#my brother was talking about basketball at the gym and in an attempt to keep the conversation going as human conversations tend to work

[loverboybrightsideghost]

i was so caught up in trying to tell a funny story that for a second i wasn’t living in a world where my family are capitalists and think gender is a biologically determined fact 😔

[fukurodaze]

dump shot

pairing: third year!shirabu kenjirou x first year manager!reader (female) genre/s: PURE FLUFF, meet cute type beat! word count: 2.9k taken from this request by anonymous <3: “Shirabu x Manager! reader where reader is Karasuno's manager and she's seen pining over him and later the two end up in an accident outside the gym (before or after the games) where they find themselves locked somewhere”

for reference, this is set when hinata and the first years are in their second year, so ennoshita is karasuno’s captain. shirabu’s also the captain of the shiratorizawa vbc!

lowercase intended!

when shirabu kenjirou throws a dump shot, he is the coolest person in the room. it’s two words that come out of your mouth, groans of frustration coming from your team, and a faint smirk on the almond haired boy. 

“so cool...” you mutter under your breath, watching the practice match between your team and shiratorizawa at their gym. you get goosebumps.

it’s not your first time seeing the third year. you had watched shiratorizawa’s match with karasuno in the prefectural spring high finals, and though your eyes were glued onto the then first-year setter, kageyama, you would, at times, find your eyes stopping at the magenta number 10 jersey. you would later find out his name was shirabu kenjirou, and that you would come to develop an almost baseless crush on him, hopeless at best.

another rally starts, this time with shiratorizawa on match point, an already dragged out 32-31 on the scoreboard. it’s the third set on a friday night, yet the match is already scraping past seven pm and you don’t know if your body can take any more of the anticipation. 

and when the magenta jerseys spike a mean straight shot, your hands ball up with whitened knuckles at the bitter taste of a lost game. you run up to the boys with yachi, handing them drinks and towels, telling the second years “you did well” and the third years “that was a good one.” you glance at the first years, some of your friends, and give them a soft smile, as if telling them that you’re going to have to get used to this feeling, because it will happen. lots.

but loss is as temporary as victory when you see the boys mingle with each other, friendliness growing as the new first years dissolve tensions between teams. you even see kageyama bump into hinata and goshiki’s conversation, the sight of it new and endearing. 

yachi taps you on the shoulder, “i’m going to be picking up the bibs, can you collect the balls and put them in storage?”

shiratorizawa’s storage room looks more like a shed. it’s also much further than you think, and even darker than you knew storage rooms to be. it looks like an entire sports supply factory outlet rather than a high school unit. 

the large basket of volleyballs rolls weirdly on its wheels, knocking left and right as you try to drive it through the doorway. it makes a bit of a fussy sound when you bump into the basket of footballs, and as the footballs begin to fall out of their containers, you close the door in an attempt to keep them inside. 

"here they are,” you hear from the corner of the room, behind shelves upon shelves of equipment. your body freezes up dramatically, as if dreading the awkward interaction with the unknown person. hurriedly, you pick up the scattered soccer balls, attempting to take up to five at once to no avail, only causing more sounds of balls hitting wooden floors. 

“hello?”

you hesitate to answer. you only continue to put back all the footballs in their place and park the basket of volleyballs in some random corner of the shed before reaching for the door, only to find it doesn’t budge.

“aren’t you karasuno’s manager?”

you turn around to find the one person you wouldn’t want to see you like this. like every high school cliché, shirabu kenjirou is standing right behind you when you turn back, a pair of training shoes hanging off of his left hand. you nod and bow slightly, unsure what to do.

“i, uh, wanted to put the balls back here.”

“but why are you here in the shed?” his voice is softer, you notice, probably because he realises he’s talking to a girl, but his words remind you of how he’d talk to his team during the match.

“i just wanted to help clean up and stuff, like, uh, a token... of appreciation for this practice match?” god, your palms sure are getting sweaty. 

“this shed isn’t the place we put our frequently used equipment. we usually put our volleyballs in the room in the gym. it’s the one with the double doors. how come you came so far here?”

you shrug slowly, feeling nice and stupid for not noticing the actual storage room’s large double doors and instead wandering off to carry a basket of volleyballs past three other gyms and a few questioning looks from the shiratorizawa basketball team to this single-doored, large building. 

“i’ll just bring them back to the gym now-” you come back to the basket of volleyballs you had just left against a random wall as shirabu pushes on the door’s nonexistent handle. you think it’s all about to end until a muttered curse falls out of the third year’s lips. you look to him in confusion.

then he curses again, this time stopping himself midway as your gaze meets his, voice getting softer again. “did you close the door?”

“yes...?” 

“it’s not supposed to be closed,” shirabu sighs, “there’s a little metal rod that falls into a hole in the ground on the other side, and it falls in pretty easily if we close the door, so we can’t really get out right now.”

oh shit.

“i’ll just call- oh my god, i forgot my phone.” your tone is fast and apologetic, considering you had closed the door in the first place. “i’m sorry-”

“don’t be, you didn’t know before.” shirabu sits on a pile of thick and colourful gym mats, elbows on knees. the shoes he was holding are now behind him. “this school might be big, but it’s also damn old.”

shirabu has no idea what situation he’s in right now. frankly, he’s kind of panicking. but he tells himself not to panic, especially when karasuno’s new manager is right there (and she’s pretty cute, not gonna lie - is she a second year?). shirabu would probably be shouting and pushing the door by now until his voice ran hoarse, but surely, there is no use for that. 

“so, uh, how are we going to get out?” you shove your hands into your tracksuit jacket, stepping in front of the boy. you’re guessing it’s going to be a bit before you two can get out, so you might as well try to talk to him without a three meter gap in between him and you.

shirabu shrugs, and a look at you tells you that you can sit next to him on the pile of gym mats. “i think we’re just going to have to hope someone notices we’re gone.”

“i think they have to,” you chuckle, “you’re captain. would be kinda crazy if they didn’t notice you were gone.”

the conversation dissolves into awkward silence as the stranger you once pined over is literally right next to you, dried sweat and all, a light laugh leaving his lips.

“what’s your name?” the question is simple, obligatory, even, for introductions, but you swear you feel your heart skip a beat.

“l/n f/n,” you reply, and he says his name in return. you want to say you know, as you’ve already referred to him as captain of the volleyball club, but you settle with silence and a smile. he seems to like it.

“you’re karasuno’s manager, right?” 

“yeah. i’m a first year, but i have a brother in karasuno.”

“oh really? is he in the volleyball team?”

you shake your head, “no. he’s in the basketball team, actually, but he’s friends with some of the third years in the team. he’s the reason i got dragged to the spring high prefectural finals last year, actually.”

you hold your hands together, clasping them to evaporate your nervousness. shit, this is shirabu kenjirou you’re talking to, don’t mess it up!

shirabu leans back on his arms, looking up in reminiscence. he sighs, “spring high, huh? you probably saw my tosses back then.”

you can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face, the excitement of getting to talk to the third year getting to you, “i remember you from that game the most.”

“damn, then you’d probably also remember how my toss was bad enough for even ushijima-san to get blocked-”

“i think you were really cool, actually.”

shirabu stops in his vocal tracks. there’s no way she means that, he thinks.

“you’re just saying that.”

“well, of course i’m saying it. you wouldn’t hear it otherwise.” your feet kick themselves against the soft pile of gym mats, “but trust me, coming from a karasuno student, you were really cool. your entire team was, too, but, you know.”

at this point, you think you’re just embarrassing yourself. what if he thinks you’re some kind of weird fan? a naive first year? some wannabe manager who didn’t quite understand volleyball to its core? it seems like the conversation loves to come back to silence, and you don’t know how to break the ice.

“thanks,” shirabu mentions, tone higher, as he stands up and off of the gym mats. you feel a weight lift beside you, and in your floor-focused eyes, you see his shoes walk to the basket of volleyballs. 

shirabu bounces the ball once, and then once again, before you see his shoes in front of yours. you look up. 

“we have time. wanna toss?”

“i’m not that good at overhead passes...” you resist, knowing all too well from pe classes that your fingers don’t have the same kind of magic shirabu’s or kageyama’s have - or anyone in the men’s volleyball club, really.

shirabu only shrugs, “it’s fine, y/n-san. it’s just me. i don’t think you can even be that bad anyways.”

okay, maybe hearing him say your name was enough to persuade you. but still, the possibility of losing your pride in front of shirabu keeps you glued onto the gym mats. 

you purse your lips, trying to hide the overwhelming grin spreading on your face. you try to say a word, but you can’t seem to make anything out when teeth and raised cheeks do nothing but make you feel like this hopeless crush isn’t so hopeless after all. and so you nod.

he stands a few feet away from you, tossing the ball at what seemed like the perfect angle for your height only for you to miss it every two good tries.

“see? you’re not bad.” you think he’s lying through his teeth at best.

“i drop, like, every toss you give. this is not not bad.” you slouch, catching the ball this time instead of attempting to toss it. 

“well, that’s because you’re just doing it wrong. you hit the ball with the top of your palm every time. of course it’s going to come flying down.”

“okay, captain of the shiratorizawa volleyball club...” you tease, and you think it’s all fun and games until he comes to stand right in front of you, taking the ball. 

“put your hands up.”

you do as he asks.

“they should be about this far from your head,” he puts down the ball to adjust your arms, and then your hands, “it’s supposed to feel like there’s a nice place for the ball to rest in your hands.”

his hands are cold and rough when they lightly press on yours, shaping your hands and your elbows the way he does it on court, “your elbows and hands should make a triangle.”

he lets go of your arms, and you keep your arms the way he left them. he tosses the ball to you, and the only thing you feel is the sturdy feeling of fingertips on fabric.

shirabu catches the ball when you toss it back, “see? not bad.”

he doesn’t miss it when your eyes light up at his praise, and he makes a mental note to himself to not get distracted next time shiratorizawa has a game with karasuno. or maybe he will; who knows - maybe seeing you might make him look at his job with more vigour and passion.

“how do you do it?” you stare, “i mean, not that i haven’t seen, but-”

your words are cut off when he sets the ball onto the wall and back in one quick motion, his hands like cradling the ball with care on every push and touch. maybe it isn’t backed by an ace spiker or a team of five, but there’s a quiet power in what he does.

volleyball might be a team sport, but you’ve only been focused on this one setter all afternoon. even worse, he’s from the opposite team. 

he holds the ball and bounces it as he looks back at you, “when i got into shiratorizawa, you have no idea how much time i spent doing this.”

he exhales, like a weight has been pulled off his chest, feeling quite nice at your visible reactions. he throws the ball at you, exclaiming “toss!” only for you to catch it square above your head. you whine. then he laughs, and you laugh too, because you've never seen him laugh. 

“it paid off, then,” you say, coming to sit back down on the pile of mattresses. he sits next to you again, but closer this time. it’s like your stomach performs a somersault, and you absolutely love it.

"i guess,” he mutters, “maybe next time i’ll show you the dump shot you seemed to like so much.”

you can only bury your face in your hands, remembering the way you exclaimed ‘so cool...’ at his actions about an hour ago. you mumble, “was i too loud?”

he laughs again. you like the sound of it. “no, it was good.”

“it was nice to know one of karasuno’s managers looked at me more than kageyama,” his tone is stagnant, but you can hear him grinning, “that wouldn’t be considered betrayal, would it?”

you take it upon yourself to look him in the eye, and you tell him, with a small voice, “maybe it’s just something about you.”

you hide your face in your hands again, and you hear the setter laugh once more. you wonder if he laughs this much with his teammates. 

just as your embarrassment starts to settle, there’s a knock on the wooden door, “y/n? are you here?”

you recognise it as the second year, yamaguchi’s, voice, and you call back out, “yeah?”

“alright, wait up, i’ll just unlock the door...” his voice turns from muffled to surprise after the door opens, seeing you sitting so close to none other than shiratorizawa’s setter.

“i’m so sorry it took this long for us to realise you were, uh, gone,” yamaguchi scratches the back of his head, “but at least you had some company.”

yamaguchi gives the setter a prompt bow, and shirabu does the same.

“anyways, y/n, the bus is waiting,” the boy motions, and you nod, looking at shirabu. 

you wave at shirabu and start to leave the shed when he grips the sleeve of your tracksuit jacket. 

“are you free on sunday?”

you stop in your tracks, “yeah, i am.”

“i can show you my dump shot then. and there’s also a cute café nearby campus, i heard, so, we can go there after?”

you swear your heart melts at his words, “that sounds good.”

you can feel yamaguchi’s curious stare at both of you, but you don’t mind. “i’ll give you my number, then?”

you search through your pockets for something to take note with, “i don’t have a pen and paper... or my phone...”

shirabu sighs, “me neither, uhm...”

“oh, well. just tell me your number and i’ll memorise it.”

“are you sure?”

“yeah,” you smile, knowing that you’re not that good at memorising things but you know you’d keep his number dialed in your head. as he says out his string of numbers, you make sure to remember it all by the time you get to your bag. 

“see you sunday, then.” he waves once more.

“i’ll text you!” you’re left to ponder what the hell you’re going to wear in two days to your date with shirabu kenjirou. 

first date with shirabu kenjirou. is it a date? maybe you’ll know it on sunday. 

when you step out of the shed, yamaguchi only grins as he walks you back to the bus, amused at witnessing one of his underclassmen set up a date with shiratorizawa’s third year setter and captain. 

“on monday, tell us some of shiratorizawa’s secrets,” yamaguchi jokes as you two walk across campus. you glare at your upperclassman, and he only follows it up with a shake of the head and “no, no, just kidding! just have fun on sunday.”

“thank you,” you say quietly as you two approach the bus, “and thank you for unlocking that door at the shed back there.”

“no problem,” yamaguchi replies.

after announcing a small apology to the rest of the team when you enter the bus, you almost run to yachi when she shouts from the back that she’s already got your bag, with you practically grabbing it to take out your phone.

“woah, y/n! are you alright? do you have your stuff?”

you don’t answer, only putting down the numbers you drilled into your head five minutes ago, naming the contact “dump shot” and sending him a quick hello in text.

yachi asks again, “y/n?”

now you snap out of it, and nod before thanking her for bringing your bag. you can’t stop the uncontrollable smile on your face.

yachi stretches her arms out and smiles back, glad that her underclassman seems enthusiastic about this volleyball thing too. “i’m so ready for the weekend. i’m just going to sleep in and rest all day.”

you nod, slouching lazily into the bus yet with unknown excitement in your veins at the thought of spending a day with the boy you’ve only ever seen from afar until tonight. 

“i’m so ready for this weekend too.”

[aceavatar]

Star Crossed

Oikawa x Reader

♡ A COLOSSEUM VALENTINES DAY COLLAB ♡

warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, meanie kageyama :(

word count: 4,006

“Good morning, y/n,” Suga said, ruffling my hair. 

I blink up at him, a soft smile on my face. “Good morning. How’re you?” I ask, handing him a coffee. It’s become routine to bring him one when I go to morning practices. 

“I’m doing well, thanks. And yourself?” He gladly takes the cup, warming his hands and taking a sip. 

“I’m fine,” I blink tiredly. 

“That’s good. Is your brother here yet?” He asks.

I hum, shaking my head. “No, he’s racing Hinata or something. Not quite sure. I gave up trying to keep up with those two a long time ago.” 

He laughs at my remark, shaking his head. “Understandable.” He looks down at me. “So, are you going to play today, or do schoolwork?” Suga asks. 

“School,” I roll my eyes, “I’ve got a quiz today.” He nods, wishing me good luck, and I head to my usual spot on the bleachers, putting in my airpods along the way. Once settled, I pull out my math homework and start factoring. 

After a bit, I hear distant yelling so I glance up, seeing the gym is fuller than it was a while ago. My brother and Hinata were being idiots, and so were Tanaka and Noya, while Suga busied himself with something in the closet. So much chaos. 

My eyes lock with Noya’s, and suddenly all of his attention is on me. “Kags!” He shouts, running towards me. 

He said that “Kageyama” made him think of my brother, but “Kags” for me was more fitting. Because “It’s shorter, like you.” And, “It’s cute! Like you!” (Noya’s words, not mine).

“Noya, good morning.” I say, smiling and waving at him. 

“Mornin! Watchya doing!!” He asks, plunking himself next to me. 

“Just doing homework and listening to music.” I smile at him. He’s always been a friend of mine. I’m not sure why, but we just seemed to click. Not romantically or anything, but just, our friendship didn’t make sense but it was right. 

“Oooh gimme.” He holds out a hand, and I take out my left AirPod and place it in his. We usually pair ours to my phone or his and listen together, but since he was just playing, he didn’t have his. 

“I’ll turn it up.” I say, clicking the button on the side a few times. 

Noya and I nod along to Crazy in Love by Beyoncé. “Nice choice.” He says, whacking my shoulder. 

I laugh, thanking him. 

Then, it happens. 

The music gets quiet, and there’s a melodic chime. 

<Message from T red heart. It says: Good morning baby. Thanks for that. You look beautiful. Winking face emoji.> 

The music returns to the previous volume.  I stare ahead, avoiding Noya’s now prying gaze that’s boring into me. 

“Uhmmm. Miss lady. Is there something you wanna tell me?” He asks, sass laced in his voice. 

I meet his eyes, and he’s smirking. I blush deeply, raking my fingers through my hair. “Shit. Fucking Siri announcing my damn messages, shit.” I mumble, face hot. 

“Looks like Noya’s picking up your sister.” Tanaka says loudly, and I look up to see him and Tobio looking at us. 

“Shut it jerks!” Noya shouts. “I just found her secret Spotify playlist! It’s like all death metal, it’s really weird. I-“

“Noya!” I squeak, tackling him, making the other boys laugh and/or shake their heads. Tobio just rolled his eyes. 

“Thanks.” I say quietly, still wrestling with Noya. 

“No problem, Kags.” He smirks, shaking his head. “But you owe me.”

“What do you want?” I raise my eyebrows. 

“You to tell me everything. What’re best friends for?” He says with a grin, finally pulling himself away. 

“Okay, okay. Your advice will probably be helpful at times. I haven’t told anyone, like, anyone.”

“My lips are sealed.” He mimics zipping his lips and locking it, throwing away the key, making me laugh. 

“Thanks. Now go practice, idiot!” I shove him towards the court and he speeds back.

“So, are ya gonna tell me?” Noya asks. 

“Oooh tell him what?!” Tanaka exclaims, making me roll my eyes. 

“It was supposed to be a secret, Noya.” I squint at him. “But I guessss I can tell you.” I look at Tanaka, a playful grin on my face. “Will you explain?” I ask Noya and he nods excitedly, I knew he’d wanna break the news. 

After Tanaka heard, he slammed his hands on the table excitedly. “NO WAY! LITTLE SIS HAS HERSELF A LOVER.” He says excitedly.

I blush and look away. 

“Yeah and I wanna know WHO!” Noya says, “I know it starts with a T, so I thought maybe you Tanaka, but you didn’t have your phone and plus I’m sure you would’ve told me.”

“Oh sure thing dude.” Tanaka nods. “Maybe it’s Tsukkishima?” He suggests. 

“Hmmm, maybe, but the nickname was T, and she calls him Tsukki. Hmm, Kuroo? His first name starts with a T.” 

“How do you know he plays volleyball?” I say with a smirk, teasing. 

“OH.” Tanaka says, laughing at himself.

“He does though.” I mess with him, making him shove my shoulder. 

“YAMS?” Noya asks, eyes wide. 

I shake my head. My phone buzzes, and I look down at it.

T❤️: hey babyyyy. i miss you

me: i miss you too!💓

T❤️: can u come over tonight🥺 i don’t have practice 

me: hmmmm yeah sure :)

me: noya and tanaka found out that we’re a thing. they don’t know it’s you but i bet they’ll cover for me lmao

T❤️: bless

T❤️: well i gotta go baby i’ll text you later

me: okay bye!!💓

T❤️:😘

“Is it Takeda? If it is, we won’t judge.” Tanaka says quietly, making me laugh loudly. “No no no!” I shake my head.

“Tendou!?” Tanaka exclaims. 

“Takeru?” 

“Goshiki?”

I shake my head at all of their attempts. 

It dawns on Noya, and he leans across the table, Tanaka copies him, and whispers, “Is it Oikawa?” 

I bite my lip with a small smile. 

“NO. WAY.” Tanaka gasps, jaw dropped. “That’s like, illegal!! You know who your brother is, right?!? Dude. That’s ballsy.” 

I laugh at Tanaka’s ramblings. 

“Wow okay, get it I guess.” Noya says, grinning. “What’s he like?” 

“He’s sweet. Nothing like his on the court persona.” I say honestly. “And I really really really like him.”

“You haven’t told Kageyama, I assume?” Tanaka asks, and I shake my head. 

“I just don’t know how, honestly. I’ve been dating Tooru for a little over a year now. Things are great, but just, he and my brother don’t get along. Tooru wants to try, though. But every time I even mention his name, Tobio shuts me down.” 

Noya nods, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Hey, we’re always here to help, you know.”

“Yeah, feel free to say you’re staying at my house with me and my sister or something, Kageyama knows we wouldn’t ever do anything weird. Gross.” Tanaka pretends to gag, and I laugh. 

“Thank you guys.” I reach out, grabbing their hands and squeezing them.

“No prob, Kags.”

——

Later that night, I found myself in the arms of the man that was causing such a stir in my friends’ minds. 

His soft lips against mine, doing exactly what made me feel warm inside. He runs his hands up and down my back, settling on my hips. My arms rest on his shoulders, and eventually move up to run through his hair, messing it up. 

I sigh, pulling away to look at his face. His brown eyes gaze up into mine, and I smile gently, resting my forehead against his. 

“I’m so lucky that you’re my girl.” Tooru says, eyes closing. I hum and kiss his nose, cuddling into his chest, closing my eyes as well.

“Babe. Wake up.” A soft voice says, rubbing my arm. I open my eyes to meet soft brown ones filled with love. 

“Hi, darling.” I say, stretching and yawning. 

“Sleep well?” He asks, pulling me closer to him. 

“I did. You?”

He hums and nods, closing his eyes. “It’s early still, but I wanted to be with you before you leave.” He pouts, pressing a kiss on my temple. 

“Thanks for waking me up.” I smile, putting my hand on his cheek. He turns his head, kissing my palm before going back to look at my face. 

We talk about random things for about 30 minutes, like how shocked Noya was when he heard the message, and how Iwa hit him in the back of the head with a ball again.

Sadly, time passes, so that means I have to go to school. 

“Bye, baby.” He says, telling me farewell at the train. 

“Bye. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He smiles, kissing me quickly before I get on and head to Karasuno.

“Hey, kid.” Daichi says as I walk into the gym carrying my bag. 

“Hi!” I say with a grin, hugging him. 

“Thanks for coming in today.” He says, hugging me back. 

“No problem. I’ve got some time to kill anyway.” Today, a bunch of people are coming to Karasuno to practice together, it’s really informal but fun and useful. I wave bye to Daichi and walk over to my friend Yui. She’s the captain of the girls team. I wasn’t able to play this year, but next year I’m going to join after basketball season.

“Y/n! Hello! Thanks for coming!” She gushes, hugging me. 

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss it.” I smile at her as we start to leave the gym to change. 

