#no one bother this person please I'm just laughing because it's like there's nothing wrong with being young it was a JOKE

[r0semultiverse]

"you can tell how young a gamer is by this comment" I am 19.

YOUNG

The aforementioned quote for context.

In the words of Sabrina Carpenter please please please don't prove I'm right. 😂 /lighthearted

You do know it's called discord out of context, right? 🤨 /lh

[mimi-cee-genshin]

Friend-zoned? - Alhaitham x f!reader

Summary: How many Akademiya guys does it take to figure out whether or not you've friend-zoned Alhaitham? After discussing how strong he is, Kaveh, Cyno and Tighnari analyze his relationship with you. Things get interesting when you join their table.

Other info: fluff and humor :D, female reader, my extension of the conversation in Alhaitham's character demo because I loved the guys' interactions there so much

Words: 2.7k

*****

"Essentially, more time on contemplation, less time on execution," Alhaitham tells them. "Simple, isn't it?"

"... Not really," Tighnari and Cyno reply.

"Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have brought this up with you," Kaveh complains.

"I thought my answer was quite engrossing," Alhaitham says. He raises his hand. "Boss, this is good wine. I'll have the same please."

Kaveh swirls his cup. "Well, he has at least one weakness," he comments.

"Do tell," Cyno says.

"He's had the same crush for years," Kaveh tells them. "The guy's completely smitten."

"You can't be serious," says Cyno.

"Why is that so surprising?" Alhaitham says. "It makes less sense that I wouldn't be attracted to her."

"See what I mean?" says Kaveh. "You should see how he is around her. He practically treats her like a queen."

"I have a hard time believing that," Cyno says, crossing his arms.

"Stop exaggerating," Alhaitham tells Kaveh. "I just treat her the way she should be treated."

Kaveh only laughs at his answer.

"I thought you didn't like social interaction," says Cyno. "Or had any friends for that matter."

"It's not tiring to be around her," he says. "She's different."

"Of course she is," says Kaveh.

"Well this is interesting," says Tighnari. "What is she like?"

"We've known each other since we were kids. She was mature for her age. She did things like helping me resolve issues I had with others to keep the peace, making sure other kids didn't bother me while I was reading… Also, comforting me whenever I got discouraged…"

"You? Discouraged?" Kaveh scoffs.

"Yes? I'm only human you know," Alhaitham simply replies. "Anyway, you get the picture."

"That seems reasonable," says Tighnari.

"So it's one-sided?" Cyno asks. "As far as I can tell, you're still single."

"No," says Alhaitham, crossing his arms. "It's not one-sided."

"You're kidding me, right?" Kaveh says. "Are we even talking about the same person?"

Tighnari raises a brow.

"Every time she introduces him to another woman, she's a little too obvious with sharing why they'd be good for Alhaitham," Kaveh explains, "as if she's trying to sell them off to him."

"Don't be so dramatic," Alhaitham says. "She's not selling anyone."

"If that's the case, then why are you sure she likes you?" asks Cyno.

"Well for one, she comes by often to check how I'm doing."

"Perhaps she simply thinks you're incompetent at your job," Kaveh chides.

"Two," he continues, ignoring him. "She's always willing to hear about the latest book I'm reading, no matter how boring others think of it."

"Hmm…" Tighnari mumbles. "I can understand that."

"And three…" Alhaitham puts down his cup. "Whenever she reaches out for my hand, like when she wants to comfort me, she stops short of actually holding it."

"She does?" asks Kaveh.

"Interesting. So it seems that while she does display some sort of affection for you," says Tighnari, "perhaps she just didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"So you're doubting my conclusion?"

"I'm simply saying it's difficult to judge based on the evidence you've provided. We may need to observe the two of you for ourselves."

Alhaitham sighs. This isn't going anywhere.

"Does she have any reason to not want to date you?" Cyno asks. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were overly critical of her, commenting on her every action."

"I give her nothing but compliments. She knows I think very highly of her."

"Huh," Tighnari says. "That's quite unexpected."

"I've been telling you guys," Kaveh says, "but he's really something else around her."

"Is she… actually older than you by any chance?" asks Tighnari.

"She is."

"Hmm… Well this changes things. Perhaps, she still sees you as a kid and is simply just doting on you."

Kaveh turns to Alhaitham, eagerly waiting for his reply.

Alhaitham clears his throat. "She's less than a couple of years older than me. It's not a big deal."

"Just admit that you're friend-zoned," says Kaveh. "Who'd treat their love interest like a kid?"

"I'm not so sure…" Cyno says.

Both Kaveh and Tighnari raise a brow.

"I think that Alhaitham has a clearer picture and can judge more accurately than any of us. They've known each other for long enough."

"It's just his wishful thinking on his part," says Kaveh. "Who wouldn't want to read into their crush's actions?"

"I agree to an extent," says Tighnari, "but perhaps we're missing some crucial information here. We don't know how well Alhaitham can judge a person's actions when romantic feelings are involved."

"I'm thinking quite clearly, thanks," Alhaitham says.

"This is why you aren't getting anywhere," Kaveh scolds him. "You're assuming she has feelings for you when she doesn't. You still need to win her over."

"Then what do you suggest I do?" Alhaitham crosses his arms.

"Ha. As if I'd help you. She could do way better than you anyway."

Alhaitham groans. Why is he even part of this conversation?

"Well, have you ever told her how you felt?" asks Cyno.

"Of course," replies Alhaitham. "I'm pretty obvious about it."

"For someone as reserved as you, I highly doubt that," Cyno adds.

"I wrote her a letter, eloquently expressing my love for her."

"Pfft. What?" Kaveh snorts.

Tighnari stares in disbelief. "Oh. I get it. You did that when you were children."

"I'm referring to the one I gave her yesterday."

"Pfft."

"That's… pretty obvious," Tighnari adds.

"I bet it was more of an essay than a love letter," Kaveh says with a smirk.

"Well, in that case, she either doesn't like you," says Tighnari, "or there's something that prevents her from admitting her feelings."

"Perhaps she's intimidated by your position," suggests Cyno.

"It's unlike her to care about those things," Alhaitham says. "She even treats me like a kid at times."

"So you do admit she just thinks of you as a kid," Kaveh says.

Alhaitham doesn't answer.

"Honestly, this case is closed," Kaveh continues. "There's nothing more to it."

"Hmm... Have you tried to make her jealous?" asks Cyno.

"You're still not convinced?" Kaveh is surprised at him.

"Knowing the result of that would likely draw us closer to a conclusion," Tighnari adds.

"Why would I purposely try to hurt her?" asks Alhaitham.

They exchange glances. Alhaitham still had the ability to make them go speechless with his matter-of-fact tone.

"Well, he's definitely serious about her," says Cyno.

"I told you," Kaveh says. "Seems like she's the only person he'd open up to as well."

"Of course she is," Alhaitham replies.

"I wonder…" says Tighnari. "Has she ever shared her own struggles with you?"

"Why would that be a factor?"

"Well, that would display how comfortable she is around you."

"Hmm… Not bad…" Alhaitham seems to agree with his line of reasoning.

He goes quiet and uncomfortably so because the other three exchange awkward glances at each other in the meantime.

"Well?" Cyno breaks the silence.

"You may be right," Alhaitham tells Tighnari with a sigh. "But that certainly raises more questions."

"Can we just start playing Genius Invokation TCG?" asks Kaveh. "We just keep going in circles with this topic."

"So you guys did just drag me out to play cards," says Alhaitham.

"It would be interesting to meet her," says Tighnari. "It's gotten me curious."

"Same here," says Cyno.

Kaveh looks up at the tavern entrance. "Huh? She's actually here."

Alhaitham's eyes flicker open for a brief moment. "Nice try. I'm not falling for that."

"I didn't expect to see you here, Alhaitham," you say, ruffling his hair.

He freezes and the three of them take a closer look at his face.

"I never expected him to have that kind of expression," whispers Tighnari.

"Me neither," Cyno agrees.

Alhaitham clears his throat. "They simply invited me here for some cards," he tells you. "Nothing more."

"Can I join?" you ask.

Without question, Alhaitham gets up from his chair. He holds the back of his seat and slides it out, gesturing for you to take it.

Cyno and Tighnari widen their eyes.

"Is it just me or did that feel kind of odd?" says Tighnari.

"Coming from him? You're not wrong there," adds Cyno.

You hesitate for a moment before you accept his kindness and take his seat. He stands next to you, waiting for the other guys to start preparing the game.

The two onlookers feel slightly uncomfortable for some reason while Kaveh tells them another round of 'I-told-you-so's. There isn't anything out of the ordinary as you all take your turns playing each other. Cyno is intense as usual, not just with his tactics but also with how he approaches the battle like an interrogation. Tighnari was calm and collected even under pressure, and Kaveh spoke his mind with every move, regardless of whether it's his or his opponent's. But having you there with Alhaitham is… strange.

Nothing really happens of significance. The two of you treat each other well and with respect. Just having Alhaitham being a complete gentleman around you is unnerving for the rest of them. Curt responses and sarcastic remarks are absent. He's completely agreeable with you and his usual temper isn't there either. Everyone plays the game in peace.

"You should save that card for later," Alhaitham tells you. "He can't do anything for the rest of the round anyway."

"Hmm… I'm not quite sure if that's what I want to do yet," you respond.

"Alright," he says. "You should do what you think is best."

"This guy…" Kaveh turns to you. "How do you get him to be like that? If it were any of us, he would've scolded us with a lengthy explanation about how we'd lose if we didn't follow his exact instructions."

"What? She can think for herself."

"And none of us can't?"

"I'm already familiar with how the three of you play and where you go wrong. I want to see if she does anything differently."

"It seems that he really does only compliment you, huh?" Tighnari tells you.

"Why would I do otherwise?" Alhaitham states.

His straightforward remark stuns them once again.

"Okay, we get it," says Kaveh. "We all know about your huge crush on her."

"Seems like you can't say anything bad about her even if you try," Cyno comments.

"Of course I can."

"You can?" you ask.

The whole table looks at you funny. You fiddle with the cards in your hand, pretending you weren't shocked for a split second.

"Interesting," says Cyno.

Alhaitham crosses his arms. "What is it?"

"I'm keeping my observations to myself for now."

Alhaitham raises a brow, but lets it go for the meantime.

A few rounds go by and you help set up for the next. When Alhaitham picks up a die for you from the floor, your hand brushes against his and the die falls off the table once more.

"What's wrong?" Alhaitham asks as he picks up the die again. "You're not usually this clumsy."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with me," you say.

He takes a closer look at you and you avoid his eyes. "Alright," he says. "You still ready to play?"

"I'll need to head out soon," Tighnari says. "It's my turn to be on patrol for tonight."

"Hold on," Cyno says, placing his cards on the table. "One last round. I'll be your opponent this time," he tells you.

You finish setting up the game and test your skills against Cyno. He certainly doesn't make it easy for you. You fall behind pretty quickly, but at least he's not as intimidating as when he played with some of the others.

"So," Cyno says, "what do you think of Alhaitham?"

Your eyes widen at his sudden question.

"You're straight up asking her?" says Kaveh.

"Why not?"

"I guess he has a point," says Tighnari.

They turn their attention to you to see what you'd say.

"Well…" you say, "he's very intelligent and talented."

"No, not what everyone else says," says Cyno. "What you think."

"What do you think you're doing?" asks Alhaitham. "Are you interrogating her right now?"

"Just let her answer the question."

"Well…" you say, "he's nice? And sweet?"

Cyno raises a brow.

"He's cute?"

"Pfft." Kaveh holds in his laughter.

Cyno ignores him and presses the question.

"I don't know how to respond," you tell him. "We've known each other for so long I can't just sum it up in a sentence."

"Alright. I'll get straight to the point," says Cyno. "What do you think of Alhaitham's feelings for you?"

"I think he should get to know other people… and try dating someone else?"

"See?" says Kaveh.

"I've already told you I'm not interested in anyone else," Alhaitham says.

"No, you should listen to her answer," Cyno tells him. "She's not lying."

"What?" Alhaitham widens his eyes.

"I'm not done yet," says Cyno. "There's more." He turns to you. "How serious do you think Alhaitham is about you?"

"He's definitely sincere."

"I'm pretty sure that was obvious," says Tighnari.

"But you don't take his feelings seriously," Cyno tells you.

"It's not that. It's just…"

"You don't?" asks Alhaitham.

"Alright. It's your turn from here," Cyno tells him.

"But I thought I was clear," Alhaitham tells you.

"You were."

"Apparently not clear enough."

"Look. You used to follow me around like a duckling whenever you weren't reading a book," you tell him. "How was I supposed to take your crush on me seriously?"

"It's been more than a decade since then."

"I... Okay, fair enough," you concede. "But it would disappear once you learned I didn't live up to your expectations."

"What expectations?" Alhaitham raises his brow.

"I don't know. That I'm this perfect woman that you've been pining for more than half your life. You'd know I'm not so great if you'd actually try liking someone else."

"Is that what you've been telling yourself?"

"You never say anything bad about me."

"Why would I want to talk about your flaws? Especially when I've been trying to win you over," he says. "Besides, aren't they obvious to you?"

"What?" You're genuinely surprised. "Like what?"

"Like how stupid you're being right now."

You freeze.

"Besides, I've been around you long enough," Alhaitham continues. "There's plenty I don't like. Like the way you cut me off at times–"

"What?"

"–or your atrocious style–"

"Okay, that one hurt a bit–"

"–or how stupid do you have to be to keep asking Kaveh for money –"

"Alright. I get it."

"–or that time you–"

"Okay! I get it! You like me!"

Kaveh looks at you as if you've grown another head. "How did you come to that conclusion? Are we even listening to the same conversation?"

"I think she's finally realized that his feelings were deeper than she initially thought," says Tighnari. "Especially since she knows that Alhaitham is still objective with her and not blinded with infatuation."

"That's right," Cyno says. "She's been the exception to his behavior for a long time. It makes sense she would think his judgment would be clouded with the information she had."

You hide your face from them. It's embarrassing how they read you like a book once your guard was down.

"I didn't expect the solution to be so simple," Alhaitham says.

