#roll up ur phone like a scroll and stick it in ur pocket

[spitblaze]

Maybe this cyberpunk AU will give me a chance to explore what my IT Professional Ass thinks is ACTUALLY good design for future tech instead of arbitrary holograms and See Through Screens

[hunnysnoops]

˗ˋ𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤ˊ˗

Chapter Thirteen: Circles

Kyle Broflovski x fem reader

You took my hand and then we both started running. There's no place to go.

Also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Premise: While you’re enjoying your new relationship with your boyfriend, it doesn’t come without its troubles

Warnings: smoking / suggestive

MASTERLIST

Walking through the crowded school hallway, you and Bebe laugh about the latest gossip circulating through the breath of students. The morning sun filters through the windows, casting a warm glow on the bustling students. Bebe tugs at your sleeve, pulling you closer as she recounts in detail each beat of how Dakota cheated on David.

You spent the whole summer anticipating the fall when you would be back in classes and bending over backwards to keep your grades up but now that it had finally rolled around, you missed summer and swore that you would be forever happy if it had been endless.

As you pass the lockers, you spot Kyle leaning against his, scrolling through his phone. Your heart skips a beat. It's been a couple months since you and Kyle started dating in secret, keeping your relationship hidden from friends and family. You liked to think you had kept the secret well, you had always been sneaky. It was your family you were worried about finding out, however, your friends have extremely large mouths a not a single thought they keep to themselves. 

Bebe continues chatting away, unaware of your sudden distraction. You slow your pace, letting her words fade into the background as you focus on Kyle. When he looks up and catches your eye, a smile spreads across his face and that is enough to melt you like butter.

You glance at Bebe, who's now frowning and looking between you and Kyle with a puzzled expression. 

"Hey, pretty princess," You say casually to Kyle, watching his smile drop immediately.

"What did you just say?" His eyebrows furrow and he's sure that he misheard you. He closes out of Hay Day momentarily to give his full attention to you.

"I said 'Hey, pretty princess'," 

"Don't call me that," Kyle tells you with a straight face. You were well aware of how much pet names made him want to crawl out from under his skin and chug back drain cleaner. The most you had ever gotten out of him was the lone time he called you babe and immediately went back on it. 

Your boyfriend telling you that pet names were annoying was a sure-fire way to make sure you call him every possible one you can think of "Okay, baby girl," 

As you walk past him with Bebe and towards that cafeteria you can feel his horrified gaze resting on your back. Moments later you can feel your phone buzz in your pocket. 

New Message- ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️)

ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️): You're not funny 

You: damn

ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️): I thought you didn't want your friends to know?? 

You: Yeah?

ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️): so why are you flirting at school? 

You: u think that's flirting????????????????

You: Who the hell raised u??????

ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️): bro

You: lose this number 

ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️): lmao

You: mf I see you down the hall

You: u r not laughing ur ass off 

ugly piece of shit (boyfriend❤️): bro

read at 12:47

You glance back at Kyle and quickly stick up your middle finger even though he is now focused on his conversation with Stan. The two of you weave through the throngs of students, sidestepping backpacks carelessly left in the middle of the hallway and dodging the occasional elbow. The walls are plastered with colourful posters announcing upcoming events: a pep rally, a bake sale, and field hockey tryouts. 

Bebe's voice rises above the din, drawing your attention back to her. She's talking about a new show she started watching, her excitement palpable. You smile, appreciating the way she can make even the most mundane topics seem fascinating. Her laughter rings out, a clear, bright sound that makes a few heads turn, but she doesn't seem to notice and if she had, she definitely didn't care.

"I swear to god, he looked like such an idiot," Bebe speaks animatedly "I think he's trying to go viral or something but he would only go viral for being so corny." 

"Yeah?" You feed into the rant.

"Yeah," She confirms "He stood on his desk today and made Emmet film him while he yelled something in some language I don't know. Seriously, I don't think I've ever seen Mrs. Miller so mad." Her face lights up with recollection "Oh! Except for that time, Eric brought a flask into class. That was so weird."

