw up subsided once you came to a standing, although you still moved with care. It wouldn’t have been the first time, your initial assessment was completely off.

Your whole body was in a state of freezing, even once you had gotten dressed. Slipping yesterday’s clothes back on, you snatched one of your boyfriend’s hoodies, so you wouldn’t catch a cold on your way to your place. Also, your mini-skirt was too mini to be considered everyday attire. The length of the hoodie would shield most unwanted attention to your exposed legs.

Worry spread in your veins when you noticed Felix’s empty bed while gathering your belongings.

After the party Jisung and you had decided to sleep over at his place for convenience. It was distinctly closer, and you needed to get him into bed sooner rather than later. Which turned out to be tougher than expected. He had quite a lot to drink as the night progressed, so you stayed with him. Felix hadn’t made it home after your run-in in the bedroom back at the frat house, and his absence filled you with concern. He couldn’t have been avoiding you on purpose, could he?

“Baby?”

You turned to your hoarse boyfriend, whose eyes remained shut as he searched for your body next to him.

“I’m here. You alright?”

“I don’t know. Ask me in two hours when I’m all caught up on sleep.” After about 4 hours of actual rest, you weren’t doing much better than him on the tiredness scale. Still, you were up, and he— wasn’t.

“You’re not going to your class this morning?”

A sarcastic chuckle and Jisung rolled over, pulling the blanket deeper into his face.

“Can you close the blinds before you leave?”

You did so after slipping into your shoes. It annoyed you that Jisung was skipping class—this habit being one reason his grades had suffered back in High School. Yet, there was nothing you could truly do about it. He was in no state to tend to anything but his sleep deprivation, and you knew how he could get when overtired. After all, you were driving back home later today. You figured he would be less annoying once he had caught up on at least some of his sleep.

“I’ll be back at 10 to pick you up. Can you be ready by then?”

“Sure.” You knew there wouldn’t be a further answer, his mind already dozing off again. You left the room to be on time for your own morning lecture. One of you had to be responsible, after all.

The morning progressed so slowly, it was painful.

By the time you reached your class, you had somewhat woken up. A very intended goal, achieved by two double shots of espresso and a cold shower. Although your headache never truly left you, you made it through the first two hours of the day. Turned out, Jisung wasn’t the only one skipping morning classes today. About a third of the chairs in the lecture hall remained empty, thanks to Jackson and his gift of throwing amazing parties.

Unfortunately, that third also included Yuqi. Without her and her endless chatter about the latest trends or her latest crush, it was harder to stay awake. You must have dozed off half a dozen times, so you might as well have stayed in bed after all.

The anticipation of home was the one things that helped you power through. It had only been about two weeks since your move, though you already missed your family like crazy. This, by far, was the longest time you had been away from them. Ever. The thought of walking your hometown streets again was the light at the end of the tunnel— in this case Macroeconomics 101.

You must have mentioned your excitement about visiting home countless times to Jisung. So, why was it that when you reentered his dorm three hours after leaving, he hadn’t moved at all?

“Dang it, Jisung, you said you’d be ready by 10.”

“Why are you mad? I’m perfectly on time.”

“It’s 10:05, and you are still in bed. Unshowered.”

“I’m getting up already.” Your annoyance rubbed off on him, his tone raspy from alcohol, lack of sleep and irritation. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

Said panties, mind you, the same ones he couldn’t wait to get into the night before. He definitely hadn’t sounded so frustrated at you then.

You suppressed a scolding reply, aware of how it held power to start a full-on fight, making you even less on time. It took a lot of willpower to push the urge to confront your boyfriend about his choice of words down.

Stumbling out of bed, Jisung picked up some fresh clothes and his shower gel, before leaving with mumbled sounds of disapproval. A heavy reek of sleep and alcohol veiled the room despite the open window, so you moved closer to it. The nausea, yet again, vanished.

You ran your hand down your tired face, letting your bag fall onto his sheets.

“Is he always in a mood when he’s hungover?”

You sighed, “It’s really frustrating.”

Felix nodded, letting his phone fall onto his pillow. You could feel his eyes lingering on you, lip caught between his teeth and his leg bouncing, restless. It didn’t take more than a glimpse from your peripheral vision to identify his mood. Tired, nervous. Anxious. Of course, you knew what he was biting his tongue about. Remembering his shock and angst when you had walked in on him yesterday, it surprised you, he even spoke to you. And you were even more surprised when he was the first to mention it.

“Y/N?” You met his glances with a kind smile, leaning up against the wall. “I wanted to talk to you about something. About what happened— yesterday, actually.”

“You mean when I walked in on you?” His earrings dangled along to his nod. You swore you heard his heart pounding through his chest.

“I was wondering... If you— whether you saw—” He struggled to find the right words to voice his question before giving himself a push. “Exactly how much did you see?”

“Well,” you started, getting up and walking over to his bed to join him. Having this conversation with him called for physical proximity. “I saw you in bed. Naked, and with someone. With—” You cut yourself off, sending him a comforting smile. Felix’s face was about as white as fresh snow. By the time you ended your sentence, fear clouded his irises, “A boy.”

A tear slipped out of his eye and into his lap as he stared at his hands. He was avoiding your gaze, so you brought your hand to his back, rubbing him through his shirt. Hopefully consoling him. You could feel his shallow breaths become steadier, so your comfort must have worked in some ways.

It took him a few more deep breaths to speak up, your silence helping him voice his thoughts.

“I haven’t really told anyone. Ever.”

When he turned to face you, you saw a hint of dread in his eyes. As though he was expecting a negative reaction to his revelation. Or that you’d out him to everyone. Had it been anyone else, that assumption would have hurt you. Though you figured this reaction was only fair, coming from him. He barely knew you. He couldn’t have known how unreasonable his fear was.

“How long have you known?” you questioned, trying your best to not overstep the boundaries. To help him understand how you wouldn’t feel any different about him because of what you saw. What you now knew about him, as apparently the only person on earth. Well, apart from that guy he had been with the night prior. He must have figured from contextual clues.

“Honestly, I always sorta knew. But I only started accepting it a few months ago. I tried dating girls for years, but it never felt right. The guy from yesterday... He was kind of—” Felix stopped again, trying to find the right words. “He was my first guy.”

“Oh, honey!” You pulled him into your chest, your hands wrapping around his body. Felix soon hugged you back, holding on so tight your shirt wrinkled. As though he had needed this hug more than anything. It lasted for a couple of seconds, maybe even a minute, tears hitting your shoulder and drying on your shirt. “Thank you for telling me,” you mumbled against his skin. The burden of keeping his secret hidden fell from his shoulders with every tear.

“Thank you. For accepting me.”

“Of course.” As you drew away, he wiped the tears from his cheeks, eventually calming down. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I appreciate that. I don’t think I’m ready yet. I should tell my family first, but I’m afraid they won’t take it as well. They don’t really— believe in this stuff.”

“Well, you can always come to me when you need someone to talk to.” You shared a moment of eye contact, smiling at each other. “Now to the important stuff. Who was the guy?”

Chuckling at your question, Felix took a tissue from his nightstand, blowing his nose. When he met your gaze, you saw a spark behind the watery curtains. “It’s this guy from my Psychology class. We never talked before yesterday. But then we shared a moment and somehow— I don’t even know how, but one thing led to another. Kinda like in the movies.”

“Damn, that sounds like straight from Hollywood. Was he any good?” Judging from Felix’s suggestive expression, eyebrows raising and eyes gleaming, you could tell his answer. “I take that as a yes. Well, I’m very happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have minded some further details on last night. Whether Felix would be seeing the guy again outside of classes. Or whether he even wanted to or rather explore his options, now that he had the opportunity. Felix, too, seemed eager to finally have someone to talk to about this.

It was the creak of the door thrown open that stopped your conversation. Jisung rushed in, hair wet from his shower, fresh clothes clinging to his moist skin.

When he noticed your proximity, Felix’s eyes reddened, Jisung’s eyebrow quirked. “Did I miss something?”

“Nothing,” you replied, sending Felix a wink as you rose from his bed. “Are you ready?”

“Two more minutes. I need to pack some things.”

“Are you kidding me? I told you to pack your stuff two days ago.”

And just like that, your mood suffered another hit, although you tried to not let it affect you too much. When Jisung started throwing random items onto his bed, you sent Felix a sarcastic eye-roll. He couldn’t help a relieved grin from spreading, the Mount-Rushmore sized rock finally lifted from his shoulders.

“Well, since you’re already pissed, I might as well tell you now.” What an awful way to start a sentence. “I’m not sober enough to drive yet. So, you’re gonna have to get us home.”

Not the easiest task with your brain still thumping against your skull, but at least Jisung could help you stay awake.

When you were younger, you used to be embarrassed by where you lived.

You had always felt bad for your privilege. Guilty even, seeing none of your friends lived a life close to the one you had. Most of your friends lived in small and run-down apartment-complexes, confined to little space and sometimes even sharing a bedroom with several siblings. Blame the recession that had taken its toll on their parent’s income.

It mostly seemed like they had made due with it, finding their content in it. It was still uncomfortable whenever you invited anyone over to your place.

You felt the worst about growing up rich when you met Jisung.

His dad had left the family when he was seven. His mother stranded alone in an apartment she couldn’t pay for and with two children she hardly had the money to feed.

She already worked one full-time job when his piece-of-shit father left. She needed to pick up another part-time one just so they could afford their most basic needs.

By age ten, Jisung supported his mother’s second job, cleaning the houses of the rich and wealthy on weekends. With his sister in a time-consuming gifted program—paid for by a scholarship—he had no other choice. Jisung needed to put his own interests behind if he wanted to keep the roof over their heads. Being the sweet son he was, he did exactly that. Without a single complaint about the afternoons his friends spent hanging out at the mall or enjoying their hobbies.

When you invited Jisung over the first time, your friendship only weeks old, you felt ashamed. He lost control over his facial muscles, his jaw slacking when he saw the entrance of your house. He almost passed out when you showed him your new Nintendo in your room. Jisung forgot all about the expensive gaming console once he realised you didn’t have to share it. Neither your toys nor your room, which already took up the space of his whole apartment. A Queen sized bed occupied the middle of your room, and still left enough room for a motherland of games.

It wasn’t until Jisung invited you to his apartment, that you fully understood his mesmerisation with the simplest things in your house. Like the fridge, which was taller and broader than the two of you combined. Or your couches—plural, not singular.

You tried hard not to let your pity show while meeting his mother and sister. You feared you’d say something to offend them, making them feel bad or appearing like a snob. Needless to say, you didn’t talk much that afternoon.

Jisung never once gave you any reason to feel any more guilty than you already did. He assured you time and time again that you had nothing to be ashamed of. You had your own hardships, your own problems. And his family was doing fine. He couldn’t remember a time not sharing all their meals at a tiny table or sleeping in the same room.

Nothing about that changed when you fell in love at 14, two years after meeting.

Still, that same guilt knocked down your self-esteem whenever you passed the mansions of your street in Jisung’s rusty, old car.

Your boyfriend had slept through the whole two-hour drive from campus to your home. It had annoyed you in the beginning as you had hoped to get some time to talk. As your carefully crafted playlist progressed, all annoyance faded into the air. Plus, speeding down highways and crawling through neighbouring villages made you nostalgic. By the time you arrived home, Jisung had caught up on his sleep and you were beaming in excitement.

Your dad was already waiting for you, ever so happily smiling as he hugged you.

“I’m happy you’re home,” he mumbled against you as he pulled you in. His statement wasn’t needed with how visibly content he was, having his only daughter and future son-in-law back.

“I’m glad to be back. I missed you.”

“We,” Jisung corrected, nodding to your dad. “We missed you.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re here. Brunch is ready as soon as you are.”

At the mention of food Jisung’s stomach rumbled, sending him into a laugh.

“He’s ready, too,” your boyfriend translated the sounds as you placed your bag beside the door.

The TV played in the living room, overshadowed by the juicer-sounds in the kitchen. The smell of fresh oranges filled your nostrils, your mouth watering as you stepped through the doorway.

“Is that orange juice I smell?”

“Y/N!” The young woman jogged around the island, pulling you into a bone-crashing hug. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too, Jia.”

“What about me?” Jisung questioned, taking over your space once Jia let you out of your hug.

“I missed you too, but a little less.”

“Wow. Thanks, sis.”

“So, how’s university? Tell me everything.”

Jisung did. He told his sister all about his dorm, new friends and courses he visited. All the while, you only had one ear with them. The other was searching the attached dining and living area. Soon enough, your eyes joined as you wandered the lower floor of your house. You identified a pair of tiny dinosaur-themed socks discarded on the coffee table. The couch stood buried under plastic toys and books, a children’s show playing on the flatscreen.

When you found the rest of the room empty, you exited the living area altogether. As soon as you set foot into the hallway, you finally heard a familiar voice call out to you. Your head turned and you found a small figure running towards you. Quick reflexes came into play when he all but jumped into your arms, making your heart jump through your chest.

“Mama!” Tiny arms wrapped around your neck and tears immediately filled your eyes.