He slips his hand into yours and you let out a little squeak. "You've also been wanting to hold my hand for some time haven't you?"

"Ugh. You're all smug now because you know that I return your feelings."

"I also don't like how you rearranged my bookcase."

"You can stop now."

"I think it's time for us to go," says Cyno.

"But we haven't finished our match yet," you tell him.

"I'll just forfeit this one."

"I'm with you on that," says Kaveh. "Anything before they start being gross with each other."

"I guess this is a good time for me to head out as well," says Tighnari.

The two of you are suddenly left alone at the table with a bunch of dice in front of you.

"Well, that's one way to win a match," Alhaitham tells you. "I'd say it's pretty ingenious actually."

You simply groan. You know what's coming.

"Do you want me to help you win every time?"

"Please don't."

*****

I hope you liked it. :)

This is one of those fics I wish had inline commenting like on Wattpad. I would've loved to see how everyone reacted at certain parts in real time but unfortunately Tumblr doesn't have that.

Anyway, you can find links to my masterlist and taglist on my pinned post if you want to check out more of my writing.

[manda-kat]

Okay I'm finally doing the rant!

Even if somebody deserves to die (which is not our judgement to make) or needs to die for the safety of others (which is also a difficult judgement to make and must be a last resort) their death is still a tragedy and should never be praised or cheered.

You can believe that somebody's death was a neccessary evil while still understanding that it was evil nontheless. I don't think it's acceptable how many people right now are cheering for others to die. The death of an evil person is just one more person who will never be able to better themself.

I'm just begging people to research things like the French Revolution where the need for justice was turned into a desire for violence and nothing more. I'm asking you to wonder where it ends. Every CEO can be replaced by one with better security. Every politician can be replaced by one with more extreme policies to keep you in line. Your neighbor who works at an insurance company can be replaced by the boss, but her kids will never see their mom again.

Isn't that serious? Isn't that a big deal? Or will your 'great revolution' be carried out without fail, only hurting those with power that truly deserve it? Once all the big bads are gone, who'll replace them? Just another one of their buddies. Unless you take complete control so you and YOUR buddies get to make the unethical decisions! I mean, you've already killed several people to get here, might as well keep killing anyone who threatens your power! Oh- but you'd never do that. You're one of the good people! You've proven your goodness by salivating over the idea of waving a politician's head on a stick! Good people never look for peaceful solutions!

Empathy is just... gone it seems. People who disapprove of violence or question the helpfullness of this 'street justice' aren't thoughtfully debated, they're called 'bootlickers' and 'facists' and told to kill themselves.

You can believe that a system is corrupt and needs reworking without murder being your first choice! Murder should be the last choice! Maybe if you care about a system being changed you should research the system and attack it in ways that won't get people killed.

Stop cheering for murder!

(Oh, and don't bother ranting at me in the comments. I wrote the rant for you to save you the time:)

"Well as an [insert oppressed group here] what you're saying is actually really harmful due to the damage that these bad people cause the world. You don't understand the painful lives people live that make killing other human beings morally justifiable. I'm going to argue that killing people is okay, even though your original argument is towards the mindset of cheering evil acts like murder and thinking of oneself as a hero who can never make evil decisions rather than towards the neccessity of said evil actions. Some people laugh about murder to cope, you abelist! And you're also a hypocrite because you're totally okay with gay disabled people being murdered despite never saying anything that would imply being okay with that! I will continue to project my own beliefs onto you, turning you into a villain until I am pleased with the thought of your violent death! There is nothing wrong with me and I don't need to work through these issues rather than spread them online! I don't know you, but I hate you! Kill yourself, you facist!"

Seriously I could not care less what you comment. If your argument is that murder is good and people should be killed without trial and that I am somehow a bad person for questioning the morals of your belief, then... your opinion kind of means nothing to me..

[running-on-coffee-and-anxiety]

Know what? I'm gonna try throwing my hat into the ring for Danny Phantom.

I accidentally electrocuted myself as a kid and never told anybody- nothing serious, I grabbed the three exposed prongs of a half plugged in laptop charger in the middle of the night and didn't want to get in trouble since nobody else was awake. Even if it isn't fatal, it's terrifying and your vision completely blacks out and your arm tingles for days afterwards, and for the whole day after you got shocked your fingers on the hand that grabbed the prongs will randomly twitch, open or close or jerk to the side. You have no control, it's like when the doctor hits your knee to check your reflexes.

Now, from what I can tell from the scene where Danny went ghost for the first time, he really was electrocuted. From what I can tell, his ghost and human halves seem kinda separate- not completely, but the change is there. Where is this going?

Danny never told anyone about the accident- not anybody that could help him, anyways. I propose that, since he never got medical treatment or physical/occupational therapy after the accident, his motor function deteriorates over time.

More specifically, his small motor function is effected- I will be using personal experience in this section, since my small motor skills were so bad I couldn't use zippers or tie my shoes until I was 12, but I'll try putting things in reverse.

Danny starts fumbling with tying his shoes, laughing it off as being tired. Buttons take a few minuets, and even snap buttons become a bit hard. Odd, mildly confusing, but nothing to be concerned about. Then it progresses. He can't properly use tools anymore, it's like nothing is ever precise enough, everything takes a few tries to get it right. His fingers are fumbling everything, his handwriting turns to chickenscratch that not even he can read at times, he struggles to comb his hair because it's hard to coordinate movements, his back teeth are always textured because he struggles to brush his teeth and he can't really reach the back ones properly anymore.

I don't know if this is connected to small motor or not, but he starts dragging his feet and the toes of his shoes wear out quicker because walking while lifting his feet any higher doesn't feel right. This was something I had fixed during occupational therapy, but I don't know if it was just me or not.

Eventually, it becomes sunlight-on-clean-pact-snow levels of blindingly obvious that something is incredibly wrong. Danny's hair is knotted and half-matted because he is unable to brush it properly, when he smiles there is plaque on some parts of his teeth and not others, he always wears slip-on shoes or his laced shoes are always untied, buttons always seem like they could unslip because they're only half-buttoned, zippers in his jackets getting stuck in shirts and he doesn't bother to fix it, teachers can no longer read his assignments and his friends can't read his notes. Nobody can ignore it, but nobody knows how to help when Danny gets so clearly frustrated when he has to do something with his hands and it just doesn't work. It seems like he suddenly developed a hole in his lip, since he always had to lean far over his bowl or plate to not end up on food with his shirt because his hands can't hold silverware steady.

But Phantom? None of those issues. He became a ghost after being electrocuted, of course. Why would there be damage from the initial creation of this half? It could be why he ends up enjoying fighting the ghosts, his hands actually work with him instead of against him.

Feel free to take this idea and do what you want with it, I really liked writing this!

Also if you use this for a fic, please comment the link if possible, I wanna see all the ways people use this :)

Edit: So I started a mini-series about this. Is it any good? Probably not, but writing makes me happy.

Noticed But Hoping For The Best

[bitchimasnake-sss]

"i thought you got possessed-" ft. luffy!

ft. luffy x fem!reader

set-up: you're pms-ing and he is such a dumbass. but that doesn't mean he isn't out here being the bestest boy ever. (please excuse his dumbassery, he was dropped on his head as a child)

warnings: none! very wholesome lol

- please dont get confused, this man has no idea how periods work - like how is it humanly possible for you to bleed and then stay alive and kicking? seems made up tbh - one eventful evening (before you both started dating), you and nami had to sit him down and give him a long-ass biology lesson, explaining what the whole phenomenon is, what pms-ing is and yada-yada - before this, he firmly believed that every once a while a demon possessed you all (and he saw absolutely no issue with that, what a fucking icon) "ohhh" he's laughing, "so that's what it is? i thought you guys like got possessed" "excuse me?" nami's on the verge to hit him in the head again and you're wondering if the constant hits are the reason luffy's braincells are (half) dead "i see, i see. i get it now" - he lied, he still doesn't quite get it - but its fine - so, it is just another random tuesday and (post-dating) you know syou love luffy. but holy shit, if he yelled "YN DOLPHIN!! LOOK LOOK A DOLPHIN! SUGEEEEEE" and giggled again, you might yell at him. you really do love him but if he stole your food one more time, you're convinced you might smack him too. "luffy" your voice was unusually low, devoid of any warmth, "stop that." "whatt" he whined, grinning afterwards as he scooped up more food from your plate "luffy. i said STOP IT." your voice rose higher and silence hung uncomfortably over the dinner table - luffy just looks at you dumbfounded - the way you're fisting your hand on the table and looking at him has the crew afraid that youre gonna murder the captain in cold blood - well, i mean ur considering the possibility too, so, you mumble a half-ass apology and return back to your room to be alone - lying against the soft sheets, you can smell the citrus detergent and oh boy, now you feel guilty - i mean god, that's luffy, that was nothing out of the ordinary for him. why did you yell at him? fuck, are you a horrible girlfriend?? - oh boy, now the tears are welling up too - "yn?" luffy whispers as he slips into the room, closing the door behind him and now you're really crying - i mean look at him, why did you yell at him? - "im so sorry, i don't know why i yelled at you, that was so shitty of me-" "hey, it's okay" he's hugging you tight, "you did nothing wrong, i can be a little bit dumb sometimes. i should have not taken your food" "what? no, i am not mad about that. i, i dunno-" you sniff, "maybe i'm just pms-ing?" "huh??" - took a while for him to remember but now that you've jogged up his memory, he looks so guilty, so, he spends the entire evening apologizing and offering you food, he even promises that he wouldn't point out dolphins every time he sees them (you had to reassure him that he can continue doing that)

- but now onwards, this lovely himbo tries to keep in check what he's saying, often giving you a lingering look as if asking "this is fine right?"

- but now you've got your personal defender!! - ussop made a joke and you're not laughing (because it wasn't that funny tbh) and luffy is ready to smack ussop and tell him to "not annoy" you. zoro is being dumb and luffy can see it on your face that he's pissing you off lowkey, so, he will actually tell zoro to not be a dick - mf just starts picking up fights left and right for your sake and now you have to give him another long ass lesson to make it stop - ps: he does not stop. - this man turns into a chihuahua, anything bothering you must be struck down. - very, very observant from now on too. he needs to make sure you're feeling good - also asked sanji to make your favourite desert - he just loves you so much and wants you to be as comfortable as possible (still doesn't know how female anatomy works though-)

a/n: omg i luv him such a dumbass

zoro's link <3 sanji's link <3

[billiedeansbitch]

How have you been!? Idk if you have TikTok or seen this trend, but it’s basically where someone is putting on lipstick and it ends up smudging the wrong way and the camera shows another person wiping it away and the other person had a bunch of kiss marks on their face.

I think it would be cute if that could be a one shot with Larissa Weems? It could be that Larissa is putting on the lipstick or the other way around with y/n?

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

a/n: thank you for requesting this anon i really liked the idea and immediately worked on it (like i'm not working on a couple of fics already) this was too cute.

warning/s: nothing.

Larissa took the compact mirror from her desk drawer and uncapped her lipstick, mindful of your lingering eyes that glimmer with excitement, lips slightly ajar in anticipation.

She started to apply her lipstick wantonly slow. You watched it glide on her lips like butter, painting her lips red. The colour was sensual contrasting the cool, breath-taking big blue eyes. It was so tempting and inviting you couldn’t help yourself but ask for a kiss. Just a kiss. One quick peck on the lips. 

“Please?” Her lipstick wasn’t smudged proof, it would transfer to your lips but that didn’t seem to bother you at all and she had seen you proudly walk in the halls of Nevermore wearing the sheer colour on your own lips, unapologetically flaunting it to everyone. 

She chuckled and beckoned you to come closer. You complied with unbridled enthusiasm and stood from the armchair in front of her desk. Larissa stood, leaning halfway over her desk and grabbed the collar of your button-down to pull you closer and peck your lips. And as always, you giggled as you attempted to kiss her deeper, ruining the freshly applied coat of lipstick.

And it happened, again and again. In the morning before she exited your shared bedroom, you asked for a kiss just after her lipstick was done, she shook her head, and kissed you.

After lunch with the faculty, which included you, she excused herself, grabbed her little purse and disappeared in the restroom to retouch her make-up and lipstick–for the third time and it was only midday. The culprit? You.

Eventually during one afternoon, you waltzed in with your hands behind your back, Larissa didn’t think much of it. You were holding back a cheeky smile when you noticed the tube of her favourite lipstick in her hand and her lips were popping red. “No” she said immediately while shaking her head knowing how this would go.

“You will not ruin my lipstick.” she added glaring playfully,, her tone final and dismissive.

You merely laughed, stalking toward her desk, “I’m afraid you’re overreacting, Love.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes and ignoring your antics. “Why are you here?”

“Am I not allowed to visit my favourite Principal now?”

“It’s usually more than that.” she said knowingly while feigning disinterest.

“I’m actually here because I’ve got you a gift.” But it wasn’t her birthday or your anniversary. Her eyes shot up. 

You pushed the little box you had been hiding behind you. You saw her eyes lit up. “Go on, open it.” She tried to hide her excitement by rolling her eyes but her lips betrayed her by curling into a dainty appreciative smile. She took it in her hands and unwrapped the gift.

“Now you don’t have to worry about running out of lipstick.” 

In the box was three full sized lipstick in similar shade–her favourite.

“Come here, darling.” her voice was much softer now  like she was melting inside. 

Sat on her lap, her arm smoothly pulled you in, keeping you close by the waist, eyes were levelled with yours and as if that little-to-non-existent gap wasn’t enough, Rissa leaned forward, her lips ghosting on the shell of your ear, “I think you deserve a kiss.”

The kiss was fond, very sweet and gentle, short but satisfying. You thought it was over, that it was done because you confusingly watched her retouch her lipstick. You thought she would usher you off her lap but then Larissa ’s lips were hot, a little damp as they made contact with the outer corner of your eye, then to your nose and automatically, with the attention she was giving you using her lips, you puckered your own, directly asking for a kiss on your lips. She chuckled and gave in.  She nipped on your lip affectionately, moved on to kiss you down to your jaw again. 