As you near the cafeteria doors, the noise level increases. The cacophony of clattering trays raised voices, and the occasional shout creates a symphony of chaos that somehow feels comforting in its familiarity. You push through the double doors, the cool air from the cafeteria's industrial-strength air conditioning hitting you like a refreshing breeze.

Inside, the room is a sea of faces, some familiar, some not. You scan the room briefly, looking for a free table. Bebe tugs at your sleeve, pointing towards a spot where a little handful of your friends are sitting. You follow her lead, navigating through the maze of tables and chairs, finally reaching your destination.

The moment you sit down, Annie perks up "Did you hear about Dakota and David?"

"Yes!" Bebe almost jolts up, she leans toward Annie while you reach next to you and take a tater tot from Nichole's tray, if she was bothered by this act, she gave no indication. You weren't sure you were hungry enough to wait in the lunch line for subpar food that would be cold by the time to got back to the table. 

Across the table, Red had a slice of pizza in one hand, her phone in the other, she didn't even look up when you sat down. She tended to have one foot in the real world and the other in her own realm.

"So, what's everyone doing this weekend?" Nichole asks, a small smile playing on her lips.

Before you can answer, Red casually says "Well, I'm sure she'll be hanging out with Kyle."

"Jeez, I feel like he's replacing me," Bebe mockingly pouts. 

"Yeah, why are you guys so buddy-buddy lately?" Annie turns not just her attention to you but the rest of the group in addition.

"Because they're dating," Red still doesn't look up from her phone. While the group falls silent, she huffs a quiet chuckle at something in her feed.

You feel the air go still, the background noise fading into a dull hum as all eyes turn to you. Your heart pounds, and your mind races, desperately seeking an escape. 

Bebe's eyebrows shoot up. "Kyle? You and Kyle are a thing?"

You force a laugh, shaking your head vigorously. "No, no, Red's just joking around."

Nichole leans in, her eyebrows drawn in skepticism. "I dunno, that didn't sound like a joke."

"Red, who told you that?" You look up at her with wide eyes, teeth grinding together in a wild smile that was supposed to mask the agitation that sparked in you.

"Tolkien, he said that Kyle told him after you guys kissed."

"What?" Nichole's eyes flicker between everyone at the table, trying to get a grasp on each girl's reaction. 

"You didn't tell me," Bebe says, irritation clear in her voice. You knew this would be a topic she would dangle over your head. 

"You didn't tell me either," Annie chimes in. 

"Uh, because I'm not dating him," You can feel the panic rising, your cheeks burning with the effort to maintain your composure. "Seriously, guys, it's nothing. Kyle and I are just friends."

Bebe crosses her arms. "Friends, huh? I'm pretty sure friends don't usually kiss."

"I have kissed half of the people at this table," You counter "On gospel, we are not dating."

"You don't give a shit about the gospel. Let me see your phone," Annie snatches it from your hands, expecting to see Kyle on the lock screen but her face quickly contorts in confusion "Is that Jeff Bezos?"

With haste, you grab it from her "No, it's Murr from impractical jokers."

"Why is he your lock screen?"

"Mind your damn business," You answer with discomposure. 

"So, you aren't dating but you did kiss him?" Nichole draws the conversation back to the original topic.

"Erm, no, gross," You say as convincingly as you could which wasn't very convincing at all. "I think he's super fucking ugly, he probably has at least two STDs."

“Bull shit," Bebe says "You didn't deny kissing him like three seconds ago and you've liked him since July."

"JULY?" Annie asks, mouth slightly agape. "You didn't tell me any of this."

"So when did you kiss him?" Nichole presses.

"I didn't-

"She kissed him at Morgan's party," Red answers, putting her phone down and swallowing back the last of her crust.

You have a look of murder on your face "What the fuck."

"It's not a big deal," She shrugs "Someone once told me- eat a snack and drink some juice, you'll be alright."

"Who?" You ask.

"You did when I greened out."

"Right."

"So you did kiss him at Morgan's and you are dating?" Nichole interjects once again to cut to the facts rather than the banter surrounding it.