“Y/n! Good morning!” My brother shouts at me, and I turn around and yell good morning right back with a wave. 

With that out of the way, I walk out of the gym with my friend. 

In the empty club room, we change into shorts and a tshirt and head back, mindlessly chatting along the way.

“Y/n! Hello!” A familiar voice stops me outside. 

“Iwa!” I grin, “Hi! Welcome to my school.” I jokingly bow, making him laugh. “You can go on Yui, I’ll be right there!”

She nods and heads into the gym, probably to see Daichi. 

“Yyyyy/nnnnn,” the smooth voice of my boyfriend rings out, making me laugh.

“Hi!” I smile sweetly at him. “I’d kiss you but there are, ya know, people,” I say quietly. 

He nods his head in understanding. He wasn’t going to ask for one anyway, he didn’t feel like dealing with the secret today.

“Are you going to play too, Y/n? You’re wearing athletic clothes.” Iwa notes.

“Yeah, a bit.” I say, and the three of us walk into the gym. 

“That’s great.” Iwa says, patting my head. 

“She’s the most pretty setter.” Oikawa says quietly, making Iwa and I both chuckle and roll our eyes. 

“The great king!” Hinata exclaims, making a few heads turn in our direction. 

I can sense my brother’s icy stare, and my boyfriend sends him a smirk. 

Oh no, this is gonna be trouble. 

I sigh, pushing my hair back. I walk towards Suga, but turn around and mouth the words “be good” to Tooru, then I do the same to Tobio. 

Oh god oh no oh god oh no, repeats in my brain as I walk wide eyed to the grey haired boy for some kind of comfort. He looks somewhat out of place due to third wheeling Daichi and Yui, so when his eyes meet mine, they flood with relief. 

“Y/n,” he says as I approach him, “today’s gonna be a long one.”

“You’re telling me.” I sigh, putting my hands on my head. I glance back to check on the two boys in my life, and thankfully they’re on opposite sides of the gym. 

“Something the matter?” He asks, concerned.

“Just worried about my brother and Tooru.” I pause. “Oikawa.” I correct myself, and Suga eyes me. 

“If he’s the mystery man I overheard Noya and Tanaka talking about, I feel sorry for your situation.” He says honestly, making my face heat up.  

“Yeah.” I admit. Maybe Suga could help me if something goes awry...

After a moment of silence, he smirks at me, giving me a knowing look. “Does he really hit it till it breaks?” He teases. 

“Oh god Suga!” I exclaim, shoving his shoulder, my cheeks turning red. 

He laughs at my flustered state. 

“He does, but so do I.” I whisper to him, making his jaw drop. It’s his turn to be speechless. I giggle, covering my mouth. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” I say, shaking my head. “Unless...” 

He whacks my shoulder, “You’re too young for lewd jokes like that, young lady!” He teases, giving me a soft whack in between the words. 

“You started it!” I laugh, holding one hand up in surrender, the other on my stomach from laughter.

——

At lunch time, I opt to sit with Noya and Tanaka. 

“The tension between the two is so,” Noya says, waving his hand in the air. 

“Thick.” Tanaka finishes for him, and we all nod. “I don’t like it.”

“Me either. And Tooru has been good, it’s Tobio who’s trying to rile things up.” I frown, pushing my food around with my fork. 

“Yeah, he needs to calm down.” Tanaka agrees. 

“You know what? I’ll go sit with him.” I say, pushing myself up. 

“Go get em!” Noya cheers, making me laugh. 

I walk over and sit down next to him, brushing his shoulder. “Y/n, hey.” He says. 

“Y/n!!!” Hinata beams from across the table. “How’re you!”

“I’m fine, how about you?” I smile at him. He tells me he’s good and rambles for a bit about volleyball. 

“It’s fun.” Tobio admits. “I want to go up against Oikawa, though. Haven’t had the chance yet.” He grumbles, shoveling food. into his mouth. I roll my eyes. “Oi, what was that for?” He demands, nudging me. 

“Nothing, nothing.” I wave him off.

Hinata squints at us, wondering if we’ll start fighting. It happens occasionally, and in front of Hinata a good amount because Tobio “feels like he can be himself” around the orange haired boy (his words, not mine).

“Don’t fight, let’s just focus on learning from others today!” Hinata begs. 

I nod, smiling at him. 

“Now, I’m gonna go.” I say, standing up. I whack Tobio on the head, mumbling “behave” before walking away, waving bye to Hinata.

———

I found myself sitting in between Oikawa and Suga, kicking my legs while I drink my chocolate milk. The two boys chat with each other, making me smile. I look at my boyfriend and he ruffles my hair before continuing his conversation with Suga. Next, I look up at Suga, who’s nodding along to my boyfriend’s words. He looks down at me, fixing my hair before meeting Tooru’s eyes again.

I feel so content, two important guys in my life are getting along. 

“Hey, Y/n, I- what? OH!” Tanaka says, bounding up to the three of us, Noya hot on his tail. 

“It’s nice to meet you, loverboy.” Noya says, stepping from foot to foot in excitement.

Instead of lashing out, Tooru blushes a bit and looks down, acting out of character. This makes Noya grin even wider. “You’d better treat our Y/n right, and I know you do, but I need to say it, and-“ the small boy rambles, making me laugh. Suga shakes his head, whacking Noya to get him to shut up.

“We’re baaaack!” Hinata shouts, “Let’s play!”

“Y/n?” A voice I didn’t want to hear says. 

I look up to meet the hard blue eyes of my brother. 

“Hey, Tobio.” I offer a smile. “Why are you with him?” He folds his arms, making me roll my eyes.

“It seems like you’re ignoring the fact that I’m also with Suga, Noya, and Tanaka.” 

“Still.”

“Okay, you know what, fine,” I say, taking a deep breath. Holy shit, I’m doing this. I’m doing this now of all times. Okay okay okay, get the words out, “He’s my boyfriend.” 

Tobio’s facial expression changes into confusion. If his face could be a punctuation mark, it would embody “?” perfectly.

“Okay, don’t get mad-“ Tooru starts.

“No, okay, I, just,” Tobio stutters, blinking hard.

“Listen.” I tell him, putting my hand on his arm, “I love him, okay? And he’s treated me so well, and I just-“

“Give me a minute.” Tobio says, shaking his head and storming out of the gym.

“Babe,” Tooru says, gently taking my hand in his.

“Take a breath, he’ll come around.” He whispers.

“But what if he doesn’t?” I ask, trying not to tear up.

“If he doesn’t, then oh well.” Tooru rubs my back. “He’s not part of our relationship. It might even take years of him seeing how much I love and care about you, it’s not going to fade. He’ll have to see someday.”

“And,” Suga adds, “we all approve, if that helps things.”

“I can’t believe you’re dating the great king!” Hinata gushes, hugging me. “I’ll go talk to Kageyama.” 

“Thanks, Hinata.” I smile, hugging him back before he runs off.

“At least he didn’t punch me.” Tooru mumbles, making me and the boys around me laugh.

———

At the end of the day, all of the guys are tired and sweaty, walking slower than they did in the morning. I walked between Iwa and Tanaka (admittedly, two guys I never thought I’d walk in between) while listening to chatter amongst the volleyball boys.

“Hey, do you think I can hang out at your house now that your brother knows?” A smooth voice asks me.

I smile, nodding. “Yeah, I think so.” 

“That’s great.” He grins, lacing his fingers with mine. “Plus, I need to prove to him that I’m not actually terrible.”

“Yeah, he’s really hard headed.” I shake my head. 

After a bit, we all get to the train and it’s time to say our goodbyes and go our separate ways.

“It was nice talking to you, loverboy.” Noya says, socking Tooru in the shoulder.

“Yeah, you too I guess.” He rubs the spot that got punched, jokingly wincing.

We break off from the group a bit, and I hug him. “Thanks for acting right.” I say, somewhat jokingly.

“Hey, I’m not a dick when things are important to me.” He shoots back, squeezing me closer to him.

I stand on my tiptoes and he leans down, meeting me halfway. His warm lips are against mine again, and I smile, closing my eyes. 

“Hey, uh,” My brother’s voice interrupts our moment. We pull back and look at him. “This is so weird. I hope you understand how in shock I am. Y/n, we’re going to have a talk on the way home. I don’t know if I can accept this.” He scratches his neck in discomfort.

Tooru stiffens, jaw clenched.

“Tobio, I-“

“No, Y/n. Just, no.” He shakes his head, glaring at the ground.

“At least let me tell you how good he is to me. Let him show you, please Tobio.” I beg.

“I, I can’t, I just,” 

“You’re too fucking stubborn.” I snap. “This is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d be a total dick and ruin things.”

“I don’t mind ruining things if it has to do with him.” He folds his arms.

I look back at my boyfriend, who’s obviously trying to hold himself back.

“What the hell, man?” Tooru finally says something. “I’ve literally treated Y/n well for more than a year now, and I could never hurt her. I love her, so much, and I don’t hate her for being your sister, I don’t hold idiotic grudges,”

“You do against me.”

“It’s an act, stupid. You play into it all just as much as I did.”

“Don’t start that, Oikawa.” 

“Hey, Tobio, Tooru,” I butt in, “Please stop.”

“I’ll stop arguing when you dump his ass, Y/n.” Tobio says.

I shoot him a glare, then look to Oikawa, whose eyes swimming with emotion.

“I am not breaking up with Tooru. I love him, Tobio. A lot. Just, accept it, would you?”

“No. I can’t. See him for all I care, but you won’t have me.” He storms off, leaving the two of us standing there in silence.

———

Two months later, I’m sitting in my last period class. I head out of school as the bell rings, arms folded and eyes down. I don’t like admitting that my brother’s words affected me, and I especially don’t like that he made me choose between the two. 

I chose the one who wasn’t a dick. The one who loves me, the one who would do anything to make me smile. The one who looks at me like I put the stars in the sky, the one who holds me at night and gives me his jacket when I’m cold. The one who sneaks my favorite candy in my backpack before I leave his house, the one who lets me pick which anime we watch. The one who kisses each of my fingers, the one who makes my heart stop, the one who supports me no matter what.

Yet my heart aches for my brother, the one that would put bandaids on my scraped knees, the one that would laugh at me when I fell, right before he’d give me a hand up. The one who helped me get ready for basketball tryouts, the one who always forgot his bag at home. The one who refuses to look me in the eye, the one who’s giving me the silent treatment, the one who makes my home life miserable every day. Why do I miss him when he’s so mean?

I kick rocks along the sidewalk, walking past the volleyball gym. I hear familiar squeaks of shoes and slamming of volleyballs on the wood floors. I peek in, praying that my brother isn’t there.

“Y/n!” Suga says, noticing my presence. I squeak and jump back, stumbling a bit. “Sorry to scare you!” He says, jogging up to me, reaching out a hand to help me up.

“It’s okay.”

“How have you been? It’s been ages!” He throws an arm over my shoulders.

I shrug. 

“Not good, huh?” He frowns.

I shake my head.

“I’m sorry. You’re always welcome at my place. I know it’s closer than Oikawa’s.”

“Thank you.” I smile gently, hugging him. “I’d better go before Tobio shows up here.” I laugh lightly, pushing my hair back.

“Hmm, all right then. Don’t forget to text me though, all right?” 

“I won’t. Bye, Suga.” I wave and walk away, heading to the train.

He waves bye back, heading back into the gym.

I glance back, remembering when I’d run Tobio his bag that he left on the counter.

I shake the memories out of my head.

Once on the train, I put in my earbuds, nodding my head along to the first song that came on shuffle. I look out the window, thinking. 

Once I’m at the house of my boyfriend and his family, I truly feel at home. I feel warm, I feel loved, I feel cared for. In fact, I am warm, loved, and cared for here. His parents let me stay over, and I cook dinner for everyone multiple times a week. 

It’s 8:00 pm now, and I’m spinning in Tooru’s desk chair while he folds his clothes.

“Hey, c’mere.” He says, sitting down on his queen sized bed, patting the empty space next to him.

I nod and stand up, then plop myself down. 

“I love you.” He takes my face in his hands, moving closer. “So much.” He kisses my lips firmly. “Don’t you ever forget, missy.”

I laugh, scooting closer to him and nuzzling my face in his chest, sighing in contempt. 

“I love you too, Tooru.” 

‘Star crossed lovers, doomed from the start, huh?’ I think to myself, a small smile on my face, ‘What do ya know? I made it work.’ 

[kiseki-no-scenarios]

Thank you for the ask, anon! *bows* 

General Headcanons for Rakuzan Manager!Reader

FYI-I wrote this in a post-Winter Cup setting

With all of their eccentricities, sometimes you feel like you’re herding a pack of kindergarteners so I imagine that as a manager, they would have to be confident and brave enough to stand up against the random whims and requests of the players

Takes a while for all the players to acknowledge and respect their new manager, but you had already proven yourself halfway on day one

“Akashi-san, where are you going?”

Pausing in his steps, Akashi Seijuro regards you with a calm, level gaze. “I am going home, _____. Is there a problem?”

“The floors don’t clean themselves.”

You could see the other members suddenly freeze up, a startled look on their face as they process your words.

“_____-chan’s going to die!” Hayama whispers. “Reo-nee, do something!!”

“And get my head ripped off instead? No thanks.”

“The first years are helping with that, are they not?” Akashi finally replies, tilting his head slightly to the right.

“Last I checked, Akashi-san, you’re a first year too.”

“_____-chan, he’s the captain of the team!”

“I realize that, Hayama-san. However, last I checked, that has no bearing on ones grade level. You’re excused, senpais, but Akashi-san should be cleaning the floor with the others here.” You can feel your legs trembling slightly, but you will yourself to not run away from Akashi’s piercing glare. “Unless you have a severe phobia of mops and cleaning products, in which I suppose you could excuse yourself from your duties.”

Mayuzumi was the only player who was able to keep a blank face as the other members of the team continued to watch the stare down between you and Akashi in horror mixed with excitement.

“…Very well.” Akashi finally breaks the silence, shrugging off his bag and setting it to the floor. “I suppose I’ll amuse you for today, _____.”

After seeing how you were able to handle Akashi without getting your throat torn out, the other members seemed to recognize that you weren’t here to play around and started opening up to you more.

As a manager, you were efficient and organized and so you naturally became the point person and in charge of the various tasks required for the club to continue functioning.

The energetic and upbeat Hayama easily befriends you and starts calling you big sis after one day where you brought home baked goods to practice and he had a taste of your cupcakes

Now whenever you step into the gym for practice, you often had to be the one to get Hayama back on track in practice, since he liked to play around and show off to “big sis _____-nee!”

Next to become friendly is likely Mibuchi; he appreciates that you aren’t unnecessarily loud and that you make sure to keep everything tidy, including the club room

He had caught you staring at him one day and when he asked about it, you admitted that you thought his hair was so pretty

After that, he would get embarrassed but would never turn down your offer to brush his hair or just play with his hair in general

This probably leads to good-natured ribbing between Hayama and Mibuchi over who was your favorite huehuehue

Akashi was a little bit harder to read, but he had a level of respect for the way you stood up to him and it shows in how he trusts you to handle the day to day activities of the club

He takes your comments and observations into consideration, and praises you for your dedicated observations of both him and the team

As he does with those he considers his friends, he has a level of protectiveness over you

He noticed that a few of the new members had been rude to you and ignoring your requests and ended up dismissing them from the club immediately

“Akashi-san, didn’t you tell me that you were just going to talk with those players yesterday?”

“I did speak to them, _____. And we came to the decision that it would be in their best interests if they were no longer members of the basketball club.”

“Akashi-san, it wasn’t a big deal, you should know I can handle people saying mean things to me.”

“There’s no doubt you can, _____. But that doesn’t mean that I find it acceptable for them to do those things to our manager.”

It took a while to become friends with Nebuya since you were constantly shoving vegetables at him to try and get him to improve his diet

But you were ridiculously stubborn so one day he finally sucked it up and tried a piece of the salad you had made, and he ended up really liking it

Ends up adopting you like a younger sister and as any good older brother does, makes sure you get home safely every night after practice

Mayuzumi doesn’t seem to really like you one way or the other, but you’re able to strike up a conversation with him easily after seeing a light novel tucked in the side of his gym bag

Cue the two of you having regular “book club” discussions where you share and trade books and Mayuzumi gets more used to the idea of you being around the team, and you begin to start reading his moods even if his overall expression doesn’t change much

You’ve cemented yourself as a vital member of the team and soon the other sports clubs at Rakuzan start trying to convince you to become their manager instead

But of course none of their attempts succeed because of how scary and persuasive the members of the team can be who immediately shut down any notion of having their beloved manager taken from them

[tsarisfanfiction]

Silent IV

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: John Tracy, Scott Tracy

Part 4 of my response to @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday: Taste challenge. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Answering reader’s questions?  Only halfway through a fic?  More likely than you think.

Sleep didn’t come easily for John.  It never had done, not even before last weekend, but now he couldn’t sleep at all until he knew all his brothers were safe in their rooms.  That indicator was Scott; until Scott came into their room and settled down in bed, John could be sure that at least one brother was still up.  As Scott would never go to bed until Virgil and Gordon were settled in the room next door, and Alan was asleep in his own bed, dragged in to their room almost as soon as they’d got home, his eventual stumble into bed was the sign John needed that the others were all as okay as they could be right now.

Even the stars had abandoned him.  Sat in the window, a favourite seat of his, with a neglected book in his lap, there were no pinpricks of light shining through the darkness.  Clouds had stayed gathered ever since the avalanche, blocking out both the sun and the stars.  Somewhere beyond them was Dad, on a mission to the moon.  John wondered if he knew, yet.  Grandma had said she’d contact the space agency, but communications from Earth to the moon were difficult.  It had always been a sore point between the older boys and their father – off again for months, two year old Alan barely knew who his Daddy was – but now it was a gaping wound.  John had always been fascinated by space, but he swore he wouldn’t go until he knew he could keep in contact with his family.  Always.

Equally as difficult as getting a message to the moon, apparently, was trying to travel when so snowed under even the cars couldn’t move, and planes refused to fly.  There was no snow here, and if John never saw a snowflake again it would be too soon, but Grandma’s state was snowed in.  Grandma was adamant that she’d find her way to them soon, and John knew she was doing everything she could to move in with them, but it felt as though the world itself was conspiring against them.  Every day that passed, Scott lived in greater and greater fear of uninvited visitors arriving on their doorstep.  John refused to admit it to anyone except himself, but he did, too.

Alan snuffled in the corner, clutching his newly inherited but tatty and old teddy bear close in sleep. The two year old didn’t understand what was going on, and John and Scott were both painfully aware that he was the most likely to bring the uninvited guests to their door with an innocent comment. From the conversation he’d heard when they’d got home, something Alan had said on the way home from playgroup had been too close for Scott’s comfort today.

Scott hadn’t been himself, either.  None of them were themselves, Gordon retreating into himself, Virgil pretending everything was fine but flinching at every reminder of Mom with tears in his eyes.  John wasn’t even sure what had happened to him; he could barely remember what life had been like before the avalanche now. Life and responsibility had ganged up on him and Scott all at once and now any free time he might have had was taken up with cooking and cleaning while Scott handled their younger brothers. But John didn’t think all that – Mom’s death, new responsibilities, three brothers in need of assurance and a sense of normality where there was none to be had – was the all that was preying on Scott’s mind.  Not after Alan’s loud complaints about Scott being stinky and Scott’s perfectly reasonable explanation.  Perfectly reasonable, except for one thing.

Scott didn’t have gym on Wednesdays.  John knew his brother’s timetable, even if Scott didn’t know that.  No gym on Wednesdays, just after-school basketball he’d quit at the start of the week.

Whatever had driven him to empty an entire can of deodorant over himself, it wasn’t gym, and John highly doubted it was an accident, either.  But he knew Scott wouldn’t talk to him about it, even though his eyes had been red when he’d come out of his too-long shower and he’d caught the smallest glimpse of something dark on his arm when his sleeve had ridden up during dinner.  Alan had jumped at him from his chair after they’d eaten, as per usual, and normally Scott could catch him with ease.  This time, there’d been the flicker of pain as Alan had collided with him, before he’d covered it up with some light-hearted scolding for being reckless.

John didn’t like the theory forming in his mind, and knew that tonight he wouldn’t sleep until he put it to rest, one way or the other.

It was midnight by the time Scott stumbled into the room, assuring him that Virgil and Gordon were both asleep and put that book away and go to bed now, John.  John hadn’t turned a page all evening, but dutifully obeyed, placing the bookmark back in the same place he’d retrieved it from hours earlier and setting the book on the bedside table before sliding underneath his covers and closing his eyes.

Waiting.

He heard Scott pad over lightly to check on Alan, making sure he really was asleep, before his big brother finally shuffled into bed himself, turning the lights off.  He’d shared a room with Scott for years, knew how his breathing shifted as he fell asleep.  The shift happened, and he counted the minutes in his head.  Five of them, and then he couldn’t wait any more, the burning need to know slipping him out of bed, palming his under-the-covers reading light (a present from Scott, two years ago, after he’d got fed up of John insisting on having a light on to read when he just wanted to sleep; Mom had laughed and told him he still wasn’t allowed to read all night) from under his pillow and slipping across the room to Scott’s bed.

Scott was a light sleeper, and John shouldn’t be doing this, but he needed to know.  The comforter folded back easily, and holding his breath John reached for the hem of his brother’s top, lifting it up just enough to see his fears realised.

Mottled bruising splattered across his torso, deeper and darker in some places than others.  It was painfully familiar – John had had the same, last year, until Scott found him out in a similar way and dragged names out of a tearful eleven year old in the middle of the night.  They’d both been in the same school then; Scott had made it perfectly clear the next day that anyone who so much as touched a hair on any of his brothers’ heads would be dealing with him and his friends, who would be delighted to return it with interest.

John didn’t have bruises any more, but now Scott had moved up into the world of high school and there was no big brother to make fearless challenges on his behalf.

A hand caught his wrist.

“Go back to bed,” Scott said flatly, tugging at his arm lightly until he let go.  The fabric fluttered back down, hiding the incriminating evidence again.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” John asked instead, keeping his voice down.  The last thing they needed was for any of their brothers to wake, especially Alan.

Scott scoffed, but John’s reading light caught pain in his eyes.

“Tell who?” he demanded, sitting up and wincing as he did so.  John didn’t think it was a good thing that Scott hadn’t even attempted denial first. Scott always denied it when things were wrong and he wasn’t okay.  Then again, none of them were okay.  None of them would be okay for a long time.  “A teacher? They’d just try to call Mom, and when they don’t get through they’ll be breaking down the goddamn door.  Grandma?  She can’t get here any damn faster.  Dad? He’s not even on the fucking planet!”

“Shhh!” John hissed as his voice get louder.  A sleepy snuffle came from the corner of the room, and they both froze.  It was several long minutes of silence before they relaxed, assured that Alan hadn’t woken up after all.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He knew why.  It was the same reason he wouldn’t tell a teacher, wouldn’t risk any adults realising that there was a family of five children living without a single guardian in the state.  Scott had been trying to protect him, projecting an air of invulnerable big brother so John would relax and forget the very real fear social services might catch a whiff of abandoned children.

Scott wouldn’t admit that, of course.