It was so wholesome and light, then it turned to sloppy, playful bites and before you knew it her lips were smothering your whole face with kisses, faint marks filling your face like an art on a sheet of canvas. Larissa’s very own art.

The adorable sound from your lips falling in between a snort and laughter filled the room. Larissa kept kissing you, filling the areas where she hadn't kissed yet. You let her fill your face with the imprint of her perfect lips.

And then the doors flung open without any sort of warning catching you off guard in Larissa’s lap.

Wednesday’s eyes widened in disgust. Enid, who was trailing behind her bumped to her roommate when the goth girl suddenly stopped in her tracks.

“Oh, hi Mrs Weems!” The werewolf greeted with a wave—you waved back. Larissa pinched your side. 

Enid had a megawatt smile on her face like finding you in their Principal’s lap, your face filled with kisses was the most normal thing on earth.

Wednesday turned without breathing a word and pulled the other girl outside. The door slammed leaving you two alone. 

“I think I just saved you from Wednesday.” you quipped and bursted into laughter. Larissa laughed along, too carefree to care–for now–about what Wednesday and Enid just witnessed before resuming to kiss you all over again.

Now this, this is heaven, you thought.

[wordsbyrian]

Can we get a part 2 of the ona fix where Sanchez tells Kelley about r and Ona?

Maybe not a full fic but a mini fic instead. I wrote this at work on Monday. And yes, I know right now is not the time I usually post but I'm bored at work so I moved it up 2 hours.

Also in case you didn't see it, I'm closing my requests Friday (into Saturday) at midnight.

The movement Sanchez has been waiting for has finally come.

Seconds ago, she had received a text from Y/N/N saying that she had safely made it back to her apartment in Barcelona.

The text also mentioned something about how they shouldn’t bother her for the next 48 hours but Ashley doesn’t care about that. She’s already dialing Kelley’s number to rub her newly acquired information in her face.

It only takes a few rings before Kelley’s voice comes through the phone.

“Sanchez, are you okay,” the older defender asks, “We’ve only been out of camp for a few hours, what happened?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just thought you’d like to know that you should probably call Y/N.”

“It’s like 3 am over there, why do I need to call her?”

“Because after the Spain game Mal, Soph, and I found her cuddled up with her girlfriend,” Sanchez says, “And I can’t tell you who it is but I can tell you to go ask her who it is.”

“Sanchez.”

“Yes?”

“You’re my favorite.”

The midfielder laughs, “Thank you, have fun calling Y/N.”

“I will,” Kelley says, “Talk to you later.”

Moments later in a darkened apartment in Barcelona sees you groggily reaching for your phone that won’t stop ringing.

You’ve not been home for very long but you had fallen asleep the moment your head touched the pillow not even bothering to crawl under the covers.

Which is why it takes you a moment to find and answer the ringing phone.

Before you even have a chance to greet the person on the other end, your ears are being assaulted by the voice of one Kelley O’Hara.

“Baby Genius,” she shouts, startling you. “Why does Sanchez know who your girlfriend is and I don’t?”

“Kelley, is that really why you called me at 3 in the morning?”

“Yes.”

Sighing deeply, you stare at the phone for a second before hanging up without saying anything.

Less than a second later, it rings again.

“What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone,” you ask, answering the call.

“Nothing short of death will stop me, kid,” Kelley says.

“Mine or yours because both can be arranged,” you respond.

“Don’t be dramatic, Y/N/N, just tell me who it is.”

“Kelley, I’m going to hang up now. Please don’t call me back, I’m tired.”

As you pull the phone away from your ear, you can hear her begin to protest but you don’t let that stop you from hitting the end call button.

Putting it back on your nightstand, you're quickly frustrated by the noise it makes as it vibrates repeatedly.

So without opening your eyes, you stick your hand out and once you make contact with your phone, you swipe it to the ground with all the strength you can muster.

With that problem finally dealt with, you close your eyes and drift back to sleep, hopeful that you won’t be disturbed again.

[eva-does-its-best]

Transition (Part 2) Women

I don't have any problem admitting that the word Woman hurts me deeply, and I don't want to have anything to do with it.

To me Woman just evokes the adult world that time and time again rejects me because of my disabilities and my oddness. It evokes all the terfs, all the discourse thrown from all sides of this war, the mocking laughs that celebrate all our pain with pearly white teeth. It provokes my mind to remember all the radfem ideology and iconography that hurt us so deeply.

It evokes the otherness I felt with other women, both cis and trans. I did not belong in that word.

I never felt any form of meaningful connection to other trans women, just the fun of finding someone like me. I do remember mourning that I would never be or look cis, just like so many of you do, but I lost that through transition.

Every day I noticed more and more differences between me and other trans women, I knew our differences were big but the rift kept expanding more and more until I had to ask myself why, was I just wrong? was I doing it wrong?

I will say, trans men are to thank for my self-discovery, and I hope that burns the eyes and hands of all radfems trans and cis. There was a time where I started to talk to and follow more trans men, and I started having more and more feelings for them and crushes for them and their lives.

And so I imagined what it would be like being a trans man, it sounded so wonderful! And that is when I realized, being born a cis woman would not have made me happy, because if it did why did I imagine myself transitioning too in that world? Why did I imagine the joy of a short haircut, of my first binder, of starting T or getting top surgery? I had to rethink my whole identity.

Right, my identity, what did I want to transition into? Nothing. I just wanted to transition, I wanted to change, I wanted to do as I please with this body I ignored and loathed for so long, I wanted to be happy, transition IS my joy! I transition to trans, not to any form of cis. And a lot of binary trans women didn't like this, and the rift grew even more.

I'd rather be seen as a woman than a man, but I'd rather not be seen as anything at all. Not be assigned any gender at all. Just an ambiguous person, a trans, simply a trans.

I had finally found myself outside of the binary.

When people push me to go back to being a woman, I feel like I'm hanging from a chasm with blades pointed at me yelling at me to let go, to fall back into womanhood. Sometimes I feel weak and think about going back, about letting go and fall, but I cut those feelings off immediately, my life and transition had already been ruined by commodity, I would never fall for its sweet embrace again.

It's hard, but I am non-binary.

I still like girly things, I still have so much euphoria from clothes and dresses and looking feminine. But I reject the purple of womanhood and keep all my femininity and masculinity on the cozy pink of girlhood. These are my terms.

I am aware that partially I am using hrt recreationally, I don't find this negative. The changes it does to me every day do save my life, they do make me beyond happy, but that doesn't stop me from wanting more. Cis lvls of hormones are a small goal, I'd rather have more than the minimum.

If more estrogen makes me happier I will take it. If progesterone makes me happier I will take it. If doing injections instead of pills makes me feel more cathartic and marginalized, in tune with our recent history, I will do it. If DIY feels better I will give up the medical monitoring of my health. Call me an hrt junkie if you want, it does not bother me.

But it is one more aspect of my transition that some other trans women have been offended by.

In any case, I am not going back to being a woman, tho I do not have any resentment for that era of me.

And I am glad I did manage to retain my girlhood.

[fandomwritingbit]

I don't know about you, but tests and all that scary stuff is coming around for me next week, and all year I've been having horrible little thoughts about William lately.

So get this, lets say you actually study for that type of stuff (i know i don't) and you just can't get the information to stick in your head!

✨Magically!✨ You or Will, idrc comes up with the bright idea on how to get it to stick in your head by sitting on his dick and reading or going over whatever you've gotta remember

i might've read this somewhere butttttt, i'm a needy little whore at 1 am lets goooo

Before I forget, I love your fics and I have never submitted one before so...! As usual, drink your water, eat some food, and remember to get rest! unlike some of us Lastly, don't forget to sexualize your favorite old man/woman/other

Hi, thanks for the request, this one was an absolute joy to recieve, I love all your little asides lol. Please feel free to send others!

Exams season is a killer and I really hope you get what you want out of it, just remember that tests and numbers and shit don't define you as a person Xx

That being said, whilst this may not be the most optimal way to study, its certainly the most enjoyable...

william afton x (gn)reader

A/N- Reader's between 18 and early 20s. William is a neighbour, for my plot convenience lmao.

You're sitting at the kitchen table to do some studying today, rather than barricaded in your room as usual. You'd read something online about a change of scenery being good for remembering stuff and because your parents were out it seemed a good opportunity.

With each passing minute, you dawned to the conclusion that that post was bollocks because it wasn't working.

You had your laptop open in front of you, surrounded by a frankly obnoxious amount of papers, trying to wrap your head around content for an exam tomorrow. But each time you wrote a line it was like your mind was rubbed blank, Men in Black style. It was so frustrating, and you knew you should have done it earlier but, good god, why was it so hard to remember anything?

So engrossed in feeling inadequate, you flip the laptop shut angrily, tilting your head back so it touched the chair in anguish. Defeated. It was as you did this that you clocked a figure in the kitchen doorway, making your body jerk up-right and turn round in one fluid moment.

Keep reading

"Mr Afton, how long hav- what are you doing here?" you blurt out, quick to try and compose yourself, you weren't physically or mentally ready for guests, especially ones you'd been casually hooking up with since you moved back home.

"Just dropping this off for your dad. I didn't want to interrupt cos you seem to be... trying not to cry?" 

He laughed as he said the last part, moving over towards you and helping himself to a chair. Pushing all your papers to the side without asking. "What's wrong then, been missing me?"

Usually you'd laugh at that but you just shrug at him, half angry at his expression and half at your situation. "You know, I could fucking cry." You do manage a laugh, but its shaky, "Because I'm going to fucking fail this fucking exam because I can't drill any of this shit through my fucking thick fucking skull." You rattle off quickly, each use of 'fucking' harsher than the last.

...

You hadn't really meant to let any of that out. But frustration had taken hold a bit too strongly there.

Afton just stared at you for a few seconds, his lips pressed into a hard line and you could tell he was trying not to laugh at you. You were a bit unsure how you'd react if he did.

After a few moments of silence you place your forehead in your hands and mutter 'sorry'.

"You're alright. Though you shouldn't be studying whilst you're upset, no wonder nothings going in."

"...If you tell me to calm down, I'll lose it." you say, head still in hands, laughing a bit at how much this was bothering you, it was an exam, a booklet of paper, what kind of melt would be this upset. Literally everyone else, you suppose. You take a deep breath.

"Right. Uh when's the test?" he asks you, half looking at a sheet of notes, his interest quickly peaked.

You laugh shortly. "9am."

"Then you've got... What, 20 hours? You've got time to calm down and revise." He put his hand on your shoulder, "You, sweetheart, need to relax."

You swat his hand away, laughing at his cockiness you could tell where this was going, "That's why you came over then? Heard dad's car door shut and your shoes were half-on I'll bet?"

He flashed you a smarmy grin, "You're not far wrong." You shake your head, messing about with this prick was the last thing you should be doing, but the first thing you needed.

"You know, if this type of revision isn't working for you... I heard that associating information with a sense can help you remember things."

You could hardly believe him, seeing you upset and still vying for what he came for. A risky move, Really. You suppose it took cojones, could have made you want to grab a hold of his, or squash them under your shoe.

"Oh yeah?" you ask sarcastically, "What are you suggesting?"

~

You're not sure how long it took for fresh marks to appear on your neck and your pants to be around your ankles, but you quickly find yourself sitting on his lap and letting his cock slip inside you.

As familiar as the low grunt from behind your ear was becoming, the feeling of him stretching you open always surprised you.

You raise your hips up and press back down again, moaning slightly, he let you slowly ride him for a few moments before, just as your rhythm increased, he grabbed your hips.

"Easy," his voice was thick, brushing against your neck, "You're supposed to be fucking studying."

You groan your protest, a hair away from booing him. "What is it you study again?" His question makes you laugh and you lean back against him with your back arching, causing him to grunt. He gripped your hips harder now forcing you still.

"Fuck 's sake. History."

He hummed in your ear, thinking for a minute, whilst your body throbbed around him desperate for some kind of stimulation. "And what's this on?" He could tell you were aching for something so he pushed you forwards, dragging you back, the angle allowing him to press so fucking deep.

"Come on, sweetheart."

"Civil war. Spanish."

Your gruff answer mirrored his growing frustrations.

"And uh... I don't- who won that?" The fact he couldn't move inside your tight hole was making him white-knuckled with restraint.

"-Nationalists."

With your one word answer that was enough studying for the both of you. He started to move your hips along him, letting your eager pace take over.

You knew that you were going to be up all night doing this now, but you didn't really mind.

[training4theapocalypse]

Yes, chef (Jeffrey Steinberg x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 6k

Warnings / Tags: SMUT, Sex pollen, Established friendship, Friends to lovers, Mutual pining.

Summary: Most people in Evergreen think Jeffrey is an asshole. But you’re the only one who knows him from before - he was your favourite customer at your restaurant. And even if he's an egotist, deep down you know he's sweet. He even has a special surprise for you to take your mind off of the apocalypse.

A/N: Call me a men's rights activist because Jeffrey Steinberg did nothing wrong. (I'm joking - please never call me that)

Masterlist

Chapter text

You sit at the edge of the lake with an almost empty pack of cigarettes in your hand. The artificial sun sets in the distance as you feel the last cigarette in existence rolling around inside the confines of its battered cardboard prison.

Footsteps approach you on the grassy verge. You don’t need to look around to see who it is. You only have one friend in Evergreen who’d bother to come and find you. And as far as you can tell, he only has you. Unless he considers Cortex to be a friend.

“Do you think he put the lake here just to fuck with me?” you ask when Jeffrey Steinberg's footsteps come to a halt beside you but you still don’t take your eyes off the still body of water.

“Well, I think he put a lot of things in here to fuck with us,” says Jeffrey with a deep sigh as he lowers himself on the ground to sit next to you. “What makes you think the lake was one of them?”

“No fish.”

It catches you off-guard when Jeffrey laughs at this. You look at him seriously and it only makes his handsome but tired face break into an even wider smile as he laughs hard at your expense. You try to pout but it’s infectious. Your lips twist reluctantly into a smile as he rests on his elbows and leans back to observe the lake.