For a moment you hang in the air like you had paused time to think of an answer but truthfully your friends finding out about your relationship wasn't so detrimental and lying would only spiral into something far worse. "Yeah," You mutter "We're dating."

"Oh my god," Nichole splits into a grin "After all of those years of trying to kill him and complaining non-stop that he was ruining your life?"

"Yup," you say, awkwardly.

"That's really funny actually," Bebe's anger over the fact you kept this hidden was temporarily alleviated by your confirmation. 

"Funny?" You ask. You didn't think your relationship was very funny.

"You have to admit it's funny," She shrugs, brushing a blonde curl away from her face "I was like 78% sure you were serious when you said you rather hang yourself than date him."

Nichole giggles, nudging you. "Was the rope too expensive?"

"No, I tried my best but it snapped," You say nonchalantly, trying to gain back some sort of composure.

It didn't take long for the little group to start shouting little quips to counter the last and ultimately leave you feeling annoyed and somewhat embarrassed as it seemed they would never let up with the teasing. 

You catch a glimpse of Tolkien walking past your table, his usual confident stride carrying him through the crowded cafeteria. He was carrying an assortment of goodies from the vending machine and heading back to his table. It must've been irritation that propelled you out of your seat before you even realized what you were doing.

You weave through the tables, your steps quick and purposeful, until you're close enough to grab his arm. He turns, surprised, his eyes wide as he takes in your furious expression.

"Why did you tell Red I kissed Kyle?" you hiss, your voice low but sharp enough to cut through the noise. You pull him aside, away from prying eyes and ears, and the hum of the cafeteria fades into the background.

His eyebrows furrow "Are you guys not dating? I'm confused."

"Yeah, but I wasn't going to tell people."

"What? Why?"

"Because the haters will pray on my downfall." you snap, your voice rising despite your efforts to keep it down.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He glances around nervously, clearly uncomfortable with your intensity.

 "The haters," You reiterate like it made your point any clearer. 

"What haters? You're not a celebrity." One of the mini chip bags in his arms shifts and he fumbles around to be sure it doesn't hit the ground. 

"Be alert..." 

"What does that mean?" 

"Of the haters," You add.

"Oh my god," He mutters fighting the urge to roll his eyes "I don't know why you're chewing me out when Kyle's the one who told me. Take it up with him.”

That's exactly what you would do. Take it up with him. 

.˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*:˖°꩜˙.

While you had every intention of chewing Kyle out for letting the secret slip, things played out slightly differently. You're sprawled out on your bed, your textbooks and notes abandoned in a haphazard pile. Kyle's fingers trail up your arm, leaving a tingling path in their wake. His lips are warm and insistent against yours, and you lose yourself in the softness of his kiss.

Kyle's hand cradles the back of your neck, his touch both tender and firm, guiding you closer. Your hands are tangled in his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers as you pull him even nearer. The faint scent of his cologne mixes with the aroma of the burning passionfruit candle, creating a heady blend that makes your heart race. Every brush of his lips sends sparks through you, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

All that matters is the feel of Kyle's lips on yours, the way his hands hold you as if you're something precious, something to be cherished. His thumb brushes lightly against your jaw, a small, almost absent-minded gesture that sends another shiver through you. Every touch, every kiss, is filled with reverence that makes you feel all the more cherished.

You tilt your head slightly, deepening the kiss, your tongue tentatively meeting his. Kyle responds with a soft groan, a sound that reverberates through your body, heightening your senses. His hand tightens on your waist, pulling you even closer as if he can't get enough of you.

Your kisses grow more urgent and demanding. His lips trail from your mouth to your jawline, planting soft, lingering kisses along your skin. You can't help but tilt your head back, giving him better access, losing yourself in the sensation of his mouth on your skin.

His kisses move to your neck, and you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, sending another wave of shivers through you. He finds a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear, and when his lips brush against it, you let out a soft gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair.