“What could you do about it?” he demanded instead, remembering this time to keep his voice down. “We don’t even go to the same school, and even if we did, we can’t draw attention to ourselves!”

“I can handle Alan so he’s not kicking you in your already busted ribs whenever you pick him up,” John retorted. “I can cover for you while you get pain killers.  Just because I can’t help you outside doesn’t mean I can’t help you at home, Scott.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” Scott protested, and John rolled his eyes.

“I’m offering,” he pointed out.  “You have taken some pain killers, right?”

“How do you think I got all of two seconds sleep before a pesky little brother stripped my bedclothes?” Scott grouched.  “Yes, I took some tylenol when I was in the shower.”

“Cold compress?” John asked, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“Right little rescue scout you are, huh,” he grumbled.  He knew as well as John they’d had a first aid session only two meetings ago.  It felt like two lifetimes ago.  “Shower.”  John reached for his top again, only to get batted away.  “It’s fine, John.  Stop fussing and go back to bed.”

John scowled at him.

“We talk about this now, or we talk about this at breakfast with Virgil, Gordon and Alan listening in,” he promised.  From the flash of anger in blue eyes, it was only the fact that Alan was sleeping in the same room that restrained Scott from exploding at him.

“What’s there to talk about?” he ground out instead.

“Who.”  John stated.  “How long. Why now.”  The glare he got promised retribution later, but less than a week ago John had watched a wall of snow crush a skiing hut with his mother inside. Maybe Scott’s glares would be scary again one day, but their ski trip from hell was still too raw.

“You don’t know them,” Scott muttered after a moment, and John knew he wouldn’t have caved if he wasn’t also raw from the loss of their Mom, and the responsibility crushing his shoulders.  “I thought they were my friends, until yesterday.  Apparently they only liked me because the team kept winning whenever I played.”

“They’re beating you up because you quit the team?”  John wished he was surprised, but while sport had never been his thing, enough of his schoolmates were sport-mad that he could see them doing exactly that. Scott didn’t answer, but his eyes gleamed with tears in the faint light.

It made John angry. Who measured friendship by how successful someone was at a sport?  Who dropped their friend right when they were needed most?  Even if they didn’t know what was wrong, surely a friend would accept a change in hobbies?

He might not know them, but these unknown so-called friends of Scott were going to go down. How dare they make his brother cry?

The tears Scott turned his head away to hide could have just been grief about their Mom, but given the context of their conversation, John knew better.  It was also the sting of betrayal, and he wasn’t going to stand for it.

“Scott,” he said, muscling his way onto his brother’s bed and tugging gently but determinedly on his wrist until he caved and lay down.  “As soon as Grandma’s here, you have to tell her.”

Stony silence greeted him, and he pulled the comforter over the pair of them, nudging insistently at Scott until he had enough room to be comfortable.  “If you don’t, I will.”

“Don’t you dare,” Scott lashed back, rolling on his side to face away from John.  “Get out of my bed.”

“You didn’t let me suffer in silence,” John reminded him, staying where he was.  He wasn’t as clingy as his brothers, but right now he didn’t want his own bed.  “You’re right, even when we do have a guardian here, I can’t stand in front of you and threaten everyone that wants to hurt you.  But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by and let it happen.  Grandma will do something.”

“Grandma has the four of you to worry about,” Scott mumbled, and John rolled his eyes.  Whoever said older was wiser had clearly never met his older brother.

“Grandma has five grandsons and she’ll worry about us all,” he reminded him.  “She’ll find out somehow, even if we don’t say anything. You know she will, and then she’ll be sad you didn’t tell her straight away.”

Scott groaned in defeat, then rolled back over with another, pained, groan.  How long did Tylenol last?

“I know,” he muttered, wiping at his eyes with his sleeves.  “I know.”

John shuffled a little closer, pressing their shoulders together.  Once they got bigger – Scott was already hitting a growth spurt – they wouldn’t be able to fit easily on the same bed, but for now, they both fit well enough side-by-side.  After a moment, Scott’s head rested against his on the pillow, and fingers tangled with his own where their arms were pressed together.

“We’ll survive,” Scott muttered, squeezing lightly.  John nodded, and squeezed back.  “Grandma will be here soon.”

It was both a promise and a plea.

Part V

[ourneverendingpossibilities]

Oh, I’m happy we finally meet Again

Anime: Kuroko no Basuke Pairing: Kasamatsu Yukio x Reader Rating: K+ A/N: I wanted to write this yesterday, but i fell asleep after work LOL. oops.. So I found time to write it before i fell asleep again . Hope you guys like this one too C:

_________________________

You had zero intention of attending the practice match against Kaijou.

Kise was begging you to attend, wanting his sister to be his biggest fan... Yet you kept denying him, coming up with excuses for why you couldn't attend.

It was too far. You had a test to study for. Mom was busy so she couldn't drive you... 

And yet, despite all the trouble you went through to tell him 'NO'... You found yourself at Kaijou's front entrance, staring with widened hues.. No wonder Ryouta wanted to attend this school.. It was definitely bigger than Seirin… The grounds themselves had their own aura, and you found yourself to be slightly intimidated as you stepped foot on their grounds. Truthfully, you only had Kagami's map to go by, and boy did it suck.

But you somehow managed to understand his scribbles, along with the loud screams of your brother's name... You let out a loud sigh... Right... your brother was famous.. Some days you forgot how popular he was, mostly because people seem to forget you exist. During Teiko, you weren't followed or hounded by any of his fangirls, despite being around the Generation of Miracles.. They'd speak with Momoi, but yet... it was as if you were invisible...

'Like Tetsu-kun..' You muse, a gentle smile on your lips. 

Your feet carried you towards the sounds, the pheromones from the men filled the air. There were girls screaming and cluttering around the gym doors... Oh man.. How in the world could you sneak in now? You frown, getting down on your hands and knees, and crawl under their legs, growling when a few of the girls' legs trapped you. You should've just stayed home...

You managed to get through the sea of women, sneaking between a couple of guys who were on Kaijou's team... Oh... so their practice match was during their regular practice? You hum quietly, golden hues scanning the crowd... Your brother is there, taking on Kagami once more... but you hear a stern voice... and it sends shivers down your spine.. In that moment, your golden eyes widen, lips part in shock as they land on the very same boy you met in the guitar shop a few weeks ago...

The same raven hair... Those same piercing steel-blue hues... His handsome scowl... You blink then, a soft frown on your lips... 

"Handsome? Since when do I consider Kasamatsu-senpai handsome?"

Sure, since that day you thought about him a lot... How he would be Kise's senpai... You had an inkling suspicion he played basketball, from seeing his muscles that day.. But your suspicions were confirmed the day Ryouta complained about his new captain... You smile at that memory, watching the match with a renewed interest.

________________________________

"I hate my new captain _____-cchi!"

You roll your eyes, laying down on your bed as you attempt to study. It's the first week in, and already you were loaded with homework, a frown on your lips. Your brother came home for the weekend, barging into your room as always and laid beside you, crocodile tears in his eyes.

"What did he do this time? Tell you, you were too pretty to play basketball?"

He pouts, resting his face on your arm, ignoring your squirming.

"He was talking down to me!! Saying I should respect them because they've been playing basketball longer than me... That it doesn't matter if I'm a Generation of Miracle..."

You pause your writing, turning your gaze to meet his, watching the emotions flicker in his eyes.. He seems to be in a daze, as if contemplating the last sentence.. He looks at you then, and the room is silent for a few moments, before you sigh softly, resting your pen on the blanket before gently rubbing your brother's hair.

"So he treats you like a regular person instead of a famous one? Isn't that a good thing ?"

His mouth opens a little, as if wanting to retort. But he immediately shuts it, rolling onto his side fully and curling up with you.. As if you were children going down for a nap, you smile.

"Truthfully, I don't know..." he admits, sighing softly. "I was really angry when it first happened... But as the days go by..." he stops, as if playing the words in his mind. He then meets your gaze, an unknown emotion swirling in those golden hues. "I find that 'Kise of Kaijou' has a nice ring to it."

Your eyes widen at his words, before they close and a soft smile curls on your lips.

"Well then... I'm looking forward to seeing how you grow... Ryo-chan."

You don't see the way his eyes widen, or how they sparkle with happiness at your words.. Instead, you're left to fend off your brother, who smothers you in loving hugs and kisses on the cheek, until the two of you land on the floor, and he has a bump on his head from being smacked.

________________________________

Now... seeing how he plays with his team, even if there's still tension amongst them, makes your interest in basketball come to life.. If only a little. It helps that not only Kasamatsu plays.. But he's the captain of the team.

Meaning, he's the one who spoke those words to your brother...

You'd been in a daze for so long, you failed to hear the whistle blow, signalling the end of the match.. causing your eyes to widen in shock...

"Oh shoot! I have to find Tetsu-kun!"

With that, you sneak back into the crowd, mumbling apologies as you flee the gym.. Not realizing a certain captain caught your movements, watching your back as you run.

"W...What's she doing here?"

__________________________________

In your haste to escape the madness, you find yourself lost. You're not sure what part of the school grounds you're on, but it's somewhere behind the gym.. You bite your lip, rubbing the back of your head as you contemplate your options.... You could always text Kise, and see if he can find you... But you didn't want him knowing you showed up after all.. 

"He'd be embarrassed if he learned I saw him lose..."

"....I...It really is you..."

Your eyes widen at the voice, slightly out of breath. It's then you turn your head, stunned to find an out of breath Kasamatsu standing a few meters from you.. He was no longer in his jersey, but rather a blue tank top, accompanied with black shorts.. The high-length socks still covered his legs, but your eyes stayed on his face, the shock from seeing him being replaced with a smile...

"It's really you as well... Kasamatsu-senpai.."

He finds himself able to catch his breath, though he is a bit stunned at your appearance.. He finds a small frown curling on his lips when he notices the uniform you're wearing... Ah...

"So... you chose Seirin?"

You stand tall then, scratching the back of your head nervously. A sheepish smile curls on your lips, trying not to keep your hopes up upon hearing the slight disappointment in his voice.

"Y...Yeah.." you whisper, looking at your shoes for a brief moment, "S...Sorry to disappoint you, senpai."

He blinks, a frown curling on his lips at your words..

"Tch… W..Why would I be disappointed, idiot...?"

His words cause you to meet his gaze, though he avoids looking at you, cheeks reddening at his small outburst... He hadn't meant to call you an 'idiot'... but your words made him bristle.. And it slipped out because in that moment, he forgot you were a girl.

"I...I mean...." he starts, watching your eyes meet his, before growling in annoyance.. He rubs the front of his face, resting his hand over his mouth before shifting his eyes to look at the ground...

"I..I told you.. D..Do what's best for you..." he mumbles, feeling at a complete loss..

Seeing him in a vulnerable position is new.. Something you found yourself cherishing... He's not the same person you met back in the guitar shop... And yet, you find yourself enchanted... Wanting to see every side to this person standing in front of you... 

Your lips curl in a smile then, before a small giggle leaves your lips..

"You're an interesting person, Kasamatsu-senpai..."

He finds himself glaring at you a little, though it's diminished by the redness of his cheeks...

"S....Shut up... brat..."

His ears are ringing from your laughter.

The sound of your phone buzzing startles you from your company, and you look at the message, eyes widening.. 

"Ah... That's my mom! She's here to pick me up!"

He blinks then, standing up to full height, "That reminds me... What were you doing here ____?"

Your eyes meet his, and you fidget slightly, "I... I was here to give Kuroko something... Kagami gave me a map last minute, so I was able to watch the game... But I think my team has already left..." you laugh, trying to hide your nervousness. "So I had to text my mom to get her to pick me up...."

He nods, looking around casually. "I...If you need help, I can walk you to the front entrance... " he speaks, a slight stutter hidden within his cool voice. You find your eyes widen slightly, before they soften.

"...O...Only if senpai wants to..."

He rolls his eyes, walking towards you and gently bumps your head, before nodding his head, "It's not a problem, _____. I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to... Now let's go.. Don't want to keep your mom waiting..."

You nod eagerly, falling into step with him. A small part of you wanted to spend a little bit longer with him.. Even if it was just walking together... Your gaze goes towards the captain, tracing the angles of his face, finding your gaze land on his eyes the longest.. Ah.. From the first encounter, you always found yourself engrossed with the colour of his eyes.. There was something about them.. 

It was during that moment, where you were caught up in your thoughts, Kasamatsu turns his gaze towards you, finding himself surprised at your stare.. He tries not to tremble, because he's never been good around girls.. But the doe-like expression you held reminded him of someone else... Yet at the same time, you resembled a curious puppy.. He finds it hard not to look away, because every part of his body is screaming to do so.. And yet, he's unable to look away... 

At least until the sound of a horn blares through the silence.

He takes that moment to look away, coughing into his hand as he attempts to regain composure.. He notices movement, and turns his head, eyes wide when you are typing something into his phone... W..Wait...

When the hell did you get that?!

He feels it being placed back in his hand, and he watches you beneath blue eyes... 

"I...IF you want to h..hang out... or just talk... Y...You can text me!"

When he blinks, you're already running away, waving your hand frantically. Despite knowing you've already driven away in your mom's car, Kasamatsu is left standing there like an idiot. He doesn't understand what just happened, but one thing is certain...

His heart won't stop racing...

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 10 - (totally uninterested.)

Sober Harry didn’t really have much patience for drunk Nora. Or at least, the look on his face seemed to convey that when I met him in the lobby of whatever apartment building I was in. He stared straight at me--his eyes unimpressed as he looked me up and down.

“Thanks for coming,” I told him, trying my best to tame the drunken beast inside and form sentences that wouldn’t piss him off. 

He let out a heavy sigh, his eyes avoiding mine for a second as he pulled out his phone. “Well, I’m parked outside, so, let’s go.”

I nodded and moved my feet, watching as he turned on his and headed for the front door. His grey t-shirt fell over his shoulders nicely--tight around his arms and showcasing his tattoos in a way that Drunk Nora couldn’t quite handle. 

“Are you mad at me?” I asked, my warm breath floating up into the fall air. 

He opened his mouth to speak but then shut it. “Nora--just get in the car.” His hand reached down to the handle, opening the passenger door for me to find my way into warmth. I slid down and looked up at him.

 “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He rolled his eyes and let the door shut between us--walking around the front of the car to get behind the wheel. He’d hung up so quickly on the phone that I didn’t even know if he’d heard what I said. I assumed he did. I assumed he didn’t like it. 

“You’re drunk and mad at me and I’m mad at you and we’re not going to fix anything right now.”

I didn’t expect him to be that transparent, and when he saw the look of surprise on my face, he smirked. 

“I’m mad at you for being a dick to me in front of everyone we know.” 

He put the car into gear, pulling back onto the street as he mulled over my words. They fell between us in the car, settled in the cup holder than held what used to be an iced coffee. 

“I said I don’t want to talk about it now.”

“Then what do you want to talk about Harry?”

“Nothing.”

I stared at him--too tired to put up a fight. So I kept my mouth shut. I watched as he drove by different apartment buildings and street signs, until things slowly became more familiar. We passed the library, the lights were on inside even though it was long past closing. 

The radio hummed quietly, and I wondered, for a second, what would happen if I leaned over to kiss him. 

The car came to an abrupt stop and he cut the engine--parked in a spot outside his own apartment complex. 

“I have to walk all the way back to my apartment now?” I asked--anger in my voice as I unbuckled the seatbelt over my chest. It wasn’t that I was unappreciative. Sure--Harry had gone out of his way to come and give me a ride back to campus. 

And I wasn’t really mad about the prospect of having to walk. I was more upset about the idea that he didn’t want to talk to me and was perfectly fine with letting me walk all the way home without a single word after the saga of events between us. 

“I think you’ll live,” he said, his hand reaching for the door as I climbed out. A few people milled about in the parking lot--seemingly making their way home from what was sure to have been a better night than mine. 

“Why are you being such a dick?” my voice was louder now, eyes on his face as I waited for an answer that he likely didn’t want to give. 

“Why am I being a dick? You’re being a dick, too.” He shut the car door with force, turning to walk towards the entrance to his building. 

“I’m not being a dick, Harry--I’ve been trying to talk to you.” I reminded, cutting in front of him to block his escape. 

He stopped in his tracks and looked down at me--his face a mix of unreadable emotions as he pursed his lips. “Maybe I just don’t want to talk, Nora, ever thought of that? Maybe I’m just mad at you and annoyed and maybe I just don’t want to ever mention any of this again.”

That caught me off guard--that left me with a feeling of breathlessness in my lungs that seemed to keep my feet rooted to the ground as he side-stepped me and made another attempt to leave me in the parking lot. 

“This was the plan Harry,” I called after him, suddenly following him again and hoping that he’d just turn around and hear me out. “We agreed to this--we agreed that the whole point was so I’d end up with Ethan!”

I reached for his arm, grabbing at it to keep him from putting distance between us. At the contact, he turned on his heel and jerked his arm away from me. “Plans change, Nora, alright?”

I couldn’t decipher his words--and frankly, I didn’t have a low enough blood-alcohol-content to do so. “Fuck you, Harry.” 

“Fuck you, Nora.”

My face must have distorted into one of anger--because Harry rolled his eyes. But then I leaned forward and pushed my hands to his chest, giving him a shove in the parking lot to prove how angry I was. 

He only laughed at this--his mouth pulling up into a smirk as he watched my eyes well with tears. “It’s not funny!” I said, giving him another shove.

“Nora--you’re drunk. Go home. Go to sleep, and leave me alone.”

I stared up at him, still confused by his words and his anger and wishing--with everything in me--that I could rewind to Halloween and force him to talk to me instead of creating the whole scene in the living room of his apartment. 

But instead--since I had no reason to believe that time travel was possible--I stood in the parking lot and watched him walk back into his building. The door shut behind him and soon he was out of view, leaving me alone with the long walk home to sober up. 

**

Working with Casey Northby wasn’t as terrible as I’d anticipated. After our first week together, she seemed to lighten up around me and be considerably less annoyed when I would put my feet on the desk and show up in a baggy sweatshirt. She only worked two nights with me, but it seemed to be enough to allow her to feel more comfortable in my presence. 

She didn’t, however, approve of the fact that Ethan would come to visit every once in a while and would lean against the desk for a good forty minutes before she forced me to go stack books--bringing Ethan in tow. 

“She’s a bit of a hard ass, huh?” Ethan laughed, following behind me as I climbed the stairs to the second floor. I didn’t have much of a clue as to what was going on between the two of us--but his text messages and library visits were a welcomed distraction from the sudden loneliness I felt. 

I hadn’t realized how much time had been taken up by Harry. Whether it was work or studying or grabbing food at the dining hall--my life seemed to be laced with reminders that he wasn’t there. 

A sweatshirt he’d left in my dorm sat folded on top of my desk--and I was more than willing to let it sit there until we moved out in the spring. Maybe it’d find it’s way to a garbage, or maybe it’d find it’s way into a drawer--but either way, it seemed happy with it’s home for now: it was the perfect spot to ignite the ache in my lungs for the boy who’d accidentally become somewhat of a fixture in my days. 

“Casey’s special,” I shrugged my shoulders, leading him down the biography aisle as I tried to alphabetize the books stacked in my hands. “She’s grown on me though. At least it’s not Harry.”

The last part of my statement may not have been true, but Ethan didn’t need to know that. He hadn’t brought up Harry too much--in fact, the look on his face at the mention of his name told me he’d prefer if we never spoke it again. 

“What was that face for?”

“I--nothing, I don’t know. Have you, like, talked to him at all?”

I pushed my lips out in thought--wondering how much to divulge. I’d forgiven Ethan quickly the next morning when he claimed via text message that his phone had been acting up the night before. I didn’t really care if it was the truth or not--especially when it was increasingly unclear to me if the hangover I had that day was caused by alcohol or Harry. 

“He brought me home that night, actually--when we ended up in god knows where after we were at Casey’s brothers.”

“He did?”

I shoved a book into it’s slot on the shelf. “Yeah,” I shrugged. “Kristen didn’t answer, you didn’t answer. I was drunk and my phone was going to die and I figured he’d be awake.”

There was more to it than that, but I didn’t feel the need to explain it all to him. 

“Did you hang out with him?”

Hang out with him or hook up with him? I didn’t know what information he was actually looking for. 

“No,” I rolled my eyes, turning to head a few steps down to return another book. “He literally made me walk from his apartment back to Wilson.”

Ethan nodded but didn’t reply, instead, his eyes wandered to the group of students who walked by the aisle we were in. 

“Have you talked to him? Or any of them, I guess?” I put the question back on him--wondering how he’d made it through basketball practice if none of them were speaking. 

“I mean--barely. They acknowledge me at the gym but they don’t go out of their way.”

I nodded--feeling somewhat sorry that Ethan had gotten dragged into the mess I made. He’d never asked for it. He didn’t know anything about the whole charade and the whole plan and now he was left with a group of friends who were mad at him because--more or less--I’d set him up. 

“I’m sorry, Ethan--I feel really badly that you got caught up in this.” He didn’t know half of the truth, but I still felt the need to apologize. 

“Nora, it’s fine, okay? I’m glad that we’re--hanging out. I like you.”

His words sounded like they should ignite a fire in me, but instead, I offered a sympathetic--and guilty--smile. “Speaking of hanging out,” I changed the subject. “Are you going to come to my birthday this weekend?”

He pushed himself off the bookshelf to follow me as I made another move down the aisle. “Yeah--what did you want to do?”

I sighed--I’d long been contemplating what the best plan of action was--especially since my whole friend group seemed to fall apart. “Well, I’d kind of been planning to just go to that bowling place between Georgetown and Foggy Bottom--but, I don’t know. I don’t know who will want to come.”

“Well, you and me, Kristen, Georgia,” he started to count on his fingers. 

“Casey and her brother,” I added.

“Casey and Kevin,” he added them to the list. “Who else?”

“You can invite some friends if you want,” I told him, sliding another book into a spot on the shelf. I thumbed through the remaining few in my hands, looking up to the aisle number that hung overhead to determine where we were headed next. 

“Are you going to invite the guys?”

I shrugged my shoulders quickly--hoping that he couldn’t read the sadness on my face. “I don’t know--I can text them I guess.”

“Harry, too, or?”

“I don’t know, Ethan,” I turned to look at him quickly. I suddenly felt like he had a question about everything and couldn’t even give me the space to process any of it myself. “I haven’t thought about it too much yet.”

“Okay, I’m just asking,” he shrugged defeatedly, looking down at me with a look of surprise on his face. I felt resentful, for a second. Resentful that he didn’t seem to know me like Harry had. 

He didn’t know the way my brain worked and he didn’t seem like he could handle the shit I’d give him if he said something annoying or stupid. I stared up at him for a minute, wondering what he thought of the way we stood--awkwardly a few feet apart, our bodies tense and uncertain about the air between us. 

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead--which felt incredibly too intimate for the people we were. And the worst part, really, was that I couldn’t squash the part of me that knew that it was Harry’s thing--not Ethan’s. 

**

I knew at some point I’d see one of them somewhere. I didn’t know if it’d be Ryan in the dining hall or Alex in a classroom building on the North side of campus--but I certainly didn’t expect for it to be Niall walking out of Wilson hall late one night after my shift at the library. 