“No fish…” he chuckles, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Well, yeah, it would be pretty fucked up to trap a world-famous seafood chef in an ecosphere with an empty lake.” Jeffrey looks out at the water. “But it’s just a reservoir. For recycling and filtering the water supply.”

“You really get this place, Jeffrey. No wonder Fin wanted you here.”

“You’re clever too. I mean, your business acumen? You own an empire of restaurants -”

“Stop. We both know why he really wanted me here.”

Jeffrey takes a deep breath, carefully choosing his next words. “He was a real piece of shit. Or is, I suppose. If he ever wakes up.”

“You know how many times Fin tried to hire me to be his personal chef? I mean, he offered me a lot of money. I’m talking about generational wealth. It would make your eyes water.” Jeffrey raises an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe not your eyes. But most people’s. And I told him ‘No’.”

“See? Clever. Like I said.”

“So what does he do?” You press on, feeling like there’s steam coming out of your ears as Jeffrey lets you rant. “Let me die in peace with everyone I know? ‘Course not.” You make a disgusted noise. “I mean you guys… you guys are all essential to making Evergreen a success. And I’m not saying it’s right -” you add hastily when he opens his mouth to argue. “ - but you can see the logic. Me though? Cortex can synthesise food so he didn’t need a cook… No, he just wanted me here. Trapped for the rest of my life as a fucking servant.” You meet Jeffrey’s eyes behind the reflection of the sunset on his glasses. “I loved saying ‘No’ to him, y’know? I was like the one thing he couldn’t have. The thing that he couldn’t get by throwing money at.”

Jeffrey hesitates for a few moments. You suppose that before the asteroid hit Earth he used to be the kind of guy who got whatever he wanted by throwing money at it. “Is that why you haven’t cooked anything since you came down here?” he asks.

“It’s not much. But I suppose I still have my own free will.” 

“Are those cigarettes?” asks Jeffrey, noticing you spinning the almost empty carton in your hands.

“Goes hand in hand with the industry.” You’d kill for a smoke break in the dirty alley behind a greasy kitchen right now. “But I’ve actually decided to quit.”

“You mean you had to quit. Unless Fin has a tobacconist down here that I don’t know about.”

“As long as there’s one cigarette left, I’ve chosen to quit. Free will.” You give him a small smile. “Is that stupid?”

“I suppose that all depends on your understanding of the concept of free will -” He stops himself when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I mean - sorry, I’ll shut up and stop ruining your attempt to have some autonomy.”

“Don’t be sorry. It must be hard being so smart - I guess you can’t turn it off.”

“Smart people know when to shut up and stop trying to prove themselves. I was just being a dickhead know-it-all.”

“I don’t think you’re a dickhead.”

“Hah, don’t say that in front of the others if you want to make friends,” Jeffrey says sourly.

“What do they know? They know you in here but I knew you out there. And out of all the rich assholes who came to my restaurants, you were my favourite.”

He chuckles and rests back on his palms. “I find that hard to believe.”

“You’d always get your assistants to book way in advance. Make sure you had a big plate of oysters waiting to impress woman after woman you’d bring in,” you smirk.

“God, I miss that,” says Jeffrey tilting his head back and looking at the sky. “Mostly the oysters but - ”

“- And you always left a huge tip for my staff.” You continue, preferring not to be reminded of Jeffrey Steinberg’s never-ending stream of previous conquests. “They liked you too. But Fin? Do you know the number of times I had Hannah calling my personal phone in tears because Fin wanted a table the same night or he’d fire her?” You roll your eyes. “As if I didn’t have a restaurant already packed with other billionaires and Saudi Princes that I could just bump.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Get Fin a table?”

“Well, yeah. But only because Hannah’s neck was on the line. It wasn’t so many years ago that I was in her position. Working for asshole Head Chefs who demanded the impossible.”

You put the pack of cigarettes back in your pocket and rest your head in your hands.

“It’s so gross to most people,” you say into your palms. “But I miss the fishy smell, even though I hated it at the time. And now I won’t get to smell it ever again.” You inhale deeply. Your hands smell clinically clean. Like hospital disinfectant.

“You still worked in the kitchen? I thought you’d have chefs to do that for you?”

“Of course I did. You think I put that jacket on for show when I came to your table to see you?” He shrugs. “I loved it. I loved being in the restaurant kitchen, preparing food. More than anything.” 

“Well…” You look up and see him smiling at you, dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth. “It’s funny you should mention it. Because I have something to show you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oysters.

Nico was growing fucking oysters in her lab.

Jeffrey said she had needed them to harvest their large amounts of zinc and other nutrients for her experiments - scientific jargon that went over your head. 

All you know is that you practically feel giddy as you and Jeffrey turn out the lights of Nico’s DNA bank and sneak along the corridor to the speakeasy. 

You’re not sure why exactly you’re sneaking - Jeffrey basically runs this place. But you like that this is something for just the two of you. Something that the others can’t ruin with their chaos.

“Get some champagne and two glasses,” you say as the door to the speakeasy slides open.

“Yes, chef,” says Jeffrey when you run the cold tap behind the bar to clean the oysters. “Need anything else?” 

“See if you can find a big plate and fill it up with ice.”

“What kind of ice?” asks Jeffrey looking at the fancy ice machine. “Crushed? Cubed? Ooh, spheres?”

“How many times have you eaten oysters on spherical ice in one of my restaurants?”

“Crushed. Got it.” 

He puts the plate of ice on the bar and watches you from the other side as you shuck them.

“You know what they say about oysters though, right?”

“What’s that?” you ask absently, concentrating on sliding the knife between the shells.

“That they’re an aphrodisiac.”

Your knife almost slips when you look up at the stupid smirk on his face. You quickly avert your eyes back down at the task at hand. There’s no way you’d even consider starting any kind of romantic relationship down here. All of your previous relationships have ended badly - you can’t even begin to imagine how messy it would be if you were trapped in an Ecosphere with an ex-lover for the rest of your life.

“As if, Jeffrey. Even if you are the last fuckable man left on Earth.”

“Oh yeah? What about Axel and David?”

You shrug. Axel and David are good-looking in the way that most wealthy, successful men are but there’s something about Jeffrey with his rolled-up shirt sleeves, slutty little glasses and permanently messy hair that he’s always running his hands through, that makes you seriously reconsider your determination not to have a messy fling while you’re stuck here.

“This is a very dangerous conversation to be having while I’m holding a knife,” you tut, pointing it at him before resuming what you were doing. “Besides, I thought you were a man of science? You should know there’s no concrete evidence to say oysters really are an aphrodisiac.”

“That’s not what your Maitre D’ told me on Valentine’s night.”

“That,” you say, placing the two oysters onto the ice. “Is because if they say that we sell more. And the markup on these things is enormous.”

You slide the plate across the bar towards Jeffrey.

“Shall we?” he asks.

“No, let’s sit down over there.” You nod to the plush leather sofa behind him. “I want to pretend I’m in a nice restaurant, having a good time.”

“Like on a date?” He tilts his head.

You laugh. “Like two friends who have just finished a hard week at work. An exceptionally hard week. Grab the champagne, will you?”

You set everything down on the small table and sit down on the sofa. Jeffrey sits beside you and starts pouring champagne into two glasses. 

“Give it here,” you say, gesturing for the bottle. “I wish we had fresh lemons or something acidic -”

“There’s Tabasco for Bloody Marys?” He nods at the bar cart.

“That’s more spicy than acidic…”

“Tabasco has a pH level of 4. It’s acidic.”

“Alright then, we can use Tabasco since it’s scientifically proven.”

“I sound like a dickhead know-it-all again, don’t I?” Jeffrey asks, getting up to find the bottle of hot sauce from the cart.

“It is kind of funny how you just can’t help yourself…” He sits down and passes you the Tobasco. “A few drops of something acidic and a tiny, tiny dash of champagne -” You spill a small drop of champagne onto each oyster. “Pairs excellently with Morecambe Bay rock oysters. So we can pretend that’s what we’re having instead of whatever lab-grown monstrosities these are... Ready?”

You pick up your oyster and Jeffrey does the same. You both tilt your heads back and swallow. As soon as the oyster hits the back of your throat, you feel warmth flooding through your veins. Every nerve ending sings. You suppose your body is just grateful that you’re finally feeding it with real, unsynthesised food. Even if it was grown by Nico in a lab.

“Even if these do turn out to be poisonous… what a way to go,” says Jeffrey. From the look on his face, you can see he’s almost as elated as you.

“Cheers to that,” you say, picking up your champagne glass and clinking it against his before taking a sip. “What champagne is this? No wait - let me guess!” You determinedly look away from the bottle. “Dom Perignon 2004?”

“Would you look at that? I’m not the only one who’s a know-it-all.”

The impressed note in his voice makes you beam. You look from the champagne label back at Jeffrey staring intently at you. And God, maybe it’s the dim light in here or the way he’s sitting with his arm relaxed on the back of the sofa but he looks… good. Maybe you’ve been under so much stress here in Evergreen that you’ve never really been tempted by how jaw-droppingly fuckable he looks. 

It makes you wholeheartedly reconsider his suggestion.

“So if this was a date…” You begin and Jeffrey blinks at you as if snapping out of something. “What would your opening move be?”

He scoffs at you playfully. “I don’t need moves.”

“Oh, yeah? Women throwing themselves at you so often that you’ve forgotten the art of seduction?”

“Sort of,” he takes another sip of champagne. “I don’t know, I’d probably ask you what you did for a living. Are you a model slash actress? Or an actress slash model?”

“Ah, so in short, I’m not your type?”

“How many other chefs have been in Vogue?”

You feel flushed that he knows about your magazine features. But the heat creeping up your neck doesn’t stop at your face. It’s fucking boiling in here. Like a kitchen in the middle of a dinner rush on the busiest night of the year.

“And that works? Just asking them where they work?” You take another sip of champagne, hoping it will cool you down but the chilled liquid fizzes and practically sizzles on your tongue. Why is your mouth so warm?

“One hundred per cent success rate so far.”

“Go on then, let’s see if we can fudge those numbers.”

“You want me to try and pick you up?” He adjusts his navy shirt collar slightly and you can’t tear your eyes away from his Adam’s apple moving as he does. The heat you’re feeling spreads across your chest - you’re so warm that you want to rip your sweater off and toss it on the floor.

“Just for fun,” you say but you feel your heart beating so quickly in your ribcage that you’re sure it’s going to betray you. That he’ll notice.

“Alright.” 

He moves in closer and you’re sure he must be able to actually hear the pounding in your chest. You can smell his aftershave from here. It’s sweeter than you’d expected it to be. Spicy vanilla with notes of tangerine. You could easily eat him for dessert. 

“So what do you do, then?” he says, jolting you out of your daydream.

“I, um, I own a couple of seafood restaurants.”

“A couple? Yeah, right.”

“Well, a few.”

“I bet they’re extremely upscale. Not tacky like this place.”

“Some people would say that.” You smile. “What about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a racecar driver.”

“A racecar driver who wears glasses?”

“Alright, you’ve got me. I’m actually a masked vigilante.”

“Jeffrey…”

“I manage a college radio station?”

“So you lie about what you do on dates?”

“No. But I probably should. Because I’m a billionaire CEO.” He rolls his eyes as he says the last two words like it’s an inconvenience.

“Now why does that sound like the least believable one on that list?”

He runs his hand through his tousled, dark hair and you notice a bead of sweat clinging to his brow. 

“Are you warm too?” You ask and bring the chilled champagne glass to rest against your neck.

“It’s like a million degrees in here.” He looks up at the ceiling. “Cortex? What’s the temperature reading in this room?”

“It is twenty-two degrees Celsius,” says Cortex’s disembodied electronic voice.

That doesn’t sound right. It feels more like forty. 

“Cortex, can you turn up the air conditioning?”

You feel a blast of cold air sweeping over your skin. As the surface of your skin cools slightly, you notice that the heat from your body seems to permeate from your core, like the heat is coming from deep in your pelvis. No external breeze is going to help whatever this is.

“It is now seventeen degrees Celsius,” says Cortex after a few moments of silence where you and Jeffrey both determinedly look at anything but each other. Your eyes dart around the room as if expecting to see the heat.

“Do you think it’s broken?” you ask, not feeling any less warm.

“Cortex is never wrong… You don’t think it’s food poisoning, do you?”

“If it were food poisoning, it would take longer than a few minutes to kick in. And you’d be feeling more than just warm.”

He doesn’t say anything. You wonder if he too is feeling more than just warm - and not in a food poisoning sort of way. You wonder if he also has a deep, throbbing sensation in his underwear that’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

He pushes up his glasses to wipe sweat from the bridge of his nose. Those glasses. They’re so, devastatingly cute. You have a sudden, aching urge to see those glasses steamed up.

“Why do you still wear those?” You ask, trying to distract yourself from the way your body is screaming for attention. “Surely a guy like you would get laser eye surgery.”

“Here.” He takes his glasses off with one hand and passes them to you. “Put them on.”

You do. And you can see perfectly.

“They’re… just glass?”

“Yep. I am the type of guy that gets laser eye surgery. I just like how they look.”

“You slut.”

He almost spits out his drink. “What?!”

“These are like the sluttiest thing a man can wear!”

Now that his glasses are off, you notice just how green his eyes are. You can’t imagine having eyes that beautiful and hiding them behind glasses all the time. 

You push his glasses up your nose but they slip again. 

Fucking hell, you’re on fire. 

You feel a drop of sweat roll from the nape of your neck down between your shoulder blades, sending a shiver down your spine. You need to take off this sweater before you turn into a soaking mess. Although your torso isn’t the only thing that’s sopping wet right now - you shift uncomfortably, feeling the way your underwear is saturated.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m just - just too fucking warm. Here, hold this a sec,” you say and pass him your champagne flute so you can pull your sweater off over your head, taking care not to catch it on the glasses still on your face. When you disentangle yourself you find him staring, unashamedly open-mouthed at your chest.

You look down. Your tank top is almost entirely translucent with sweat and your hard nipples poke through the fabric. Why are your nipples hard? It’s the opposite of cold.

“Sorry,” you say and cover your tits with your hands. Oh fuck. Why does the way you touch your own body feel so fucking good right now? “I didn’t realise…”

“It’s okay. We’re all friends here.”