"Kyle," you whisper, your voice breathless, filled with a mixture of need and adoration.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and the intensity in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat. His hair is a mess, neck is littered with hickies that he would surely regret the next day when he would have to steal his mom's concealer to cover them up. He leans in, capturing your lips once more in a kiss that is both tender and passionate, a perfect blend that leaves you almost dizzy. 

His large hands eventually snake their way up your shirt and trail up your midriff to your back. He finds the clasp on your back, pinching the hooks until the bra comes undone completely. 

Kyle leans closer, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, and the touch sends a shiver down your spine. You want to freeze this moment, but reality crashes back in when you hear your dad's voice calling for you from the hallway. "Jellybean! Are you still home?" Panic seizes you, and your eyes widen as you scramble to sit up, pushing Kyle away from you.

Your dad was supposed to be at one of your neighbour's barbecues, but here he was- making his way upstairs and towards your bedroom.

"Kyle, hide!" you whisper urgently, your mind racing for a solution.

You glance around, jumping to your feet and awkwardly trying to rehook your bra. Your eyes settle on the closet and you push him towards it. It's a tight squeeze for someone as tall as Kyle, but there's no time to think. He ducks inside, and just as you're about to close the door, he accidentally bonks his head against the top of the frame. The sound is a dull thud, and he stifles a groan of pain.

"Yeah, I'm home!" You call back to your dad, grabbing Kyle's scattered things from the bed and shoving them beneath it. 

Your dad's footsteps draw closer, and you throw yourself back onto the bed, grabbing your phone to feign nonchalance. The door creaks open, and your dad peeks in, his eyes scanning the room.

"Hey, Jellybean," He smiles, leaning against the doorway.

"Hey," You try for a casual smile "Why are you home already?"

"I forgot to grab the t-shirts I made for Earl and the boys," He answers and you nod slowly, waiting for him to explain why he was in your bedroom. “Oh," He fumbles around in his pocket for his phone and briefly taps around before turning the screen to face you "Is this you and Kyle?"

It's a photo of both yours and Kyle's faces that had been strung up on the wall of disallowed entry at the movie theatre. You had almost forgotten entirely of the day that you and he had gone to the theatre with the intention of watching a corny movie and ended up near a simple assault charge that you narrowly escaped.

You shake your head, trying to soothe the adrenaline that began pumping through you "Nope."

"Really?" Your dad furrows his eyebrows, looking at the picture again "It looks just like you two."

"Yeah, it does," You keep your voice as nonchalant as possible.

He holds the phone up in the air, looking back and forth from your face to the screen. After a moment of awkward silence, there's a thump from the closet and your dad looks up "What was that?"

"Eugene, he lives in the crawlspace," You answer, face dead serious.

Your dad shrugs and tucks his phone back into his pocket. "Dang. I outta get back before that brisket is done," He lets out a low whistle at the thought of a juicy slab of smoked meat. 

"Okay, see ya," Relief finally washes over you as you try not to glance back toward the closet. 

Just as he turns to leave he quickly swivels his head back to look at you "Oh, I meant to ask- why is Kyle's car in the driveway?"

"It's not." 

"Oh," His eyebrows furrow for a moment as he thinks and then slowly, he nods "Okay." It was moments like these where it was definite he was Weston's father. 

He leaves, and you let out a sigh of relief, your heart still pounding. You wait a few moments to make sure he's really gone and when you hear the front door click shut, you hurry over to the closet and open the door. Kyle steps out, rubbing his head where he must have bonked it on the closet ceiling. He's tall enough that the cramped space was clearly a tight fit.

You look at the little red spot on his hairline where he must've cracked his head against the frame and suck a breath through your teeth "Sorry." 

"Ow," he mutters, frowning at you slightly. But then his eyes catch on something behind him, and his expression shifts from annoyed to confused. "Why do you have a Rubbermaid that says 'devious licks' in your closet?"

"Oh," You look past him at the bin and then a wide smile breaks over your face and you begin to laugh. You pull the bin out and kneel beside it as you take the lid off. Inside are little trinkets you've 'borrowed' from friends and family over the past few years. You can't help but giggle, finding the whole situation absurdly funny.

"Did you steal all of that?"