The elevator doors opened, leaving us face to face in the lobby of my building. An awkward beat passed between us as he stepped off and offered a smile. “Nora--hey, how are you?”

“I’m okay,” the words stumbled out--my thoughts running a mile a minute as I tried to determine why he was here and not in bed at midnight on a Thursday night. 

“S’good to see you,” he said, shifting on his feet as he adjusted the backpack on his shoulders. 

“Niall--cut the shit,” I shook my head. “What are you doing over here?”

It wasn’t that I needed to know--it was more that I didn’t want to pretend we were only acquaintances who engaged in elevator small talk. He laughed a little at my words, the smile on his face making me immediately less tense. 

“I was just studying with a classmate--big test in Donahue’s class on Monday.”

I nodded--I’d taken Donahue’s Morals and Coverage class the semester before, so I knew the type of anxiety that set in before a test. 

The desire to ask about Harry--ask how he was and what he was saying about me--was strong, but I tried to swallow the urge as he picked up his phone to look at the time and date. 

“Your birthday’s this weekend, yeah? Doin’ anything fun?”

I made a face at his question--feeling sorry for myself that my 21st wasn’t going to be nearly as fun as I’d expected it to be a few weeks ago. “I mean--maybe bowling at Pinstripes--the place with the bar and stuff?”

“Oh, yeah, near Georgetown?”

I nodded. “I’d love it if you came--all of you, I mean. I know things are weird and all, but, you only turn twenty-one once, I guess.” I smiled a bit--hoping that my attempt at being nonchalant would convince him that we could handle it. We could all show up somewhere for my birthday and ignore the awkwardness that seemed to linger in the air despite the fact that Harry and I didn’t really break up and we were never really dating to begin with. 

I didn’t mean for all of it to happen this way--and standing with Niall in the empty lobby of my dorm made me feel even worse about the way our stupid plan had seemed to rearrange the entire group of people who’d become important  in my life. 

“S’Ethan gonna be there?”

I traced my lip with my tongue--buying time as I tried to find the right way to word it. “Yeah--but, not like--with me, or anything.”

“What do you mean?” his eyebrows dipped together in an innocent fashion--insinuating that my subtly hadn’t worked.

“We’re not, like, together, Niall. I was drunk and he was drunk and what happened on Halloween was stupid.”

“You’re not datin’?” 

“No,” I shook my head.

“Kinda seems like it.”

“Well, we’re not. Is that what Harry thinks?”

“That’s kinda what we all thought.”

“Well,” I said again, shrugging dramatically and raising my eyebrows to sell my point. “We’re not. We’re friends. Just like all of us.”

Niall sighed, running a hand through his hair as he shrugged his shoulders. “We all miss ya, Nora--s’weird not havin’ you around.”

“I can imagine,” I teased, smirking up at him as I crossed my arms. “You should all come, even Harry. Saturday night, 8pm. I can text you more information?”

“Yeah--I’ll let them all know. It’ll be fun.”

He offered a hug and then headed for the doors--leaving me to ride the elevator alone with the hope in my heart that maybe--things could feel as normal as they once did.

**

I had a drink in my hand as Kristen forced a tiara onto my head--which felt more obnoxious than the pink and fruity drink she’d handed me shortly after walking in. We’d reserved a lane to celebrate--and I was happily greeting our friends who showed up on time. 

“Quite the venue,” Ethan gave me a hug as he seemed to smile at Kristen over my shoulder, “for quite the girl.”

“Okay, relax,” Kristen said, pulling me away from Ethan as she pulled me in the direction of the other faces who seemed eager to greet me. Kristen wasn’t a fan of Ethan--that had always been clear, but her comfort with making that known seemed more entertaining after finishing my first drink of the night. 

We sidestepped Casey and Kevin--who held drinks in their hands and tried to program the computer that would keep score as we bowled--as she led me towards Niall, who had Ryan and Alex in tow. Despite the absence of Harry, I was pleasantly surprised that they’d even made the trip out. Kristen had informed me earlier in the day that Niall would be there--she said she ran into him at the dining hall with Harry. 

Harry barely acknowledged her, she’d said, but Niall made it seem promising that they’d all come by for a drink and a game or two. I’d asked her a thousand questions--how did he look, what was he wearing, did he seem interested in hearing about my birthday plans--before she escaped my pathetic digging in the shower, claiming she needed to start getting ready.

“Happy birthday!” Alex offered a hug now, his smile somewhat hesitant as I wrapped my arms around him. He let go of me quickly--almost as if being friendly was breaking some kind of unspoken guy code. I wondered, as I pulled away, what they’d said about that night. 

Did they think I was the one who ruined it all? Did they hear Harry’s monologue and wonder what had happened? Did he tell them everything--did they know it was all fake and I was stupid enough to think that maybe the plan would work and everyone would be unaffected?

And that was the thought in my head as I hugged Ryan. I’d been selfish enough to put my stupid crush before everything else: my friends, my classes, my job, Harry. I’d been so blinded by lust that I’d put everyone else in a terrible position. And now, without trying, I’d lost the chance at having true friendship with people in the hopes of what was doomed to be a short-lived romance with American University’s star basketball player. 

I was grateful for the fact that Ethan had brought a friend from our unfortunate night in Deanwood who now kept him occupied on the other side of the lane. Matt Kerrigan was on the soccer team--I’d met him at a party once at Harry’s--but he seemed more than happy to celebrate my birthday without any questions asked. 

“Thanks for coming,” I said to Ryan, who let an arm wrap around my shoulders as he stood beside me. “I really appreciate it.”

It sounded forced and distant--not the way I ever spoke to them before this all happened. Ryan, who rolled his eyes, seemed to pick up on the way I felt. 

“S’all good, Nora. We haven’t meant to be weird--we just--don’t want to be in the middle, I guess.”

“I totally get it,” I nodded--perhaps too forcefully. “I don’t want you guys to be in the middle. What happened between Harry and I was dramatic and a lot and I’m sorry that you all got dragged in.”

Kristen offered me a smile--appreciative that I made an effort to make amends. “Is he coming, by the way?  I saw him at lunch and he said he might.”

I shot her a look--one that warned her to not be too obvious that I’d already peer-pressured her into asking them for me. 

Niall shrugged down at my roommate, unaware that the question was for my benefit and not hers. “Dunno--he had practice this afternoon and said he might stop by. We’ll see, though.”

I tried my best to play it cool--I tried to ignore the fact that the possibility of him coming made my pulse quicken and my hands get clammy. Instead of addressing it, I turned to look towards the bar. “It’s still happy hour,” I told them. “If you go now, you can get a pint for five dollars.”

“Oh shit,” Ryan laughed. “We’ve got to get over there, then.”

Niall and Alex trailed behind him, leaving Kristen and I alone for a minute near the benches. 

“Will you be okay if he comes?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Totally fine.”

“Nora,” she eyed my suspiciously, making it clear that she knew I was lying. 

“Well, what?” I lowered my voice, pulling her closer by her wrist. “I’m supposed to just be cool about the fact that he might show up at any second?”

“You’ll be fine--there’s plenty of people here. You don’t have to hang out with just him.”

“I want to hang out with just him,” I replied, my shoulders slumping in defeat as I watched her scan the room. 

“Well, just don’t be an idiot and hang out with Ethan when he’s here. That’ll be sure to fuck things up even more.”

“Okay,” I said, agreeing to her condition. “But then you need to help keep him away from me.”

“That was already my plan,” she laughed, giving my arm a tug to bring me back towards Casey and Kevin--who’d already decided that I had to start our first game off. 

I picked out a bowling ball, posed for an obnoxious picture with my obnoxious shoes and tiara for Kristen, and then let the ball fly down the lane--hitting three pins before being spit back through the underlane track. 

We made it through one round--which took an inordinate amount of time based on the number of people playing--but I was thankful for the laughter and friendship around me. I sat with Niall and Alex while Ryan knocked down 9 pins--the most out of anyone so far. Kristen--who was better at bowling than anyone could have guessed--was proud of the fact that she ended our first round with the only strike of the night. 

Ethan had offered me another drink after his turn--clinking his cup against mine to wish me a happy birthday--when Kristen called my name from the lane. “You’re up, Nor--stop messing around and take this seriously, will you?”

I laughed, leaving Ethan by the bar as I handed my drink to Ryan--who took a sip and smiled as I took the ball from Kristen. “Relax, will you? I’m here to enjoy myself not win any titles.”

“Clearly not with the way you play,” Niall teased, watching on in amusement as I rolled my eyes. 

“It always takes me a game or two to warm up,” I informed them, rolling my shoulders out as I cradled the ball. 

I wouldn’t have seen him walk in if I’d just taken my turn--but of course, Nora Hanson had to put on a show for the people crowded around, watching on with smiles on their faces as I geared up to release the ball. 

I turned my back quickly, hoping to not embarrass myself too much in front of him as I wound up and let it leave my fingers, barrelling towards the gutter. 

“Oh nice one, Nora--great form there,” Ryan laughed, raising my drink in the air to salute me. 

Harry--who’d made his way towards us and kept his eyes on me as I tried to ignore him--clasped a hand on Niall’s shoulder when he joined us. “Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” I offered a wave, aware of the way Ethan’s body seemed to still when he looked up to see who I greeted. 

“How’s everybody doing?” Harry asked--running a hand through his long hair as he looked around the group. 

I couldn’t tell if I was imagining it or not--but it felt like all eyes were on me as Harry waited for an answer. 

“Good, yeah, thanks for coming.”

The ball return hissed and clanked, letting my know that the lane had been reset and I was welcome to try again. I ignored the rest of them and turned around, tossing the ball again in hopes of breaking up some of the tension in the room. 

It made its way down the middle, knocking all ten pins on their sides as I turned around to face them again--unfazed by my sudden luck. “D’you want a drink?” I looked to Harry, moving back towards them as Casey made her way over from another bench--where she laughed and drank with Georgia and Alex. 

“Sure, yeah,” he looked over his shoulder to the bar, nodding solemnly as I stepped down from the lane and back onto the red and blue carpet. Ethan was occupied by Matt and Kevin--but I knew he was aware of my movements and my company as I trailed behind Harry towards the high top tables and counter where we’d order. 

“Happy birthday,” he said, glancing over at my casually before leaning his arms on the bar. 

“Thanks,” I said, mirroring his movement as I leaned beside him. “Twenty-one feels the same as twenty.”

He let out a laugh at this, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah--I think that’s how most ages work.”

“Probably,” I admitted, offering a smile to the bartender as she appeared in front of us. 

“I’ll just do a Stonybrook IPA,” he said. “And then whatever she wants.”

“Angry orchard, please.”

She nodded and disappeared, leaving us alone at the counter again in silence. Cheering from our friends caused us to look over our shoulders--just in time to see Casey high-five Ethan in victory.

“How’s that going?” He kept his eyes on Ethan, watching as he took a sip of whatever beer he had--an unreadable expression on his face. It felt more and more common now that I couldn’t make out what he thought or felt. At one point it seemed we were in sync--I could decipher his thoughts based on the way his forehead dipped or the way his lips pulled up towards the sky. But now, as we leaned against a sticky bar counter in Georgetown, I let out a sigh. 

“We’re not, like, together or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He licked his lips and then looked down at me. “Seemed that way on Halloween. And since then, really.”

“You haven’t really spoken to me since then, so how would you know what it seems like?”

I didn’t mean to be so defensive--but he’d left me in the parking lot of his apartment complex when I tried to explain myself. He didn’t give me the chance to clear the air--so he had no right to draw conclusions. 

“Nora--it’s a big campus, but it’s not that big.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well--I don’t know what to tell you. We hang out sometimes, but he’s not my boyfriend.”

He didn’t respond. He kept his eyes on the group as Georgia made her way up to the lane, picking out a ball before swinging her arm towards the pins. 

“You and I hung out and you weren’t my boyfriend,” I reminded him. I didn’t mean for the words to sting, but he let out a short laugh and then looked down at me. 

“Yeah--loud and clear.”

“Harry, I don’t know what you want from me, okay? I don’t know what you want me to do to make this right.”

“S’fine, Nora, alright? Let’s just forget it happened.”

I rolled my eyes, not pleased with his answer or his attitude. I didn’t know what he expected--he was mad but wouldn’t talk to me, upset but wouldn’t say why. 

“Harry, I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, okay? I’m sorry that I kissed him that night and that things happened the way they did, but you started it by saying what you said in front of everyone.”

His face softened at this, a breath falling from his lips as his tongue seemed to glide along the inside of his cheek. “I--,” he paused, turning around at the sound of the bartender’s voice. 

“Here you go,” she smiled, sliding both of our drinks onto the counter as Harry reached for his wallet. 

“My treat,” he said, handing his card over and watching as the woman swiped it in the register. I reached for the drink and brought it up to my lips, watching as he signed the receipt and returned his card to his wallet. 

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” he said. “I was drunk and annoyed and it was a shit move to say all of that.”

I nodded--feeling less pleased than I expected to upon hearing his apology. Things weren’t magically fixed--it wasn’t back to normal. Instead, we were still awkward and hesitant and distant--a completely different version of us than what I’d grown to love. 

And I didn’t know how to be around him like this. I didn’t know how to just exist beside him without the feeling that he was my person. He’d gone from being my coworker to being the person to memorize my drink order and class schedule. So where did we go from here?

“Let’s just enjoy tonight, okay? Let’s just bowl and drink and try to be normal.”

He took a sip of his drink and laughed a bit, leaving me to question if he was just as confused as I was about what that meant. 

“Okay, Nor--whatever you want.”

**

“That’s not even allowed!” Harry cried from his spot beside Niall in their apartment--his hands up in the air as he accused me of cheating for what felt like the 18th time. “You’re moving too close!”

“She’s fine, Harry--you’re just bitter that she’s kicking your ass,” Ryan defended my honor, bringing his eyes back to me as I held the ball in my hands once more. 

When we’d first arrived back at Harry’s apartment after our night of bowling ended, things felt awkward. Harry was quiet and he seemed more interested in watching the rest of us have a good time than he did in actually engaging. It took until the start of the second game of pong for him to loosen up (albeit with the help of a few drinks) and eventually, he was ready to join the game and it almost felt like nothing had happened. 

Maybe it was the fact that we were in a group--I doubted that Harry and I would do this well on our own. 

Georgia encouraged me from the sidelines. “Just shoot, Nora--don’t listen to him.” 

I turned around to offer a smile at the lot of them, hoping that everyone else was feeling as tipsy and happy as I was. “I can’t perform well with all the pressure,” I said theatrically. “I need quiet.”

“You heard her then, everyone shut up,” Niall raised a hand to get the attention of the rest of our friends--who’d now spread out in the living room.

Kristen and Harry had decided to team up against Niall and I--much to the displeasure of Ethan, who had left the party altogether when he got an invite to another apartment. He’d asked if I wanted to go with him--but the fact that he wanted me to tag along with him on my birthday felt out of touch and tone deaf. 

I turned around, aligning my feet on the floor to best aim the ball for the last three cups. I took a deep breath, letting air circle through my lungs as I kept my eyes locked on my target--my hand gripped the ball and brought my arm back before releasing the small white ball into the air.

When I did, they got even more quiet, wondering if I’d make it even.

“Fuck,” I said, watching as the ball made contact with the rim of a cup before falling to the table as Harry let out an obnoxious laugh. I looked up at him quickly, making eye contact with him as I narrowed my eyes--holding back the giggle that seemed to rise in my throat. “You’re an asshole!”

I sidestepped the table and walked towards him--but he met me with raised hands that caught mine as I got too close. “No m’not!” He said. “You’re just losing skill the more you drink.”

If it hadn’t been for Niall’s raised eyes at our interaction--our fingers laced together as we both seemed to laugh in each other’s faces--I wouldn’t have noticed. It felt natural to be bickering with Harry and feeling his skin against mine. 

I pulled my hands back, trying to regain composure as Kristen picked up the ball and readied for her turn. “I’m not losing skill,” I said matter of factly, trying to keep my eyes from glancing over to her or Niall--who I knew were watching on with wide eyes. “I’m just a little drunk.”

Harry nodded--also suddenly more closed off and collected than a moment earlier. “As you should be--s’your birthday after all.”

I cleared my throat and stepped away from him, thankful that most of the group had kept their eyes on Kristen’s shot--either unaware or uninterested in whatever happened between Harry and I. 

One pair of eyes, though, was still glued to me as I went to retrieve my drink from coffee table. I picked it up and took a sip, hoping the liquid would give me an excuse to collect my thoughts. 

When Kristen sunk their last shot and threw her arms around Harry in victory a bit later, Niall patted me on the back and apologized for our loss. I shrugged it off, heading for the kitchen to refill my drink and find a snack. Harry, though, stood from his seat on the couch and rounded the corner, joining me as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“How’s the library been?”

I let out a scoff--looking up at him with arched brows as I reached for the vodka he had in the freezer. “Oh--you care now? You care how my shifts are going after you so clearly ditched?”

He rolled his eyes at my show of emotion, the smirk on my face was contagious and caught on his lips. “M’just wondering, Nora, s’all. How’s Casey Northby? Didn’t really expect to see her here tonight.”

“She’s actually an excellent coworker, so I should really thank you. We’re a good team,” I told him, pouring more liquid into my cup. “Much better than the two of us.”

“I doubt that,” he laughed, his eyes watching Niall and Kristen take a selfie through the wall pass-through. 

I crossed my arms and looked up at him after putting the bottle away--a pang of guilt washed over me as he brought his eyes down to me. I wondered if he missed me the way I missed him--if he tried his damnedest to avoid the small reminders of me that were strewn about his life. 

“How’s everything with the court case? Did you have your final hearing?”

“Mhm,” he nodded. “Judge dropped all of it--since I completed my hours. So, should be all good.”

“All set for public office,” I teased, bringing bringing the cup to my lips to test it. The plastic was cool against my mouth, making me realize the flush on my cheeks that was present just from talking to him.

I hadn’t been planning on asking him--but the feeling that things were moving in the right direction made the words float out of my mouth before my brain could stop me. “Are you going to take your shifts back ever? Or am I stuck with Casey and Tyler Williams forever?”

He shifted on his feet a bit awkwardly, looking down at the floor before meeting my eyes once again. “I--m’sorry about that, by the way. I just needed some space, I guess.”

I nodded--still hoping for an answer to my original question. 

“I could, if you wanted. Do you think Casey would care? I only switched that one shift with Tyler so it’s mostly up to her.”

“I think she could also use some space from me,” I laughed, lifting my glass in her honor--though she wasn’t anywhere nearby. 

“Hey,” Kristen appeared in the doorway suddenly with Georgia in tow. “We’re heading out. Want to tag along?”

“Uh--” I looked up to Harry--who’s eyes were settled on my face but didn’t seem to give any clear message. “I’ll stay, I guess. I’ll make him walk me home--or Niall, I guess,” I tried to backtrack after motioning up to the boy with long hair and an unbuttoned floral shirt.

“Yeah,” Kristen nodded, a small smile on her face as she gave me a thumbs up. “Sounds good, enjoy. Text me, please. Let me know you’re alive.”

“I will,” I groaned a bit, rolling my eyes at her as they headed for the door. 

Harry laughed, finishing off his own drink before raising his eyebrows suddenly. “I forgot to tell you--the soccer kids got me a gift.” He took my hand in his, leading me out of the kitchen and towards his bedroom, before stopping in front of his desk. 

He pointed down to a picture that sat on top of his closed laptop--white paper with all of them on it--drawn in crayon and marker. Harry was in the middle--his hair seemed longer when it was recreated in Crayola’s Earthtone Brown. “That’s you,” he pointed to  the slightly shorter figure next to him, with bangs drawn in the same color.

“They drew this?”

He nodded, flipping it over as he smiled. “And they wrote messages. I like this one.” He pointed to a sentence in purple marker. 

Thank you Nora for making soccer more fun. 

I smiled excitedly up at him, my eyes wide as I let out a laugh. “That inherently implies that you made soccer not fun,” I said matter-of-factly. 

“No it doesn’t,” he rolled his eyes, stepping back from his desk and crossing his arms. “It just means that one obnoxious little twit liked you. Don’t get all cocky.”

“They liked me better than you,” I sang loudly, poking him in the stomach as he tried to grab at my arms--as if to wrangle me in. 

“You’re so full of yourself,” he laughed, his hands holding onto my wrists as I wriggled away from him. 

“You’re just jealous--people like me better!”

“They’re not people, they’re children.”

“Same thing,” I laughed, still hoping to pull away from his grasp. 

He tugged harder--pulling me flush up against him as he back-stepped towards his bed. I hit his chest with a thud, causing him to laugh a little as he tried to steady me. 

“Sorry,” he smiled, bringing his lips down to kiss my forehead. “I forgot how easy it is to toss you around.”

I smiled up at him, feeling my heart swell when his eyes scanned over my face. “Hey,” I said suddenly, looking over at the clock on his bedside table--still pressed against his chest.

“What?”

“It’s not my birthday anymore.”

“Good,” he laughed. “So I don’t have to be nice to you now.”

I frowned up at him, eyes narrowed as my eyebrows knit together. 

“But I still will be, of course,” he rolled his eyes. 

I pushed myself up on my toes, letting my lips press against his in the dark of his bedroom--the muffled laughter of the party still audible through the closed door. His arms moved up from my lower back, his hands cupping against my face. 

He was drunk and I knew it--but I was drunk too. I could taste the liquor in his mouth and I could tell by the way he stumbled back towards the bed, pulling me on top of him as he fell backwards. 

I didn’t mind, either, when his hands began to roam for exposed skin, my hands pressed against his mattress on either side as his thumbs found hips and pulled me closer to him. Instead of wondering what it meant or how he felt, I closed my eyes and hoped that it would last forever.

AN: Ahhhh chapter 10! As always I love to hear your thoughts or predictions or questions or theories or ANYTHING. Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed reading this chapter,  PLEASE reblog! This site is filled with talented creators who don’t get credit for their hard work--so keep sharing as a thank you! 

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[dreamcloudlanding]

Dad AU: The Counselor

Jack: *arrives at the school and enters the front office and is about to approach the front desk when he sees Gabe*

Gabe: *sitting in the waiting area drinking from a coffee cup*

Jack: “You? What are you doing here?”

Gabe: “I got a call about Amélie. Said I had to come get her.”

Jack: “I got a call about Lena.... said there was an incident with another student... you don’t think-“

Gabe: “-I do think, unfortunately.”

Jack: *tells the lady at the front desk what he’s here for and takes a seat next to Gabe*

Gabe: “Why are you here for the spaz? Why not her real parents?”

Jack: “I’m gonna have to ask you not to call her that, and I’m an emergency contact in case her parents are unavailable.”

Gabe: “Exactly how many kids are you the unofficial guardian of?”

Jack: *stares forward for a moment*

Gabe: “Stop counting.”

Counselor: *walks in from further in the office, his hands clasped and a warm smile on his face* “Greetings. You must be Mr. Reyes and Mr. Morrison. Thank you for coming. I am Tekhartha Zenyatta, the school’s counselor. It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

Gabe: “What did she do?” *sips drink*

Zenyatta: “It will all be explained in due time, but as this involves sensitive subject matter, I must ask you both to keep open minds and spirits before we go in to talk to the girls.”