“I… I don’t think I can let go,” you say, feeling your chest rising and falling under your palms. “I think I need something cold.”

Jeffrey looks at the ice-filled plate next to you. “What -” He swallows thickly. “What did you say again about the science? About oysters not being an aphrodisiac?”

“I…” Your mind feels blank. Like a rosy mist is clouding your brain. “I can’t remember.”

“I just wonder if Nico maybe didn’t get the chemical composition of those oysters quite right.”

His eyes meet yours. They don’t look as bright green anymore. They’re impossibly dark. Like his pupils are trying to find light in a pitch-black room.

“Do you feel… turned on?” he asks.

You take a gulp of air and your hands jolt from the fresh intake of oxygen. “No,” you lie, feeling your hard nipples under your palms. “Just hot.”

“Yeah… yeah, me too.” He puts down the champagne flutes, grabs and handful of ice and holds it to his neck. You watch breathlessly as it melts against his skin, trickling down his shirt. You grip your chest helplessly, not daring to remove your hands and do the same.

He notices the way your eyes linger on him. “Do you want me to…?” He thinks the longing look is for something cold when in actual fact, you’re jealous that the ice gets to roll down his delicious neck. You nod and he takes another handful of ice. He gets on his knees and leans over you, pressing it against your neck.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine and sink back into the corner of the sofa, feeling the crushed ice melting against your throat. 

You can’t do anything except grab your own tits and try to steady your breathing as he holds it against you. But even as you breathe, the smell of his expensive cologne breaches your lungs.

“Your - your cologne is nice,” you say in an attempt to make conversation that isn’t about how good he’s making you feel right now. “What kind is it?”

“It’s bespoke. There’s a - a place in Paris that…” He trails off and you realise the ice has melted completely and he’s just holding your neck. Jeffrey’s hand is furnace-like. But it doesn’t make you feel any worse, on the contrary, it sends a pleasant tingling sensation through your body. Like his touch is answering the unasked question that you’re screaming internally. “Did that help?”

“The ice didn’t… But this is.”

You hope he won’t force you to elaborate that his skin touching yours is the only thing that’s making you feel better right now. 

“Me too,” he says but before you get the chance to respond, his knee slips on the leather and his hips fall between your open legs. You feel his hard cock pressing against the seam of your jeans, right onto your clit. “Oh, fuck,” he groans. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” But despite his babbled stream of apology, he doesn’t pull back. 

Doesn’t stop.

His hand moves from your throat to lace the hair at the nape of your neck as he grinds himself against you. And you realise now, he’s getting the same relief from physical contact that you’re feeling. The only difference is that you’re restraining yourself much better than he is right now. And while Jeffrey might be kind of a nerd, he’s bigger and stronger than you. You’re not sure you could fight him off. Even if you wanted to.

“Jeffrey?” you say uncertainly - not because it doesn’t feel good but because you feel like you should for his sake. The irony isn’t lost on you that after all your complaints about Fin respecting your free will, you want Jeffrey to ignore it. 

That you want him to pin you down and get off however he likes.

It seems to jolt something in him. “Shit.” He jerks his hips back slightly and your whole body screams in protest. “I don’t know what - I don’t know why I did that.”

Your pussy throbs. “Do it again,” you whisper.

“Wha - really?”

Jeffrey looks down from your face to your body and back again. You breathe deeply, trying to calm yourself.

“Unless - unless you don’t want to?” you breathe.

Jeffrey swoops down and shuts you up, kissing you like he’s been wanting to do it for fucking years. You can’t thread your hands through his curly hair the way you want to because his chest is trapping your hands firmly against your tits. Instead, you pant as his tongue licks inside your mouth. His teeth pull on your sensitive bottom lip, harder than you expected, but you like it. More than like it.

Jeffrey’s tongue slides down your neck, tasting the combination of sweat and melted ice on your skin. His hands push up the bottom of your soaked tank top and with reluctance, you release the comforting grip on your chest. Your discomfort is quickly replaced with pleasure when he pushes your breasts together with his own warm hands and sucks urgently on your nipples like he can’t decide which one he wants to pay attention to first.

You squirm underneath him. You need these jeans off. You need his everything off.

“Fuck - let me - let me see you,” you whimper.

“Mhm,” he murmurs and detaches himself from your nipple. “In a minute.”

He resumes his frantic sucking and slobbering all over your tits. The pulsing in your clit can’t be fucking ignored now. Every flick of his tongue against your chest makes your core clench and tighten.

“Please, Jeffrey.” You barely recognise the pathetic plea that leaves your lips. What he’s doing feels good, sure, but you need him to fuck you. It’s not just a want. You think you might spontaneously combust if he doesn’t start paying attention to your pussy.

He lifts himself off you and starts taking off his shirt. You watch his fingers undo every button as you carelessly yank off your jeans and underwear in one fell swoop and toss them into a pile with your shoes and sweater onto the luxuriously carpeted floor. 

“Oh, god,” you say, in annoyance as he removes his shirt and you can see his muscular chest and toned stomach. “Of course you have abs.”

“And you’re mad about that?” he smirks.

“Because you have everything. You’re fucking… ugh, you’re fucking perfect.”

“Well,” he says, undoing his belt. “If that’s the case, you’re going to be really pissed off when you see this.”

That arrogant piece of -

Your train of thought is cut off when he takes his cock in his hand. 

He’s right. 

You’re furious. 

Furious that not only does Jeffrey have a perfect face and perfect body has a fucking perfect cock too. Suddenly your mouth feels dry. You know a thing or two about dating men on Forbes’ Richest List - and all previous experience has shown you that the Venn Diagram of billionaires, tiny dicks and premature ejaculators is practically a circle.

But Jeffrey? It looks like Jeffrey is a fucking outlier. Well, at least on the first two.

“I hate you right now,” you complain, and lie back down, watching him stroke himself between your legs. 

“I can change your mind,” he grins and lowers his head to kiss your stomach.

As soon as his lips graze your soft skin, your thigh muscles twitch. “Ah, fuck. No - wait. Just fuck me. Please,” you whine.

You don’t really understand why you’re saying it. If there’s something you love it’s having a powerful man with his face buried between your legs. God knows you’ve been through enough of them. 

But something - something chemical - at the back of your mind is yelling at you that you need fucked. Hard. Now.

“You don’t want me to -?”

“Later,” you plead. 

You don’t need to tell him twice. From the sight of his leaking cock, you know why. The same ache is pulsing through his veins. 

“Fuck, c’mere,” he grunts, pulling you closer by the hips. Jeffrey runs the head of his cock along your dripping slit and you almost cry out with need.

“Just put it in - oh, fuck -“

The instruction on your lips is cut off when he pushes forcefully through your folds. As soon as he fully sheathes himself, he slides his hands under your shoulders, pressing his full body weight into yours as he starts thrusting into you.

Normally, you’re a perfectionist. Your profession demands it, of course, but your demands don’t stop in the kitchen. In the bedroom, you have a particular way of liking things to be done and you’re not shy about expressing them. But right now, for the first time ever, your body doesn’t care about the finer details. Your pleasure doesn’t need to be carefully constructed in the exact way and order you’ve previously always needed. 

All your pussy craves is exactly what Jeffrey is doing to it - which is fucking pounding you with seemingly zero regard for your own pleasure. As soon as he feels your pussy squeezing around him, some kind of basic instinct takes over and he’s merely using you as a tight hole to fuck himself into.

“Jesus, fuck, Jeffrey…”

You wrap your legs around his little waist, opening your hips up further so he can drill right into your G-spot. Your walls clamp and convulse around him as every sloppy, wet thrust draws your orgasm closer and closer.

“Fuckfuckfuck - yesssss,” you sob through gritted teeth right in his ear. You can tell by the way his fist in your hair tightens at the noises you’re making that he loves hearing you moan so unashamedly. 

And you’re right. Because Jeffrey never thought you’d be like this. Always keeping him at arm’s length as a professional acquaintance. Never anything more. A fleeting flirtation maybe once or twice in all the years you’d known him. But never any indication that made him think you actually liked him. Never anything that would have him guessing that one day you’d end up wriggling underneath him, practically fucking yourself up into him and whimpering in his ear.

You can feel your pussy leaking all over Finn’s leather sofa when he moans something raggedly into the juncture of your neck. Your name.

Oh - fuck.

You were sort of lost in the fuzzy, clouded haze of how good he felt you almost forgot it was Jeffrey Steinberg who was fucking you until you heard your name on his lips. Jeffrey Steinberg and his slutty, dorky little glasses and his perfect fucking body that you can’t even see right now because you’re staring at the wood-panelled ceiling. 

“Let me - let me see you,” you pant and gently push on his shoulders. 

Jeffrey lifts himself off of you and without pulling out, keeps fucking you on his knees with one of your legs over his shoulder. Fuck - this angle. He’s so deep. And, Christ, so beautiful. His toned body is sticky with sweat, right down to the smattering of hair covering his lower abdomen. You look down to see his thick cock sliding in and out of you.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. So fucking sloppy,” he groans, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he too looks over your body, watching your tits bounce with every slapping thrust into you. 

His concentration face is cute. Devastatingly so. But something’s missing…

“Where’s your glasses?”

Jeffrey’s hand caresses your face and the heel of his palm moves the wire frames, making you realise you’re still wearing them.

“Do you want them back?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“You look slutty in them too,” he says and cups your face. He drags his thumb across your lip and you open your mouth so you can suck it.

“Mm-mm-mm…” Your hum around his thumb, stuttered by every pounding of his hips against yours gives you something to concentrate on. God, you’re so close. So fucking close. And you try to stop bucking your hips because you really, don’t want to cum just yet.

But it’s like Jeffrey is reading your mind.

“You gonna cum for me?”

You bite your lip and shake your head. Because instinct tells you that as soon as you both cum, whatever hormones Nico has pumped into these oysters will probably leave your system. And that this will all be over. That you’ll go back to being friends.

“Not - fuck - not yet.” Is all you can manage to stammer as Jeffrey’s hips continue their relentless pursuit into yours.

“C’mon, I can tell you’re close,” he says, right as your pussy clenches around his length. “We’ve been down here for so long. Aren’t you tired of waiting?”

“I don’t - oh, god… I don’t want this to be over.” Jeffrey looks at you so intently that you need to shut your eyes. It’s like staring at the sun - if you don’t look away you’ll get burned. “Not yet. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet…” The words keep spilling out like a mantra. If you keep repeating it, it’ll be true - right?

Wrong.

Everything pulls up in your core and tightens like a spring coiling. Oh, shit.

“This isn’t going to be over after you cum. It’s never going to be over. You’re trapped down here with me, remember?”

Fuck.

“Eyes on me,” he continues. “Look at me when you cum.” You look up at Jeffrey helplessly through his own askew, slightly steamed-up glasses still on your face. “I’ve wanted to see you like this for - for so long.”

Like this? With your flushed cheeks and messy hair and sweat practically pooling on your stomach from the heat? The corners of his mouth turn upwards in a gentle smile, showing off his dimples before he turns his head to kiss your calf leaning against his shoulder. 

It’s so sweet. You’re done for. 

There’s no stopping your orgasm now as you feel a surge of heat and the contracting of muscles in your abdomen.

“So - fuck - so fucking pretty,” he says through gritted teeth as he watches you squirm. The pleasant way you wriggle against him and force yourself to maintain eye contact spurs him on. He grabs your hips and fucks himself as fast and as deep as he can into you, pounding into your G-spot as you speed past the point of no return. “That’s it, baby, you can cum for me.”

Christ.

“Fuck, Jeffrey, I’m - fuck  - I’m -”

But just what you are is cut off when your climax takes hold of you and shuts down your loquaciousness. Everything goes black and you barely realise what’s happening - all you can focus on is your pussy camping down and spasming around him. It’s only when you feel the sensation of his glasses pressed into your face do you realise Jeffrey is kissing you. 

He grinds his hips deep into yours, cumming deep inside you as your own ecstasy sends fireworks ricocheting from your core right to your extremities. 

.Jeffrey sits back on his knees again, his hips still rocking gently into you, forcing the combined mess of his cum and your wetness to spill down between your legs and all over Fin’s couch.

“Jeffrey, that was - ”

“We’re not done yet,” says Jeffrey smearing a wet thumb across your clit. “I told you - you’re trapped here with me.”

Your eyes roll back in your head. 

You think you might need to revisit your Venn diagram.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Jeffrey both lie, sprawled out and naked on the carpeted floor of the speakeasy. Both wet. Both sticky. Both trying to catch your breath. You have no idea where his glasses are.

Your mind feels clearer now and you wonder if his does too. You turn your head to look at him, frowning up at the ceiling. 

“Jeffrey, are you alright…?”

“I’m worse than Fin,” he groans. 

Worse than Fin? This is serious. In your eyes, nobody is worse than Fin. You prop yourself up on your elbow. “What do you mean?”

“Always trying to get what I can’t have.”

Your frown. “I don’t understand. What can’t you have?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He runs his hand through his hair in that stressed-out way he always does. “The fact you thought I was a good customer? When all I was doing was parading my dates in front of you in a stupid attempt to make you jealous.”

“You - you were?” The thought that Jeffrey didn’t just want you because he’s ingested god-knows-what chemicals Nico has pumped into those oysters sends a pleasant tingle down your spine.

He laughs at himself scornfully. “I never wanted to be there with them. I just wanted an excuse to see you.”

“Are you kidding me?”

He’s startled by your tone. “What?”

“It took a fucking asteroid hitting Earth for you to admit you like me?”

“You never seemed interested!”

“What was I gonna say? ‘Hey, Jeffrey. I know you’re busy being a literal genius but I’m just about finished braising some fish if you’d like a meeting of the minds after this?’”

“Yeah? Well, what was I going to say to you? ‘Hey, I know you’re the most talented, in-demand chef in the world but can I take you to someone else’s restaurant?’”

“Uh? Yeah!”

“Oh.” You both look at each other and bust out laughing at the absurdity of this conversation. “I’m really not as smart as they say,” he says, closing his eyes in amusement.