"It's just for fun," you say with a shrug, still chuckling. "When I get really mad at someone, I take something from them to inconvenience them." You begin to rifle through the bin, almost reminiscing about all of the things you had taken and the memories attached. 

But Kyle doesn't laugh. In fact, his frown deepens, and he steps back, shaking his head. "That's not funny. It's stealing. That's a crime. What if someone realizes something important is missing?"

"That's kinda the point," You answer. The bin is filled with an assortment of items: a handful of pens, a couple of keychains, wallets, a pair of sunglasses, and various other small objects you've filched over time from more people than you could even recall.

 Kyle bends down, his hair still messy from your fingers slipping through it "What is this?" He picks up a long silver necklace with a large pendant dangling from the bottom "Is this a coke necklace?"

You laugh slightly "Those are Mr. Tennorman's ashes."

"WHAT?" He drops it, instinctively wiping his hands on his pants. "You stole someone's ashes?"

"Yup," You say nonchalantly, still digging through the belongings "It's just Cartman's dad." 

He looks back down, the glimmer of something bronze catching his eye. Immediately, he snatches it from the bin and inspects it, eyes growing wide with horror "Is this my grandpa's holocaust ring?"

You pause, slowly looking up at him "I didn't know it was a holocaust ring at the time." 

"When did you take this?" His voice was beginning to rise and the agitation was unmissable. 

You stop laughing, the light mood evaporating in an instant. You hadn't expected him to react like this. You thought he might find it as amusing as you did. Instead, he's staring at you with a mix of disappointment and anger that makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. "Two years ago when you and Stan were making fun of me after I lost that goal at my soccer game." 

Kyle sighs, running a hand through his hair. He is trying his best to keep his cool, but the pool of misdemeanours below him isn't helping in the slightest. Kyle takes a deep breath in an attempt to sort this through without yelling at you "What's the last thing you've stolen." 

You look around for a moment before holding up a bottle of liquor "I took it last week."

"Oh god," He mutters.

"What? Is it bad?"

"That's a three thousand dollar bottle of tequila," His jaw is clenched and for a moment you think he might burst a vein in his head. 

"Dang, that's expensive," You suck a sharp breath through your teeth 

"You should've thought about that before you stole it."

You shrug "Well, I didn't." 

"That's it?" He asks.

"What?"

"You don't care?" 

"What the hell are you talking about?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"This!" He gestures at the Rubbermaid before dropping to his knees, sifting through the contents "Wallets, wedding rings, perfume, the fucking ornament I made when I was eight," Looking down, he was struck with the realisation that a large sum of the trinkets in the bin had been his at one point or another. "You really don't care that you took all of this?"

"It already happened," You say.

Kyle holds up a familiar scarf, one you remember swiping from a girl in your study group. His eyes narrow as he turns to face you. "What the hell is this?" His voice is low, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

You roll your eyes, trying to laugh it off. "Oh, come on, it's fun. No one even notices."

Kyle's eyes flash with anger. "Fun? You think stealing is fun?" His voice rises, each word punctuated by his growing fury. He steps closer, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his fists clench at his sides.

You start to feel the edges of your amusement crumble, replaced by a prickling unease. "Kyle, calm down. It's not that big of a deal," you say, your voice quieter now, trying to soothe the situation.

But he's not having it. "Not a big deal? This is serious! What's wrong with you?" His voice is loud now, filling the room, and echoing off the walls. He's yelling, and it hits you like a bullet to the skull.

You shrink back, your laughter dying on your lips. The air feels heavy, pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe. You look away, staring at the pattern on the bedspread, tracing the lines with your eyes, anything to avoid his piercing gaze.

Silence falls, thick and oppressive. Kyle's breathing is heavy, ragged, as he stands there, waiting for you to say something, to explain. But you can't find the words. They're stuck in your throat, tangled up with your fear and shame. You bite your lip, the taste of copper filling your mouth.

Finally, Kyle lets out a frustrated sigh. "I just-" He pauses "I don't get you," he mutters, turning away, his shoulders slumping. He walks back to the bed and sits down heavily, the mattress sinking under his weight. The music is still playing, the songs flickering by, unnoticed.