Jack: “So it did involve both of them.. What exactly does ‘sensitive subject matter’ mean?”

Zenyatta: “I believe it would be better for the girls to attempt to explain their actions for themselves first. Step this way, please.” *walks back deeper into the office*

Gabe: *sips* “Is our kids’ counselor on drugs?”

Jack: “He’s just really temperate. I’ve heard Genji talk about him before.” *follows Zenyatta with Gabe* “Why do you bring coffee to a serious meeting like this?”

Gabe: *sips* “It’s a latte.”

Zenyatta: *leads them into his office*

Amélie and Lena: *sitting on opposite sides of the room looking away from each other*

Gabe: *sits next to Amélie* “Well?”

Amélie: “...”

Gabe: *narrows eyes* “Not talking? I expect this kind of delinquency from your brother, but not from you.”

Lena: *crosses her arms and ducks her head away from Jack* “Sorry you had to be involved in this, Mr. M...”

Jack: *sits next to her* “What happened, Lena?”

Lena: *puffs her cheek as she holds her breath, face turning a bit red* “...”

Zenyatta: *sits cross legged in a chair behind his desk* “Girls, this is your opportunity to explain what happened in your own words. Being honest now will aid in recovering from the shame you feel.”

Amélie: *scoffs and crosses her arms* “Why should I feel shame for something so meaningless?”

Lena: *looks at her with surprise and hurt* “‘Meaningless’? But I- didn’t you feel anything?”

Amélie: *looks at her* “I don’t feel.”

Lena: *stares in disbelief*

Zenyatta: “I suppose I’ll have to explain. Mr. Reyes, Mr. Morrison, earlier today your girls got into a bit of a scuffle during their gym period. They-“

Lena: “-So- so what? Where you just messin’ with me?!” *stands up, eyes watering slightly as she glares at Amélie*

Amélie: “Of course, toying like a spider with a fly.”

Lena: *face burning with rage* “Oh you think you’re sOO CLEVER-”

Zenyatta: *hands Lena a golden stress ball* “Deep breaths, Lena. Have a seat and we’ll work through this.”

Lena: *continues to glare at Amélie as she squeezes the stress ball repeatedly and breathes deeply through her nose, sitting down slowly*

Jack: “Lena, you don’t normally get this upset about things. What exactly happened between you two to cause a fight?”

Zenyatta: “Perhaps I should speak on their behalf while they compose themselves. As they explained to me, apparently they had been arguing and competing against each other during basketball practice and it lead to Amélie striking Lena, Lena jumping on Amélie, and the both of them fighting to the ground-“

Lena: “And then she kissed me.”

Gabe: *chokes on his latte*

Amélie: *remains unphased*

Jack: *stunned*

Zenyatta: “Yes... normally you would be meeting with the principal, but because of the degree of inappropriate behavior, we decided a more sensitive approach would be better than a disciplinary one.”

Jack: “I’m Sorry, so you were fighting and then suddenly you weren’t?”

Lena: “It wasn’t my doing! She kissed me!”

Gabe: “Amélie?”

Amélie: “...So What? Like I said, it meant nothing.”

Gabe: *groans and rubs his forehead* “I don’t believe this.”

Lena: “If it meant nothing then why’d you do it, huh?!”

Amélie: *tightens her mouth* “...”

Zenyatta: “As you can imagine, there’s still quite a bit of hostility between the girls. It’s for that reason that the principal has informed me to tell you the girls will be suspended for the next 3 days.”

Gabe: *covers his face with a hand* “Dammit Amélie. I thought I would have at least one ingrate behaving this year!”

Jack: “Exactly how long have you two been hostile toward each other?”

Lena: “I’ve been nothing but nice to her! She’s the one that started pushing me around!”

Amélie: *scoffs* “It’s your own fault. Always pestering me and making a fool of yourself. It was about time someone put you in your place.”

Lena: “Ha! Well you certainly right lousy job of that, didn’t you?!”

Gabe: “No kidding. You didn’t even leave a scratch on her, Amélie.”

Jack: “What the hell does that mean, Gabe? You would rather one of them be injured?”

Gabe: “I didn’t say that. I just think that you can’t even decide a victor if neither one of them got hurt.”

Jack: “A victor? There’s no winners in this!”

Gabe: “Exactly my point. It was a waste of time.”

Jack: “And it wouldn’t be if one of them had a black eye?!”

Gabe: “At least then we would know where they stand.”

Jack: “Where they stand in what?! The fucking olympics? Should we get out the medals and podiums while we’re at it?”

Zenyatta: “Please, Mr. Morrison, take a stress ball and ease your mind.” *hands him a golden stress ball*

Jack: *takes the stress ball and squeezes it repeatedly, taking in breaths through his nose as he gives Gabe a look*

Amélie: “I would have gotten a scratch on her at least if I wasn’t pulled away.”

Gabe: “Sounds like you were too busy sucking face.”

Jack: “Are you seriously condoning her for not scratching my kid?”

Gabe: “She’s not your kid, Morrison. You shouldn’t even be here!”

Jack: *eyes narrow as he throws the stress ball, hitting Gabe in the face*

Gabe: *growls and stands up, handing Amélie his latte*

Jack: *stands up and grabs Gabe by the shoulders*

Gabe: *grabs Jack’s shoulders and begins grappling with him* “You’ll pay for that, Morrison!”

Jack: “I shouldn’t be surprised! All you ever did think about was who got the last shot!”

Zenyatta: “Gentlemen, please. If we could just-“

Genji: *comes through the door carrying two styrofoam cups* “Tea coming through! Get it while it’s hooooo...” *stares in confusion at the scene before him* “Uh.. sorry. Am I interrupting?”

Zenyatta: “No need to apologize, Genji. But perhaps you better wait outside for a moment.”

Gabe: *releases Jack and scoffs* “No need. We were just leaving.” *gestures for Amélie to follow him as he walks passed Genji out the door*

Amélie: *stands and gives Lena one last look before turning her head up and walking out*

Jack and Lena: *glares at the both of them as they leave*

Zenyatta: “I must apologize. I did not intend for things to go so awry.”

Jack: *sighs and rubs his forehead* “No, I’m sorry. I lost my cool.”

Zenyatta: “I can see you must have some unresolved resentment inside you toward Mr. Reyes.”

Jack: “Yeah, I guess we have just been kind of ignoring what happened between us in the past.”

Zenyatta: “I see. Perhaps at a later date the two of you can come in for a session and we can resolve the issue.”

Jack: *turns to him and raises an eyebrow* “You’d still see the two of us again after that display?”

Zenyatta: *chuckles* “Mr. Morrison. I counsel teenagers. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a scuffle in my office. Though I must warn you for next time; that wasn’t the proper use of a stress ball.”

Jack: “Oh, right..” *picks up the stress ball off the ground and places it back in Zen’s desk*

Lena: *stands up* “Sorry about this, Mr. Zen. I wish things had ended a little more pleasantly.” *places the other stress ball on his desk*

Zenyatta: “Not a problem, Lena. I hope you’ll have time to reflect over the course of the next few days.”

Lena: “I certainly will. I’m not so sure about Amélie.”

Jack: *pats Lena on the back* “Come on, Lena, I’ll take you home.” *turns and guides her to the door, nodding at Genji* “I’ll be back to pick you and your brother up after school, Genji.”

Genji: *bows his head slightly* “I’ll see you then, Mr. Morrison.”

Jack: *leaves with Lena*

Genji: *closes the door with his foot and hands Zenyatta one of the styrofoam cups* “How come all the fun stuff happens while I’m out of the room?”

[lovelyrhink]

you can use my ribcage as a pillow, it doesn’t suit me...

link’s asleep on rhett’s chest. it’s their tenth sleepover as new best friends, but rhett’s not really counting. just like he’s not looking at the piece of dark hair on link’s forehead or the way his cheek bunches up against his breastbone, the crinkle in his sleepy lips, or the rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps. the TV is blue and quiet, it’s nearing midnight, and rhett’s caught up in something he doesn’t know how to name. this new boy has become the center of his whole world, and rhett wakes up every morning in blissful disbelief. how can he have someone so tender, so bashful and giggly, as his closest friend? it’s a good way through autumn now, and something about the tinge of red-gold of the late afternoon sun in link’s hair as they walk home from scrap-soccer after school has rhett’s heart aching. link shifts on his chest, nudging his nose a little closer in the dip between rhett’s ribs. rhett takes a small breath, not so big as to wake his sleeping friend, and moves a hand to gently lay on his shoulder. his heart feels too big for his ribs, watching link sleep, as he’s even more beautiful in a soft blue glow than he is in sunlight. too peaceful, too sweet, rhett’s already in love.

i feel flimsy when i grin, like a stretched-out piece of skin...

rhett’s taller than every boy in school, and faster, too, as he darts ‘cross the basketball court. he says he’s not athletic, but as link studies his legs from his place on the bleachers, he knows that’s not true. gym class isn’t so much a place to exercise as it is a chance to look at rhett, study him as he moves. graceful and gawky all at once, he dribbles the ball like he knows what he’s doing and attempts a near-missed shot like an athlete without a coach. link can see the girls on the other side of the court watching him, giggling when he trips and jumps up grinning, playing on like a goof. link grins. rhett’s his goof, all the gangly, pointy edges of him, the skinny shoulders and that mole that stretches when he smiles. link can feel his cheeks burning, beaming as his eyes follow rhett’s form, and he feels dizzy as rhett looks at him. link maintains the smile even as he loses his breath, even as rhett shoots again, scores, and points at link. even as rhett approaches him and scoops him up in a hug, swings him ‘round and makes link feel lighter than air. he sets link back on his feet, but link still thinks he’s flying, and keeps a hand on his young friend’s waist. the girls are watching both of them now, but link’s giddy, because he’s already in love.

beat the dust straight outta me, i’ll come clean in the end...

the first time rhett shows up at link’s house with a bruise on his face, link’s mama shouts at him for getting in a scuffle. rhett holds his tongue the whole way through, lets link’s mama call rhett’s mama and then gets a pat on the rump for getting into trouble, followed by a hug for keeping link out of it. rhett doesn’t tell her what the fight was about, who started it, or who ended it. he doesn’t mention who he was fighting for, or that the punch that got thrown at rhett’s face was the second that day, the first landing directly in link’s stomach. when rhett’s all washed up and bandaged for no reason, it’s just a bruise, mama, he’ll be okay, he gets sent to link’s room so his almost-brother can watch over him. link brings him cheetos and sits with him cross-legged on the bed, asking him to tell him again how mad the older boy looked when rhett shoved him in the mud. rhett shakes his head, eyes buggy, and says it doesn’t matter. i would’ve taken a black eye for you, he says, if he hadn’t missed, i would’ve been hurt for you. link’s on him in a moment, shoving him down and grabbing a hold of his t-shirt in both fists. don’t you ever say that, link warns, and his eyes are sharper than knives. don’t ever let yourself get hurt for me. rhett smiles, shoves link off, scrubs at the bruised part of his cheek. i’ll make no such promises, he says.

i really like the yellow ‘round the edges of my bruises as they mend...

link’s wringing his hands. it’s more than ten years later, and he’s about to make the biggest promise of his life, even bigger than the one he made to rhett all those moons ago in a field outside town, though nothing will ever feel quite as big as The Oath. he’s happy, or at least he knows he will be, hopes he will be, even as he hides in the bathroom moments before the vows. he hears people whispering beyond the bathroom door, where’s the groom? but he doesn’t quite want to be found. his heart feels tender, and there’s a fuzzy feeling on his finger like it’s preparing for a ring there. he loves her, that he knows for sure, but there’s something that keeps him here, pacing in front of the sink, and not out there, under the stained glass of the cathedral arches and smiling up at God like the rest of them. maybe it’s that he remembers too much, remembers the cut on his palm and the way rhett’s blood felt sticky, or maybe it’s the way rhett smiled at him when he told him he was tyin’ the knot. link doesn’t think he dreamt the tinge of what, sorrow? on his friend’s face, but then again, rhett’s always looked at him funny. link takes a half-breath and catches his bravery before it sneaks off, lets himself out of the bathroom before the shyer part of himself climbs out the window. he’s ready, he’s gotta be, and he tries to think of the life he could have, the wife he will have, and not the tall man who looks a lot like his old friend, standing there in the shadows, watching him like a stranger. link doesn’t mind the tightness in his chest, or the sniffles from the pews as the preacher reads the vows, or even the tingle of his finger when the ring fits where it’s supposed to. he doesn’t mind the sweat on his new bride’s hand when they take their first dance, or the way her eyes go restless like wild horses when someone first calls her missus neal. he’s doing it, he’s done it, and he’s happy with it. it’s all been planned, so this is right, it’s right, right? but when he finds that man again, gets him alone after the ceremony, it doesn’t so much feel like his heart has grown any bigger, but has instead bruised. and he tries not to linger on the sorry shape of rhett’s mouth as he talks, wishing hopelessly, silently, that they could elope, steal away together and lay beneath the stars, falling asleep on each other’s chests like children calmed by the sound of a friend’s heartbeat.

[seriestrash]

Jackson Street Gym

Summary: AU where Cyrus doesn’t know where TJ works and stumbles across him there by chance. Requested by anon [x]

Time frame of this AU: Same as the actual scene, whilst Buffy is away.

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 1979

It’s Saturday morning and after staying up until the early AM working on a science project, Cyrus is not thrilled to be waking up only a few hours later. He’s even less enthused about his wakeup call being delivered by a five year old jumping on top of him. 

“Hi, Cy, Hi, Cy, Hi, Cy!” The young boy chants as he bounces on his knees on Cyrus’s bed. 

“Hi, Mason.” Cyrus sleepily greets his step brother. “When did you get here?” 

“Mommy just dropped me off.” Mason finally stops his jumping. 

Cyrus looks at the digital clock on his nightstand and groans at it only being a few minutes after six in the morning, meaning he barely got three hours sleep.  

“Dad and Leslie said we get to spend the day together and it’s going to be so much fun!” Mason excitedly hits Cyrus in the arm. 

“Yay.” Cyrus’s fake enthusiasm was not winning him any awards. 

Cyrus sleepily drags himself out of bed and into the kitchen where Leslie gives him a sympathetic smile as she pours him cereal. 

“I didn’t know Mase was coming over this weekend.” Cyrus was so tired that he missed his mouth after trying to take a mouthful of his breakfast. 

“Kelly’s sister went into labour early so she dropped him here.” Leslie explains why Mason is here on a weekend that he’d normally be with his mother.

“I’m getting a new baby cousin.” Mason is enthusiastic as he bounces around the kitchen. 

“Yeah you are, buddy,” Todd picks up Mason and spins him around, “Why don’t we put your bag in your room and let Cyrus have a chance to wake up properly?” 

“Okay.” Mason seems disappointed as Todd carries him out fo the room. 

“I know you were up late last night, Cookie but-” Leslie begins but Cyrus cuts in. 

“Nooo.” Cyrus groans. 

“Honey, I know but Todd and I both have patients all day.” Leslie looks apologetic. 

“I love Mason but he’s so exhausting,” Cyrus sighs, “And I’m already so exhausted.” 

“You could take him to the park or that kids gym on Jackson Street and he’ll tire himself out by lunch.” Leslie suggests. 

“That is some optimistic thinking.” Cyrus yawns knowing full well the chances of tiring out that pure energy ball were slim.

Cyrus gets dressed for the day as Mason was already eagerly nagging him about doing something fun. Cyrus had nothing against his energetic step brother it was just that they had very little in common - with him being five and all - and Mason was known to be spritely and considering Cyrus’s lack of sleep, the full on day did not sound ideal. 

Cyrus decides to take Mason to the Jackson Street Gym as it was a controlled environment and therefore easier to keep track of the bouncy kid. The two are walking down the street together when Mason spots the sign and runs ahead. 

“Be careful of the road!” Cyrus chases after him but is uncoordinated with his efforts and trips over, scraping both his palms up in his attempts to catch himself from falling.  

Cyrus picks himself up just as Mason barrels into the gym. Cyrus stops to assess his tender hands that were scraped pretty badly and beginning to bleed. Although his injuries stung, Cyrus has little time to stand around and think about them as he had to catch up with Mason. 

Once inside the gym, Cyrus freezes when he spots Mason bouncing up and down - nothing out of the ordinary there - what actually surprises Cyrus is the person bouncing along excitedly with him. It’s none other than TJ Kippen. Scary turned not-so-scary basketball guy. Or, super-kind-to-me-but-not-always-to-Buffy basketball guy. A concept which leaves Cyrus conflicted about their friendship now that Buffy has moved away. 

In a panic Cyrus takes a purposeful dive behind a stack of safety mats. Once crouched behind them, Cyrus begins to wonder just what his plan was, what was next? He’d hide there forever and abandon Mason? Hope TJ leaves before Mason questions where he is? Cyrus is dwelling over his lack of viable choices when two familiar faces peek around the mats to look at him. 

“Hey, Underdog.” TJ says with a crooked smirk. 

“Whatcha doing, Cy?” Mason questions. 

“Hi,” Cyrus says still in his crouched position with a little wave, “I was just playing hide and seek. Mase, you win..” He offers up unconvincingly. 

“Hey, did you hurt yourself?” TJ asks concerned after noticing Cyrus’s injury when he waved. 

Cyrus faces his palms towards himself, both of which were still bleeding. “Oh,” Cyrus says as he gets to his feet, “I just tripped over outside, it’s nothing.”

“Hey, Mason, why don’t you go play with some of the other kids and I’ll help your clumsy brother here clean up?” TJ says with a smirk meant for Cyrus although it was pointed at the younger boy. 

Mason happily joins in with the other younglings and TJ leads Cyrus to the back after telling one of the older workers he was helping a friend out. The two teens are inside the staff room where TJ wets some paper towel and helps Cyrus clean his palms gently. 

“So what’s the verdict, am I going to make it?” Cyrus asks. 

“I think you’ll survive.” TJ says with a chuckle as he throws away the damp paper towel. He then takes Cyrus’s hands and looks over his palms again. “We have some decorative band-aids if that will make you feel better?”

“I wouldn’t say no to something with dinosaurs on it...” Cyrus jokingly fakes being sheepish. 

TJ wears a knowing look as he reaches for the first aid kit. Then he rather excitedly reveals a box of band-aids. Cyrus’s mouth hangs agape and he takes the small box in his hands, “They’re shaped like little tyrannosaurus rexes.” 

“For your dino-sores.” TJ laughs softly as he takes the box and points to the pun on the label. 

“Well I’d hate to bleed out.” Cyrus says goofily and he holds out his palms. TJ obliges and places a green dinosaur band-aid on each of Cyrus’s scrapes. 

“There, all better.” TJ says with a grin. 

Cyrus is smiling at the decorative dino on each palm when TJ continues, “I didn’t know you had a little brother?” 

“Step brother technically,” Cyrus explains, “But yeah, we’ve been brothers since he was one.” 

“So you two must be pretty close then?” TJ asks.

“Not exactly.” Cyrus frowns. “We don’t have much in common.” 

TJ laughs at this, “Cyrus, he’s five, you’re not supposed to have stuff in common, you’re supposed to have fun.” 

“I suppose working at a kids gym makes you the expert?” Cyrus folds his arms. 

“It helps,” TJ laughs, “And so does having younger siblings myself.” 

“You do?” Cyrus asks. 

“Yep, twins, a boy and a girl, making for the most hyperactive duo. I also have an older sister so I have experience being the younger sibling too.” TJ explains. 

“I did not know you came from a big family.” Cyrus says, “I also didn’t know you worked here.” 

“And here I was thinking you were stalking me.” TJ jokes. 

“You’re full of surprises, TJ.” Cyrus says with a titled head and fixed gaze causing TJ to look away nervously. 

“Mason seemed pretty excited when he first got here.” TJ tries to shift focus off himself. 

“Mason is excited about everything.” Cyrus states with a laugh.

“Maybe so, but he was particularly excited about having- how did he put it?” TJ pauses for a second and smiles, “Super mega fun time with his big brother.”

“He said that?” Cyrus asks with a smile.

“In his eyes, you’re the coolest person he knows.” TJ pats Cyrus on the shoulder. 

“He clearly doesn’t know a lot of people.” Cyrus scoffs and TJ rolls his eyes at Cyrus’s negativity.  

“From one big brother to another, they all think we’re the coolest.” TJ leans in closer like he was letting Cyrus in on a secret. 

“You’re also a little brother too.” Cyrus highlights with a raised brow, “Is your sister the coolest person you know?”

“God no,” TJ scoffs, “I’m old enough to know better,” He laughs, “She takes way too long in the bathroom.”

Cyrus chuckles along at this.

“So.” TJ says nervously after the room falls silent, “I should get back to work.” 

“You probably should.” Cyrus laughs with a nod. 

“There’s a parents room out the back where the mom’s and dad’s all sit around and read magazines or talk about their kids,” TJ explains with a look of boredom, “But you’re welcome to hang out the front with me and Mason and about a dozen other kids.” 

“Is that allowed?” Cyrus questions. 

“Of course.” TJ nods. “You could maybe finish that game of hide and seek?” 

Cyrus’s cheek burn red under TJ’s knowing look. 

“If I was an insecure guy I might have thought you were avoiding me.” TJ adds more sheepishly. 

“What, why would I be avoiding you?” Cyrus scoffs dramatically although he intended for it to be casual.

TJ and Cyrus make their way back out into the gym where Mason pounces on Cyrus. With TJ’s comment about not having to have things in common rather just have fun in Cyrus’s mind, he lets himself enjoy the quality time with his brother. It also wasn’t terrible spending the day with TJ either, more so very enjoyable and any guilt Cyrus felt about Buffy was lost in the moment. 

After some fun and games - and a whole lot of chasing Mason around - Cyrus is beginning to feel his three hours of sleep catch up with him. 

“Does this place have a nap time?” Cyrus asks with a yawn. 

“It’s a gym, Underdog, not a daycare.” TJ laughs, “Why are you so tired?”

“I stayed up late working on my science project.” Cyrus explains. 

“But that’s due on Monday?” TJ wears a quizzical look. “You stayed up all night on a Friday to work on an assignment that isn’t due until Monday?” 

“Yes?” Cyrus is confused over what the big deal was. “I’ve been working on it all week, I just put the finishing touches on it last night.. Or this morning depending how you look at at...” 

“I haven't even started mine.” TJ shrugs nonchalantly with a laugh. 

Cyrus winces at this, it hurt his academic achieving ways. 

“Going by the look on your face I’d say I better start it tonight and not leave it until tomorrow like I had planned?” TJ chuckles. 

“I think that’s a good plan.” Cyrus nods with a smile. 

Mason joins the pair of teens and tugs on Cyrus’s arm. 

“Hey, Mason, are you getting tired yet, you maybe want to go home?” Cyrus looks at the boy hopefully. 

“No!” Mason runs a circle around TJ and Cyrus. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Cyrus frowns sleepily. “I think I might just sit down for a little bit and watch.” 

Cyrus walks over to one of the foam cubes in the room and sits down, tucking his head up on his arms on top of the cube, “You have fun, Mase.” 

“Ni, ni, Cy.” Mason gently pats Cyrus’s hair before returning to play. 