You let the back of your hand fall on his bare chest, hitting him playfully.

“Well, I’m not exactly ‘in-demand’ anymore.”

“I wouldn’t say that just yet,” says Jeffrey with a smirk. Without warning he climbs on top of you. “I can be pretty demanding.”

[nights-legacy]

Body Snatched - All Might (platonic)

Masterlist ~ MHA Masterlist ~ #2

Body Snatched Masterlist

2839 words

Warnings: unwanted touching, attempted assault, language, violence, vague mention of injury (let me know please if any need added)

Life as the daughter of the Number 1 hero was difficult. Especially, because you didn't know who you could trust and who was only out there to use you. So when the one person you loved most outside your dad was used against you by someone who works for your father, you shut down. You think that no one should see you down and out so you try to keep up facades even with your father.

Your best friend was the younger brother of Naomasa Tsukauchi, Akira. Since Detective Tsukauchi was close friends with your dad, you became friends with Akira, who was only a year older. You would think you could trust the people your dad works with but apparently not. A sidekick, Concussion, had accompanied your dad to UA and due to some foul play, was switched with Akira. Unfortunately, this sidekick had taken an unhealthy liking to you and was going to use this to his advantage.

~

I rubbed my neck, lowly groaning from the training session I helped my dad with for Class 1A. I heard someone walking up behind me. I looked to see my dad in his skinny form. He gave me a loving smile.

"I'm sorry for the rough training, Sweetie." He set a hand on my shoulder.

"It's alright. I'm kinda used to it by now. I mean, I survived my first year and it's only going to get worse right?" I laughed. He chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Plus, I have to make sure you are training Midoriya right and not overdoing it at the same time." I gave him a pointed look. He rolled his eyes but smiled.

"It's not all me! He tends to overwork himself! live immensely." We both laughed.

"It'll get better. It may get worse before it gets better but it'll get better." I gave him a side hug. He pulled me in tighter.

"Thanks Sweetie." He cradled my head. "You know I thought you were going to be upset with me for not choosing you for the successor."

"No, it's fine. I understand. I wasn't a right fit. It doesn't bother me. Midoriya is perfect for One for All."

"You sure?" He pulled back, looking at me unsure.

"Yes!" I chuckled. "You've told me the quirk chooses its users. You can't help who it chooses. It's nothing personal." He relaxed.

"Alright." We paused when someone out of sight called for him. He sighed before proofing into his All Might form. "I'll see you later. Dinner?"

"Yep. Bye!" I waved before running towards the 2nd year locker rooms. I took a quick shower before getting back into my uniform. The day was over but I didn't have any street clothes with me. I dug through my bag as I exited the locker room, looking for my phone. I groaned when I found it dead.

"Hey there, hottie." I looked up quickly to see Akira leaning against the opposite wall. He was smirking while looking me up and down.

"Akira. 3rd year locker rooms are that way." I moved in closer.

"Oh? Well, thank you for the directions. I'll be sure to remember that next time." He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in. I chuckled.

"Sure you will." I kissed him. He smiled against my lips and kissed me back hungrily. I pulled away reluctantly. "Come on. Let's go to the spot."

"Yeah. Let's go." He pushed away from the wall, grabbing my hand. We walked quickly. We were about halfway across campus when he suddenly stumbled.

"Akira?" he grabbed his head, stumbling back into a wall. He was wincing in pain. "Akira! What's wrong?! Hey..."

"Shit..." I cupped his face while he seemed to be calming down. I checked him over, seeing if he had any visual wounds on the outside.

"Can you open your eyes for me?" He nodded and after a few seconds, he was able to pry his eyes open. They were hazed over for a moment before he blinked them clear. His pupils were almost shaking as his eyes refocused. "There we go. Just breathe."

"Ouch. That hurt." He groaned while I rubbed his temples.

"What was that?" I asked softly. He seemed to remember I was there and focused on me. He smiled and set a hand on my hip.

"Um, a sudden headache. I must have moved too quickly or overdid it in training. I'm alright." I let my hands fall to his shoulders.

"You sure?" I rubbed circles with my thumb on his neck.

"Yeah. I'm sure. Come here." He reached up, cupping the back of my neck before pulling me forward. He kissed me fiercely and sloppily. It was sudden and I couldn't keep up with his pace.

"Hey!" I pulled away. He tried to chase my lips but I pushed him back with a hand on his chest. "Not in the hallway, remember?" Confusion flashed in his eyes but was quickly replaced by excitement again.

"Right. Right." I chuckled before pulling him along. An alarm bell went off in the back of my head but I shook it off.

3rd POV

All Might was going over some performance reports for some students with Aizawa and Vlad King. He was just about to let his form change when his sidekick walked in. He took a big breath, holding on a little longer.

"There you are, Concussion. I thought you may have left for the day." All Might greeted. When he didn't get a reply, he looked up. Concussion was standing nervous and fidgety. "Something wrong?"

"Um, yeah there is." He said after a moment. All Might set down his papers to give him his full attention. The sleepy hero next to him even perked up.

"Okay. What is it lad?" Concussion took a moment to gather the right words.

"I'm not Concussion, Yagi-san." The two heroes shared a look. "I'm AkiraTsukauchi, Yagi-san."

"What?"

"It's true. One moment, I was walking with Y/N down the hall and the next I was hit with a headache. I close my eyes for one second and when I was somewhere else in Concussion's body."

"So, you're saying that my sidekick, who I don't trust near my child due to his obsession with flirting with my child, is in your body with my child somewhere, alone? And Y/N doesn't know?" All Might asked. Concussion's head nodded. The smile dropped off of All Might's face. In a low, dark voice he asked, "Where?"

Y/N's POV

Akira was acting like an animal. As soon as we made it to the storeroom he was on me. He picked me up and sat me on a desk, wedging himself between my legs. There was barely any time before he was leaving marks on my neck.

"Hey, slow down." I chuckled. Hiking my leg over his hip, I leant my head to the side so he had more room. "Don't I get a turn? You're hogging your lips."

"Well, we can't have that can we?" He brought his face up to mine. The sound of his voice was off but I played it off as lust. As his lips met mine, I wrapped one arm around his neck while I trailed my other hand down to his tie. I youred it off before unbuttoning his shirt One handed.

"Damn. Always so hot." I said against his lips. I pulled back from the kiss only to push him away. He stumbled back and landed on his butt. I didn't let him even move before straddling his lap, hands roaming everywhere. I attacked my lips to his collarbone.

"Damn, darlin'. Impatient?" I froze as his words registered in my head. It wasn't just the words themselves, It was the nickname 'Darlin' and the accent drawl that went with it that definitely not Akira's normal voice . I pulled back slowly, removing my hands from him. There was only one person that fit both those bills. "What? Say somethin' wrong?"

"Concussion?"

"Yes, darlin'?" My blood went cold as his face paled in realization. "Fuck."

"You pervert!" I screamed. I scrambled off his lap and turned to run for my bag. I didn't get far when he grabbed my ankle and twisted, yanking me off my feet. There was a pop in my ankle, shooting pain up my leg. He crawled onto the back of my legs, grabbing my wrists. I felt Akira's tie being tied around my wrist. "Get off me!"

"No chance darlin. I have been wanting this ever since the first time I saw you in your dads office. I'm not lettin’ this chance go to feel you body fully." I grimaced as I struggled against the bonds.

"Disgusting piece of shit." I snapped. He turned me over and slapped me across the face. I glared at him and went to kick him but he pinned my legs down. He leant down and brushed his lips over my ear.

"Face it. You're stuck. No way out. So just let it happen." He whispered in my ear. His hand trailed my bare stomach and messed with the waistband of my bottoms. I started to struggle more as he tried to pull them down. He moved off me to pull them down and I took the chance. I kicked him broadside on the head. "Ah!"

"That's what you get." I mumbled as I wiggled away.

"You bitch!" His glare was deadly, it was hitting harder since it was Akira's face.

"Stay away from me." I growled.

"Not a ch..."

"y/N!" The door burst open and we both turned to see my dad. I turned to Concussion to see him pale as a ghost.

"Fuck." He muttered. Aizawa and Concussion's body stormed in behind my dad. As they closed in on him, I was finally able to get the tie off my wrists. A rock settled in the pit of my stomach.

How could I let him deceive me? How could I let him get me like this? I thought to myself, beating myself up. I flinched as I heard Akira's voice yelling out disgusting things and profanities. I jumped when I heard someone kneal next to me. Glancing over, I saw my dad reaching for me. My stomach turned at the thought of him comforting me.

"I'm fine." I pushed my dad away, not being able to handle his worrying over me.

"Sweetie..." I got up, flinching as I put pressure on my hurt ankle. I turned away from him, wiping the tears from my face. I didn't want anyone to see me torn.

"They were all over me first!" I flinched at the exclamation.

"Only because I thought you were..." I went to yell back but just the sight of him and the thought who was actually behind those eyes cut me off, bile rising in my throat. I bit my lip, turning away. "I'm going to Recovery Girl..."

"You were enjoying it regard..."

"I suggest you stop talking, Concussion." I heard my dad say firmly.

A little while later, I sat on a bed in Recovery Girl's office. I had one knee held to my chest while my other leg was propped on a pillow with an ice pack on my ankle. My head was leaning on my knee, on the verge of dozing off.

"Sweetie..." I jumped from the sudden voice next to me. I lifted my head to see my dad. My eyes stung as tears tried to force their way up. I turned away, sucking in a sudden breath. "Oh darling."

"Don't." I forced the words out past the lump in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Y/N, please look at me."

"No." I shook my head. He sighed before sitting next to me.

"Alright. At least listen to me." He set his hand on my shoulder. "Just because your All Might's child, doesn't mean you have to be strong and unaffected by everything that happens to you. You're also Toshinori Yagi's child, my child. My child who is allowed to be a scared kid. Someone who is allowed to break when they've been hurt badly."

"But..."

"No buts. You don't always have to be the Number 1 hero's daughter. Let yourself not be okay. Sweetie, Please." The air around us was tense and I peaked over my shoulder at him. "It's okay to break, especially after that. Don't hold it all inside."

"Daddy!" The dam finally broke and I burst out in tears. I let him gather me in his arms as I broke down. He didn't try to shush me but consoled me as best he could.

"I should have fired him as soon as he even flirted with you. I should have...It won't happen again Sweetie. He will be arrested as soon as the two switch back."

"How did this even happen? Akira was with me!" I choked.

"Concussion struck a deal with a villian that used their quirk to switch the two. It didn't matter where either was at, as long as the villain had a personal item from both parties." The explanation made me cry more.

"So could there have been other times that it was Concussion and not Akira?"

"It could have happened but Concussion claims it was only this one time and Akira doesn't remember any occurrences like this." I blindly reached for the tissues on the nearby table. Dad reached over and plucked one for me. "Here you go."

"Thank you. That's good to know." I blew my nose while leaning against his chest. Even in his skinny form, dad was a tall man.

"Did he do anything to you?" There was an unspoken part to that question. I thought about how to answer.

"A little. Most everything happened before I realized it was Concussion." I tossed the tissue away.

"Like what?" I flinched not wanting to talk about it but I knew it was for the best.

"He slapped me and tied me up. He hurt my ankle too." I pointed to my propped ankle. "He was able to actually touch me before you came in."

"Thank god." He hugged me tight. I nodded slightly. "How did you realize it wasn't Akira?"

"His voice. I don't know if you noticed but even in Akira's body, he had his accent drawl. He also called me Darlin which Akira doesn't do because I don't like the nickname due to Concussion."

"Oh, I didn't notice. I guess I was seeing too much red to pay attention to that detail." He pet the back of my head as I finally started calming down. He got a phone call and I went to pull away but he didn't let go. "No it's alright. Hello?"

"Okay." I whispered as I stayed put. I tuned his and his conversation out, hearing him use his "business" voice as I called it. It always told me that he was on the phone for hero business or something similar.

"Thank you, Tsukauchi. I'll ask them if they want too." I perked up at the name. I pulled back as he hung up. I cocked my head in silent question. "The two were switched back and Concussion was taken into custody. Hero license revoked permanently."

"Okay." I looked down at my hands. "Akira?"

"He's okay but really upset. He feels responsible."

"Why? He didn't do anything, nor could he control what happened."

"Since it was his body, he feels like he played a part."

"Yeah, an unwilling one!" I exclaimed, wiping leftover  tears from my face. "Where is he? I want to talk to him."

"Slow down! He is with his brother right now. You need to sit and rest. You and both know you need time no matter how strong you are. You can see him soon but for now, rest." He took my hand. Taking a big breath, I agreed.

He got up to go talk to Recovery Girl for a few minutes. I noticed he had brought my bag with him and reached for it. I took out my phone and charger to plug it in, letting it charge for a moment before turning it on. Upon waking up, there was a text from Akira. I smiled and felt more tears come to my eyes, but happy ones this time.

"Here." A water bottle was held out in front of my eyes. I looked up to see dad holding it out.

"Thanks." I set the phone aside before taking the bottle. I drank quietly for a minute.

"Everything will be okay." He said softly.

"I know." I smiled up at dad. He returned before a glint went through his eyes.

"Now, do we need to have a talk about why you and Akira had a "spot" you two disappeared too?" He used air quotes to enunciate the word. I blanched and he smirked. "Well?"

"Umm, well, you see...shit."

"Uh huh. That's what I thought." He turned around and I scrambled for my phone.

Tag List: @lilparcheesie @dxnaii-rxse @iris-shihabi @cl0verbby @keigos-baby-bird

[elgascreamslikehell]

I definitely lost in the time and date so i missed (AGAIN) a lot of posts i was tagged in but still.

So let it be tidbit Tuesday (even if it's technically still Monday in Poland i just hate Mondays) and i used to be tagged by my sweet @pirrusstuff last week so here it is and yes I'm super late.