You sit in silence, the stolen items now a glaring reminder of your actions, of the chasm that has suddenly opened up between you and Kyle. You want to reach out, to bridge the gap, but you don't know how. So you sit there, quiet and still like you're in a crime scene.

.˙꩜°˖:*࿔ ☼ ࿔*:˖°꩜˙.

You spent hours getting ready, meticulously styling your hair, and carefully applying your makeup. You chose your favourite dress, a soft, flowing fabric that makes you feel beautiful and confident. The anticipation is almost unbearable, your heart thumping with excitement. 

You're standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the delicate chain of your necklace, the pendant resting just below your collarbone. Your reflection shows a girl who has taken extra care tonight to be sure her makeup is flawless, a hint of highlighter accentuating your cheekbones, and your lips painted with a soft gloss. Your dress, a soft shade of blue that brings out the colour in your eyes, fits perfectly, swaying gently as you move. You've been looking forward to this date with Kyle all week.

The sound of a car horn outside snaps you out of your reverie. You grab your clutch, giving yourself one last glance in the mirror before heading downstairs. The evening air is warm, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees lining your street. Kyle is waiting by his car, leaning casually against the door, a small smile playing on his lips as he sees you approach. He looks effortlessly handsome, his ginger hair tousled just right, and his eyes sparkling in the fading light.

"You look beautiful," he says, his voice warm and genuine as he opens the car door for you.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "You did your hair all nice for me."

As you settle into the passenger seat, Kyle walks around to the driver's side, sliding in with an easy grace. The car starts with a soft purr, and soon you're driving through the familiar streets of your neighbourhood, the anticipation of the evening making your heart flutter. You chat about your day, the conversation flowing easily, but as the drive continues, you notice Kyle taking turns that lead away from the downtown restaurants and cafes.

The drive starts off light and cheerful. You talk animatedly about a new café you've heard about, suggesting it as a possible destination for a study session. Kyle nods and smiles, his responses a bit more subdued than usual, but you brush it off, attributing it to the lingering tension.

As you continue to chat, you start to notice the route Kyle is taking. It's not towards any of your usual spots. The streets become less familiar, and your excitement starts to wane, replaced by a creeping confusion. "Where are we going?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light and playful, though a hint of unease slips through.

Kyle doesn't answer right away, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "It's a surprise," he finally says, but there's something in his voice that makes your stomach twist.

There's a part of you that thinks he's preparing to drive the both of you off of a bridge or dump your body off the interstate from his rigid posture alone. 

You try to guess, throwing out suggestions, but each one is met with a noncommittal hum. The unease grows, gnawing at your excitement. When he finally pulls into the parking lot of the community center, your confusion peaks. "Kyle, what are we doing here?" you ask, your voice a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

He turns off the engine and looks at you, his eyes soft but determined. He reaches out and takes your hand, his touch warm and firm. "I need you to trust me," he says, his voice gentle. He gets out of the car and comes around to open your door, helping you out.

Holding your hand, he leads you inside, the fluorescent lights of the community center casting a sterile glow. Your heart pounds in your chest as you walk down a hallway, past bulletin boards covered in flyers for various local events and activities.

He stops in front of a door with a whiteboard nailed into the wall next to it that reads 'Shoplifters Anonymous Meeting' in purple dry-erase. Your heart drops, and you look at him, your eyes wide with shock. "Kyle, what is this?" you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips.

Kyle squeezes your hand gently, his expression deadly serious. "I know you don't think it's a big deal, but it is. You need help and they can give you that." He nods his head to the room. 

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You open your mouth to argue, to tell him that you don't need this, but the words fail you, something you weren't used to. Truly, you were speechless. 

He creaks the door open, one hand on the small of your back as he guides you inside. "I'll pick you up in an hour," he says softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead. His lips are warm, a stark contrast to the cold shock that has settled in your chest. "Please, just give it a chance."