“Hi, baby.” His breath hit your neck as your heartbeat accelerated. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” he answered as you picked him up, giving him a small peck on his cheek.

“He couldn’t stop talking about seeing you again. He barely slept tonight.”

With your dad by your side and your baby in your arms, you reentered the kitchen. When he saw Jisung, your son’s eyes reshaped into hearts.

“Papa!” You couldn’t set him down quick enough before he began sprinting towards his father.

Jisung picked him up and spun him around once before hugging him tightly against himself. “Hi, Ki. You miss me?”

“Yes,” the boy agreed, his smile reaching from one ear to the other. Seeing him so joyful made your heart swell and you swiftly wiped your tears away. For the first time in two weeks, you felt at home.

“Should we eat?”

Your dad was already one step ahead, carrying the pan filled with pancakes from the stove to the table. Four sets of tableware were set up neatly as fresh-cut flowers decorated the scene. Food from all sectors of the food-pyramid occupied the dark wood, making your mouth water.

“Did you set the table, Dad?”

He laughed at your assumption, “I wish. It was this wonderful lady right here.” He pointed at Jia. “Remember, you can move in whenever.”

“You might say that now,” Jisung interrupted, taking the seat between Ki and his sister, “but wait ’til you actually live with her. She’s a slob. A big-brain slob, but a slob.”

“Says the boy who uses his dirty underwear as parquet flooring.”

Ki giggled at that mental image, munching away on the food his grandfather had set on his plate.

“We haven’t lived in the same room for 3 years. I’ve changed.”

“Y/N, back me up here.” You looked at Jia while filling the fresh orange juice into the glasses by everyone’s plate. “You’ve lived with him for the past 3 years. Does he still keep his dirty clothes anywhere but in the hamper?”

After he had moved from his childhood room into yours a few years back, you remembered this habit of his. Vividly. It had been the main reasons fights would break out between you. Other than the constant debate on how to raise a baby, of course. Over the years, it had gotten better; his clothes landed closer and closer to the laundry basket each week.

“He tries, but he never mastered reaching into the hamper. I don’t know how someone’s aim can be so off.”

Jia laughed, Ki joining in once he understood your words to be of the joking kind. He was at that age where he tried mimicking the people around him. That included emotional reactions from the ones closest to him. And to think you were missing this crucial part of his childhood.

“Complain as much as you want. Ever since we moved to campus, I’ve been very diligent about keeping things clean.” Your expression told him that you had seen his room and didn’t quite agree. “At least Felix never complains.”

“This Felix guy sounds like a catch.” That you couldn’t disagree with. “Glad you got a decent roommate.”

“He’s alright. Although—” Setting his fork and knife beside his plate, Jisung took a sip from his glass. “What were you two hugging about before? You seemed… close.”

There was no undertone to his question other than wanting to know the content of your talk. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Jisung was hinting at something.

“Nothing. Just small-talk.” Not a lie, but not the truth either. Though you figured a little white lie couldn’t hurt, knowing all it did was hide the secret Felix had shared with you. Jisung wouldn’t have judged Felix if you had told him, but you didn’t believe it was your right to out him. Especially after promising you wouldn’t tell anyone.

“Really? I could swear he was crying or something.”

“Oh, that? He was going through some personal things.” A little closer to the truth but still not revealing the whole story. Jisung seemed to believe you, and why wouldn’t he have? Had it been something that concerned your boyfriend, you would have told him. Didn’t have a reason not to. “Nothing to worry about, though.”

“Alright.” Your boyfriend picked his cutlery back up, slicing some of his son’s food for easier eating. “You’d tell me if it was serious, though. Right?”

“Of course,” you agreed as you beamed at your son. His mouth was stuck in a grin while he shoved spoons full of pancake into his mouth. “Everything’s alright.”

Brunch continued with little distraction. The topics reached from your future sister-in-law’s studies, which she was about to finish, to your son’s upcoming birthday. Still over a month away, but you could never start planning too early. It almost felt like you had never left. Your family, spending the late morning like you had any other weekend before moving to live on campus.

Your son’s lack of sleep showed right after he finished his plate. Despite his best efforts to keep himself awake, his eyes fell shut every few seconds. After missing you so much the past weeks, he wanted to spend any minute with his parents. It broke your heart. Of course, you knew it was better this way— staying close to campus and concentrating on your studies while your son stayed with your dad. Providing him the childhood he deserved. Still, it hurt you, knowing Ki missed you so much. Your own pain played a critical role in that feeling as well.

“I’ll take him to bed,” Jisung explained as he lifted his son from the high chair. Ki waved at you, already half asleep, as his father carried him out of the room.

Your dad had left a minute or two earlier, telling you about a discovery he had made while cleaning the attic. Thus, Jia and you were left to clean up the table, which you didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to catch up, something you had wanted the past few weeks but had never found the time for.

“So? How’s Uni for you? Did you make a ton of friends already?”

“I don’t know about a ton. But I did meet some people already,” you told her as you filled the sink with soap and water. “There’s this girl, Yuqi. She’s in my marketing classes, and she’s very nice. We get along great. And then, there’s Felix.”

“Sungie’s roommate?”

“Yes. He’s also very nice. I can see us becoming close.”

“That’s good. You never know when you’ll meet those people, but some of them will stick forever.” You nodded at her words, feeling like you had found two of these forever people in Yuqi and Felix. You had hardly met anyone you could open up to like you could to them, not even your High School friends. “How’s my baby bro doing on the friendship front? Is he adapting?”

“Surprisingly so. Jisung found a group of boys he’s been hanging out with. They seem cool; down to earth. They’re having a positive impact on him already.”

Had Jisung overheard your conversation, he would have most likely confronted you. Why would you talk about him behind his back like this? As though he was a social outcast you had to chaperone in his endeavours to make friends? However, he would have had to agree with you in the end.

Since you met him, Jisung hadn’t had the easiest time meeting new people. He was often awkward in social situations, and the lack of a filter caused him more problems than it fixed. You for one, loved him for it, as you always knew what was going on in his mind. Other people, not so much. In the past, Jisung had gotten himself in trouble due to saying the wrong things in tense situations. His social anxiety had only worsened the older he got. Having made friends already—without much effort—was a big deal.

Jia, being his older sister, knew about his issues.

“I’m glad he’s doing alright. It sounds harsh, but I wasn’t expecting him to make friends. Or worse.” She placed the dishes in the dishwasher as her eyes met yours. “He could have made the wrong friends.” You could tell where she was going with this. Her transition felt rather forced, but who could blame her? You, for one, had expected her to ask even earlier. “Speaking of—” And there it was. “Did you run into him already?”

Sighing at her words, you started scrubbing the pan below the soapy surface of the sink.

“We did.” Jia nodded, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Seems like Jisung and him kept in contact. He invited us to this party at his fraternity yesterday.”

“So you talked to him?”

“Yup.” From her reaction you knew that she wasn’t satisfied with that. Jia was trying not to get too caught up in how you had talked to the one person she never wanted to think about again. After all, she couldn’t control who you ran into and chose to spend your time with. That went for both you and Jisung. Although, you were a bit more reserved about your relationship with the one who shan’t be named.

“I’ll regret asking later, but—” Again, you knew exactly what she was about to ask. “Did you meet— her?”

You placed the clean pan onto the rack to dry, taking off the cleaning gloves to hang them over the tap. You had thought a lot about how to approach this, but couldn’t come up with a painless explanation. So, the truth it was.

“I think so. I’m not 100 percent sure, but I believe she might be my roommate.”

A huff escaped Jia’s lips at the irony. “Of-fucking-course, she’s your roommate. And let me guess. She’s super nice and not at all a bitch who stole my boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t cheat on me and break my heart. That was all him.”

The glimmer of hurt in Jia’s eyes reminded you of that afternoon you found her crying on your doorstep. Her makeup smeared over her face and body trembling in your embrace. The pain wasn’t the same depth as three years ago, but you could tell it had left a scar. How couldn’t it have?

Jackson and Jia had been together for three years when she discovered his infidelity. There had been talks of marriage already, when he decided to throw it all out the window. And the worst thing, Jackson even tried to deny it when she confronted him. What he didn’t know was that Jia had seem them together. Two hours she had driven to campus to surprise him one weekend, and all to see him hugging and kissing some hot piece of ass. That’s how Jia had described her boyfriend’s affair after spotting them together. It had taken her around a minute to realise what was happening, then she up and left again.

A surprise phone call later that weekend Jackson answered with shock and denial. Not five minutes later, Jia decided she couldn’t hear it anymore. Like that, three years ended in what you could only describe as the second most heartbroken you had ever seen a person.

So, yes. The woman was still hurt. She was still in pain. Although that pain had morphed into hatred along the way.

“If it’s any comfort, she doesn’t seem to know you existed. And—” The next part was a shot in the dark. Hopefully, Jia would understand the humour in it all. “She started dating a woman immediately after Jackson. Said he made her realise she’d be better off without a man.”

That, Hwasa had told you in confidence. But seeing as it lightened the mood, you didn’t regret telling Jia. “Okay, that does make me feel better.” The atmosphere lightened up after that, though Jia needed to get one last thing off her mind. “But, you should keep track of that friendship between Jackson and Sungie.”

“You think?”

“Jackson himself might not be the problem. As hard as it is for me to say, he has a good heart. But that hardly goes for those friends of his. They’re some sketchy people.” Jia’s eyes showed honest concern. So much so that it worried you a little. “To this day, I believe he wouldn’t have done what he did, had his friends not had as much impact on him. They kept telling him he was too hot to let opportunities for hookups with random girls pass by. That our relationship was holding him back from reaching his full potential. And that’s a literal quote I overheard one of them telling him over the phone.”

“What? That’s crazy. Why did Jackson let them talk like this about you?”

“Who knows? But the matter of fact is that Jackson is a confident man. Always was. My brother, however...”

You understood she was hinting, again, at his social introversion.

“Since Dad left us, he’s been searching for a father figure in the older men around him. Do you remember that guy, Wonho, he hung out with in High School?”

“Do I? The dude was the personification of steroids.”

“Exactly. And Sungie had the biggest man crush on him. You do recall how that ended, right?”

“He broke his wrist trying to lift double his weight.”

“I love Sungie to the moon and back, but he has serious daddy issues. Not that it’s any his fault.” Jia had a point in everything she said. Even though you hoped Jisung couldn’t be manipulated, you understood it wasn’t impossible. “That Wonho-guy was his hero for months, and he wasn’t even trying to be. Imagine what could happen if some seriously sketchy guys meet him and see a trainable puppy.”

There was a moment of consideration as you imagined what Jia had described. Jackson and she had been happy before they went to university. Much like you and Jisung, they had been together a long time. Still, something inside you told you that Jisung wouldn’t hurt you like this. Jackson was a good guy, and they had been good together. But they also had their fair share of issues. Jisung and you, that was a whole other thing. You were soulmates. You had a son. Other than sweeping them under the rug, you talked about your relationship problems.

You wanted to voice those thoughts to Jia, but before you could do so, your dad and Jisung entered the room. Your dad carried a thick book, showing it to your boyfriend, who laughed at whatever he saw on the page.

“Baby, how were you so cute as a baby? I could eat you up.”

Your confusion resolved when your dad explained the situation. “I was showing an old photo album to Jisung. I found a stack of them in the attic.” Flipping the page, another chuckle escaped your dad’s lips. “Look! It’s you and your father. Gosh, I haven’t seen this picture in ages.”

At those words, a smile spread over your face as you made your way to his side of the book. And sure enough, there you were. Sitting in a flowerpot as your father held you up, smiling into the camera. The unfamiliar image warmed your heart, despite the tinge of sadness that appeared whenever you saw a picture of him.

“Your father was so handsome,” Jia said as she caught a glimpse.

“The most handsome,” your dad agreed, looking up from the page. “He did some modelling work while we attended law school and was good at it, too. Even made it into some magazines. He was so handsome even, it took me months to finally muster the courage and ask him out. And thank God, I did.” With those words, his eyes met you, still completely captured by the picture. “He would have been so proud of you, honey.”

A single tear rolled down your cheek as a smile plastered your face. Oh, what you’d give to have the chance and talk to him one last time. You would have told him so many things. Most importantly, you would have told him about the family you had found between all the grief and loss. The ones surrounding you, being the closest to you. And, of course, Ki. The love of your life.

No doubt, he would have loved your father as much as you did.

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[tobesolonely]

i hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!

harry is y/n's boss, and he's also a super rich ceo :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N never planned on becoming a personal assistant.

In fact, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with her life. College was enlightening because she was having a good time learning a little bit of everything, but it was almost…too much. How was she supposed to settle on just one career when the world was filled with so many different  opportunities? 

So while working as a personal assistant was never a part of her life’s plans, the older Y/N got the more she realized that life is funny sometimes and try as she might, it’s impossible to plan for everything. Besides, working as a personal assistant for an extremely successful (and surprisingly kind) CEO did have its perks. The pay, for starters, was better than anything she would’ve earned anywhere else working three times as hard, and not to mention the flexibility he allowed her was unheard of.