TJ watches and lets out a quiet laugh at the very tired Cyrus. “Dork.” He says to himself before addressing the children running around, “Who wants to play the sneaky, creepy, quiet game?” 

Various shouts of expressed interest to play come from all the children. TJ wears a wide smile as he places his index finger over his mouth. All the kids quiet down and TJ invents a new game for everyone to play, one that just so happens to allow Cyrus to comfortably snooze in the corner of the room. 

End Notes: Hope you liked it anon! I hope it was incredible enough for you ;) 

My new one shot tag list! 

|| @andi-shackk || @duderrific || @human-shitpost || @cyrushgoodman || @castle-byers-all-friends-welcome || @the-greatt-perhaps || @stupidlambforever || @dont-judge-me-im-a-fangirl || @gusandimack || @tjhasacrushgoodman || @1302dillywomps || @cheesystars || @i-am-beyoutiful || @koimy || @phinallyjackie || @angelstr343 || @you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus || @back-to-this || @spookytyrus || @smol28louis || @tyrusmagocious || @editscenes || @happy-pinkpanda || @tj-goodman-bittersweet-boy || @idk-i-stan-things || @lisastae || @wizard-dragontamer || @thinkingabouttyrus || @spacejellyyfish || @traderjoesmitten || @hopeandbelieve5 || @avatarrey42 || @shipperstories || @rbf-lesbian || @itsgalaxy29 || @cxrus-kippen || @janky-snorpion ||

If you would like to be tagged in future one shots let me know! Same foes for anyone wanting to be removed from the list :) 

[joiesamevans]

A Day At The Gym

Who: Sam Evans and Mercedes Jones @sassymercyj

When: Friday morning, 8 am

Where: Campus gym

What: Shirtless Sam, lots of flirting

Mercedes had been up for hours when she finally made her way to the gym, wearing a pair of hip hugging pink and black work out capri's, and a matching sports bra and using an oversized T,  to cover herself up as she made her way across campus. Once getting to the gym, she stayed at the entrance waiting for Sam to arrive. She wouldn't lie and say that she wasn't excited to be spending time with him, while she had known him for a few years, they didn't really hang out one on one, it wasn't because she didn't find him attractive, it was just because she didn't think she was his type and to be honest a lot of guys around there only hung out with girls, when there was a promise of sex and though she knew he was different, she just didn't want to make a fool out of herself in front of him. Shocking herself by finally accepting his workout offer, she really was happy to see what he could teach her and if he did it shirtless that would make the entire experience even better. Plus it had been a long time since she had a really beneficial work out.(edited)

Sam walked across campus in a pair of basketball shorts and a tank since it was still hotter than the sun outside. Sometimes he really wished he could bring his horse up from home and just ride it around the city to create a nice breeze. He was excited to get to work out with Mercedes. It was always nice to have a work out buddy in general and all the better when it was a beautiful woman that he really got along with. Hitching his gym bag up on his shoulder, he smiled as he saw Mercedes waiting for him near the door. "You actually showed. I'm impressed."

When she saw Sam, she shifted her bag and nodded at his surprise, though they had talked about her coming to the gym she never really agreed to it. "I said I would come and I always keep my word." She said. "Shall we get inside?"  Pulling out her student ID she opened the door, holding it for Sam to take, then made her way inside showing her ID to the person at the front. Placing her hair in a messy bun she looked around.  "So what do you want to do first? I am here to learn." She said with a bright smile.(edited)

"I'll remember that," he replied easily, following in behind her. He knew most everyone who worked in here by now and offered them friendly smiles and a nod of the head, ignoring the pointed looks a couple of them were giving him since he wasn't alone today. "Always important to do some warm up stretches. I don't want you cramping up and suing me for pain and suffering," he teased.

Mercedes made her way to one of the work out rooms and tried not to laugh at the looks she was getting, she assumed its cause she was with Sam, but she couldn't be sure. "I wouldn't sue you for pain and suffering, I would sue you for misconduct!" She teased back. Putting her bag down, she pulled off her oversized shirt and glanced at him. "So whats first boss!"

"Don't mind them. They clearly have no lives." Sam rolled his eyes, but they still had the same sparkle in them they always did. "Boss, huh? I dig it." He pulled his water bottle from his bag before tossing the bag in the corner. Grabbing a couple mats from the stack, he laid them out beside one another. "Have a seat, stretch your legs out, and reach for the toes." He did the same thing himself to demonstrate. "So, you excited for Rush week?"

"If looks bothered me, I would spend my life alone in my room." She smirked. "Could do Sir too? Don't think you are a Daddy or Papi..." she teased. Grabbing her own bottle she watching him lay out the mats and sat down beside him. Reaching for her toes she gripped her sole as she got a good stretch. "Oh you have no idea. I love Rush week! And we are throwing a Party which I hope you plan on attending."

Sam sat up again, an offended look on his face. "I could be a Daddy," he declared just a little too loudly. He paused a moment and looked around, realizing what he'd said, and then burst out laughing. He bent one leg towards himself and stretched out to the side. "I mean... you know... maybe," he chuckled, a blush creeping up on his cheeks. Partying was a subject he could get behind though. "Oh, you know I'll be there. Gotta show the new kids how it's done."

Her laugh was louder than intended because she did not expect his response. Shaking her head she switched positions bringing both her heels in front of her and pushing them together before looking back at Sam. "So you want to be a "Daddy" or a "Dad -dy!" cause you know there is a difference." She rolled her neck as she straitened back up in that seated position. "Well I am sure you may have to be there since the Brothers are bringing the food and DJ i think... but its a 90's theme, gonna have spin the bottle, 7 minutes in heaven and all that good stuff. So you guys should have a great time."

"I kind of really want you to explain it to me now," Sam teased, though there was a touch of challenge in his voice as he winked at her. "I'm excellent at bringing the food. Especially if the food is Cool Ranch Doritos." He raised his eyebrows as Mercedes listed off all the activities. "Mix all that with some liquor and we'll have a real good time."

Mercedes  stood up raising her hands above her head as she gave him raised an eyebrow blushing at his statement. Putting her arms down she shrugged. "Well there is "Daddy", you know you get treated like a real dad someone who looks out for a person, people look at you as the go to dude for all issues and all that." She smirked cocking her head towards him. "Then there;s "Dad-dy"." She said with a twinkle in her eye. "And thats a dude who can get that whoa-daddy." She did a body roll.  "And heeeeeey daddy." She shook her hips. " and that good good daddy." She dropped it down low and picked it up with that last statement. Someone cat called and she laughed shaking her head. "Sorry but you wanted to know." Going back to stretching, she bent all the way down to the ground touching her toes. "I take it you like Cool Ranch Doritos? I mean liquor gives people courage to either do things they never thought they could or stupid things so either way..."

Sam made a little humming noise in consideration. "Probably not smart enough to be a regular Daddy then.  But all those other ones you said?" He offered up his own body roll that he'd been perfecting  since his freshman year. "I got that aaaaall day and night." He chuckled at himself and at Mercedes cool reaction. "Cool Ranch Doritos are my greatest weakness, girl. So either way it's gonna be a blast," he finished for her, nodding his head towards a couple of nearby treadmills.

Mercedes rolled her eyes Sam. "Don't make me slap you when we are having such a good time, you know I don't like it when you talk like that. I can see you being "Daddy." She watched his body roll and cleared her throat. "Umm yeah I bet you do." She bit her bottom lip, before turning away from him. It was getting a little hot. "You really shouldn't go around telling people your weakness, might give a girl like me some ideas." She said making her way to the treadmills like he nodded too.

Sam attempted to just shrug it off. "I'm just saying, I don't know if I'm like... the advice guy." He smirked slightly when Mercedes looked away, maybe just a little proud of himself. He couldn't deny that he loved getting a reaction.  He hopped on the treadmill and started it up slowly to warm up.  "A girl like you? I thought I could trust you!"

Mercedes shook her head. "You can be whatever and whoever you want to be, you just gotta see the you that I see." She licked her lips trying to shake off the warm feeling seeping through her body. "Well you can trust me, but you are begging for me to use cool ranch against you in some way..." She wouldn't say the way she was thinking because her mind was supposed to be out of the gutter, but Sam was not making it easy.

He tilted his head slightly as he looked over at her, his smile a little more genuine than just pure amusement. "And what exactly is the me that you see? Not that I'm fishing for compliments. I mean... maybe a little, but I'm curious too." He picked up his speed a little into an easy jog. "Hey, as long as I get the Doritos, feel free."

Mercedes started jogging at a steady pace, taking her hair down from the ponytail, and then putting it back into a messy bun. She didn't even need to think about Sam's question, she already knew the answer. Looking over to him she smiled. "I see someone who is more than just his hot body and cool demeanor, you are a kind soul, someone who is smart, funny, caring and sweet. You have an incredible voice, and when you get excited about something, like truly excited, its infectious and makes us all want to be apart of it." Looking away from him she continued to run. "You are also too hot for words and that smile is trouble, but I mean thats just my opinion." She shook her head smiling. "Well then I better stock up on Cool Ranch then." She increased her speed and ran in silent for a bit biting her bottom lip. "What do you think about me?"

Sam didn't even know what to say at first. They weren't things he heard very often except maybe from his parents, but that didn't really count since they were sort of biased. And sure, he had friends who liked him and thought he was cool, but not many of them really saw him that deeply. His smile returned at the compliment on it though. "Well, I think you complimenting me on my voice is a joke because you've got a voice that could make angels cry. And has made me cry. You're one of the smartest people I know. And not just like... book stuff. But real stuff. Like... emotionally smart or whatever they call it.  You're always looking out for everybody, which is awesome. And you really pay attention too 'cause you care. Plus you're smokin'," he added with a casual grin.

Mercedes shook her head. "I complemented you on more than your voice. But thats neither here nor there." She listened to him and tried to hide her blush by continuing to run. His words touched her and she finally looked over at him. "Thank you. Never knew my singing made you cry." It was all she could say. She increased the speed once more. "Smokin;? Is that a good thing?"

"I know. I just... don't know what to say to all that. Most of the compliments I get are about my abs. And sometimes my hilarious impressions." He paused for a moment, sucking at his water bottle while he ran. "Well, I don't just go around telling people when I cry," he laughed. "Of course it's a good thing. You're like hotter than a backyard bonfire."

"I get that.  But you should know, know that people see you, I see you." She slowed down on the treadmill and  came to  a stop, grabbing her own drink. "Yeah well I know I have a good voice just nothing to cry about." It wasn't true, many people cried on a song or another when she sang, at one point she thought that was enough...shaking off her thoughts she watched him run. "I do get the comment about your abs though, they are hot." She laughed at him for his comment. "I don't think I have ever been called smokin' before."

"Could you not make me cry while I'm trying to work out?" he teased, though it certainly had a touch of sincerity to it. "And you do not have a good voice. You have the most incredible voice I've ever heard and everyone needs to hear it." He slowed down himself, finally coming to a stop. He pulled his tank over his head and tossed it on top of his bag. Sure, it was convenient timing with the conversation, but he was also just sweaty. Totally.  "Well, that's just a crying shame. Cause someone should be telling you on the daily. I'm gonna do some weight reps. You down for that?"

Mercedes smirked. "I can try but I am just speaking the truth." She looked down to her hands, not wanting him to see the sadness in her eyes, sadness that came every time she thought about her past. He stopped pulling off his tank top and her breath hitched at the sight. Why was he that hot?  "Yeah maybe I should hire you for the job? Tell me how okay looking I am daily?" She said more breathless that she intended. Nodding she walked over to the weights to try and calm herself down. Half certain he was teasing her on purpose.(edited)

Sam didn't miss any of Mercedes reactions, both to his words and to his shirtlessness. He wasn't going to press her on either of them, but he took note of them both and filed the information away. "I'm happy to do it for free, but if you wanted to pay me in Doritos, I wouldn't complain about that either. And I believe the word I used was smokin', not okay looking," he reminded her. He grabbed a couple weights and started doing curls on one of the benches.

Mercedes smiled. "Cool Ranch Doritos for compliments? I mean I can see that working." She watching him doing curls and for a moment she just stood there mesmerized by him. "I think the only one who is smokin' in this gym is you. All the women are insanely jealous of me right now. Though we haven't given them a reason to be jealous." she said, though she would not be opposed to putting on a show. Shaking off her thoughts she sat across from him on a bench, if he could tease her with his shirtlessness then she could use the two gifts that kept on giving. Grabbing a few weights herself. She bent forward, giving him a clear view of the girls as she did her own  reps.

"Again, I'll give you the compliments anyway, but I won't turn down the chips," he laughed. "Except if I eat too many of 'em, I might have to spend even more time in here." Sam watched her intently, glancing around the gym at her comment to see if there was actually anyone glancing at them. He wasn't unaware of the fact that he got attention around here, but he didn't really react to it too often. He smirked as she leaned forward though. If anyone could get a reaction out of him, it was going to be Mercedes. "No, I guess we haven't. Not yet anyway."

"How about we do it like for every 10 compliments you get a small bag of chips. That way you still get them and you won't over indulge. Its a win/win." She said as she continued to give him a show, pretending she didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know why it was so easy to flirt with Sam but she didn't want to stop it. "On not yet? What kind of show are you trying to put on  dad-dy." She teased looking up at him as she slowly stood.

"I'm starting to think this might make me some sort of compliment gigolo," Sam chuckled. He chewed at his bottom lip as he watched her, trying not to be too obvious about it. His mother raised him to be a gentleman after all, at least until he was asked not to be. He followed suite when she stood up and moved to stand right behind her. He slid his hand down her arm until he met her hand where it held the weight, slowly helping her curl it back up toward her chest. "I'm sure we could think of something..."

Mercedes shrugged. "There could be worse type of gigolos to be though." She said with a laugh. Sam came behind her and her breath hitched. Feeling his hand slid down her arm, she shuttered not even hiding the effect he had on her.  Turning her head towards him she stared into his green eyes. "Oh? And is anything coming to mind?"

Sam couldn't argue with that, though he was starting to think he'd be any kind of gigolo Mercedes asked him to be at this point. He licked his lips as Mercedes looked at him, their faces dangerously close. "Nothing that won't get us kicked out of here. And... all the other gyms are so far away." He ducked his head down as he chuckled. "You're gonna get me in a lotta trouble, Mercedes Jones."

What was she doing? She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to  kiss him. But kissing Sam was trouble. She licked her lips with a soft smiled. "I mean what is life without a little bit of trouble Sam Evans aka dad-dy.  She reached over and kissed him on the cheek, then turned back to her work out. "So I think you need to hold me a little closer. Make sure I don't hurt myself."

Sam laughed again, shaking his head. Leaning in, he whispered near her ear. "You have got to stop calling me that in public or me standing this close to you is going to get awkward for a whole lot of reasons." His cheeks turned a faint pink at the kiss and his smile remained. He wrapped his other arm around her and let his fingers hold her wrists gently as he continued helping her through reps.

Mercedes bit her bottom lip with a smile. "I guess I could be persuaded to not call you that in public. I don't want things to get awkward for you." She let him wrap his arms around her and leaned back against him as he helped her. Heat grew within her body and she knew it was getting to be about that time she should walk always before something happened, and yet, she couldn't help but want to stay near him just a little bit longer. "You sure holding me this close won't cause an awkward situation as well?"

"Thanks for taking pity on me." Sam took a breath in as Mercedes leaned into him, willing himself to stay calm, so to speak. "Oh, it's a definite possibility. That's why I'm mentally building the world's biggest sandwich in my head," he joked, though it certainly wasn't a lie either. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Mercedes didn't know what got into her, she wasn't this bold, she wasn't like this but being around Sam, it did something to her. She bend down, pressing her backside against his front and dropping the weight. Standing, she faced him, running her hands down his arms the way he did her arm. "How is the sandwich making going now?"

Sam bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from making a noise that would most certainly get them asked to leave. He gave in and let his eyes travel down her body and back up again. "It's, um, real.... tall right about now," he replied with a mischievous smirk.

Mercedes stood tall, still not coming close to Sam's height, bodies so close that one move and she would be in his arms. "I don't know what is is about you Sam." She said tempted to stand up on her tippy toes and kiss him, sit him on the bench straddle him and feel his hands all over her. But she also just wanted to stay in his presence keep talking to him, learning more about him.

Sam's hands naturally found their way to Mercedes' waist and rested there comfortably. They looked more like they were slow dancing down instead of working out, but he wasn't even aware of anybody else in the building right now. "Whatever it is... I hope it's good."

Her hands moved up his arms and she smiled. "I would lie and say the jury is still out on that but we both know its good." Her eyes went to his lips and everything in her told her to back away. She was setting herself up for failure, but her feet didn't step back, instead they stood up on her tippy toes, placing a soft kiss to his lips. She didn't care where they were, and if this moment was all she got, she would take full advantage of it.

Sam could sense her movements and leaned himself down a little to meet her lips with his own. Still a gentleman after all. His smile stretched across his whole face as he stood tall again and he was pretty sure he'd lost all ability to actually speak words. He was real good at the physical stuff, but the talking stuff always seemed to stop him up. "Well, I don't know about you, but this, uh... this is the best workout I've ever had."

Mercedes didn't know what had gotten into her but she was not mad at it, Sam kissing her back even for those few seconds made her day completely. She laughed nodding. "Best work out ever." She repeated. "I think we better go, because I am tempted to do that again."

Sam bit at his lip again and gave a little nod. He really didn't want their time together to end, but Mercedes was right about what might happen if they kept this up much longer. And he didn't want to mess up whatever was happening before it even started. Plus, he did actually have to get to class. "Probably a good idea. But I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

Reluctantly, she stepped away from him. "Yes you most definitely will talk to me later, as long as you want too." She turned to grab her things but stopped and turned back to Sam. Walking up to him she stood on her tippy toes to reach his ears. "Text me or write me later dad-dy. " Kissing his cheek, she grabbed her bag and top and made her way out of the gym with a smile on her face.

[news4dzhozhar]

I FIRST MET Dzhokhar “Jahar” Tsarnaev in seventh grade, on the basketball court at the Cambridge YMCA in Central Square, where I played on weekdays & in a Saturday league. He went to the gym to use the weight room & shoot around. I disregarded him  —  he sucked at basketball.

Basketball helped me feel like an American, instead of a Muslim whose single mother dragged him here from Morocco looking for a better life, then worried constantly that we wouldn’t find it. Before basketball, I didn’t really fit in. I wasn’t particularly smart or witty. Worse, I had started second grade in Cambridge the very same month that the Twin Towers fell. On the playground, kids would call me “sand [expletive]” “Saddam Hussein’s son,” or “Abu,” after Aladdin’s monkey. One kid nicknamed me “Unicef,” which was brilliant, in a way: It rhymed with my name & alluded to my African heritage, financial situation, & emergent unibrow. When we were a little older, kids would come up to me, place fake “bombs” on my body & then run away making ticking noises. I got into a fair amount of fights until my mother, who worked three jobs, told me I had to stop. Even if it meant saying nothing when bullies taunted me, I had to exercise self-control. It felt completely debilitating.

My mom always made me stay in the apartment until I finished my homework. But she agreed that as long as I kept my grades up, I could play basketball after school. I began spending hours on courts across Cambridge. This freedom allowed me to meet a slew of people who helped me develop as a young man & truly feel a part of the culture of Cambridge. As I improved, I gained confidence, sociability, & friends.

I met Jahar again in high school, when we enrolled in the same lifeguarding course in my sophomore year, his junior year. Lifeguards were paid well for minimal effort: You sit in a chair & watch people swim, or so we thought. We were actually terrible swimmers, but our teacher stressed that if we failed during a rescue attempt, people could die. So we learned how to breathe while swimming with our heads in the water, & swam endless laps to get in shape. We took turns “drowning” at the bottom of the pool, holding our breath & waiting to be “rescued.” Jahar & I learned to trust one another in the pool — and that trust soon extended beyond class. After we became certified, a group of us from the class applied to be lifeguards at Harvard University during the summer of 2010. To our surprise, we each landed positions.

Jahar & I became part of a small group that would gather at “808,” a tall apartment building off Memorial Drive overlooking the Charles River. After dark, we frequented a party spot nearby that we referred to as the Riv. We were all classmates, peers, co-workers, & good friends who shared common interests. We called ourselves the Sherm Squad. We didn’t know that “Sherm” referred to Nat Sherman cigarettes dipped into liquid PCP (I didn’t even know what PCP was). All we knew was the word Sherm had a negative connotation. We used it to mean someone who messed up a lot; we called it being a Sherm. I felt Jahar & the Sherm Squad accepted me unconditionally; they became my home base of friends, almost an adopted family

My real family’s life centered on Islam. I was raised to follow the teaching of the Koran & the five pillars of Islam, which boil down to self-discipline, love for yourself & toward others, & growing your relationship with God. We typically went to the mosque on Prospect Street twice a week, plus whenever my mother forced me to come to some event she’d volunteered for. I never looked forward to it. Men & women separate when they enter the mosque, which drove home my lack of a father or other male role models (I have an older brother, but we haven’t talked in years). So I would sit by myself or with someone else I knew who didn’t want to be there, engaging only when the call for prayer was sung.

One Friday near the end of sophomore year, my mother yelled at me to go to prayer.

When I walked in, I did a double take  —  Jahar was sitting there, listening intently to the imam. We had been hanging out all that year & he had never mentioned being Muslim. I picked my way through the large crowd sitting on the patterned carpet & squeezed into a spot next to him. “What are you doing here?” I whispered. “You’re not supposed to be here!

He chuckled and whispered back: “I’ll tell you after.”

After we prayed, he told me his family were also Muslim immigrants who expected him be a model Muslim. We both were trying to maintain an image as wholesome Muslim youths at home while being normal American teenagers away from it.

Balancing our family & American lives was stressful. As a junior, I played point guard on Cambridge Rindge & Latin School’s famed basketball team, and Jahar, a senior, was the wrestling team’s co-captain. During the fierce month of Ramadan or on the fast day before Eid al-Adha, the Feast of the Sacrifice, we might endure grueling sports workouts on empty stomachs & no water. At least we could complain to each other.

Maintaining separate Muslim & American lives sometimes meant keeping secrets from & even lying to those closest to us about our other life. We were shamed just for being Muslim by strangers, the media, & even some of our peers, just as our Muslim families shamed us when we were caught committing a sin. Jahar & I shared countless hours toking herb, hanging out, & hitting social events. We lived near each other, & often walked home together from parties. We’d hit Cambridge Street, dap each other up with a handclap and bro hug, then head off to our Muslim lives.

He was fun to be around  —  always cracking jokes, coming up with things to do. He was smart, warm, respectful & a good listener; and many of us admired his ability to “code switch,” moving effortlessly between social crowds & people of different races. He was also adept academically, holding his own in honors & Advanced Placement classes. He was generous, too. Whenever I ran short of funds, he’d give me money for lunch & crack “Stop being a broke boy!” in a way I found endearing.

Sometimes, when we were hanging out, he’d get calls from his older brother, Tamerlan, telling him to get home. Jahar mostly heeded these requests without question. (He admired his older brother, and I envied their seeming closeness.) At one point, Jahar told me that his family was arranging a marriage for him & he was considering it. All I could say was, “Well, it’s your life, bro.”