Before you can protest, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing in the hallway. The door to the meeting room looms in front of you, and you feel like you're rooted to the spot. The reality of the situation crashes over you in waves. Kyle has seen through your facade, past the laughter and the dismissive jokes, to the part of you that you've tried to ignore.

The meeting room is small and somewhat stuffy, the air thick with a mix of various perfumes and colognes. Folding chairs are arranged in a circle, and as you sit down, the cold metal presses into your back, making you shift uncomfortably. Your heart still pounds from the shock of Kyle's ambush, anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

The leader of the group, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, starts speaking, welcoming everyone. Her voice is calm and soothing, but it grates on your nerves. You clench your fists in your lap, trying to steady your breathing. You don't belong here. This isn't you.

The others begin to share their stories, each one more heart-wrenching than the last. You listen, but the words barely register. Your mind is racing, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. You're furious with Kyle for bringing you here, for thinking you needed this. 

God, you felt like an idiot. You had spent so long getting ready, wearing a pretty dress for your boyfriend just to be shoved in a room with thieves. 

The leader, Ellen, scans the room, and you feel a prick of anxiety as they land on you. "We have a new member today," she says, her voice warm but firm. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can feel the eyes of the other attendees on you, their curiosity palpable. "I'm not a shoplifter," you say entirely too fast. You weren’t wrong, you were in fact- not a shoplifter though it wasn’t far off from a kleptomaniac which you definitely were.

"That's okay. Not everyone here is a shoplifter either,” Ellen speaks softly "Would you mind telling us why you're here if you're comfortable?"

"I'm just here to observe," you say quickly, hoping to deflect the attention. "I don't really have anything to share."

Ellen nods, but her gaze remains steady, unyielding. "That's okay. We're glad you're here. Can you tell us a little about why you're observing?"

You bristle at the question, feeling cornered. "My boyfriend thought it would be a good idea," you reply, trying to keep your tone light, and dismissive. 

"Why would he think that?"

"He thinks that I have a problem." 

The room is silent, the air thick with unspoken questions. Ellen doesn't let you off the hook. "What kind of problem does he think you have?"

You fidget with the hem of your dress, your fingers twisting the fabric. "He thinks I steal things," you say reluctantly, your voice barely above a whisper. "And I do, but not from stores. It's just some little things from other people."

Ellen's eyes soften, but her expression remains serious. "Stealing, even in small amounts, can be a sign of deeper issues. It's good that you're here, whether you think it's a big deal or not. What kind of things have you taken?"

You feel a surge of anger, a burning frustration that makes you want to lash out. "I don't see why it matters," you snap, your voice louder than you intended. 

Ellen nods, absorbing your words with a calm patience that only fuels your irritation. "Sometimes, we take things to fill a void or cope with stress. Have you thought about why you might be doing it?"

You cross your arms over your chest, your posture is defensive. "I don't know," you say, looking away. "It's not that deep."

"Okay, maybe you'll be more comfortable sharing next time." You didn't intend for there to be a next time. 

The group seems to move on quickly and you wander away from all conversation, finding a nice spot to settle inside your thoughts. It had been years since you felt like this much of a fool. It was about halfway through the meeting when you couldn't take it anymore. 

You push open the door and step into the hallway, the cool air a welcome relief from the stifling room. You make a beeline for the exit. The need for a cigarette is overwhelming, a desperate craving that you can't ignore. Outside, the late day sun is almost gone entirely as night begins to swallow up the sky, making you squint as you search through your bag for your lighter. Panic sets in when you realize it's not there; you must have left it in Kyle's car.

A string of curses escapes your lips as you look around frantically. Your eyes land on a purse left carelessly on a bench in the hallway. Without thinking, you reach in and pull out a lighter, the metal cool and smooth in your hand. The irony isn't lost on you, but you're too angry and desperate to care.

You step outside and light a cigarette, the first drag calming your nerves slightly. You start to walk, the rhythm of your steps a temporary distraction from the chaos in your mind. The smoke curls around you, a familiar comfort, but today it feels different, tainted by the bitter taste of your emotions.