Thus, Y/N earned extra money working for Mr. Harry Styles when she wasn’t busy with class or school work, and in return, he paid her fairly and treated her with graciousness - he even bought her dinner sometimes and ate it with her late at night in his office when they were spending time combing through files and reviewing reports. He was a fair boss and always understanding whenever she told him she had more work than anticipated and wouldn’t be able to go in to help that day. According to Harry, she was a student first, and an assistant second, so he never pressured her to put the company above her studies. 

Being Mr. Styles' personal assistant involved lots of calls, setting up meetings, and checking his spreadsheets and productivity reports. Occasionally she'd do the whole ���run-and-get-his-coffee” thing, but that didn't happen often - and when he did, he always made sure to buy for Y/N as well. 

“Miss Y/L/N? Could you come to my office when you get a free moment, please?”

The sound of Harry’s voice crackles through the intercom in Y/N’s tiny space, a room adjoining his own office. Additionally, it functioned as a waiting room of sorts when people were meeting with the boss. Y/N enjoyed surveying the expressions on her co-workers' faces whenever they met with Mr. Styles. Everyone always seemed so nervous and Y/N couldn’t figure out why. Was he not as nice to everyone else as he was to her? 

“Sure thing,” she holds down on the button beside the speaker as she relays her response. “Is there anything I can bring you beforehand?” The button is released as she awaits his answer. It comes immediately.

“That’s alright, Y/N. I just need your help reviewing something. Won’t take long.”

Y/N ignores the flutter she feels in her tummy when Harry calls her by her first name. He didn’t do it often but sometimes he did, and she couldn’t deny she liked the way it sounded rolling off his tongue. 

“Be right there, Mr. Styles.”

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“Do these numbers look…odd to you?”

Y/N leans forward in her seat across from Harry as he turns his large monitor screen to face her. She’s faced with a busy spreadsheet filled with numbers, and a confused expression quickly overcomes her features. 

“What numbers am I looking at, sir?” Y/N can’t help the heat that begins to flood her face. “‘M not too familiar with Excel…know I probably should be seeing that I’m an assistant and all that but-”

“It’s fine,” Harry cuts her off with a small smile on his face. “It’s a busy document. I could’ve been more clear - I was referring to the bolded numbers. They’re smaller than last month’s, do you agree?”

With her attention now directed to the right part of the document, Y/N examines the numbers as she tries to think back to last month’s revenue. While it differed, she didn’t think it was significant. Then again, she wasn’t the one running a multimillion-dollar company.

“I see how there’s a bit of discrepancy. I can double-check and look through all of the documents to ensure everything has been accounted for if you’d like, sir.” Y/N watches as her boss’s shoulders noticeably slump in relief.

“Could you do that?” His tone is hopeful, eager. “I mean, do you have the time? I’m already running late to a meeting that I sent the Zoom link for, gotta hop on and get a handle on that…”

For the first time since Y/N began working for Mr. Styles, she senses that he’s overwhelmed. He’s usually so calm and carefree, much more carefree than she imagines she would be with such big responsibilities, but right now he seems…tense. Upset.

“I just need to get a confirmation for that event you’re speaking at next week and then I can do it.”

“I owe you dinner. Thank you, Miss Y/L/N,” he gives her a pointed look. “I’ll share the spreadsheet and documents from the previous and current months with you, and you can let me know if I missed anything.”

Even though Harry’s bought her dinner more times than she can even count before, something feels different about the way he says it this time. She has to look down so he doesn’t see the sheepish look on her face. 

“I’ll be right next door if you need me.”

Harry grins. “I know.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

As it turns out, Harry did make a mistake.

It wasn’t a big deal and easily fixable but man was he grateful to her.  No one made Y/N feel smarter and more appreciative of her being there than Mr. Styles. 

“That’s great, really,” Harry tells her for at least the third time in ten minutes. “I would’ve never caught that. Never! ‘M not ashamed to admit a second set of eyes is always helpful - at least for me.”

Y/N looks down to hide her timidness. She loves praise, but it still makes her shy! “Well, thank you, Mr. Styles. I know you have like, actual people for this…” she pauses as she shifts from foot to foot. “But if you ever just want me to take a quick peek ‘cause I’m right next door, I don’t mind.”

Harry gives Y/N a look she can't quite discern before speaking again. “I think I'll be taking you up on that. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? Already helped me out so much today, don't you still have that project you need to finish up for your class?”

“Are you sure?” She gives her boss a puzzled look. “I have, like, a ton of work left to do here.” 

“Someone else can do it,” he flashes her a warm, dimpled smile. “It's fine, Miss Y/L/N. School first, remember what I always say.” 

Y/N ignores the sensation she feels in her belly from Harry’s stern tone of voice. “Yes sir. I….thank you. I appreciate it. I can make up the time and stay later tomorrow-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Harry straightens a stack of papers on his desk. “Same time tomorrow, or will you be coming in a bit later?” 

“Can I let you know tomorrow? It depends on how much of my project I finish tonight.”

“That works. Please get home safe, Miss Y/L/N. Try and enjoy the rest of your day.” 

“Thank you,” Y/N quietly responds.  When she turns to exit his office, she hesitates before turning back to him. “Are you gonna leave soon too?” She hoped she wasn't overstepping by asking. 

Harry lets out a quiet laugh. “Hopefully. I have one more meeting, and have to make sure everything is ready for a deal we're closing on tomorrow.” 

“Okay…well, see you tomorrow,” she pauses before quickly adding. “I hope your night doesn't run too late.” 

“Me too. Thanks, Y/N.” 

Harry looks back down at his work, and Y/N takes that as her cue to leave. She gently shuts the door behind her and lets out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding once back in the privacy of her own office. Y/N felt so flustered! The fact that Harry was allowing her to leave early so she could finish her homework didn't surprise her - it wasn't the first time he did it, and it wouldn't be the last. She was mainly just surprised Harry even remembered she had a project! Y/N mentioned it to him once briefly last week when she first had assigned it and said nothing else about it. To know that he remembered and was concerned about her finishing it on time made her feel…cared for. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N is drowning.

As it would turn out, her project was turning out to be a lot more time-consuming than she initially anticipated. She had to write a research essay and create an infographic to supplement it, and she was still stuck on the research part! She’d been working on it for hours– ever since she finished class at 10 am, but now the time was after 1 pm and she needed to be to work in an hour. Even though Harry always told her school came first, she wanted to be a good employee for him! She already left work early yesterday - she couldn’t skip out on her shift. Y/N realized she was an…untraditional employee, and she didn’t want to be fired so Harry could have an assistant with more availability. He always told her he appreciated her help whenever she gave it, but she still couldn’t help feeling like she didn’t do enough. She flings those thoughts to the side as she refocuses her attention on her work. 

Y/N falls so deep down the Google rabbit hole that she doesn’t realize the amount of time that’s passed until her phone is ringing. The name “MR. STYLES” lights up her phone and she curses under her breath as she realizes she was supposed to be at the office nearly 30 minutes ago. She picks up and immediately begins apologizing. 

“Mr. Styles! I’m so sorry, I lost track of time because I’m just so overwhelmed with this project and it’s not really going that well but I can be there in twenty minutes, I promise!”

There’s a small pause on the line before Harry replies. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

His answer takes Y/N aback. The last thing she was expecting was for her busy boss to offer up his assistance with a trivial college research project. “But…don’t you have, like, work to do?”

“I always have work to do, Miss Y/L/N,” he answers nonchalantly. “It can wait. I am the boss, after all. Why don’t you come in and let me take a look?”

Y/N’s hesitant, not wanting to bother Harry with something he was so far removed from such as her college assignments, but he was offering, and well…two heads were better than one. So Y/N tells him she’ll be there shortly, thanks him again profusely, and ends the call. She sits unmoving on her couch for a second after hanging up, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in her tummy. Mr. Styles wanted to help her! With school work! It made her dizzy to think about it for too long. She finally stands to gather her things, trying to stick to her promise of arriving as quickly as possible–Y/N figures she’s already kept him waiting long enough.

She makes it to the office fairly quickly, greeting the front desk staff as she walks through the lobby. Harry’s corner office was located on the very top floor of the 20-story building. It was quite the view. Y/N sets her tote bag down on her desk before taking out her laptop and notebook filled with information pertaining to her project. She takes a deep breath before knocking on the door connecting her office with Harry’s. He lets out a quick, “Come in!” to which Y/N complies, letting herself in.

Harry looks up from his computer once she enters the room, his hard gaze immediately softening. “Oh, Y/N. You look so tense. Come sit, let me see what we’re working with.”

“I’ve got a bulk of the research done,” Y/N mutters quietly as she pulls back the chair from his desk. “I’m just having a tricky time organizing my thoughts.” She slides her open notebook across the table at him, watching anxiously as he reads over her tiny scrawl. After reading over her work in silence for a couple of minutes, he clears his throat and speaks.

“Is it just me, or have school assignments become enormously mundane?” his brow furrows in confusion. “A research paper and an infographic? Bit of an overkill, hm?”

“That’s what I said,” Y/N shakes her head in disgust. “Everything on my infographic is coming straight from my paper, anyway!”

“How about I start making an outline for your paper?” He looks down at the notebook again. “I think I can see where you're going with this. ‘M not very creative though, maybe you can get started on your infographic.”

“You could do that for me?” 

“After all you've done for me?” Harry sucks his teeth. “C’mon. I'm no monster, Y/N.” He flashes her a dimpled grin. 

“Thank you,” Y/N says for what had to be the hundredth time that day. “Anything helps, Mr. Styles. I owe you one.”

Harry waves his hand dismissively. “None of that. Would you like to work here, or are you going back to your office?”

Y/N looks down at her clammy hands folded in her lap. “If you don't mind, can I stay here? Just so you can ask me questions about my work if you have any?”

“I think that's a wonderful idea,” he tilts his head curiously at her. “Have you eaten today? I was thinking of ordering something. Does Thai sound good?” 

“Oh, I had banana pancakes this morning before class,” she bites her lip. “I'm okay.” 

“Nonsense. It's already past three,” he opens his desk drawer and pulls out a take-out menu. “This place is great - I'm a regular. Let me know what you'd like. I always get the basil stir fry.”

Y/N wordlessly takes the menu and reviews it for a few moments before settling on a crispy tofu dish. Once their order is called in, Harry locks his phone and places his attention back on Y/N.

“Someone will bring that up to us when it gets here. Let's get started, shall we?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry’s the first one to break their comfortable silence. 

He pushes his glasses up on his nose, clearing his throat. “What do you think about this, Y/N?” He turns his monitor toward Y/N so she can see what he’s doing. He has a neatly organized outline, bullet pointed and everything.

“I think it looks really good,” Y/N says with a nod of her head. “The bullet points look like they’ll be easy to follow. Thank you for your help."

“I like helping you. You help me all the time.” Harry says this so matter-of-fact, as if he were stating the sky was blue. He wordlessly turns back to the document he has open, beginning to type again. They’re interrupted twenty short minutes later by a knock on the door.

“Come in.” Harry calls out curtly. The door opens and in walks someone Y/N recognizes from the accounting department.

“Mr. Styles, I have those reports you needed finished. Would you like to review them?”

“Not now,” he responds immediately. “I’m busy.”

The accountant has a look of what she assumes to be slight annoyance on his face. She wonders if Harry catches it. “I’ve been trying to go over these things with you for nearly a week, sir...it needs to be signed off on and submitted.”

“It’ll have to wait, Mitch.”

Harry’s answers are short, and it’s obvious he’s not in the mood to talk about work. The accountant opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but stops himself, turning to leave instead. Harry doesn’t seem perturbed at all, but Y/N feels bad! Was Mr. Styles putting off work to help her?

“Okay, sir,” the accountant turns to place his hand on the doorknob. “Perhaps we can review tomorrow?”

“Perhaps.”

The accountant opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something but he decides against it, deciding to just leave instead. After a somewhat awkward silence, Y/N breaks it.

“Thank you for helping me again. I know I keep saying that, but I know you’re really, really busy.”

“Again, I like helping you," he pauses. “Why don’t we call it a night now? I’m sure you’ll do more work when you get home anyway.”

Y/N nods at this and grabs her notebook from in front of Harry, shutting her laptop. "Thank you again."

"Let me walk you out. I'm going that way too."

Y/N walks through the door to her own office and gathers her bag, slipping her laptop inside. She turns around to find Harry standing in the doorway giving her an expectant look.

"Ready?"

They enter the elevator together and Harry presses the first floor button, pressing his back against the wall. Y/N does the same. As the elevator descends to the first floor, Y/N feels Harry’s eyes on her but she doesn’t turn to look at him. Once the elevators open, they exit the elevator and make their way towards the parking lot.

“My car’s on this level,” Y/N tells Harry, exiting the elevator. “Thank you for walking me with me, Mr. Styles.”

“Of course. Same time tomorrow?”

“I’d like that,” Y/N gives Harry a bashful smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Styles.”

With that, Harry gives her a small grin as the elevator doors are closing. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Please let me know what you think! Part 2 soon :)

[tangledinink]

Okay! One last I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? oneshot, and then next week we'll get a new chapter... and this week's piece is about Mikey! :) Read it on ao3 or below the cut.