*** ‘Well, mr. Buckley. It all looks very good. We can take off your blindfold now..’, - Buck exhales: ‘Finally!’,- doctor smiles: ‘Yeah, i understand, you must be tired of being blind but it takes a little time, close your eyes, please, till i unravel your bandage’ Buck closes his eyes and for some reason holds his breath also, that's a little paranoid treat but what if.. nah, it will be fine and… He finally will look at people. Eddie. He looks at Eddie. He misses him. Even if they spent all their time together lately, he misses him. ‘Okay. Do you want me to call your companion before you open your eyes?’, - ‘Yes!’, - Buck exhales. He really wants Eddie to be the first person he finally sees, so he definitely can wait a minute or two for that. ‘Okay. Don't peek then!’, - he can hear doctor's giggling *** ‘Hi, Eddie…well.’, - Maddie was a bit late but she can't miss her little brother's last check. And now she's just standing here, trying not to laugh ‘Hello, Maddie? What's wrong?’ - Eddie keeps staring at the door but he catches her voice sounds funny. ‘Did you… did you look in the mirror in the morning?’, - he did, he looks like any other person who has not enough sleep, what does she mean? ‘Yes, what? Please don't tell me I have toothpaste all over my face, we just overslept and Chris runs late to school and… really, why are you laughing?!’, - she tries to stop but with no success: ‘Nothing… I mean.. Oh Eddie. Just try to wear a turtleneck when you go to work, but… I'm not sure it would help’, - he scoffs but then understanding hits him making him visibly embarrassed and she proceeds: ‘It’s nice to see your happy face though, usually you don't have one’ And then - about time, because Eddie fails to find any arguments about him not usually having a happy face - there's Buck's doctor opening the door ‘Mr. Diaz? Would you like to attend the reveal?’, - Eddie looks at Maddie. She's Buck's sister after all, he needs to step away, but she just smiles: ‘Go, ‘mr. Diaz’, i think my brother should see his… you’

And guys,as far as I'm a piece of... and post like super rarely - i need to update my taglist to not bother happy people not wanting to have anything with me so please interact with this post in any acceptable by you means.

Btw, we're like really close to finishing, in my head there should be one big scene. Now I'm just fighting myself not to add MORE GLASS and just kill everyone i like in this story. It's hard. I mean i really had to delete one of my previous finishing pieces because i died inside when i reread it.

And last but actually the first main thing!

@steadfastsaturnsrings and @pirrusstuff i believe I told you already but i repeat - I love you so~o much and you are my only reason to proceed with this story and Tumblr in general cause hello real life sucks.

[onmyyan]

Hi lovey, I’m so sorry to bother you but I’m having a really rough time rn and I was wondering how the Delmont boys would react to their darlings overhearing their boss calling them an ungrateful bitch (currently going through this situation, but don’t worry, I’m leaving this job soon)

A/N: Omfg baybeee I'm so sorry your boss is such a waste of space piece of shit dw I got u.also omg sorry this took so long NOT EDITED 

FT: Cas, Gabe, Ricky

Caspian would lose his ever loving mind, first and foremost his concern is your safety and well-being so when he hears about this?? He'd first reassure you that what that man said was ab absolute and filthy lie, he'd hold your head to his chest and just sit with you, whispering all the ways that horrid man was wrong, how you were the most incredible person he'd ever gotten the grace to meet and how that rodent of a man meant nothing, his views mean nothing, he was nothing, and you're everything. He tries to avoid getting his hands too dirty, but for this one in particular, he needs to be the one to end the bastards life, he needs to make him hurt.

Gabe is seeing red, he has to force himself not to lose it in order to console you, he'd sit on the couch with an exaggerated sigh and pat his lap. "C'mere babydoll, let me hold ya for a while- please? Because if I don't do something to calm down I don't know what I'll do to that guy." You giggle, not knowing how serious he was being and relented, taking a seat in his lap with a satisfied sigh, he had your head under his chin, his fingers rubbing calm circles into your back, "Tell me how to help you baby, I hate to see that look on your face." Eventually the pampering and cuddles would make you forget it even happened, but Gabe doesn't forget. He gets even. His version of it just so happens to involve beating your boss within an inch of his life.

Ricky cradles your face in his hands, kissing away at the tears rolling down your cheeks. He hated seeing you like this- it made his skin feel like thousands of little bugs were crawling all over him, "You know he just said that because he's a miserable old fuck who can't get it up no more right?" He'd wrap you in a blanket and rest with you in his arms, sat comfortably at the desk in his home office. "What's his name again? Hold on." He leaned forward with one hand, and began furiously typing. You sat facing him, too lost in his warmth to notice his actions, his free hand cradling you closer to his chest. "Hmm, yeah well," he hit send on the email before resting his hand against your head, thumb tenderly rubbing the spot, "-He'll begetting fired tomorrow, don't worry." You leaned back to cock an eyebrow at his statement. "What? Don't give me that face," he laughed swooping down to steal a kiss, "He had it coming.”

[nomoreusername]

What You Deserve (Part 1)

Pairing:Aris x female reader

Summary:After the betrayal with Teresa Aris spills darker secrets than you could have ever imagined.

Honestly, I have no clue how one person could be so oblivious, so blind, to why someone might be avoiding them. While it's true that I haven't directly told Aris the reason I'm so pissed off I shouldn't need to say it.

"Y/N,"He called, following me out of the kitchen.

"What do you want?"I sighed, not bothering to stop in my tracks.

"Can you please tell me what's wrong?"He asked again. I scoffed before accidentally letting out a bitter laugh.

"What's wrong? Seriously? You are so daft sometimes,"I snapped.

"I don't know what's going on. Can you please just tell me?"He repeated.

"Go ask Teresa,"I absentmindedly commented. He went unusually silent as I stopped to glare at him.

"I told you why that happened,"He whispered.

"No. You told everyone why it happened,"I pointed out. Like the idiot he is he was still confused.

"You explained one time then expected everyone to move on. Guess what Aris? Everyone else can move on because they aren't dating you. They aren't someone who's with you for some insane reason while also living with that girl you had to kiss might I add."

"Exactly. Had to. I wouldn't have done it if I had a choice."

"Did you say you love her?"I asked.

"Y/N-"

"Answer the question,"I demanded.

"Does it matter?"

I stared at him in disbelief at what I was hearing.

"Of course it matters. You haven't tried to talk to me one time about what happened. You gave the most vague explanation with her standing next to you, and I'm just supposed to accept it and say everything's okay between us? That nothing will change? I'm supposed to forget this? I can't because you won't even try to tell me anything. Not once did you come to me and try to tell me what went on. How do you think that feels?"

"I don't know,"He mumbled.

"Then, I'll help you. I'll put a nice visual in your head. There I am right next to, let's say Newt. He's attractive so he definitely works for this,"I stated, stopping so my words would sink in. I was aware of the worry he had felt in a pit of worry in his stomach when Newt and I seemed to quickly bond. I assured Aris he was the only boy I could ever want, and while that is still true, I wanted him to hurt at least half as much as I did.

"I'm standing there right next to Newt after we both disappeared for two days. Standing beside us is somebody very beaten up, and all I say is I have to is 'I had to'. That girl, you know what, let's just say Harriet,"I added, knowing how close they are. I wanted this to be as descriptive as possible so he feels what I had to.

No. That's the wrong thing statement. I need him to feel what I still am feeling every second I'm around one of them, or even worse, both of them.

"She's your friend too, right? Like how Teresa was mine. Beside us is an injured Harriet. You later find out, not even from me, that I kissed Newt. How do you feel Aris? Can you see it? Because I can very well give you so much more detail. I can give you every image you need,"I snapped.

He looked at me completely silent. All I could do was cross my arms and keep my cold stare.

"Some things were said, but all of them were lies. Everything was a lie. I don't want anyone else Y/N. I want you,"He repeated. By now his words were empty.

"I can't believe you when you wouldn't even try to explain anything,"I shrugged, acting like it still didn't shatter my heart to think about.

"Nothing I say is going to fix this, is it?"He asked, almost silent.

"I don't think so,"I admitted.

"So are you breaking up with me?"He asked, his voice a trembling whisper.

"I don't know,"I repeated. This time my words weren't meant to feel like a knife through the chest. They were true. "I don't think we should be together right now,"I finally spoke up.

"But is that really what you want?"He asked, his voice cracking. I just stared at the ground. "Please tell me it's not,"He begged.

"Of course not, but I can't deal with this right now. There's already so much going on. This will only make everything worse,"I whispered, my words only getting more and more true as the reality of them set in. Still, they had to be said.

"If I tell you the full truth would you stay?"He asked, seeming to struggle with the decision.

"I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything right now."

"But there's a chance?"He asked.

"I don't know,"I shrugged, not knowing how anything he had to say could solve this.

"But it might be there?"

"If you want to say something just say it,"I pleaded, wanting this to be done. Not us but this conversation. My mind is a thousand places at once. This is only sending me spiraling even more.

"Then, I'll take it. Y/N, I built the mazes,"He admitted.

"You already told me that. I was the first person in the Spring who knew about what your role in WICKED was,"I pointed out.

"Not really. No,"He murmered.

His words took me by surprise. So much so that I had to look up at him. They were briming with tears.

"I didn't just build the mazes Y/N. I remember them."

"What do you mean you remember them?"I asked, taking a step towards him. He just stared at the ground before shaking his head.

"Aris, what do you mean you remember them?"

"When I came up in the box I had my memories. It was part of a plan."

For a moment my heart seemed to stop beating as all the blood rushed to my ears. I desperately wanted him to stop talking and take his words back. Instead, he kept going.

"I didn't know much about the Scorch Trials, but I didn't think anyone would die. I didn't know I had to do this. Please Y/N. I didn't know anything would go this far."

"So Teresa, and Thomas, do they know?"I asked.

"No. Just Teresa,"He confessed.

"And what did you do when we were in the mazes,"I repeated.

"The Beatles Blades,"He whispered.

"So you were a spy? While we were suffering, while my friends were dead, while I almost died that one time when I touched the fake sky, you saw all that?"

"Some of it,"He muttered, sounding like he was filled with well deserved guilt. I wonder is it's real or it's an act. Maybe because he wants me to believe him. He's good at fooling me.

"You've been lying to me. People are dead, and you sat there and watched. We were all in the freezing snow, sometimes secretly crying ourselves to sleep, which you probably saw as well, right? Did you watch while I sat against the walls and pathetically, silently sobbed?"

He stayed quiet as tears he didn't deserve to cry steamed down his face. He deserved to feel like breaking down, but he didn't deserve to do it. He didn't deserve anything.

"Did it feel nice? To stay in a place that didn't involve risking your life by running mindlessly like a lab rat? Did you like seeing the way I desperately skated the maze? How about the times the Griever's would drag away the bodies or when we'd have to kill and even banish our friends? Did you enjoy it?"I taunted, my voice low and full of venom.

When he didn't say anything I stepped forward until I was right in front of him. He trembled as he looked up at me.

"Was it nice Aris?"I repeated, dangerously calm.

"No. No. I swear. Just please, I didn't think anything would be like this. Please Y/N. Listen to me,"He begged, trying to make me look at him. I slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch me,"I scowled.

"Please. I'm different now. If I could take it back I would,"He swore, now hysterical. I couldn't even look at him as I turned around and tried to leave only for him to hold my wrist and keep pleading for me to just look at him.

"If I look at you I'm going to hurt you, and I mean it. I will do what you did to Thomas and more. I will leave you looking like someone who crawled out of the Greiver hole,"I promised. Because his words may be empty but mine never will be. I will always follow through on what I say, and I will mean it.

"I don't care. Just look at me,"He begged, more sobs seeming to echo through the Berg. I pulled my arm away, and he didn't stop me.

"Please. I can't live without you,"He uttered as I walked down the hall.

I didn't stop to think about the next words that left my mouth as I turned to face him. He had dropped to the floor and had the nerve to look me in the eye as he seemed to feel some remorse for what he had done. He didn't feel remorse when he lied to all of us though. In fact, he still was. He has trapped us for years.

Maybe if he had admitted everything to me from the start I could have found some middle ground. He didn't though. He had sat there and acted like a terrified Blondie as Beth kept saying we should banish him. She had said from the start he was bad news. Several other girls had.

And what did I do? I protected him. I had even saved his life in the maze, and he had essentially been spitting in my face. He had used me. Maybe me falling in love with him was another sick part of his plan. It wouldn't surprise me anymore. Nothing would.

That's why I said what I said next.

"Then, die."

He clapped a hand over his mouth as he started to cry harder.

"You look more pathetic than I did believing you. You sit there and bawl your eyes out. It will never make me come back to you. Each tear you shed only makes me despise you more because I did that so many nights. I cried and cried while I thought about if I had a family, friends, or even I was in some twisted prison, and you know what you did?"

He just buried his face in his hands while his hysterics continued.

"You let it happen. If you truly think you need me to live then you better find a way to stop because I can't stand you. You better learn how to stop needing me because I will never love you. Aris, I hate you,"I scowled, wanting to kick him until he was covered in bruises. He had manipulated everyone, and just because he told me the truth he had some twisted expectation that I could not only forgive the betrayal, but the way he had ruined my life. Just the thought of him, the sight of him, disgusted me.

He screamed into his hand, and I heard the agony in his voice that I had caused. The part of me that had empathy, and had loved him with all my heart, almost felt remorse for all I had said. Then again that love for him was fading. With each tear another part of me hated him more.

I didn't even feel satisfied that I had successfully broke him into nothing. I didn't feel anything at all anymore. Even that hatred was replaced with this numb feeling as I looked at him. Hearing him try to muffle his cries, pleads for me not to leave him, and his yells of regret, just left me feeling sorry for him.

Everyone must have heard his screams because the others can rushing in. Well, only Sonya and Harriet.

"What happened?"Harriet asked, her confusion quickly becoming replaced with concern as she stared at the way Aris had crumpled to the floor.

I looked back at him one last time and said my final message.

"He's just throwing himself a pity party."

With that I left my worried friends in the room and my broken ex-boyfriend laying on the ground.

[saltsicklover]

Part Twelve

It's not a long chapter, but it's definitely something! Thank you all for voting on my last poll!

Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2000+

Rating: R

Warnings: Tobacco, Swearing, sexual themes implied

Second Chance Romance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

"Hey, Sunny, can I ask you something I'm probably not supposed to ask?" 