* *

IN SENIOR YEAR, my priorities were playing basketball, finding the right college, my fantasy basketball team, girls, watching the Celtics, partying with friends, the prom, & making sure to get my homework done. In the secular, diverse melting pot that is Cambridge, I had my American life at school & my Muslim life at home. Adhering to the tenets of Islam, especially the daily prayers, was a struggle, & it didn’t help that Jahar, one of my main confidantes, was off at college.

My mother still expected me to act like a strict Muslim, even though by now I was really only going to the mosque on the major holy days. She forbade me from attending “unwholesome” social gatherings, including school dances & any event held at the home of a female. I was not to swear, use drugs or alcohol, or flirt, among other vices. My mother knew little of what I actually did when I left the house, since I usually climbed out my bedroom window after she had gone to bed. But she often guessed at what I was up to, & frequently berated me as unworthy.

I was much more interested in my American life, where religion was immaterial. You were judged on your social standing, whether your personality added life to the party, and how you expressed yourself through fashion or music. When Jahar was back from the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth on breaks, it seemed like we picked up right where we left off, cruising the city with the homies in his green Honda, looking for a party. My future felt bright. I was going to attend Bentley University, & become an entrepreneur. I had fulfilled my mother’s American-immigrant dream of getting into college & building a real life in America.

* * *

DURING MY FRESHMAN YEAR at Bentley, I realized that I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in school. I took a leave during second semester & went back to Cambridge.

I was at a friend’s house on April 15, 2013, when the bombs went off on Boylston Street. We ended up on a nearby rooftop, watching the commotion — the helicopters scouring the city & flashing police lights everywhere. I felt angry & under attack. I wanted the monsters who had committed this atrocity to get what they deserved.

On the 19th, I was at another friend’s house and still up at 3 a.m. when I got a call. “Turn on the news!” my friend said. They were broadcasting a photo of the possible suspects in the Boston Marathon bombing. “Just look at the picture, fam,” he said to me.

I looked at the blurry image on screen. “What am I supposed to be looking at, bro? I don’t know who that is.”

“Yo, doesn’t he look like Jahar!”

I thought that was outrageous. I fell asleep on the couch, & the next morning I woke up to see my friends huddled around the TV. I had never seen kids my age so absorbed in the morning news. I wondered if maybe a late spring snowstorm was approaching. They told me Cambridge residents had been asked to stay inside, and it did sort of feel like a snow day.

Suddenly, Jahar’s face appeared on the screen — there was no mistaking him this time. He was the bombing suspect still at large, the anchors said. Aside from the sound crackling on the TV, the room was dead silent. I felt like 10,000 volts of electricity were coursing through my body. It had to be a mistake. The Jahar I knew wouldn’t even do something mean, let alone commit an act of terrorism.

One of the girls’ cellphones rang; the call was from a TV newsroom where her sister’s friend was working. As our friend answered questions, her name appeared on the screen & we heard her voice come from the television. Within minutes, the doorbell rang. Our high school principal came into the house, along with two FBI agents wearing bulletproof vests. The FBI agents said they were looking for Jahar, and collected our cellphones. They had us sit in the living room & pulled us into the kitchen one by one to question us.

It didn’t take long for one of the FBI agents to step in the room and say, “To save time, which one of you knew him the best?” I raised my hand. In the kitchen, they asked what I knew about the bombing  —  nothing  —  where I thought Jahar was, whom he might try to contact. I answered their questions as best I could, and then they left.

Much later on that surreal day, a group of us were walking around Central Square, saying almost nothing. A pizza shop had its TV on & that’s where we saw a news update: A body had been found in a boat in Watertown, it said. Though we’d later learn he’d been captured alive, at that moment we believed our friend was dead. I remember a man riding toward us on his bike screaming like some sort of modern-day Paul Revere: “They caught him! They caught the bomber!”

This infuriated us, and we started screaming insults & epithets at him. I’ll never forget his shocked expression. That’s probably how most people reacted over the next few days when some of us defended Jahar, saying he was a good kid. But really, that’s the Jahar we knew.

* * *

SOON WE KNEW THE FACTS of the despicable acts Jahar committed with his brother, Tamerlan. We witnessed the heartbreak & loss suffered by those they hurt & by the families of those they killed. Jahar left behind an ocean of pain that is still washing across my city, & my country, sowing hatred & division between people who hardly know each other’s lived reality. Jahar wounded those he grew up with as well as millions who practice a religion he perverted with his crime. He made suspects of everyone who knew him.

Jahar put our safety & freedom in direct peril. Cambridge gave way to the real world, a place where I found myself feeling clueless. Like many of my friends, I did not have easy access to a lawyer. Later, I would realize I didn’t have access to what I needed even more: medical advisers, counselors, or therapists. Some of our mutual friends made bad choices & ended up in jail.

In the fall of 2013, I returned to Bentley to start my second semester, but I was still struggling to cope with the aftermath of the bombing, the FBI calls & questions. I felt guilty I even knew Jahar, after what he’d done. I was ashamed about what had happened to his victims  —  I still feel terrible for them. It feels awful that innocent people were hurt by a person I cared so deeply for.

That November after the bombing, three days before midterms, the FBI interrogated me for five hours, as far as I could tell simply because I had been friends with Jahar. I had nothing to tell them; I still felt betrayed by him, & knew he deserved the full brunt of the judicial system. After that interview, I found myself completely unable to focus on my studies. I asked my professors for extensions, but all of them made me take my midterms. I failed several of them, & soon after I took another leave.

This time I entered a downward spiral of addiction, insomnia, severe stomach pains, & depression, which fed off each other. I didn’t sleep more than a couple of hours a night for months. I felt paranoid & distrustful in every social interaction. Every aspect of my American life I had had to figure out on my own, and it seemed as though I hadn’t figured out anything at all. I felt like I had fallen behind my peers, unable to compete with their intelligence, their access, their privilege.

I was exhausted from maintaining multiple, often conflicting identities as a Muslim-American, from not being Muslim enough for my family, but too Muslim to feel secure in a hostile, post-9/11 environment. It was soul crushing; I felt I had lost touch with the person & identity I fought for years to establish. It got to the point where I could no longer follow a normal conversation. I lost around 25 pounds, and the ability to play basketball, which had been my sanctuary.

CONTINUED AT THE LINK

[bba-sae]

Long Ass Nights

Pairing: Mark/Reader

Genre: College!AU + Fluff

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: What’s a college party without a drunk fool?  Mark wouldn’t know.

Author’s note: See what I did there? :D @stoppcy sent me a funny ass joke so I gotta dish out the goods yeah? Still open to hear more jokes and possibly write more imagines. So send them my way!!

Mark knocks on your door at 10:30. Exactly when he said he would in his text, and his snapchat, and his twitter DM, and the three-second facetime call you hang up on. It still doesn’t change the fact that you attempt to close the door in his face when he greets you. 

“For the love of God woman, why must you kill this night,” Mark asks as he pushes against your body through the door. You fight back full force, but you lose strength in a few seconds. You’re a freshman in college with a killer meal plan, it wasn’t like the gym was your first priority. 

“Stop trying to dirty my purity with your disgusting party things.” You say with a winded breath. Suddenly you are pushed to the floor due to Marks sudden push when you were distracted speaking. You glare at him as you cross your legs, not too interested in making an effort to get up. Mark sends you the same giddy smiles he always does and he makes a dive for your bed. 

“Your purity? Who are you even? You are the epitome of sin. Don’t lie in the face of God.” You get up fro your spot, finding a spot on your own bed to sit with him. He grabs your wrist and lifts it as if it actually obscures your body when he takes the time to scan your outfit. “This doesn’t look like a party outfit.”

You throw your wrist onto him, earning a quiet “ow” from his side. You roll your eyes, your gaze landing on your cluttered closet. A pretty ensemble hung neatly in contrast to the chaos behind it, giving away the fact that you had actually pondered going with him. But Mark is Mark, he would never notice.

“Just put on that outfit that’s hanging outside your closet. “ Mark says without looking at you and your lips part in surprise. A devious smile plays onto his lips along with his telling eyes that turn to you. “You aren’t sly.” He teases and you grudgingly get off your bed to sit at your desk.

“I’m busy.” You mumble, lifting a pencil, realizing that was the only motif of productivity that lay on your desk. You frantically grab a post-it note, pretending to feign business. 

“School just started. It is literally our second week of Freshman year. You ain’t got shit.”

You sigh, head falling onto your desk in defeat, “why must I go with you to this dumb party?” 

Mark gets up from the bed, walking behind you to place two hands on your shoulders. He shakes your body jokingly, moving you back and forth in your roller chair. 

“Because I’m rushing for Nu Kappa Tau, and I’m weak and prone to conformity so without you, I might die.”  He makes a good point, you think. But you still cannot bring yourself to be around a bunch of dumb frat boys for your night. You’ve had your share of high school parties, and you’re not interested in upgrading. 

“The party thing isn’t for me, I’m not really into it.” With this response, Mark turns your seat around and kneels down to meet your eyes. His hands still rest on your shoulder and his face means business.

“I will buy you food for a week if you go with me tonight.” 

You ponder his offer for a moment. Dining hall food is nice, but there were too many good restaurants on campus to pass it up. You take a deep breath and nod before Mark shoots up with an accomplished smile.

“So me dying means nothing to you, but food does. Alright, noted.” 

You shrug and stand from your spot, “Priorities, man.”

It takes longer than either of you would like to admit to get to the party. You spend 10 minutes convincing Mark to get out of your room while you change. But he insists that he’s known you long enough and it’s time to make the next milestone in your friendship. To which you retort that four months is hardly long enough, reminding him of the summer job you both hated and met at. He shudders at the thought of working for that hell hole of an amusement park. 

Once you finally exit your dorm, dolled up and all the works, Mark looks at you with a smile and hums a quiet “pretty” to himself that he hopes you don’t hear. Yet you do, and you can’t help but feel the slightest part of you actually light up with contentment. Did you actually just swoon for Mark Lee? Hell no. 

When you arrive, Mark exchanges his usual fist bumps and platonic ass slapping with his “bros” and you squint your eyes in disgust. One boy is adorned with an oversized jacket that dawns the letters NKT on the back. He sends a nod to Mark and catches a glimpse of you, sending Mark a thumbs up. You scoff and look to Mark who is disgustingly bobbing his head in agreement. You hit his arm and he immediately stops. The boy walks closer to the two of you.

“What’s up Mark? I knew I could count on you coming through tonight. House rules; you break it you pay for it, if you get too lit go to the fucking bathroom, and if the cops come, you’re underage so you don’t know us, we don’t know you. Got it?” He holds out a fist for Mark to bump and Mark let’s out a laugh. A peculiar sound really, more like a less forceful grunt to efficiently exude is “bro-ness.” The boy looks at you and smiles. “You a friend of Mark’s? I’m Johnny.” 

It surprises you how his frat boy-esque aura dissipates in the slightest form, and you figure if you met him under different circumstances, you might actually like him. You decorate yourself with the fakest smile, trying to hide the fact that you don’t care all that much for being here. It’s been a hot second, but you’ve already sorted out the people you want to talk to and the people you don’t. So far Mark and Johnny are the only ones who fall into the former category.

“I’m not Mark’s friend.” You answer with the sweetest smile, not sparing a single glance to Mark who looks at you offended. 

Mark awkwardly laughs, pushing your shoulder with a little too much force that your step falters, “No free food if you’re going to be mean.” His voice is patronizing and you know he overdoes it to tease you more. 

You rub the spot he pushes with a pout, “That vaguely sounds like you’re a dog trainer, I feel violated.”

He leans in closer, pockets stuffed with his hands and a devious smile hints on his expression. When he speaks, you can tell it’s meant to be a whisper, but it’s the kind that’s loud and obvious for the boy standing across,“Well you’re acting a lot like a bitch right now so I guess it’s fitting.” You part your lips, offended, readying your hands to punch him in the gut.

But Johnny coughs and interrupts your possible chance of getting arrested tonight. You wonder if that was on purpose. “Um so yeah, you guys been to a party yet this semester?” 

You both shake your head no, you a little less enthused than Mark. 

“Nah man, first college party. Hers too.” 

To this, Johnny smiles mischievously clapping his hands together as if prepping you for the night, “Dope, glad it’s NKT then. It’s your first college party, so have fun, get drunk, get laid alright?” He slaps a hand on Mark’s shoulder sending him a wink.

Mark side-eyes you as Johnny speaks, awaiting a reaction. You turn to him in disdain, a serious glare on your face. 

“If you leave my ass to get banged by some college ass I will drown you in the closest river, you frog.” Mark’s eyebrows raise and eyes widen as he struck my the slightest bit of fear that you might actually keep your word. He’s only known you for four months, but he knows he shouldn’t leave out any possibilities.

Johnny snaps his fingers and points back and forth between the two of you, “Oh shit, I didn’t know you two were a thing.” 

“We’re not. She’s just clingy, but she has a better meal plan than me so it’s not like I can do or say anything about it.” Mark says casually and you nod in approval for his remark. Johnny nods curiously to wave off the clear emotions going on between the two of you, one-sided or not.  He decides he should let you guys figure your shit out yourselves.

“Okay, okay. Well if it’s not a big deal then, I’m gonna have to steal Mark for a hot second. Go have fun y/n, there’s a lot to do.” You reach out for Mark thoughtlessly while he is suddenly pulled away by the arm. Yet Mark doesn’t really fight back, probably knowing that this was where the night was going. 

In mere seconds he’s pulled into the house and you can’t discern exactly where the trail goes as you lose sight of them when another tall boy stands in front of you. He’s tall, sweaty, and reeking very much of weed. 

He begins, a greasy smile, matching his greasy face, “Look, I’m no cop, but I think it’s a little illegal to look that good at a part-”

“No” is all you say before walking into the house to grab yourself a drink. 

More time passes and yet no sign of Mark has appeared. You spend your time sitting on the kitchen counter, sitting on the couch, and sitting on a lawn chair in the backyard. You’ve become acquainted with a few brothers, all not as douchey as you perceived them to be, but then again, you never saw Mark as the type either.

One of the boys, a third-year named Jaehyun, you recognize as the star basketball player and honestly, you wouldn’t have guessed otherwise. You’ve heard his name, seen his face, and watched his games on multiple occasions. In fact, almost all the boys in NKT never needed an introduction, all of them had something going on for them.

 Jaehyun gives you a dopey smile and the vibes of your usual boy next door when you see him up close, “First-year?” Is all he says when he walks into the kitchen to see you sipping your drinking without the least bit of urgency. You nod with a laugh and a shrug.

“Is it obvious?”

He shakes his head aggressively, almost spilling his drink when he waves his hands, “no it’s not that you look like one. It’s just that I haven’t seen you around, so I figured.”

“And you know everyone that comes to these parties?” You ask and take another sip of your drink. The alcohol stings your throat, but you haven’t nearly had enough to affect you. In fact, you’ve been nursing this drink for some time, not invested in losing control.

He shrugs and stands by the spot where you sit. His elbows support his weight on the counter as he leans back and looks up at you. 

“I’d remember you, that’s for sure.” He tilts his head toward you and sends you a look that is absolutely swoon-worthy and you cannot help but feel incredibly susceptible to his advances. You answer with a roll of your eyes to feign disinterest and prolonged hum before speaking.

“Does that work on all the girls?” You asked, trying to seem far less impressed than you actually were. Maybe it was his prince charming-esque attitude, a miracle boy in the sea of faces you don’t care to remember. Maybe it was the fact that he was Jung Jaehyun, dreamy upperclassmen with a few Basketball Championships under his belt. Point is, Jaehyun lived up to his name, probably far surpassing the praises. 

“Hmm, I’ll have to ask all the girls I’ve tried it on.” He says as he places a hand on his chin in thought as if trying to bring forth a complete list of names. A few seconds past and he turns back to you, “Did it work?”

You laugh at his effort, nodding your head to satisfy him and he laughs. The two of you talk more, about your classes, what he’s heard about your department, and if he would show you how to play basketball. The conversation goes seamlessly, and for a second you forget why you even came to this party in the first place, that was until your “why” comes fumbling into the kitchen. 

Mark’s got a red solo cup in his hand, probably empty from spilling it all over himself, and he reeks of too many substances he’s underage for. He spots you like a hawk searching for prey and is soon stumbling over to you. He grabs your hand and pulls you off the counter before sending Jaehyun an apologetic smile. Jaehyun laughs and slaps his hand against Mark’s shoulder like a proud father.

“You’ve got to see what I just did y/n” Mark slurs with a hiccup to end his sentence. He leans into you, his body warm and heavy. “I just did a backflip.”

You squint your eyes in disbelief, “Bet. You did not.”

“He didn’t, I was watching.” Another boy says as he trails behind him. He’s more composed, like most of the upperclassmen brothers and his features challenge the golden boy Jaehyun right next to you. The boy places a hand on Mark's shoulder to pull him away from you, the other on holding a cold beer. “Lil’ Markie her just jumped off the top of the stairs screaming ‘I am absolutely fully capable’ and ran straight here right after.”

Mark frowns and looks up at the dashingly handsome boy, “Yuta you’re making me look bad in front of my friend c’mon.” Yuta rolls his eyes and lightly pushes him. 

“Oh, your friend? This is the friend?” He looks at you with a knowing glance and leans down to meet your eyes, “Hey there y/n, you look grea-” 

Before Yuta finishes his sentence he is aggressively pushed away by your sloppy friend, causing Yuta’s drink to splatter on the both of you. You look down are your outfit, now starting to smell a little too much like Mark’s breath and your glare shoots up to meet Mark’s gaze. Jaehyun stifles a laugh and shakes his head, walking over to Yuta. He slings an arm around his shoulder and grabs the beer out of his hand.

“Ssstop hiiitting on herrr” Mark pleads and the boys both laugh before being distracting by the rest of brothers loud calls of their names. Jaehyun salutes you with a sweet smile before walking off.

“Hit me up sometime y/n, you can help me practice sometime.” All you can do is smile giddily at his offer while Mark looks at you in complete disgust. The second Jaehyun is no longer in your sights, you slowly turn to Mark, who’s playing with he sleeve of your sweater. When he looks at you, he looks like a lost puppy and a piece of you wants to have sympathy. You decide you’ll punch him when he’s sober.

A goofy grin is painted on Mark’s face though his eyes clearly struggle to focus on you. He sends you a cute “Hi” with an even cuter wave and it takes every piece of your will to not want to coddle him like a baby and take him home for the night. You sigh, scanning him up down, really getting a feel for the situation that stood before you.

Mark was never the most collected person. You noticed this when you worked with him, and he would often fumble with his words trying to talk to guest, or even worst, fumble in his step only to fall face first on the floor of the gift shop. Mark was a bit of a spazz, and it only gets worst when he’s drunk, you realize.  

You shift your weight to a hip, preparing to lecture your friend like a disappointed mother, “I lose you for what? An hour? and you’re already crossed. Who raised you?”

But Mark doesn’t show the slightest bit of regret, a smile playing on his lips as he watches you. His eyes are affectionate, so much so that you could feel it slap you in the face. He leans into your space more to speak, “Go on a date with me.” He requests, and you felt a piece of you twist deep down. His words signaled a sudden burst of warmth to shoot through you as if it’s something you were waiting for but hadn’t quite realized you wanted. 

Yet you shake off the butterflies and groan in disgust, “Ugh, so you’re this kind of drunk.” You attempt to walk away, but Mark grabs your hand and you feel as if your stomach might explode. When he turns you to him, he places a hand on your face, thumb rubbing your cheek gently. His eyes scan your expression and for a second you don’t know how terribly intoxicated he is. For a second you forget that you want to punch him in the gut. For a second you’re actually glad he dragged you to this dumb party. 

That is until his face turns pale and a look of horror is painted on both of your faces. Mark's eyes swing indecisively between your face, your dress, and your shoes, and he opts to bend down and release the contents of his stomach onto your discount shoes.You pat his back sympathetically and sigh. At least he had the decency to not aim for your face.  A charmer, he is.

When you wake up in the morning, with Mark rudely taking up most of your tiny bed, you’re angry. Mark can tell when he wakes up from the way you slam your poor makeup utensils on your desk. That and the fact you woke him up with a punch to his gut and an “I’m seriously so fucking pissed at you, you jerk.”

Mark was ever so the intuitive type

He rubs his head, the excruciating ringing in his head feeling more intense when he gets up. He looks at your morning state, naturally alluring and equally frustrating just like remembers. He still wears his clothes from last night, the stench from last night overwhelmingly awful. He reaches for his phone, only to realized it’s shattered and dawns twenty text messages from different numbers. One from his ex and they didn’t seem too happy about his several audio calls. 

Mark still swears he’s a heavyweight.

“And yet you still look as ethereal as ever after a night of partying,” Mark says with a shameless smile and a cute laugh and you try your very best to wave off his comment. You’re still trying to decipher how you felt about his gestures toward you, but at the moment, you’re also still thinking about your $9 shoes that you have yet to figure out how to clean. 

“That’s because I’m not an idiot. Idiot.” You say with a glare and Mark holds his hand up defensively.

“Hey, I was just living the college life. It’s all part of the process.” You stare at him for a moment, wondering if he as planning on addressing his attempt to breach your friendship line, but you figure that you knew him better than that. Mark was a lot of things, but a confronter he was not.

“Last time I checked, attempting backflips and shamelessly hitting on girls is a little too far don’t you think?” You answer, wondering just how many other girls he got too close to. A piece of you didn’t want to know.

He laughs at your answer, “Girls? You mean girl.”

“I don’t know what you did in that hour I lost you.” You say plainly, “Do I even want to know really?” You fake a shudder and he looks at you disappointedly.

“Well I was with myself the whole night and I can tell you, there were no girls,” He quotes the last word before dropping his hands to his sides,” you’re the only girl I wanted to hit on.” You look at him confused and he sighs loudly before continuing, “Being drunk I have ten times the confidence to actually look you in the eyes and tell you how crazy you make me. But no, you had to go off and be the absolute goddess you always were and fuck it up and make me nervous even with all of my sensibility gone. Can’t you be unappealing just once. For me?” 

The two of you look at each other for a moment, and neither of you knows what to say. This was it. This was what you were waiting for, and you finally let the butterflies in your stomach fly free. It was a feeling you don’t think anyone else could give, except for the dumb lightweight of a friend that looked at you like you were the sun and annoyed you at all hours of the day. Not even third-year basketball star Jaehyun that asked you to practice with him could replicate it. 

“I can see your still dellusional from last night huh?” You joke, trying to clear the air and Mark throws his hands in the air in frustration before laying back on his bed.

“For a scholarship kid, you are seriously so dense.” He says annoyed and you simply get up from your spot, grabbing your pack of gum from your bag. Once retrieved, you find a spot on your bed, laying on your side so your facing Mark’s hungover frame. You hand him a piece of gum with a sweet smile and Mark’s face lights up as he accepts the offer.

“Hit on me sober. You’re better at it.”

[runningwitches]

Cheerleader (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Summary: Steve asks the reader out after a successful basketball game, but he needed some help first.