It had all started with a beautiful shade of ultramarine.

And it wasn’t as if Mikey took issue with the color itself-- it was a lovely shade of blue. That wasn’t the problem. And quite frankly, he didn’t notice it at first, but at some point halfway through his fifth-period class, while his eyes were wandering idly around the room, looking at nothing in particular, just roaming for the sake of roaming while he listened… he had paused, frowned, and back-tracked to do a double-take.

Ultramarine?

That was so odd, because… Usually, Mona was midnight blue. Her life color was a lot darker than this, richer, slightly less saturated, and closer to a shade of navy than… this.

I mean. There was nothing wrong with it. Ultramarine was a good color. It looked good on her…!

But it wasn’t hers.

Mikey had frowned a bit, his brow twitching slightly. He had never seen anyone’s life color change before. Was that a thing?... He supposed he had no way of knowing since it was just this weird little quirk that he enjoyed on his own, so it wasn’t like he could look it up or ask anyone, but… he had never seen this happen before.

Did something happen to her, he wondered? He had worried about this for a bit and endeavored to check in with her later, just in case, but then had let it go. I mean, what was he supposed to do about it?

But then she wasn’t the only one.

He noticed it slowly, but more people’s colors seemed to shift throughout the remainder of the class. Bit by bit, things began to tilt just ever so slightly to either the left or right on the metaphorical color wheel, not wrong but not exactly right, either. By the time he got to his next class, everyone’s colors were just a little bit off, and beginning to blur slightly, kind of fuzzy around the edges, and Mikey was starting to freak out just a tiny bit.

The shimmering, bouncing lights came after that. They teased at the very edges of his vision, tickling at his eyelashes, but never there when he tried to turn around and see them. And the more it happened, the more nervous he became. His stomach flip-flopped, and he resisted the urge to fidget in his seat. Something felt… wrong. He wasn’t very focused for the rest of the class.

It had been just after the final bell of the day, amongst the chaos of the entire school’s excitement of being dismissed, racing through the hallway, when a portion of Mikey’s field of vision gave out from under him. And suddenly, there was this big, fuzzy patch of black on his left side. No matter how many times he blinked and rubbed at his eyes, it wouldn’t go away. It was suddenly like he was halfway blind. And then he for-real started to panic.

He was debating whether he should take out his phone and call one of his family members, like, right now, or if he should try to make his way to the nurse’s office on his own (could he still do that--? School was technically over--) when the pain started.

It was like being hit by a freight train. 

He nearly dropped his books at the impact of it when it truly settled in, the knot in his stomach from before now rising up into full-blown nausea, threatening to overtake him. He came to a very sudden stop in his journey, finding the nearest wall to hang onto and squeezing his eyes shut, fighting back the urge to vomit.

Oh my god.

It hurt so bad. 

The pain was absolutely dazzling, pulsing bright and vicious through his head. It felt like he had some sort of hot, heavy, alien creature attached to one side of his skull, burrowing its way into him, and he could feel its heartbeat. And it was absolutely all-encompassing. He couldn’t even make his feet move-- all he could do was stand there for a second and try to breathe, to swallow repeatedly, and try desperately not to throw up here in the hall.

For a second, he just stood there and he thought, maybe it’ll go away. 

Maybe it’ll get better.

But it was just getting worse.

It was so loud. It was so bright. Every voice and shuffled foot and slam of a locker door was like a drill buzzing straight into his brain, and the fluorescent lights overhead were eating him alive, and he couldn’t move, but he had to-- He had to do something.

He was so, so certain that if he stayed here any longer, he was absolutely going to die.

We gotta do something. Come on. Move. You have to get-- somewhere. Not here. To the nurse’s office. They’ll be able to help, but you have to move. Go on. Move! Move your feet! He begged, and eventually, miraculously, his nerves listened to him.

If anyone noticed him, stopped him, asked if he was okay, he couldn’t hear them, because he was putting every piece of energy that he had into making his body move instead of curling up into a little ball on the floor. A few tears were already beginning to track their way down his face as he trembled, panicked breaths rattling through his chest. He ducked and weaved past other students in his frantic retreat, but he couldn’t see anything properly out of his left side, and he kept bumping into people. And he wished he could stop and apologize and see if they were okay, but he couldn’t. He just-- He had to not be here. He really, really had to not be here. He was on the fifth floor. His goal, the nurse’s office, was on the ground level. 

Oh god. 

This was the worst pain he had ever experienced in his life.

He made it about as far as the stairwell before he couldn’t move anymore.

---

Once he hadn’t been able to make himself go any further, the pain and nausea overwhelming him, he had stopped for a bit, leaning against the cool concrete of the wall and clutching his books tight in his hands as he focused simply on breathing. 

At some point, he had taken out his phone, attempting to text one of his family members to send out an SOS, to tell them that he was fucking dying in the stairwell and that he loved them and that his final wish was for them to give all his artwork to the MOMA, ‘cause they’d be damn lucky to have it, thank you, and everything else to charity, but it was like looking at the goddamn sun. Every time he tried to draft out a message or even just navigate enough to place a phone call (at this point he was tempted to just straight up call 911, which felt pretty dramatic for a headache, but every second that passed the statement ‘I’m dying’ felt a lot less like hyperbole and a lot more like a real, actual possibility,) he was hit with this bright, hot white pain on top of the already thick layer of pain and his head would throb and his stomach would lurch and his knees would buckle, and eventually, after a few attempts and a good deal of frustrated crying, he just gave up.

By the time he had gotten here, the crowd had already thinned out quite a bit, with the main max exodus of the final bell already having tapered off. Only the occasional group of students would come through, and some of them looked at him, but with him crying softly and squinting at his phone in the corner, most people probably figured he was fighting with a friend or going through a breakup or something and seemed to feel it wasn’t any of their business, and they didn’t bother him. 

He was basically alone by the time he accepted his fate of dying here in the stairwell, curling up sadly in a little ball and weeping softly to himself. Now that there were so few kids lingering, and therefore much less competition, anyone who did want to head up or down the stairs would likely take the elevators instead. And Mikey thought belatedly to himself that he should have grabbed someone and told them that his brain was melting when he still had the chance.

But now he was alone, and he supposed that was that. 

And he didn’t know what else to do. Picking up his head hurt, and opening his eyes hurt, and everything hurt, so he just… sat there. His earlier sobbing had died down to just weak little sniffles and hiccups, tears dripping sadly down his face as he tiredly, miserably, manually sucked in each and every inhale and exhale-- just trying to somehow breathe through the pain.

He wasn’t really sure how long he was there. Looking back, he figured it couldn’t have actually been that long. But it felt like eons. Mikey had just about accepted this as his final resting place when the relative quiet of his hiding spot was split by the horrendous screech of the door opening, and Mikey winced--

And then he heard, “Oh, sweet Salomea Skłodowska–Curie, there you are! Mikey, where have you been!?”

And the noise hurt, but he recognized that voice. He picked up his head just enough to stare at Donnie in shock… and then absolutely sobbed in relief at the sight of him.

Donnie blinked in surprise, floundering for a moment before letting the door slide shut behind him, kneeling quickly down by Mikey’s side and examining him with worry.

“Mikey? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I-- I don’t know!” He hiccuped pitifully, his shoulders shaking as he sniffled. “It’s-- s-something is w-wrong, and, and I don’t know w-what but it hurts and I, I can’t see, and, and I don’t kn-know what’s happening, but everything hurts and I feel like I’m gonna die…!”

“You can’t see?” Donnie repeated, their voice pressing a bit with obvious concern. “You can’t see at all?”

“N-no, it’s, it’s just-- just a little over here,” Mikey sniffled, gesturing slightly to his left. “Like a. A spot, and. E-everything is just… f-fuzzy, and, and my, my head hurts…”

“Mikey, why didn’t you text one of us?”

“I can’t,” he sobbed. “It h-hurts too bad to look, Dee, it’s too bright!”

Donnie narrowed his eyes, frowning slightly.

“And you said your head hurts?”

Mikey nodded weakly, wiping at his eyes.

“Where? Show me.”

“Uhm…” Mikey wobbled for a minute, wincing before he finally kind of wiggled a hand to indicate. “J-just… over here, on this side, all the way u-up… It… It hurts so bad, I…! I d-don’t know what to do…!”

Donnie stayed quiet for a moment, seeming to consider this, before he sighed very softly, patting his brother’s knee decisively. 

“Right. Well. Congratulations, Hamato Michelangelo,” he hummed quietly, his voice all careful and whispered. “I diagnose you with a migraine.”

Mikey kept quiet for a second, processing this, before he sobbed.

“This is a migraine?!” He bit out, his voice absolutely trembling. 

“Yes, well, they are genetic--”

“I-is this what it’s like for you!? This-- this is h-horrible! You-- you have m-migraines every other week!” Mikey wept.

Donnie blinked in surprise, seemingly taken aback by his brother’s outburst before scoffing softly, waving off his concerns. “Experience is all relative,” he muttered. “The point is, you’re not dying, alright? You’ll be fine. It’ll just be… unpleasant for a little while,” he sighed, shrugging his bag off his shoulder and beginning to dig through it. “Did you take anything yet?”

“N-no…”

“Okay. Here,” he produced a small pill bottle from his backpack, cracking it open quickly and shaking out two little pills. “This is the good shit. We should be at approximately the same dose…” He paused to rapidly examine the label, humming softly to himself for just a second before he was seemingly satisfied, holding the drugs out to the other. “I don’t know if it’ll fix it, but it should at least help.”

Mikey sniffled, nodding a tiny bit and agreeably holding out a trembling palm to accept the medication. Donnie grabbed his water bottle from his bag, passing it over, and though Mikey took it, he hiccuped softly, hesitating for a second before he looked up at Donnie with wide eyes.

“Y-you don’t l-like it when, when people drink out of your water b-bottle…”

Donnie rolled his eyes. “As much as I appreciate the concern, Michael, I will disinfect it later. It’s fine. Just take the meds.”

Mikey hiccuped a bit, but he did as he was told anyway, tossing the pills into his mouth and swallowing them down with a generous swig of water. Despite this, this sickly sweet taste kind of burned the back of his mouth for a minute, and he wrinkled up his face at it. Ew… 

“Yeah, I know,” Donnie hummed. “Okay. Uh. Look. Let’s get you to the nurse’s office so you can lay down and wait for these to kick in, and then we can go home.”

Laying down did sound pretty good, Mikey had to admit, and he nodded a tiny bit, his bottom lip still wobbling.

Donnie sort of hesitated for a second, his brows furrowed with concern as he looked Mikey up and down. “Do you think you can walk? Or do you want me to… carry you…?”

Mikey paused for a moment, and then he snorted.

“Carry me?”

“Look, I’m trying to be nice…!”

Mikey kind of laughed weakly, somewhere between a giggle and a sob, wiping at his face.

“Dee, you can’t carry me…! You’re too small!”

Donnie bristled in offense. “Pardon me!? I’m taller than you!”

“Yeah, but you’re smaller than me,” Mikey insisted, just barely managing a teeny little smile, his eyes still closed as his head drooped against the wall. “You’re… little… you weigh, like, five pounds…” 

“Oh, you are so lucky you have a migraine, or we would be having a discussion right now,” Donnie hissed in reply, an absolute scowl painting his face. “I could…”

He hesitated.

“I could call Raph. He could carry you.”

Mikey’s trembling grin widened a teeny, tiny bit. See? He was right. Donnie couldn’t carry him. At least not for that far.

“No. It’s. Uhm. It’s okay. I can walk,” he said, taking a few long breaths, very slowly rising up to his feet. Everything kind of wobbled and swam for a moment, but it backed off after a second as he found his balance again. “Okay. Hang on. Here,” Donnie mumbled, “This will help…”

Mikey watched in shock as his brother pulled his headphones down off his head, reaching over to instead carefully place them over Mikey’s. 

The muffled quiet that fell over the world was, admittedly, absolutely lovely, but he still gaped at the other.

“But-- you need these--” he tried to protest.

“Mikey, I assure you I can make it from here to the nurse’s office without a meltdown. You need them more right now. I will be fine,” Donnie promised, reaching over to adjust the settings on the headphones slightly, tilting Mikey’s head to the side with his hand as he did so, careful fingers nudging at his chin to get him to turn. White noise washed over Mikey like seafoam, lapping at the edges of him, cold and soothing and soft. 

Mikey nearly started sobbing again. Because everything still hurt so bad, but even just this, even just taking away the noise, which there was very little of to begin with, made it so much better. He didn’t think he had ever been in so much pain in his life, and that was still true, but already it was just so much less than it had been five minutes ago.

“Alright. Is that okay?”

Mikey hiccuped softly, nodding a little bit.

“Alright. Let me know if you need a break or anything. And keep your eyes shut. The hall lights are gonna hurt, so just keep close and I’ll make sure you don’t walk into anything. Got it?” Donnie instructed shortly, reaching out to offer his hand to the other. 