The question came from Natasha as the pair sit on the back patio of the house, sipping on mimosas while they wait for Hangman to return Natasha's phone call about Sunny's duffle bag. The sun is high in the sky now, beating down on their legs, their upper bodies shaded with a large umbrella. Sunny ripples a bit at Natasha's question, knowing a line is going to be crossed. That fact doesn't bother Sunny all that much, rather it's the fact that she just knows it's going to be about Bob. Since Sunny unknowingly waltzed back into his life, his world, everything has been about him. Suddenly she misses the smell of tobacco. 

"Just ask me, Nash," The words come with a sigh. 

"It might be more than one question," Her answer comes after a beat of silence. One that was filled with a palpable, but not uncomfortable feeling. Natasha knows both Bob and Sunny are dying to talk about everything, to talk to each other, but neither is going to make that step any time soon. Sunny goes home in two weeks,  and Natasha fears that if they don't sort things out now, they never will. So if she has to pry, goddamn-it she is going to pry. 

Sunny doesn't respond, instead she just waves her hand like a white flag, conceding to Natasha's desire to talk about it.

There is a question that has been eating at Natasha since she found out that Sunny's Bobby and her Bob are the same person. The desire has all but grown since she saw Bob this morning, clad in jeans and that damn cowboy hat. 

"Why Bob?" The question comes out too broad and almost wrong, and Natasha is adding on more words before Sunny can even open her mouth, "I don't mean why in his personality, I know Bob and I trust that man with my life, I mean, I want the down and dirty details. Is it the cowboy hat? It is, isn't is?" 

The comment has Sunny laughing now, and she can feel the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. She lets her mind wander back to earlier that morning, to Bob, standing there like a stranger in his own kitchen. But, God, he looked just like home to her. She doesn't let her mind wander back further, knowing that if she does, she won't be able to stop thinking about Bob. From the way he smokes those stupid cigarillos and the crooked little smile of his. Hell, even his new birth control glasses make him look good. 

Natasha watches quietly, a mug held tight between her hands, as a smile slowly grows over Sunny's face. She swears she can see her best friend's face literally brighten as she thinks, no doubt in Nat's mind that Sunny's mind is full of nothing but Bobby. 

"You want the down and dirty? Are you sure? You do have to face him every day at work, at home, out with your friends," The words don't sway Natasha in the slightest. She knows that no matter what Sunny has to say about however hot she finds Bob, it's nothing compared to what she has heard from the rest of the squad. Natasha can describe women she has never met in painstaking detail because Rooster and Hangman like to talk over beers and pool at the Hard Deck. 

"I want to know everything," Phoenix assures, a sly smirk peaking out over the coffee cup she has raised to her lips. 

"Okay," There's an air of excitement to Sunny's voice and it makes Natasha buzz with excitement too. "Did I ever tell you about my prom?" 

Sunny watches the blood drain from Natasha's face, an almost guilty look taking over her features. Natasha pulls her lip between her teeth, letting it go, only to suck it back in again. It's almost as if she is trying to decide what to say, but Sunny sees right through her hesitation, her biding time.

"Bobby did, didn't he?"

Natasha nods, her face falling along with her gaze. There is a bit of anxiety itching under Sunny's skin. She rubs over her exposed arms, the heat conducted from her palms doing nothing to calm the buzz in her bloodstream. 

"Well, I am going to tell you the dirty stuff, okay? By the look on your face, it looks like you heard about the fight that got us here in the first place," 

"Yeah, I heard about the fight," There is guilt in her admission, even though she has nothing to be guilty about. It's not her drama, and it's nothing concerning her. 

Sunny flips herself around in her chair, laying her upper body right in the direct rays of the sun. She pulls an arm behind her head, only to be poked in the arm by something hidden under the cushion. Sunny thrusts a hand under the cushion, retrieving a small box. 

A fucking box of cigarillos. 

And she laughs and laughs and laughs. Her head thrown back, eyes scrunched up tight. Her mouth is open wide and the loud laughter pours from her unapologetically. Natasha looks at her like she is crazy, until Sunny holds up the small box, the plastic wrap reflecting the sunlight. Natasha laughs too, but her giggles are more reserved, that is until she sees Sunny wiping tears from her eyes. 

"What, is Bobby a fucking squirl now? Hiding his stash to come back to later? Keeping things safe for the cold harsh California winters?" Sunny gets the words out between gasps for air and the laughs flowing out of her lips. Natasha laughs harder now too, the women unable to look at each other as they calm down. When Sunny accidentally makes eye contact with Natasha for a brief second, it takes them another five minutes to calm down again. 

"God, I miss his dumbass, I swear," There is a sadness in Sunny's tone, masked by light giggles. Carefully, Sunny peels back the cellophane wrapper on the carton of cigarillos, peeling it open like she is opening a century old book. The plastic crinkles and crunches in her hand as she balls it into her palm. She sticks the balled up cellophane under her thigh and it pokes into her soft skin. Sunny doesn't care, though, more focused on bringing the carton up to her nose to inhale the sweet, spicy scent of the tobacco. 

The way Sunny relaxes at the smell is visible that Nat almost chuckles at her friend, but she doesn't. It's still too early to joke about it. 

"I used to call Bob this awful nickname," Sunny watches Natasha's eyes widen over the carton of cigarillos she still has held up to her nose. "To be fair, he started calling me something awful first,"

"What did he call you?" 

"He called me Douche," Nat's eyes get impossibly wider, "I went by Duchenne all of my life until I graduated high school. I get how Douche is an easy jab, I do, but my heart hurt a little every time he said it," 

"Please tell me you called him something better," There is so much anticipation in Natasha's voice that she is almost shaking. The smile that spreads over Sunny's face is almost diabolical, and Natasha can't help but love the sight. 

"I called him Bertie," And that sends the pair into another laughter spiral. 

"I am calling him that from this moment forward, just for hurting you! Bertie can fucking deal with it!" Conviction drips from her tone. 

"No, Nash, don't call him that," Sunny shakes her head, her loose hair fluttering around as she does, "He doesn't deserve the torment," 

Natasha wants to fight Sunny on that thought. If there is anything Bob deserves after treating Sunny the way he did, ragging on her for years, throwing away their friendship only to make out with her and then fucking crush her right before graduation, it's a little torment. Natasha almost want's to beg her friend to reconsider, to let her rag on Bob a least a little bit, to give him a taste of his own medicine. But, Natasha can see the sadness in her eyes as she gently waves the carton of cigarillos under her nose. 

"Give me those," Natasha makes a grabby gesture, leaning out further into the sunshine to snatch the carton from Sunny. She brings the carton up to her nose, taking in the scent. It causes her to wrinkle her nose, her features morphing into a look of disgust. She hands them back to Sunny, placing them in the woman's awaiting, outstretched hand.  "Yeah, I don't get it," 

"If you were in love with him, you would," Sunny mumbles unintentionally, her focus on the swaying of the palm trees and the sun on her face. She doesn't notice the way her best friend's whole demeanor changes, the way she sits up a little bit straighter. 

"I practically jumped him on Prom. I was drunk and god, he looked so good in his suit. It was black, it had these itty bitty little pin stripes that matched the gray of his dress shirt. Truthfully I don't now how I lasted so long without kissing him that night," Her words come out a little breathy as she reminisces. 

"When I kissed him, I swear that was the start and the end of me. I know that's the sappy shit they say in books, but I knew right then, even through the drunken haze, that Bobby was gonna be it for me. I was absolutely fucked when I realized it too. The kisses were messy and I swear I could feel him everywhere, like he was some sort of electricity running through me, Nash,"

"He was laying on top of me, pinning my body down with the weight of his own. His hand cradled by face and I could feel the calloses of his hands scraping against my skin. He was so, so warm on top of me. And don't even get me started on how good it felt to have his tongue down my throat, because no man will ever kiss as good as Robert Floyd," 

Natasha is gob smacked at her best friend's words, taking them in as Sunny speaks them, gesturing lightly with her hands. She still holds the carton of cigarillos, the smell embedding itself in her nose, right where she wants it. It tangles inside of her lungs and it makes her feel warm, almost like Bobby did. 

"He looked so damn good this morning, Natasha," Sunny giggle like a school girl, "Just like I remember him, but so much more of a man. When did he put on all that muscle? Because, Oh my God," 

The women sit in Sunny's words, their own image of Robert Floyd swirling around in their heads. They both have smiles on their faces, not that either would admit it. Natasha is plotting a way to get them trapped in the same room, so they would have to face each other and this goddamn stupid situation head on. Sunny can't help but think of the way Bob looked in his cowboy hat, all grown up and still as sexy as ever. She wants to feel his body weight on top of her again, to feel his callused hands graze over her skin. Goosebumps erupt on Sunny's skin, even under the warmth of the sun. 

"Now can I say something I probably shouldn't say?" Natasha's voice is smaller, but there is a daring part of her that makes the words come out anyway. Sunny hums, her brain still on the image of Bobby's defined thighs in his well worn jeans. 

"You two need to talk, hell, if you ask me, you two need to get all of the sexual tension out of my house while you're at it," Giggles erupt, "But seriously, you really need to talk to Bob, because I have a feeling that I know exactly how he feels about you,"

Sunny pushes herself up onto her elbow, looking her best friend directly in the eye, "How do you know? Did he say something?" 

The shake of Natasha's head does nothing to quell the need to know that burns within Sunny, the small smirk on Nat's face only fueling the fire. 

"He didn't have to, the photo of you on his nightstand said enough," 

[naoa-ao3]

The Kids are Alright

Gemma's got a boyfriend and Cheryl isn't sure what to think about him. Worried she calls her brother but Gemma's new boyfriend seems to be playing a game all of his own and neither adult knows what to think. Is John heading off against another magician or is the boy just a little smarmy? When his niece is involved the difference doesn't seem so great.

Gemma's got a boyfriend and Cheryl is concerned.

The boy is nothing but smiles and friendly comments, he helps around the house when he comes over and he's everything she should be wanting for her daughter except he isn't. There's just something off about him. Something she can't put her finger on.

Maybe if things were different and Tony. . . well fuck if things were different then she wouldn't have to feel this way all on her own.

Alan however is always smiling and charming and she wants to like him so very much except she just doesn't.

Gemma get's angry when she mentions it. She wants to live her life and she wants to make her own decisions and Cheryl remembers what that's like. She wants to let her but Alan is starting to creep her out and she can't say why and that just seems to piss Gemma off.

She never imagined her daughter ever being angry. When she was a baby she seemed so happy but like all Constantines she eventually got her share of the bad and now Cheryl just hopes she'll finish school.

She wonders sometimes if Gemma can picture her when she was her age. She does know what it's like to be young. She had a whole world of hell to live with back then. . . she doesn't tell Gemma this, let her think her grandad was a good one. Keep the demons down and the doors locked.

In the end she calls her brother, the only person left now who remembers her at Gemma's age. The only person who knows what kind of hell went on behind their own closed door.

He's cheerful when he picks up, talking animatedly until he senses something's wrong.

"It's Gemma, she's got herself a boyfriend." She say's.

He laughs but it's shallow. "You don't sound too glad of that." He say's. "What's the trouble?"

She shakes her head and sighs. "I don't know. He just bothers me. There's nothing wrong with him, he's polite, he's nice, he seems to treat her right I just don't know."

"Does she like him?" He asks.

She sighs. "I've never seen her like this. Maybe that's it. She's growing up. I don't know John I just. . ."

Maybe it's her voice but he clears his throat, reminding her of when they were kids. "You want me to come by?" He asks. "Maybe meet the lad and see what he's about?"

She nods. "Would you?"

It's selfish. John is on the other side of the country. He doesn't need to come all the way here just because she can't the number on a teenage boy.

Who could though?

Yet he does come, right as Gemma and Alan get out of school.

He's in her kitchen when they come home and Cheryl see's Gemma smile. It's not the same smile from when she was little. She used to adore her uncle but Cheryl thinks in recent years she's started to get a little cold with him.

Maybe it's just moody teenage years, lord knows she had them herself.

It was different then though, back then she'd have done just about anything she could not to stay in the house. She'd hated it there. Her drunk dad and her brother always in trouble. She'd gone out with school friends and boys who'd thought she was pretty. Left them to the stink of drink and their misery.

John shakes Alan's hand and the boy smiles, polite and charming as ever.

"You must be the uncle." He say's. "Very pleased to meet you."

John shrugs. "Gemma told you about me?" He asks.

The boy nods, pearly, white teeth showing. "She did indeed. Gemma spoke very highly of you, sir."

Her little brother who used to steal her make up and use it for paints put's his hands up. "Easy with the 'sir' stuff." He say's. "I'm not that old."

"Oh no sir, didn't mean it like that." Alan say's and there's just something Cheryl doesn't like about him.

They let the kid's go into the sitting room and stay at the kitchen table.

"What do you think?" She asks, her cup of tea cold in front of her.

There's a chip on the table.

One of Tony's leavings.

John shrugs. "Seem's like a descent kid to me." He say's. "Trying a bit hard but that doesn't make him bad."

She taps her knuckles on the table. "Maybe I'm crazy." She say's. "But John I swear it. There's something about that boy."

He softens a little. "I'll spend a few days, try and talk to him. I suppose he comes round a bit then?"

She nods. "Funny, I've never met his parents. He doesn't really talk about them but they're kids so I try not to pry. . ."

John gives her hand a squeeze. "I'll stay a few days." He say's and she's glad of him, grateful for him.

Glad and grateful she's not alone.

She wonders if John knows some of the thoughts that live in her head, the memories and the awful little things from their childhood she can't forget. The paint on their front door and the floor boards that squealed. . . the anger inside.

She's made a good life for herself, had a family even if it's turned to shit of late.

John's the last link to who she was then and she's always loved him. She thinks he might be why she did so well with Gemma. . . she got a trial run on her baby brother. Had to raise him in some ways because dad wasn't going to do it.

Now she's just a mum worried about her kid and her brother is the only one she knows she can turn to.

She worries about Alan but she'll get her brother's opinion before she makes up her mind, after all mums are supposed to worry so maybe it's all just normal.