Request?: Yep! “I know you haven’t posted writing in a while but I really liked loved and was wondering if you could write something about Steve dating a cheerleader? I feel like you have really good characterization of the kids and stuff so can you please put them in the story too? Thanks”

Word Count: 2076

A/N: Oh man! I really love this request, and you’re totally right, I haven’t posted writing in a while! I don’t know what to say because there’s no excuse except the fact that I’m lazy and I’m really sorry. I did get a lot of inspiration from this ask though, so thank you anon! I can’t promise this will accurately represent all cheerleaders as I only know my own experience (I cheered for seven years, only one of them was in high school, and I quit because I could not stand the girls on my high school cheer squad), but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyways.

Warnings: Nothing really? A few curse words maybe? I accidentally referenced High School Musical but like ? Idk nothing too bad.

It took all of Steve’s courage to ask you out when he did. He and Nancy had broken up not too long ago, he was still struggling with trying to understand the Upside Down and Eleven, and he hadn’t really gotten back on top of his basketball game yet. He knew he wasn’t “King Steve” anymore. I mean, he hadn’t truly held that title in a long time, but without Nancy by his side he finally realized the truth. So yeah, it took a lot of courage to ask you out.

But he knew he had to. There was no way he was going to let someone like you walk out of his life without at least attempting to ask you out. You were, for lack of a better word, perfect. I mean, you weren’t necessarily queen bee or anything, but not because you couldn’t be, you just didn’t want to be. You were happy spending your days going to school, to cheer practice, and straight back home to do homework. You only really went to games because you had to, and you didn’t actually enjoy the presence of the other girls on your cheer squad that much. You stuck around because the team needed a leader and you knew that you had to be that if you wanted to get anywhere with your cheerleading.

He always knew he was attracted to you, tangentially, I mean, who wouldn't be? But he never knew just how attracted to you he actually was until he came back from the Upside Down fiasco and he could hardly pass the ball to a teammate. You were still there though, on the sidelines cheering for him.

Well, you were cheering for the whole team, but he could tell from the encouraging smiles you were sending him and the random ruffles of your pom-poms paired with a shout of his jersey number that nobody else was receiving, that you were really cheering for him.

This game also happened to be the first one the kids went to. That may have had something to do with why he was so off his game. The kids he had spent so much time and energy protecting were in the crowd and he wasn't able to focus because the little shitheads wouldn't stop shouting when he was attempting to focus on the game. (Normally that wouldn't be an issue as basketball games tended to get loud, however, he had spent so much time training himself to know that shouts from those kids either meant trouble or danger that the slightest yelp or gasp from one of their mouths sent him into a panic.)

"Come on Harrington! Get your head in the game!" you shouted, dropping your perky cheerleader persona for a minute to give actual advice when he turned his head to stare off at the crowd again. "Keep your eye on the ball, not in the crowd," you added before mumbling a quick "dumbass" under your breath. The girls around you eyed you questioningly, but you rolled your eyes, shrugged your shoulders, and called set for the next cheer. Facing the crowd, you called "Ready!" and began the cheer, but you couldn't help but notice the gaze of some middle schoolers staring at you from the end of the bleachers. You were obviously used to the attention, however, they were staring at you so intently that the questioning looks in their eyes threw you off guard and you almost messed up the cheer. You quickly plastered the smile back on your face, finished the cheer, and called for a quick water break.

As you sipped from the water bottle, you turned back to the game. Steve seemed more focused than he was before yet he still wasn’t doing great, and you smiled to yourself, secretly hoping you were at least some of the cause of that. You knew Steve was someone you wanted to get to know, but you also knew he wasn’t someone you could get to know. “King Steve” may have been gone, but it was still Steve Harrington, you didn’t stand a chance. You were the nerd who just happened to be the cheer captain, even without Tommy and Carol he was still better than you. At least that’s what you thought. Everyone at Hawkins High knew that you could get anybody you wanted, but how would you know that?

As you returned to the sidelines of the game you noticed there was just enough time to call one more cheer before halftime without interrupting important parts of the game, so you called out a popular one to get the people in the crowd ready for the halftime performance.

Once the court cleared up, all of the players heading to their respective team rooms, you took your place, alongside the other cheerleaders, in the center. After the brief performance, the crowd went back to doing their own thing and you rushed to get a few things done before halftime was over. Before you could get to that however, you were stopped by the group of kids you had seen earlier.

There were six in total, four guys and two girls. You recognized four of them, Mike Wheeler, Nancy’s little brother, Will Byers, Jonathan’s brother, Maxine Mayfield, Hargrove’s stepsister, and of course Dustin Henderson. You didn’t really know how or why Steve started hanging out with him, and apparently the rest of the kids in that group, but you did know that it was the talk of the school for a few weeks. Dustin spoke up first. “How do you know Steve?”

“What?” you asked, more confused as to why these kids were talking to you and less concerned about finishing up your halftime duties.

The girl you recognized as Max repeated the question, seemingly annoyed. “How do you know Steve?”

Again, you looked at them confused, “How do you know Steve?”

The group looked to each other and tried to come up with a way to tell you how he knew them without explaining the whole Upside Down thing.

“He’s our babysitter!” Dustin exclaimed.

“Um, okay…” you spoke, trailing off while you checked the countdown to the second half of the game on the scoreboard. You didn’t really want to deal with the cheerleaders or the snack bar staff, so you decided to humor the kids.

“Okay, so are you friends with Steve?” Mike asked.

“Uh, not really?” you admitted, still trying to figure out where the conversation was going.

“Well you seemed really invested in how he was playing today,” Max said again.

“Yeah. I’m a cheerleader. It’s kinda my job to be invested in how they’re playing. Look, I don’t know what you guys want from me, but I gotta go. Cheer stuff and all that. But hey, I don’t know why, but every time any of you make the slightest noise he like freaks out and he’s already been having enough trouble on the court without a distraction, so if you could, I don’t know, refrain from screaming this half, I think we could have a chance at a win today.” You smiled briefly before rushing out to the snack bar to finish what you needed to do before the game started back up again.

The rest of the game was extremely intense. The kids actually listened to your advice and kept quiet the whole time. You weren’t sure if it was because of what you said, or something else, because any time you happened to look in their direction they were whispering to each other, their heads all leaned in close as if scheming. You were so into the game you almost forgot to call cheers, but each time you did, you found the six children in the corner of the stands staring curiously at you again while leaning their heads together and whispering. You shrugged that off pretty quickly when you noticed the score slowly being brought up.

Steve had been pretty off of his basketball game the past few weeks, so seeing that he was improving, and gaining his place back at the front of the team, bringing the score slowly up to tie the other team and eventually to bring Hawkins back in the lead, was awesome.

As the game finished, you called the final cheer, and headed out to congratulate the boys on their win kids were already here surrounding him. You decided to leave them be and head off to gather your stuff, but before you could make it to Steve, he was surrounded by the kids again, so you decided to not bug them.

As you shouldered your cheer bag, pulled your keys out, and headed to leave the gym you heard someone call your name. As you whipped your head around, your ponytail flipping it’s way to the other side of your head, you saw Steve surrounded by the kids still, but he looked as if he was trying to prevent Dustin from saying something (evident by the hand clamping over the younger boy’s mouth). Mike stood there with his hands cupping his mouth (apparently he had been the one to call your name) and the boy you didn’t recognize clapped his hand on Mike’s back, in… congratulations? You didn’t really know what to do as the scene unfolded in front of you, and you were about to ignore it, turn back around, and leave, but the only other person you didn’t recognize in the group gave you a shy smile and beckoned you over with a simple hand gesture.

Raising an eyebrow, you decided to listen to her, going against your own gut, which happened to be telling you to run far away, and walked over to meet the group.

“Is everything alright over here?” you asked casually, trying to hide the blush rising to your face from the intense gaze from pretty much everyone there, mostly Steve’s though.

You watched as the oldest one in the group looked from you to Mike to Dustin for a few seconds before frantically pulling his hand from the last one’s mouth and attempting to stand in a cool/casual pose. Obviously it wasn’t that cool or casual to anybody else, but you didn’t really care, you were still looking around the group confused, not even noticing the remaining people on the basketball court staring at the odd interactions.

“Hey-uh-hey,” Steve finally spoke up, “um, yeah, yeah, everything’s great! There’s no problem. What? Who said anything about a problem? Yeah no everything's fine, chill. What-what are you doing here?”

“Well, I was just heading out until your…” you hesitated for a moment, glancing at Mike and the girl you still couldn’t place and attempting to choose the correct word, “friend..s…” you paused again, “called me over?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah.. That’s interesting. Yeah, um that’s so weird,” he commented with a forced chuckle punctuating the statement, “I-I didn’t realize you knew them.”

“I don’t!” you stated quickly, recoiling back when you realized how aggressive you sounded. “I mean like… Not really. I just met them… during half time.”

“Oh, well, cool, I guess.”

“Yeah, I’m-uh-I’m gonna go. Gotta head home, parents ya know- ha ha,” you said before turning around quickly and starting to walk away, cringing inwardly to yourself at how awkward you are when talking to Steve.

“Wait!” you heard, this time the shout coming from Steve and not one of his middle schooler friends. In fact, his friends were now not surrounding him, but instead standing along a side wall as if they were waiting for him.

“Yes?”

“Would you, shit, would you maybe wanna like… Hang out sometime?”

“I-yeah. Yeah! Of course. That sounds-that sounds great,” you admitted, eyes still downcast as you reached to tuck a nonexistent stray hair behind your ear.

“Cool! Rad! Yeah, I’ll-yeah. Um see you later then.”

“Bye Steve,” you said finally before turning around and walking away, letting the smile you had been suppressing take over your face.

As you walked away you heard the footsteps of the six kids returning to Steve’s side, one of them saying something along the lines of “damn Steve, I don’t know why I ever asked for dating advice from you! You suck at this! I thought you were supposed to be good with girls, especially, like, cheerleaders!”

He chuckled before he gave his brief response of, “She said yes, didn’t she? Now let’s get you shitheads home.”

[xxsteveharringtonxx]

Bitter (Steve Harrington x Reader)

*I know I’ve used this gif about a million times but I love it*

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader! Henderson 

Warnings: Most definitely swearing 

Bitter

“Why do you hate him?” Your brother asked for the tenth time just this morning, rolling your eyes you looked over at him and glared. 

“Look, you won’t understand. We just clash okay?” You snapped as you got out of the car and watched him stomp off to the middle school as you braved yourself for class, with Steve Harrington. Great.

You really didn’t hate him anymore, and honestly you don’t think you ever did but you and Steve bicker like an old married couple and it started in middle school right up until today but somewhere along the line you found yourself enjoying it. You don’t really know what you’d do if it all stopped so you carried it on, and well since Steve always initiated it you figured he must genuinely still hold something over you. However his fondness for your brother was something he relied on and you weren’t going to get in the way of that. 

Stepping up to your locker you swapped whatever books you needed and felt a presence behind you, with an eye roll you heaved a sigh. 

“Give  girl a break Harrington it’s not even 9am.” You quipped sarcastically and turning but instead of seeing the normal smirk of Steve Harrington you were greeted by Billy Hargrove. 

“Damn you just can’t get Harrington out of your mind huh?” He slurred in a teasing tone making you scoff. 

“Whatever, can you move?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow making something in his jaw twitch as he stepped a little closer. 

“Are you always a bitch?” He hissed probably in an attempt to intimidated you but you sighed bored. 

“Yeah, have you not figured that out yet?” You asked making snarl a little before walking off. “Jesus what a piece of work.” You whispered to yourself as you sat down at your desk in Chem, and you weren’t surprised when Steve sat down next to you not a second later. 

“What did Hargrove want?” He blurted making you look at him a bit shocked. 

“Nothing other than to try and piss me off.” You told him honestly making his eyes narrow. 

“What did he do?” He asked probing making you sigh agitated. 

“Why do you care Harrington?” You demanded even though he made your heart melt.

“Well you know I’m the only guy around here that gets pleasure out of pissing you off. Don’t want Hargrove making an impression.” His words made you scoff. 

“Right okay. I’ll be sure to let him know.” You mumbled sarcastically as the class began, you tried to ignore Steve’s knee brushing against yours as the hour passed but you blushed when it happened again and you were sure he did it on purpose. 

“Hey Henderson?” He whispered making you look over at him. 

“Hmm.” 

“I’ll talk to Hargrove? Tell him to back off, if you want?” He offered making you give him a curious look. Did he actually care?

“I’m good, I can handle it.” Were the last words you said before you forgot about it all until gym class at the end of the day. You were sat on the bleachers on your own as you wrote down notes for the homework you knew was due in tomorrow as the boys all practised basketball for the upcoming game. 

“So I heard Billy wants to fuck her.” You heard Carol say to Tina as they sat a little to your left. 

“He wants to fuck anything.” Was Tina’s dead beat reply as I could tell she wasn’t interested in the gossip. 

“Not you.” Carol spat back as she could tell Tina lost interest. 

“Jesus Carol I don’t care. If you think he’s so great you fuck him!” Tina hissed back before standing up and stomping off making Carol scoff in disbelief. My attention however was drawn away from the girls when there seemed to be a bit of an altercation between Steve and Billy. I couldn’t help but flinch as Billy pushed Steve to the ground, the kid might be a pain but that weird feeling you get when you see him was niggling away at you more and more. Frowning in anticipation you were eager to know what they argued about but Billy scored and the whole gym cheered as Steve stormed out to the showers. 

Should I wait for him? You thought to yourself as you lingered outside the locker rooms but instead you walked slowly to your car, hoping if you took your time you could maybe bump into him and your luck changed as you saw him strolling towards his own car. 

“Steve!” You heard yourself yell, and sounding a little more desperate than what you would have liked, looking over his face turned to a scowl. 

“Look Henderson I know the whole class saw me fall on my ass you don’t need to remind me, but if this is something you cooked up with Hargrove I’d really prefer if you just leaved me the fuck alone!” He spat not walking towards you but you stopped in your steps.

“What?” You questioned quietly and genuinely confused by his words.

“You! And Hargrove?! You think I’m stupid? Obviously there’s only one other person in Hawkins who hates me as much and that’s you! So please do me a favour and stop! Don’t you think we go through too much these days to keep up with this shit?” He snapped finally getting mad and all you could do was stand there stunned by his outburst.

“I don’t- well no I mean, do you really think I’d do that?” You asked in a quiet voice really hoping he doesn’t think that badly of you. 

“Look I don’t know Y/N weren’t you only just talking to him this morning?” He hissed in a calmer demeanour but still mad and accusing.

“Yeah he was calling me a bitch not hardly devising some plan to push you over in gym class.” You said in a steady voice with eyes narrowed slightly before you got mad and remembered why you couldn’t be friends. “You know to think I was actually coming over to ask if you were okay! God every time I try and move on from this pathetic arguing you always seem to remind me why we can’t be friends!” You yelled as you quickly turned on your heels and walked back to your car and slamming the door behind you. Groaning and leaning your head back on the seat you closed your eyes willing yourself not to get mad at Steve or yourself for even bothering but you jumped when there was a knock on your window. 

“What?” You asked in a tired voice as he scratched the back of his neck with pink cheeks. 

“Did you really just want to see if I was okay?” He asked in a soft voice you’ve only heard from Steve a few a times. 

“Yes, Hargrove is a piece of work, and well you don’t deserve his shit.” You tried to express without giving too much away as you avoided his gaze. 

“Sorry for yelling, and well you know everything.” He told you making you look up at him.

“It’s okay, guess I’m sorry too, you wouldn’t have thought all that if I wasn’t suh a bitch all the time.” You apologised honestly as you soon both chuckled. 

“You wanna come with me to the diner? I’m gonna get a milkshake and wait for Dustin to be done at the arcade, some company my own age wouldn’t be so bad.” He offered as you blushed a little bit pink. 

“Sure I guess I could do.” You accepted getting out your car and following him to his where you both drove in silence to the diner, you were regretting saying yes as you felt a little awkward but he broke the silence as you got out at the diner. 

“Hargrove was talking shit about you.” He announced holding the door open for you as you walked in and looked back at him confused. “On the floor earlier, he was just talking about you and I guess that’s why I bit back at him so I figured maybe you had something to do with it. I don’t think you’re a bitch but he just got under my skin.” He explained making you bit your lip as he sat down opposite you in the booth. 

“Yeah he’s out for me I’m sure.” You told him as you rolled your eyes.

“He’s a real piece of shit.” Laughing at Steve’s words he chuckled too. 

“How about we don’t talk about Billy for now.” You suggested before he asked you about college, and then college lead to work, and school and pretty much anything you could think of. 

It was hours later when Dustin strolled in expecting to see Steve but he was pleasantly surprise at the sight of his sister too and broke into a smile. 

“Hey Y/N!” He said excited sitting next to you and finishing off your milkshake. 

“Hey Dust, how was the arcade?” You asked making him shrug. 

“Pretty good, Will still sucks at Dug Dig and Mike owes me five bucks so a profitable experience.” You and Steve laughed at his words before Steve dropped you both home, you were just at the door when Steve called out your name as you met him on the path. 

“You want a ride to school tomorrow? I mean your car is still there? I can pick up you and Dustin, it’s not a problem?” He offered making you smile. 

“Sure, that’s fine Steve thanks.” You told him watching a smile break out on his face. 

“Awesome, see you tomorrow!” He called as you closed the front door behind you a soft smile still on your face. Guess you could be friends with Steve after all. 

“You totally like Steve.” Dustin stated as he watched you from the kitchen.

“Say a word to anyone and you’re dead.” You warned before he ran off to his room and you watched Steve’s car disappear from your drive and a million thoughts ran through your head before realising you’re going to have to plan a super cute outfit for tomorrow and get up just that little bit earlier to do your makeup.

You were in way too deep for Steve Harrington. 

[hamiltimebinches]

Philip Hamilton and Little! Sister: Basketball

A/n: Even though I was on my school’s girl basketball practice squad, jv, I still don’t know everything about the sport so bare with me if I make any small mistakes. I shouldn’t though. (For those of you who don’t know when I use and it is a platonic relationship.)

Timeline: Modern

Warnings: None

Words: 1,305

     Being a freshman on your school’s girl basketball team can be a bit stressful, especially if this is the first time you have ever played on any team before. When I tried out for basketball this year I expected to just make it onto the jv team, or as we call it the practice squad. Yet, to my surprise, Coach chose me to be on the team. I don’t know why she did but I guess she thought I would be able to do it.

     During practices I practice the whole time with the team unless they’re going over something I am not ready for, if that’s the case I go with the assistant coach to learn what the team is doing with the practice squad. Most of the time though I’m with the team. I don’t play a lot during games, sometimes I don’t play at all, but I do play some. The most I have ever played in a game total is probably six to seven minutes, the most I have played at one moment is probably two to three minutes.

     This game is different though, this is one of the important games that lead up to competition, with our point guard being out sick. For most of the game myself and another girl have been taking turns filling in the missing role. This is the most I have played up to date in a game, I’ve played half of this game.

     There’s one more minute left of the fourth quarter and so far the opposing team is one point ahead. I’m standing on the free throw line, someone fouled on me. I have two free throws, if I make both we can pull ahead. I felt the pressure rise as the referee passed me the ball.

     With the ball, I positioned myself to shoot. I slightly bounced on my toes as I made the shot. The ball circled the hoop and I watched in anticipation. My palms became sweaty, and my heart raced. The ball went in! It’s now a tie between our team and the opposing team!

     The referee got the rebound and waited for me to get back in position before passing the ball to me. I dribbled the ball a little bit, got in position, then with a little jump shot the ball. This time the basketball made a beautiful arc and flew right through the hoop. I did it! We’re now ahead by one point and the least our team has to do is prevent the other team from making a point.

     Thirty seconds left, we just have to keep this up and we’ll win by one point. The other team has possession of the ball and we’re defending our hoop. With ten seconds the opposing wing made an attempt to get a ball from the three point line. The ball landed on the edge of the hoop and circled around it. For the second time this quarter I watched in anticipation, this time wishing for the ball to fall away from the hoop. It fell from the hoop, not making the point, and the buzzer signalling the end of the game sounded off.

     Our team and people supporting us from our school let out a loud cheer. We’ve won the game, but just barely. Making our way over to our bench, where the jv and the rest of the team was sitting, excited hugs and high fives were exchanged. Lily, my “cousin”, excitedly hugged me, she’s one year older than me. Lily is my dad’s best friend’s daughter, or my Uncle John’s daughter. Our families are so close we just consider each other family.

     Even though their team lost they seemed just fine. They all seemed to be good sports about losing. The opposing team’s leader even came over to congratulate us on the win. She seemed very sincere about it, being honest we told her that they played really well too, even if they were a bit on the rough side. We kept that part to ourselves though.

     Once the game had been properly closed our team headed down to our locker room. I was absolutely wiped and felt gross with how sticky I was from all the sweating I did. Now the only thing left to before heading home and doing literally nothing for the rest of the night and weekend was have a team discussion and change.

     Most of the time while waiting for Coach to get down to the locker room for the discussion we get dressed and talk about how well or how terrible the game went. And that’s what I did. I complimented the rest of the team on how well they played and the jv or anyone else that was on the bench how good they did at cheering us on. I got dressed as well. I stripped myself of my sweaty jersey top and shorts and pulled on my warm ups. I pulled on my comfortable warm up black Adidas pants, a black tank top, and the white warm up zip up sweater.

     The team conversation took longer than expected and I had found myself impatiently waiting for it to end. I wanted to find my older brother and leave, he was the only one out of my family who could be here tonight. Of course Uncle John and his wife were here, but their not the family I wished was here tonight to watch me play. They were mostly here to watch their daughter anyway.

     Unfortunately my father and mother both couldn’t be here tonight to watch me, and this was the most I’ve ever played in a game. It would’ve been nice to know they were here to cheer me on. It’s normal for my dad to miss a game but not my mom. Mom and Dad had to go to a formal dinner with Dad’s boss. I know it’s important but I wished they could’ve just been here.

     As I searched for Philip I ran into my uncle and aunt. Uncle John had pulled me into a quick hug as I went to walk by. “You did great today, (Nickname).” He said, slightly squeezing me in the hug. I laughed and thanked him as I hugged back.

     “Over here (Y/n)!” I saw Philip from over my uncle’s shoulder, he was waving me over. “You’d better get going, your brother seems to want your attention.” Lily mentioned, walking up behind me. She has always taken longer than me to get out of the locker room. I nodded while stepping out of my uncle’s warm hug. I exchanged goodbyes with the Laurens family then jogged over to my brother.

     “Hey, Squirt! You did great tonight! I’m so proud of you and Mom and Dad both would be too.” Philip said with a huge grin. I grinned back, feeling my cheeks warm up. It’s not everyday someone tells me that they’re proud of me. I pulled Philip into a hug, smiling into his shoulder. He laughed a bit, patting my back slightly.

     “Ugh, you’re sweaty- get off.” He said, his tone teasing. I let go with a giggle, nodding my head. “I am, all the more reason to get home. I need a shower.” I said, and that’s what we did. We left the gym and made our way home, not without stopping at a fast food restaurant for and ice cream though. I had protested at first, even though their ice cream was actually really good, because of my diet for basketball. Philip convinced me to have one though, saying I earned it with how well I played.

     It was nice to know that even when Mom and Dad couldn’t be there for me that I had a big brother who would be there for me. Always. For anything.