Mikey did sob a tiny bit this time, scrubbing at his wet face with his sleeve one last time before he took his big brother’s hand. 

“Th-thanks, Dee.”

“Don’t mention it,” Donnie muttered. “I know how much this sucks. You ready?”

Mikey breathed deep, taking a long inhale, and then letting out an exhale, passing his trust entirely over to his sibling as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Yeah. Ready.”

---

[ Donnie: Have any of you heard from Mikey?

Leo: not since likkeee lunch. he sent me. like. eight tiktoks.

Raph: hes not with you???

Leo: dont you guys have dance r/n?

Donnie: No, I waited at the usual place so we could head over, but he didn’t show up.

Raph: what????

Leo: chill, he prbly got distracted w one of his friends or smth and wasnt looking at the time. U know how he is.

April: ^^^

April: ill try calling too. I havent left yet so i dont mind lookin around rq to see if i can find him anywhere

Donnie: Thank you. I’ll do the same. Please text if you see him.

Raph: if you dont find him ill come back

Leo: i can duck out of rehearsals if you guys need. but hes probably around.

Donnie: He’s definitely still in the school, as per geotracking.

Leo: stop geotracking us

(read)

Donnie: I found him. He’s fine.

Leo: seeee? hes finneeee

April: where was he?

Donnie: The stairwell.

Donnie: And he has a migraine so no one bother him for the rest of the evening, understood? Don’t call him. Don’t text him. Don’t come poking around his room to see if he’s okay. Just leave him alone.

Donnie: Raph.

Donnie: I’m gonna try and see if I can get him to sleep once we get home so he can at least be unconscious for some of this. And if I am successful in this and then any of you dum-dums wake him up, I swear there will be severe consequences.

Donnie: Light and noise should be kept to an absolute minimum until he’s over this. Got it?

April: oof!!! that sucks :( poor mikey. got it!

Raph: 👍

Leo: lol yah ok ✨boss ✨

Leo: thank god raph is older than u coz ud be a fucking nightmare lmao

Donnie: Die. ]

---

[ Mikey: omg i missed my phone 🥺

Mikey: migraines SUCK

Mikey: also PSA if anyone ever makes a noise above a gd whisper when D has a migraine ever again i will do unspeakable things because i have seen the error of my ways i s2gggggg

Donnie: THANK YOU.

Leo: eugh boi ]

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

this is the day your life will surely change (s.h. x reader)

masterlist prev: everybody's goin' off the deep end read on Ao3 synopsis: You wake up on Monday morning, and a sense of dread has made its home in the pit of your stomach. Something is off in Hawkins, and almost no one notices but you.

Monday, November 7, 1983

The sound of clanging in the kitchen woke you up well before your alarm, as it did every morning. Your dad was kind and gracious and incredibly smart, but he was not graceful, especially in the kitchen. For as long as you can remember, he has been insistent on making sure you had sufficient ‘brain food’ before school. You never had the heart to tell him that you weren’t truly an early riser, because he looked so proud every time he presented you with your eggs and toast with one slice of bacon he had finagled into looking like a smile. Hiding your grogginess in the morning was as much of a family tradition as your yearly trip to the planetarium a few towns over. 

The smell of breakfast drifted into your room, and while your stomach would usually rumble with hunger, you suddenly felt nauseous. The pit that had formed last night seemed to have stuck around. You groaned, rolling over in your bed and dreaming about a world where you could go back to sleep. You only lasted a few minutes before rolling out of bed and getting yourself ready for the day. You double checked you had everything in your bag, taking deep breaths in the hopes it would aid the sense of dread that had made itself at home in your chest. 

You plopped down at the kitchen table, taking cautious sips from the glass of orange juice your dad had put out for you. “What’s wrong Bumble Bea?” Your dad’s voice is soft enough you can feel a tear beginning to prickle in the corner of your eyes. When you work up the courage to meet his gaze, you find he hasn’t even turned around from the stove. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, because he somehow always knew. He claimed he had a dad sense, and you claimed he’d read one too many X-Men comics in his days. 

“My stomach hurts.” You grumble, taking another small sip of orange juice. You can feel his frown without having to see his face. 

Your dad scoots the eggs he had previously heaped onto your plate back into the pan, before adding an additional slice of toast. “Do you want to take the day off?” He asks, setting the plate in front of you and taking his own seat. 

“It’s not that bad, and we have a chem test tomorrow. I should go in.” Kaminsky’s tests were notoriously impossible, and you hadn’t exactly gotten the studying done yesterday that you were hoping for. 

“As long as you’re sure. I can put a call in to the school if you aren’t up to it.” 

You sigh, doing your best to stomach the toast. You’re saved from answering when the phone begins to ring. Your dad answers, and you largely tune out until you hear him say “She’s right here.” You stand up, making your way over to the phone on the other side of the kitchen. Your dad muffles the handset against his chest, whispering, “It’s Joyce Byers, she sounds upset.” 

Your eyebrows draw together as you bring the phone to your ear, trying not to let the confusion show in your voice. “Hi Joyce, what’s up?”

“Hi sweetheart, did you happen to give Will a ride home last night?” 

Your stomach lurched at her question. “Um, no, actually.” You can hear her breathing getting shaky through the speaker. “I offered, but he wanted to bike home with the boys.” You clarify. “Is everything okay?” 

“I’m sure everything’s fine, he probably just headed in to class early. You know how he hates to be late.” You wince, but agree all the same. You promise to let her know if you hear from him, before hanging up. 

You take a few deep breaths, doing your best to steady your heart rate. “She can’t find Will this morning.” 

Your dad tilts his head to the side, thinking. “How about this, let’s head in and poke around the school for Will. I’m sure he’s a-okay, champ.” 

You wrap your arms around his middle, letting your head lay against his chest. “Okay” you reply, your voice slightly muffled by his shirt. His hand rests on the top of your head, grounding you for a moment. 

“It’s a bit early to panic,” he does his best to reassure you, but something about this just isn’t sitting right with you. 

______________________________________________________________

You knew that your foot tapping was bothering Ms. Ryker, the school librarian. You had known her since you were small, on account of your dad bringing you to district wide teacher work days when you were young, and he was a newly single parent who came up short in the babysitter department all too often. The library was dead silent, save for the tapping of your foot, but you just couldn’t help it. Will hadn’t been camped out in your dad’s classroom, the middle school library or the AV Club room. You and your dad had checked his usual haunts first, and when you came up empty, you’d checked every room in Hawkins’ Middle. No sign of Will. You’d reassured your dad you felt fine, and made your way to the high school. You managed to make two and a half flash cards before your anxiety got the better to you and you made your way to the pay phone. No hospital within a ten mile radius had any boys brought in that matched Will’s description, and the number for child services you found in the phone book was equally unhelpful. 

You’d given up and done your best to convince yourself you were over reacting. You attempted to distract yourself by making flashcards for the few terms left on your study guide, but you couldn’t seem to focus on anything. A tap on the window saved you from copying down the definition for protons. Steve stood on the other side of the window, grinning at you in a lopsided fashion and waving. You tilted your head to the side, not entirely sure why he was here so early. His smile only grows, and he motions for you to meet him in the hallway. You throw your supplies into your backpack and wish Ms. Ryker a good day before making your way through the library door that Steve is holding open for you. 

“You’re here early.” 

Steve checks his watch, seemingly surprised by your observation. “I guess I am, but so are you.” You shrug, he has a point. Steve leans in conspiratorially, “besides, I’m on a secret mission.” 

“Oh really?” You smile at his antics, despite yourself. 

“And I am in desperate need of your assistance.” The next thing you know, Steve is steering you down the hallway with a hand placed gently on your back. “I need to know where Nancy’s locker is.” 

“You know, I didn’t get here early so that I could be your wingwoman.” You snarked, letting Steve lead you in the entirely wrong direction from his goal. 

“No, but you looked miserable in there. Saved you from whatever you have been worrying about and saved me from trying to charm Phylis this early in the morning.” Your laugh was loud enough to bounce down the hall in front of you. 

“I believe in my heart of hearts that Phylis is un-charmable, unfortunately.” Steve gave you a look that clearly said ‘Well, you haven’t seen me try yet.’. “I’ve seen her four drinks deep at the PTA Christmas Party, unmoved by several small children caroling while dressed in little angel costumes. You don’t have a shot in hell.” 

“All the better I have you here, yeah?” He jokes, slipping his arm around you to squeeze gently at your waist. Your stomach flipped, and you did your best to studiously ignore it. 

“I guess so, because you are directionally inept,” you laugh, steering Steve in the right direction. You pointed out Nancy���s locker and watched him sneak a note in through the grates at the bottom. Your eyebrows snuck closer to your hairline, and his only response was an earnest grin. “Okay Romeo, have my wingwoman duties concluded?” 

“For the record I didn’t need a wingwoman. I needed…” his eyes searched the ceiling, looking for a substitution. “A tour guide.” 

You cackled, backing away from the scene of the crime. “What a downgrade!” you called back to Steve, who was leaning against the locker, shame free. You saw that the hallway was beginning to fill with other students trickling in for the day, so you spun on your heel to face front and dutifully made your way to your own locker. You put away the books you’d lugged home last night and made sure your homework was safely tucked inside your binder before making your way to the door that led to the parking lot to hopefully catch Nancy and Barb on their way in.

______________________________________________________________

“I need you to run this by me one more time.” You loved Barb with all of your heart, but if she made you walk her through one of the more embarrassing moments of your life for the third time before first period, you were going to drop kick her in the parking lot. 

“I really don’t see what else there is to say, Barb.” Nancy was handling this better than you. Not exactly well, but better. A light pink dusted her cheeks and she had tucked her hair behind her ear several times, the most clear tell that she was flustered. 

“So he called your house looking for Bea, and then a few minutes after we hang up, he calls back?” You couldn’t for the life of you imagine why this was so challenging for Barb to wrap her mind around. “But he did call!” Barb was nearly shouting, clutching her binder against her chest, giddily. 

“Keep your voice down!” Nancy shushed, glancing around the hallway in the hopes that no one had overheard.

“But he did!” Barb insisted.

“I told you, it’s not like that. Okay I mean, yes, he likes me, but not like that.” Nancy ushered the two of you towards her locker. “We just… made out a couple times.”

“We just… made out a couple times,” Barb mocked. Her tone was light, but the same nervous look was in her eye the last time the three of you had this talk. “Nance seriously, you are going to be so cool now, it’s ridiculous,” 

“No I will not!” Nancy laughed, unlocking her locker before pulling open the door. You glimpsed Steve’s note before either of your friends did.

“You better still hang out with me, that’s all I’m saying. If you become friends with Tommy H. or Carol-” 

“Gross I’m telling you, it was a one time…two time thing” Nancy insists.

“I’ve been his tutor for months and you have never once deemed me in danger of jumping the ship. I think your worry is outweighing the gravity of the situation, Barb.” The two of you shared a smile, you made yours as supportive as you could, while Barb’s was a bit sheepish. It was a reminder that your dad often gave to you at the dinner table when you couldn’t nail a topic he had been helping you with. 

Nancy pulls out the note, and the three of you lean together to read it. “You were saying?” Barb snarked, watching Nancy’s gaze dart to the bathroom door. “Go!” She shoved Nancy in the direction of the bathroom, rolling her eyes. “Can’t keep Steve Harrington waiting for too long.” Barb’s tone was obviously taunting, but Nancy started walking away regardless. “I’ll-” she glanced in the direction of the bathroom before turning her attention back to the two of you. “I’ll see you guys later!” 

Barb snorted, gently knocking her shoulder against yours. “Watch her be late for first period.”

______________________________________________________________

“Sorry to interrupt, but we are going to borrow Ms. Clarke for a few moments.” You’d been zoned out, doodling a flower in the margin of your usually very detailed world history notes. You’d continued struggling to focus all day, the uneasy feeling calming down in your stomach but never fully settling. Your principal was standing in the doorway along with the Chief of Police and a deputy, and your heart dropped into your stomach. Something was wrong. 

The deputy gave you what you were sure was supposed to be a reassuring smile as you were escorted down the hallway when he noticed how white your knuckles were from your tight grip on your binder, but it only served to make your heart pound even worse in your chest. 

The principal gestured for you to take a seat on the couch in the guidance counselor’s office, while Chief Hopper and the deputy whose name you still didn’t know sat across from you. “When’s the last time you saw Will Byers?” Okay, straight to the point. 

“I offered him and a few of his friends a ride home from the Wheeler’s last night. It was probably around nine-thirty.” The deputy was making notes in a small notebook while the chief nodded thoughtfully. “I always do, if we are leaving around the same time,” you tried to take a deep breath and stop your foot from tapping incessantly on the floor, but you were largely unsuccessful. “They rarely take me up on it, if the weather is good. They like to race home on their bikes, usually.” 

“And that’s all?” Chief Hopper asked. 

“Um, his mom, Joyce called this morning. She was wondering if I’d seen him but, like I said, they biked home and I haven’t seen him since.” You bit the inside of your cheek, nervously. “Is everything okay?” 

“Joyce reported him missing this morning.” You closed your eyes, attempting to steady yourself. “Listen, if you hear anything,” Chief Hopper said, pulling a card out of the front pocket of his shirt, “Give us a call.” You accept the card willingly, despite having had to memorize the non-emergency number during your two day training at the local hospital several years ago for your babysitter certification class you’d taken with Barb. 

You look up from the card as Hopper hesitates in the doorway, the other officer’s boots echoing down the hallway. “I shouldn’t have to say this,” he said, running his hand down his face, clearly already exhausted. “But don’t go looking for the kid.” You tilted your head to the side, questioning. “Just leave it to us.” He sounded weary, and looked wearier. You couldn’t do anything else but nod, and snatch a peppermint off the principal’s desk on the way out, hoping it would aid your stomach that had continued to worsen for most of the day. 

You took a few moments to steady yourself before heading for your locker. You started packing your backpack to head home for the day. Barb stopped by to drop off the homework that was handed out at the end of world history, and the two of you made plans to exchange notes over the phone later. You thanked her, slipping the worksheet into your binder, still in a bit of a daze. Nancy joined the two of you after a few minutes of Barb telling you about her latest book and her study plans for the night. “I need you to cover for me.” 

“Hi Nance, it’s good to see you too! Yes, Nance, Mr. Hanford was just as boring as always, and Tess Brewer did fall asleep face first into her binder again. Bea got called out of class by the chief of police, nothing unusual. Anyways, what’s up with you?” Barb sounded hurt, but she was grinning good-naturedly. “Cover for you for what?” 

Nancy’s eyes snapped to yours. “What?” 

“He,” you paused, taking a deep breath. He had some questions about Will. His mom couldn’t find him this morning.”

“Well, that’s going to throw a wrench in my plans.” 

“Nance!” You were shocked. Nancy did occasionally have a one track mind, but you had never seen her like this before. 

“Steve is going to help me study tonight,” you fought the urge to roll your eyes with all of your remaining strength.  “I need to tell my mom I am going over to Barb’s as a cover.” She explained “You know she isn’t going to let me go otherwise.” 

“Are you sure that’s such a good idea? Kaminsky’s tests are so hard and I know you didn’t get much done yesterday.” Barb voiced your thoughts exactly, while kindly omitting the fact that Steve couldn’t study his way out of a paper bag. 

“That’s why we’re going to study.” She said, eyebrows raised in emphasis. 

You had a hard time believing that she would leave that encounter with any knowledge besides the feel of the fabric of Steve’s backseat, but you held your tongue. “Well, I wish the both of you the best of luck,” you glanced at your watch, doing your best to feign surprise. “But I promised my dad that I would help him grade science projects tonight.” You gave the two of them a broad smile, backing away. “Upwards of thirty baking soda volcanoes are calling my name!” 

______________________________________________________________

You’d given each and every lopsided volcano an A+, and your dad hadn’t objected once. You had a hunch he was letting it slide in the name of brightening your spirits, and frankly, it was working wonders. After you’d finished recounting your talk with Chief Hopper and his deputy, and your dad had ensured that you were feeling alright, he handed over the sticker sheet without question. His classroom was consumed by still crackling volcanoes covering every surface. It was one of your favorite times of year. You were always allowed to give an extra gold star sticker to any of the kids who included a miniature dinosaur or two, another Clarke family tradition. You could breathe easier for the first time all day, hunched over air dry clay volcanoes with your dad brought you enough normalcy to soothe the uneasy feeling you’d had all day. 

That is, until another teacher popped her head in the door. “Scott, did you hear?” 

Your dad gave you a look, before making his way over to the door of his classroom. They talked in hushed whispers, which only served to make your ears perk up even further. You did your best to busy yourself with the task at hand, and failed miserably when you saw your dad’s shoulders slump. 

“What do you think about ordering a pizza tonight?” You quirked your head to the side, you always had breakfast for dinner on Monday nights. “They, uh.” He took a deep breath to steady himself, and you followed his lead. You could feel the dread creeping in. “They’re organizing a search party for Will tonight. We’re putting together a group of teachers to go.” 

“I can-” you start, but your dad is already ahead of you. 

“You can stay home, where I know you won’t twist an ankle in the dark or wander off in the woods.” His hand found yours, and you did your best to remain calm. “We will find him, kiddo, but I’ve gotta know you’re safe in the meantime.” You lost the battle with the tears that you had been fighting for most of the day, and your dad was quick to give you a tight squeeze while you cried yourself out. He was never the first to pull away from a hug, always wanting to make sure that you got what you needed from him. 

You brushed away your final few tears, and straightened your shoulders. “I’m going to have to insist on a full report when you get back.” 

Your dad gave you his biggest smile, and you could tell he was doing his best to make sure it reached his eyes. “If that’s what it takes, Bumble Bea.”

A/N: Hi! I hope that you liked the new chapter! Thank you for all of the support so far, it means a lot. I am really looking forward to getting into the more plot heavy stuff in the next few chapters! The title is from the song This is the Day by The The (1983). And here is a link to the playlist that has all the songs used for chapter titles!

[aarcanevillains]

That one night in Atlanta

Masterlist

Lili hasn’t seen Alex in four years, since Vietnam and that immediate attraction, it seems, still lingered

Warnings: Smut | Alex Summers x FemOC

Notes: Lili is Peter’s cousin from a previous one shot - don’t do what Alex & Lili do -> wrap it before you tap it even when drunk

Liliana Eisenhardt, a twenty-six year old woman who’s Polish accent hadn’t dimmed since her move to Washington DC when she was five.

Lili, a Polish woman who had been one of the many mutants forced to follow America into the Vietnam war- though she was there as a young twenty-two year old nurse stationed in the Mutants tent… as a science experiment for her mutation and to test the others like her.

It’s where she first met Alexander Summers, or well Alex as he had officially introduced himself and told her many a time to refer to him as instead of Summers. The day she finally caved had been the first time they spoke properly, the first time any of them had seen her use that mutation of hers (and on a scientist who had tried to call for help at that).

Lili shot back the cold burning liquid as she drowned out the shit day she had had. Another place of work declining her for being a Mutant. It was getting annoying.

She’d come all the way to Atlanta, hoping to transfer universities as she aimed for her doctorate in Physics (and Education), and get a paid internship at a local high school. But oh no- her file stated she was one of the mutants selected for Vietnam some four years ago so we can’t have the likes of you here.

It was fucking stupid.

“Tough day?” She blinked, recognition setting in as she turned to the voice. What was previously sand blond slicked back hair with buzzed down sides was now light brown and sweeping by his jaw. Blue eyes watching her carefully as she took him in.

“I’d say utter shit Summers.” She said finally, spinning on the bar chair to greet him properly.

“Looks it Eisenhardt.” He remembered her- honestly that surprised her, she never thought she was that memorable even with her copper hair and green eyes and yet he proved her wrong. “Saw you across the room, wanted to double check it was you though.”

“You’d be correct. Still Lili.” She smiled, head nodding to the bar. “You here for drinks with friends or..?”

“Just me unfortunately. Was doing some work here and decided I deserved a drink before I go home in the next few days.” He sat himself in the seat beside hers. “You?”

“Well I had hoped I’d be able to transfer universities so I could do a paid internship but.. they looked at my file and well ‘we can’t have one of your folk here’ so I also deserved a drink… or five.” Alex winced sympathy written all over that ungodly handsome face.

Instead of saying anything more he nodded to the barkeep. They both really needed a fucking drink.

Alex Summers couldn’t forget her even if he tried. The soft spoken nurse who always patched him and his team up, who never judged them, who only smiled when he and the others talked about their mutations. The young woman he was barely six years older than who was also secretly a mutant just like them.

And though it was hard to forget the way the bed slid across the room to slam into the man trying to run for help.. not for them but for Striker it was those green eyes, the crinkling of her nose when she smiled and that gorgeous copper hair that remained tucked in his mind.

Four years later and she was still stunning.

Four years later and they were in her hotel room lips locked in some heated battle that he wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon.

Lili’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging softly as he lifted her, hands grasping her thighs tight while he stumbled towards her bed. The fall into the sheets was not graceful in the slightest.

Hands wandered the expanse of thigh covered by tight denim with a groan, raising higher until one hand found her knee and the other her ass - and fuck what an ass she has. He groaned again into the kiss.

It didn’t take long before clothes began flying, before he got those tight jeans off and his mouth began watering at the sight of the woman beneath him.

Above him.

Kisses nipped down his throat and collarbone as she flipped them both, giving him a view he’d only dreamed of- it was infinitely better in reality.

There was no sweet teasings or foreplay as her hand grasped his cock, lining him beneath her entrance as she knelt over him. Alex couldn’t keep his hands off of her, couldn’t help that sharp smack he landed against her ass before moving up to massage her breasts, to pull her down for another kiss.

They moaned into the kiss as Lili sunk down, hips flush against his own. She started with slow circles, getting used to him, taking him in full. Then Alex’s hands grabbed her hips as he bent his knees up behind her and thrust upwards, another moan being taken from her.

Hips met in sharp, deep thrusts, them moving together at what felt like an ungodly pace.

“Fuck, Alex.” She whimpered as the powerful man flipped them once more. Her legs tucked around his waist, copper hair flung around her like a halo as she tilted her head back. Shit he felt so good, fucked her so good. She whined out his name again as he nipped at her jaw the same way Lili had done to him.

“Lili.” He grunted in her ear. “Come on baby first one of the night yeah- good girl.”

Her core tightened, a twisted feeling in her chest both making her feel concerned and far too lightheaded to care as something crumbled to nothing beside them- matter manipulation really was a bitch.

“Alex.” She bucked up, white hot pleasure seizing her.

Holy shit she had never cum so fast before. It had been barely fifteen minutes since they entered the apartment. Fucking hell Alex was a God.

With a final thrust from Alex he followed suit, and both their chests heaving he fell forward onto her- rolling to the side soon after.

“Holy fuck.” Liliana said finally, head rolling to the side to look up at the energy converting mutant.

“Good?”

“I’ve never cum… so fast wow.” Alex just chuckled into her hair. “But… you said first of the night?”

“Ah. We don’t have to go again Lili…”

She snorted and shuffled down the bed, kissing his chest, his stomach, his abdomen as she went. He groaned as she settled between his legs.

“Oh I very much want to go again.”

[idontplaytrack]

Aj x Reader, reader is Dylan’s sister? Truth or dare? Some kind of party game leads to a confession of feelings but reader has a boyfriend? I want some angst lol

✧ Fall Into Me

AJ Campos x fem! reader

Warnings: mature themes, MDNI. angst, coarse language, quarrelling, underage drinking, attempted/sexual assault.

AJ wishes she could turn back the clock to save reader.

All eyes were on AJ the second she walked into school. Many did a double-take, buzzing about who she was. The girl was no longer dressed the way you knew her to be for as long as you’ve known her. Ten years. Also, you came back to school without your best friend. She’d ended the friendship with you. The summer ended painfully, with more heartbreaks than one. All because of one game.

~~~~~

“Why don’t you want to go to the party? Stacey’s parties are always fun!” Dylan asks. “I don’t like parties, Dyl.” You told him, calmly. Unlike his current mood— he was desperately trying to get you out of the house.

“Come on, you love going to parties with me, y/n.”

You sigh, tempted to agree, but something was holding you back. Or rather, someone. Should you tell Dylan? No, he’d kill ya.

“y/n, you’d be home alone and that’s so boring.” Dylan continues, “You literally told me you hated being home alone.”

You huffed, “Fine. Fine. I’ll go.” You got off the couch, plugging your phone in on the way to your room. “That’s more like it.” Dylan exclaimed. “We’re gonna get so wasted tonight.” You laughed, then sighed while you entered your room and shut the door. You put on the first outfit you saw then proceeded to do your makeup. “We’re leaving in an hour!” Dylan knocks on your door.

“Alright!” You replied loudly.

After getting changed, you went back downstairs. Mainly to check your phone. You had a few missed calls from your boyfriend so you called him back.

“Where are you?”

You flinched at how fast he answered your call.

“At home.”

“Then what took you so long to answer my calls?”

“What? I left my phone on silent and it was charging downstairs but I was up—”

“Don’t give me excuses. You know I—”

“y/n!” Dylan called for you.

“I gotta go, I’ll meet you soon, bye.” You cut him off and hung up.

Putting your phone down, you ask, “Yeah?”

“Stacey says we can go over earlier if we want. So, you wanna?”

“Uh, actually. I’m gonna meet you there. I kinda promised Xander I’d meet him for a bit.”

“Since when? You said you had nothing to do all weekend— and that he was out of town.”

“Maybe he came back early, I dunno.” You shrug, “I’ll be at Stacey’s as soon as I can, alright?”

“You’d better show up, y/n.”

“I will, promise.”

Hurriedly grabbing your purse off the hook, you shove your wallet and keys inside it then left the house with your phone in hand. You walk to a secluded park near home— where Xander was waiting for you. Impatient, antsy…his frame was trembling as his fists were balled up on either of his sides. You had half a mind to run away and just stay home until it was time to go to the party for Dylan, but another part of you went ahead and approached him.

“Xander.” You said, coming up behind him.

“Took you long enough.” He scoffs.

“I literally came here as soon as I called you back.”

“Lose the attitude.”

“What do you want from me?”

“What I want is for you to get this fact into your head. You’re mine. You don’t go around getting kissed, hanging out with your people.”

“My people?” You shot him a bewildered look. He glares at you displeased. You gulped, inching away timidly.

“Who’s this girl kissing you?” He immediately shows you a picture on his phone.

“That— that’s Stacy. Our student body president. She has a boyfriend. My brother.”

“Some girlfriend she is just going around kissing people.”

“It was my birthday. It was pose, nothing more. Her boyfriend is literally in the picture.” You told him, biting back a scoff.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” He snarled, hands gripping onto your shoulders.

You seethed, squirming to free yourself from his grip.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

You shrug. He always apologizes but never meant it— it’ll happen again. And again, and again.

“Then this?”

“That’s my brother Dylan, Xander.” You said flatly, tired. “He hugged me, because I got him something he’s been wanting a long time for his gift.”

“Fine. Sorry.”

“Whatever, can we just get to the party?”

“Ew, I don’t want to go to some lame party of yours.” He scoffs, “Come on, get in the car.” His hand ran up your side. “No.” You told him firmly. Your words fall on deaf ears, his hand nearly cupping your breast.

You slapped him, “What the fuck!”

“You bitch! What was that for?” He shrieked, holding his cheek. Xander lunged at you, hand grabbing your neck, “How dare you hit me?”

He pushes you to the ground before you could say anything else. Then, he huffs and got into his car, driving off. “Fuck you.” He shouts as he drove off.

You help yourself off the ground, dusted yourself off and went on your way to Stacy’s— in tears. But checking your neck to make sure there was no bruising. There was redness, which you hurriedly covered up with the makeup left in your purse as you walked the distance to the party.

Making sure the red marks were covered, you rung the doorbell. “Hey! Come on in, girl!” Stacy immediately hugs you as per usual.

“Hey.” You give her a forced smile, hoping she couldn’t tell.

“You know where everything is. Make yourself at home, drink up, eat up— we’re gonna play a game soon.”

“A g-game?”

“Spin the bottle.” Stacy grins, “In the den.”

By the time you got to the den, you were a little tipsy since you chugged the drinks. Desperate to forget the earlier events with Xander. “Just the person we’ve been waiting for.” Dylan announces, “Sit down, join the circle. Let’s get that bottle spinning.”

You were praying that empty beer bottle doesn’t stop at you. And it was going smoothly. But soon came your turn, so you had no choice but to spin it. It lands on AJ. Tipsy, tipsy AJ. Grinning, about god knows what. Was she happy that you made the bottle land on her?

Rules were, you had to kiss whoever the bottle stopped at. So, you did. Xander wasn’t here anyway…so who was stopping you from having a little fun. It was just a kiss, right? The moment your lips met hers, you felt a spark, a fluttering in your chess that made you feel giddy. No, no, no. Shit. You couldn’t feel this way. You shouldn’t be feeling like this.

“I like you.” She whispers.

You froze, somehow or other, your heart was happy. Relieved and scared. All at once. Then, you slowly broke away from the kiss before it got too heated. “I have a boyfriend.” You said apologetically, “I’m sorry.”

That look in her eyes, it broke your heart. You felt terrible. AJ was a really nice person. She didn’t know, because Xander wanted to keep things lowkey. She was a pretty close friend of yours too. You could’ve told her sooner because she wouldn’t have told anyone that you were dating someone already. She has never let out any of your secrets, and never will. But, it was Xander. He’d find out you told someone, somehow. And you’d be his punching bag. You didn’t want that.

“Sorry.” AJ’s apology pulls you out of your thoughts.

The rest of the night went by uneventfully, until you got home and were in bed. You’d received a text from AJ, asking if she could give you a call. You called her first and it takes her awhile, but she answers eventually.

“y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, it’s my fault. I should’ve just told you sooner.”

“I’ve been sitting here thinking for a bit. I don’t think we can be friends anymore. Because I don’t think my feelings for you will be dying down anytime soon. I can’t hate you and I never will. I don’t want to make things weird for you. Or your boyfriend. Goodbye, y/n.”

You’d barely processed her words before the dial tone was heard. “Shit!” You cursed, throwing your phone across the room. Well, that night? Ended in tears for you. You cried yourself to sleep, muffling the noise with a pillow.

~~~~~

Six weeks later, AJ gets woken up from her slumber by a call from an unknown number.

“Hello, may I speak to AJ Campos?”

“You are.” AJ answered, clearing her throat, “Who is this?”

“I’m calling from Keck Hospital of USC. You were listed as y/n y/l/n’s emergency contact.”

“What?” The blood instantly drained from her face, “What happened to her?”

“She came into the ER with a head injury claiming she fell because she was drinking. But upon further examination, we found that she’d been sexually assaulted.” The nurse explained, “She said we could tell you. The local authorities are also on their way here to find out more about what happened, but if you would like to come over and see her—”

“I-I’m on my way. Bye.” AJ hung up and scurried out of bed, hurrying downstairs to her car and just drove off in her pyjamas.

“Please be okay.” AJ kept repeating to herself as she drove, “I can’t lose you.” Just like that, she’d forgotten why she even tried to distance herself in the first place. Regretting the fact that she ignored you in class when you asked for help on the trig worksheet. She chokes on a sob, “Why wasn’t I nicer to you? Why did I have to—”

After driving for a damn long time, AJ finally arrives at the hospital. Hastily parking her car in the rather empty parking lot, she rushes through the automated doors, asking the front desk which room you were in. “She’s still in the ER. To your left, bed 11. The SVU detectives are with her now. So you may want to wait outside.” AJ ran to look for you, stopping outside the hospital room like they’d told her to. She couldn’t bear to listen to the details— she couldn’t stomach it. As much as she felt that sickening feeling in her stomach, she also felt so angry. Who would do this to someone? Someone as sweet as you? She wishes it was at just a bad dream. But no, it was so very real.

AJ sat in the plastic chair leaning forward, head buried in her hands. Waiting, and waiting. She hears you talking to the detective indistinctly, your voice getting quieter and quieter, then you started to cry. Shit. That sound crushed her heart.

AJ hears them leave the room, she looks up, meeting the sympathetic eyes of the detectives. She got up and walked into the room immediately. You were a wreck the moment you saw her, wanting nothing more than a hug from her. She gave it to you, that hug you’ve been longing for. It always made you feel better. But not so much now, maybe you just missed her.

“I should’ve just left him,” You started, “I should’ve left. I’m so stupid.”

“Honey, don’t say that. It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it though? I knew he was hurting me but I couldn’t do it— I couldn’t leave. I was so scared, AJ. I couldn’t do it, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed on.”

“Baby, please don’t say that. It’s not your fault. Please.”

“Someone showed Xander a photo of us at the party during the game.” You continued to talk through tears, “He got so mad...”

“Xander did this?!” AJ’s voice came out louder than anticipated. You flinched and cried harder. “Shit, y/n. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She apologizes profusely, rubbing your back.

“I told them. I told the police already, I couldn’t take it anymore. I told them everything.” You hung onto her even more tightly, tears seeping into her baggy t-shirt endlessly. One you bought her several years ago.

“They’ll get him, okay, baby?” AJ whispers, “They’ll get him. You’re safe here, alright?”

“I can’t go home, AJ.” You gasped, getting into a coughing fit and she broke away just in case. “I can’t go home. My parents will be so disappointed in me. Disgusted by me…I don’t want to tell them about it, AJ.”

Since you were of age, your parents weren’t notified. So far, AJ was the only person who knew other than the police— who you’ve also told to not inform your parents. Thankfully, they agreed and you could only hope it stayed that way. It was going to be a long night ahead. They still had to do a kit, which took quite awhile. But you knew they had to do it, they needed to get the DNA evidence against your abuser. You cried for AJ to stay with you, feeling absolutely terrified. She agreed to without hesitation, staying with you and letting you hold onto her hand to divert the pain away.

————

Hours later, you were in AJ’s car, half asleep as she begins the drive to her own apartment. You were terribly exhausted but fighting sleep. You were so on the edge, worried and anxious about something happening. About somehow seeing Xander show up.

“You’re safe with me. Close your eyes. I’m right here with you.” AJ says, turning the volume of the radio down.

“You said close your eyes

Don't look down

Fall into me and I'll catch you, darlin'

We'll dance in the street like nobody's watching

It's just you and me and the song on repeat in my head”

You fell asleep to that song softly playing through the speakers, giving into the exhaustion. You knew you were safe with AJ— like always. She softly nudged you awake once you two arrived at her apartment building. You jolted awake, but quickly realised where you were and who you were with. “Let’s go, we’re here.” She gets out of the car, shut her door and went over to your side to help you out. AJ was apprehensive, but she eventually wrapped an arm around you fully seeing that you were comfortable with it. You simply followed her lead without saying a word…what could you possibly say anyway?

Quietly shutting the front door, she leads you to her room, asking if you wanted to take a shower. You said yes and she got you a towel and clothes to change into afterwards. She leaves you alone, but in the meantime, you also got a glass of water ready along with the medications the doctor said you could take. She puts them on the nightstand, then she paced her room for awhile, thinking and thinking. Feeling herself getting angrier. She huffs, sitting down on her bed eventually. The bathroom door was left ajar, and she hears a bottle drop. You screamed and started crying. Could she walk in there? She didn’t want to upset you any further.

She stood directly behind the door, knocking softly, “It’s okay, y/n. You’re alright.” AJ hears the sound of the bottle being put back on the shelf, but you continued crying. She doesn’t stop you— you needed some form of release for the hell that was tonight.

Thirty minutes later, you walk out from the bathroom. Freshly showered but still feeling absolutely dirty. You’d nearly scrubbed your skin raw…your head was throbbing and you were starving. But you couldn’t eat. You felt too sick to eat, scared that you’d just throw everything up. “Take the pills on the nightstand.” She nudged you gently, “Are you hungry? Do you feel like eating something?”

You quietly shook your head, “I feel sick. I can’t.” You sat down on her bed carefully, reaching for the pills on the small table. You swallowed them with the water one at a time and put the glass down, staring blankly into space…your mind was racing.

“Hey.” She sits down next to you, “Let’s get some sleep, okay? Come on.”

You crawled under the covers and laid down on your back. AJ wanted to leave, letting you take the whole bed. “Will you stay with me?” You asked meekly.

She stops in her tracks, turning around, “If that’s what you want, of course.”

“Thank you.” You looked at her, then away and shut your eyes.

“You’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you.” That was the last thing you heard before you fell asleep, “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @reneeswif3 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

[hayleythesugarbowl]

HEYYYYY it’s been awhile since I’ve asked for something and I thought today I would like to have some more Angela stuff I’m not gonna be picky about it just give me something to feed on and I’ll be happy I was hoping a nice long story that’s all I got for you you can write on it when you feel like it or have the time thanks :))) hope your doing well and have a nice rest of the week ;)

Second Chances || Angela Giarratana x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when the smosh cast goes on a company retreat and you and angela are forced to share a hotel room you have the opportunity to rekindle an old romance

word count: 3.3k

warnings: none

a/n: hey!! hope this is what you wanted, i just kinda had this idea and ran with it and i had to include the one bed trope because c’mon. also fem!reader like all of my other angela fics. anyways enjoy!! 💌💋

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Everyone say vacation!” 

     Courtney smiled as they took a group photo of you and everyone else at Smosh. You grinned, looking forward to the time  away from work and daily life. 

     You and the rest of the cast had all flown to a sunny beach town for a week-long company retreat and you now stood in front of a large, bustling resort taking in the warm air, the pinkish glow of the now-setting sun, and sounds of laughter and shouting.

     “Alright everyone, we’re going to have to share rooms because apparently this place is busy this time of year and someone forgot to check availability,” Ian announced, turning to his best friend. 

     “Why are you looking at me?” Anthony said.

     Everyone began discussing who they wanted to bunk with—Shayne moving to stand closer to Damien, Courtney and Olivia linking hands, and Anthony and Ian were already discussing who would sleep in the bed closest to the window—and you watched as everyone paired off. You turned to find Angela next to you.

     “So, everyone’s paired up…what do you say? Roomies?” She asked.

     “Roomies,” you answered, trying to smile. Of course, just your luck. You were glad, in a way—you didn’t want to start your vacation off not finding someone to share with and be stuck feeling like this was middle school all over again—but you couldn’t decide which was worse, that or having to share a room with your ex for the whole week. You figured Angela would have felt the same way. 

     You were over Angela. You thought. You two had dated for the better part of 6 months but you had ultimately decided your relationship was better off as strictly coworkers a couple of months ago. You had both had your part in the relationship failing and you recognized that things were better off this way. But you couldn’t keep away the nagging part of you in the back of your mind that constantly thought what if? What if you had made a mistake ending it? What if your story wasn’t over? 

    You pushed those thoughts away—they were no use to you now—and tried to focus on getting though this week without any uncomfortable experiences. 

     You were brought out of your thoughts by  your party moving towards the resort and you quickly hurried to catch up with them. You saw Angela glance back at you but you ignored it and the feeling you got in your chest as she did so.

     You all found your rooms relatively easily after a long trip up many stairs—of course the elevators were out of order for service this week—and many of them were on the same floor. You walked towards the door of your room and slid the keycard in.

     Small. The first thought you had as you walked into your and Angela’s room some hours later was that it was incredibly small for a five star resort hotel. You figured since they were so booked it must have been all they had.

     Which explained why there was only one space that doubled as a bedroom and a living area, one closet, and, you realized with horror, one bed. 

     You heard Angela come up behind you. 

     “This is it,” you gestured to the room. 

     “Where’s the rest of it?” She asked, stepping in and looking around. 

     You set down your suitcase and sighed as Angela glanced around, her eyes landing on the bed.

     “I’ll sleep on the floor,” Angela offered.

     “Angela, I can’t let you do that. I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

     Angela threw up her hands. “So, we’ll both sleep on the floor then.”

     “Doesn’t that seem like a waste of a perfectly good bed?” You asked.

     “I wouldn’t say perfectly good,” Angela mumbled, “I’ve seen documentaries about how they don’t wash those.”

     You rolled your eyes at her internally, but you had to try not to smile. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard this spiel.

     “Well, someone has to sleep in it,” you said.

     Angela pulled at a strand of her hair. You looked at your shoes. This was ridiculous. You could be adults about this. What was the harm if you and Angela shared the bed? There wasn’t anything weird between you. You were…acquaintances, weren’t you?

     Before you could change your mind you said, “We could share it.”

     That got Angela’s attention. 

     “I mean, there’s no reason why we cant, right?” You added. The words even though we broke up were left unspoken between you. 

     “Of course not,” Angela said but she looked like she would rather sleep on the floor. 

     You figured this whole thing must be awkward for her too. Of course, you knew she had moved on from you. You had no doubt of that. But still, you assumed sharing a bed with your ex had to be uncomfortable for everyone, right?

     Either way, it was settled and so a few minutes later you found yourself climbing into bed with Angela on the other side of you, careful to keep your back to her and your body as close to your edge as possible. 

     The last thing you remembered before you drifted off to sleep was hearing Angela’s snores and thinking that you were right back where you were a few months ago. 

                ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     When you woke up Angela was already out of bed and you breathed a sigh of relief that you didn’t have to face her and could avoid a potentially awkward situation. At least that was something, you thought, as you made yourself get out of bed at what you thought was far too early a time to start a day on vacation. 

     You heard the water water running and decided you would shower that night rather than cross Angela in the bathroom. You threw on the first pair of pants you found in your suitcase and began looking through tops in the closet. You finally settled on one and had just taken off your pajama shirt when something made you pause and you stopped moving as you heard a familiar sound. 

     Angela was singing in the shower. You instinctively took a step closer to the bathroom. She was singing some show tune that you didn’t recognize but the sound was so familiar, so comfortable that you felt as if you’d heard the song before.

     You took another step closer. It was a quiet sound, but her voice grew louder as you stood outside the bathroom door and all you could think of was that it was beautiful. 

    You didn’t know why this was affecting you so much. Probably because it reminded you of when you and Angela were you and Angela. You’d heard her sing plenty of times when you were together. In fact, she’d always made you sing with her so she didn’t hyperventilate trying to sing all of Non-Stop. You’d say you had a lousy voice and she’d tell you the angels were jealous of the way you sounded. You stopped yourself before you got lost in the memory. 

     Unfortunately, you didn’t stop yourself in time to hear Angela’s shower water turn off or her singing stop. 

    You were made aware of this by the door opening and nearly hitting you in the face. Angela looked as shocked to see you as you were to come face to face with her. 

     “(Y/n), what are you—” 

     She cut off and her eyes widened as she looked at you. You caught your reflection in the mirror of the bathroom and you immediately understood why. You had forgotten that you were in the process of changing when you had stopped to listen to Angela.

     You now stood in your pants with your shirt in your hand and nothing but your bra on top—you praised all that was good and holy that you had been too tired to take it off last night before you went to bed—and you stood there in shock. You quickly covered your chest with your shirt but it was too late. The damage had already been done.

     Angela stared at you and you couldn’t read her expression. Surprised? Annoyed? That had to be it, you supposed you wouldn’t be too happy either if you got out of the shower to find someone half-naked lingering outside your bathroom. 

     “Angela, I’m sorry, I was just—” You tried, but she interrupted.

     “It’s ok, bathroom’s all yours,” she said, stepping past you and looking at the ground. You figured it was in your best interest to go along and pretend that you had been waiting for the bathroom so you just stepped in and locked the door, trying not to notice how the room smelled like her. Like her perfume, her conditioner, everything that you remembered from before. You looked at your weary reflection in the mirror.

     It’s going to be a long vacation, you told your reflection, but all it did was stare back at you.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     The next day passed in flashes of beaches and gift shops and avoiding Angela. You had been having fun, or trying to really, despite your living situation.

     Things with Angela were especially awkward after that morning. What was wrong with you?

     I am over Angela. 

     And that became your mantra. As you watched her laugh and talk with all of your cast mates. As you tried not to stare at her and her adorable blue bikini. And especially as you dreaded that night and the horrors it would inevitably bring. At least with everyone else around you could safely navigate your vacation without really having to interact with her. But then you would have to go back to your room and back to your bed and you didn’t know if you could take it. Maybe you were wrong about being able to be perfectly fine with this. 

     I am over Angela.

     And maybe if you said it enough times you’d actually believe it.

    “(Y/n), did you hear me?” Angela tapped you on the shoulder.

     “Oh, no sorry, what?” You asked, dazed.

     “I just asked if you wanted a snow cone, I was going to buy us some,” she gestured to a stand a few hundred feet away. 

     “Oh, no thank you,” you answered and all you could think of was her touch on your arm. 

     You were doomed. 

     “(Y/n), are you ok?” You felt someone come up beside you and you turned around. Arasha was looking at you with a concerned expression on her face. “You’ve been acting weird all day.”

     You supposed you had. “Oh, I’m just tired, that’s all.”

     You risked a glance at Angela and Arasha just nodded but you didn’t think she believed you. 

     After that, everyone started to part ways and go off to explore the city on their own. 

     Amanda turned back to you from where she and Shayne were standing. “You coming with?”

     “I’ll catch up,” you called. You weren’t in any hurry. You stopped to look in the window of a cute little candle shop. There was no reason you couldn’t enjoy your vacation on your own. You were glad of the peace and quiet for a moment. 

     “Hey, where’d everybody go?” Angela ran up to you with a tray full of snow cones. You shrugged.

     “That’s the last time I do anything nice for those lousy—”

     You let out a chuckle. She smiled at you and it was impossible for you not to smile back.

     “So, any place you particularly wanna see?” Angela gestured around as she began eating a snow cone. She held one out to you and you took it.

     “Nothing in particular,” you answered honestly. 

     “Well, then we can see nothing together,” she began walking and you kept pace with her. 

     This was good, you thought. Just a nice, casual walk around the city with Angela like two coworkers would do.

     You made small talk about your job and the things around you and it was easy enough. Angela talked enough for the both of you, so you just piped in when necessary and kept your eyes firmly on the snow cone in your hand. Which was probably why you didn’t see the pole in front of you. 

     “(Y/n), watch out!” Angela jumped in front of you, throwing down the tray of snow cones, and pulled you out of the way just before your forehead connected with the metal pole.

     Your heavy breathing had nothing to do with the near-accident that had almost occurred. Angela gripped your sides tightly and you were closer to her than you had been in a while. For a moment you two just looked at each other before you pulled away and mumbled a quick “thanks”. 

     You were debating wether or not to say more when Chanse walked out of a shop in front of you and fell in to step with Angela. She looked back at you briefly before continued again and as you walked behind them you repeated the only thing keeping you sane. 

     I am over Angela. I am over Angela. I am over Angela.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     By the time you got back to your hotel room it was late and all you wanted to do was fall asleep and not think about Angela or this day. You were just about to climb into bed when you realized that someone was already there.

     Angela. She must have gotten back before you and was already asleep. You paused a moment to watch her sleeping form—she looked so calm and peaceful—before slipping in to your side of the bed, staying as far away from her as possible. You shivered under the sliver of blankets that you had—Angela had wrapped them all around her. You supposed it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you scooted a tiny bit towards Angela in order to be covered by the warm sheets. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it would do, you thought. Your eyelids began to droop as you shivered again. Maybe if you just…shifted… a little…towards…

…Angela. You awoke that morning and the first thing you saw was Angela. Her head was on your chest and your arms were over her back. Your initial horror dissolved into contentment as she nestled her head into you in her sleep and her hair tickled your collarbone. She felt warm in your arms and you didn’t want her to wake up quite yet. Because she wouldn’t be doing this is if she were conscious. You knew you should just sneak out from under Angela and out of bed before she woke up and found you like this but you couldn’t make yourself. 

     Because as you lay here like this with your ex-girlfriend you couldn’t seem to remember why you broke up. This felt right.  You knew you could never say any of this to Angela—she’d moved on from you like you’d failed to do with her. Because you realized then that you weren’t over Angela. 

     You felt Angela begin to stir and you tried to move your body out from under hers but you only got about halfway when she opened her eyes and blinked at you.

     “(Y/n)?” She took in your close proximity and her head in your chest. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her voice was gravely from sleep as she said, “Well, I guess we were cold last night.”

     You nodded and let yourself pretended that was it. 

     “I’m going to go get us some more towels,” you said, standing up and walking towards the door. You didn’t even bother putting on a robe or clothes and figured you’d take your chances wearing your pajamas in the hall rather than staying in here with Angela.

     Once you were out of the room you leaned up against the door and took a deep breath. Your cheeks were hot and you ran a hand through your messy hair. 

     “(Y/n), what are you doing?”

     It was Arasha. She walked towards you from a room down the hallway and you met her in the middle.

     “Getting some air,” you said, “You?” 

     “Couldn’t sleep” she answered and you looked out a window, seeing the dark sky and realizing it was earlier than you thought. Probably no later than 5:30 in the morning. 

     “Are you ok, really?” She asked hesitantly when you didn’t answer.

     You sighed. What was the harm in telling her really? She knew you and Angela had dated. Everyone did. She could probably guess on her own; maybe she already had.

     “It’s Angela,” you admitted. “I thought sharing a room with her would be fine since it’s been a couple months since we broke up but it’s not fine.”

     Arasha frowned, “You’re not on good terms? I thought you two stayed friends after your breakup.”

     “No, it’s not that,” you said, swallowing. “I—I think I’m still in love with her.”

     Arasha’s eyes widened and you fumbled for words.

     “Everything she does reminds me of how things used to be and I’ve tried to keep my distance and remind myself why we’re not together anymore but none of those reasons really seem compelling anymore and I know it’s a bad idea and it could never happen but—”

     Arasha put a hand in your shoulder, interrupting you. “I think if you really love her, then tell her. What’s the worst that could happen?”

     “I could make things more awkward than they already are?” You bit your bottom lip.

     “If worst comes to worst, you can stay with me. Amanda snores anyway.” She laughed and you joined her, grateful for her help and advice.

     “So does Angela,” you remarked fondly, “Thanks, Arash, I appreciate it. I’ll find a way to tell her. I just don’t know what she’ll say.”

    “I think she’ll say that she completely agrees with you.”

     You spun around at the sound of Angela’s voice. 

     “Angela, I—”

     She put up a hand. “I heard everything. I was going to ask you to bring up some muffins with you.”

     Arasha backed up. “I’ll catch you guys later.” She gave you an encouraging smile as she went back into her room and left you and Angela alone in the hall. 

     You said, “Angela—”

     At the same time as she said, “I love you too, (Y/n).”

     “I didn’t mean—wait, what? You do?” You stared at her in shock.

     “I still love you. Actually, I never stopped loving you,” she said, more quietly now. She looked so vulnerable then and you wanted to reach out to her but you didn’t.

     “But we said we were better off as coworkers, as—”

     Angela shrugged, “And how’s that working for us?” 

     You thought about the way this week was going so far for you and realized you hadn’t even considered that Angela felt the same way. That everything was just as hard for her as it was for you. If this trip had taught you anything it was that some things—some people—were worth second chances. 

     You closed the distance between her and kissed her. Kissed her like you’d been waiting to kiss her for thousands of years. In a way, it felt like that. As she kissed you back, you thought that this was how it was meant to be. 

     “You know what? You’re right, I think this works a lot better,” you said breathily.

     She smiled at you. “So, what do you say we go back to bed?” 

     “As long as you stay on you’re side,” you teased her, starting to walk towards your room. You were glad things were more comfortable between you. It wasn’t perfect, but you’d make up for the time you lost together. You still had five whole days of vacation, and you were going to make the most of them.  

     “That,” Angela responded, walking through the doorway and turning back around, looking at you with a twinkle in her eye, “I can’t promise.”

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ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this babes!! have a lovely week and expect a couple more angela fics coming out soon!! 🤭🎀