Tears sting at your eyes, and you angrily wipe them away, but they keep coming, blurring your vision. You're furious with Kyle for putting you in this position, and for forcing you to face something you're not ready to confront. But as you walk, the anger shifts, turning inward.

You hate yourself for your bad habits, for the stealing, for the smoking. Each puff of the cigarette feels like a failure, a reminder of all the ways you've let yourself down. The tears flow more freely now, and you don't bother to stop them. You walk faster, trying to outrun the feelings, but they cling to you, weighing you down.

The familiar streets blur as you walk, and you're not sure where you're going. You just need to move, to keep going, to do something, anything to escape the overwhelming tide of emotions. But it's no use. The guilt and shame, the anger and bitterness, they all crash over you, a relentless wave that you can't fight.

You come to a stop, your legs shaking, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The cigarette burns down to the filter, and you drop it, grinding it into the pavement with the heel of your shoe. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold on, to keep from falling apart completely.

You've walked for what feels like an eternity, the community center far behind you. Each inhalation a struggle against the sobs threatening to escape. The cigarette you discarded lies crushed on the pavement and you think about lightning another.

Suddenly, the sound of a car pulling up beside you breaks through the haze. You glance over, your heart skipping a beat when you see Kyle's familiar car. The window rolls down, and there he is, his eyes wide with concern.

"Hey," he calls out, his voice a mix of worry and relief. "What are you doing?"

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek to fight the sob you desperately want to let out. "Just stop." 

His eyebrows furrow and then he gets a good look at your face and the realization strikes him like a wave of guilt "Are you crying?" 

"Fuck off," You answer, turning away from him and continuing to walk. 

"Shit," He mutters, quickly emerging from his car. 

You stop walking, your body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and emotion. You try to speak, but the words catch in your throat, choked by the tears. Instead, you just stand there, looking at him, your face a mess of smeared makeup and raw emotion.

Kyle gets out of the car and walks over to you, his movements hesitant, as if he's not sure how to approach. When he reaches you, he gently takes your hands in his, his touch warm and grounding. "What happened?" he asks softly, his eyes searching yours for answers.

You finally find your voice, though it's weak and shaky. "I couldn't stay," you manage to say, flat. "I couldn't do it. It was too much." 

Quickly you retract your hands from Kyle's, looking at him with a fury he hadn't seen in ages. 

"How could you do this to me, Kyle?" you yell, your voice cracking with a mix of rage and tears. "How could you ambush me like that?"

Kyle stops in his tracks, his eyes wide with shock. "I was trying to help—"

"Help?" you cut him off, your voice rising. "You think dragging me to some meeting with strangers was helping? You blindsided me! You embarrassed me!"

He steps towards you, his expression pleading. "I didn't know what else to do. I'm worried about you."

Your chest heaves with each breath, the tears flowing freely now, hot and relentless. "You think I don't know what I'm doing is bad?" you shout, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. "It isn't easy for me, Kyle!" 

He looks at you, his eyes filled with pain and helplessness. "I just want to help you," he says quietly. "I don't know what else to do."

Kyle reaches out, but you step back, shaking your head. "It's a fucking compulsion, I've been doing it for ages, you can't fix it in a single meeting." 

Kyle's shoulders slump, and he takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just don't want to see you destroy yourself."

"Kyle," You draw out "You're smart so tell me why the hell you thought that would be a good idea? Because you're no prize either." 

Kyle's expression shifts to one of deep sadness, his hands dropping to his sides. "I get that it's hard," he says softly, his eyes locking onto yours. "But running away from the no problem isn't going to solve it. You need help, and I thought that meeting could be a start."

You laugh, a harsh, bitter sound that cuts through the night air. "That was the furthest thing from help. It felt more like a fucking beartrap. You didn't even ask me how I felt about it, you didn't even bring it up again. You just dumped me there and expected me to be okay with it."

Kyle's jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath, struggling to keep his composure. "I'm sorry if it felt like that," he says, his voice strained. "But I didn't know what else to do. I'm terrified of losing you to this. What if you get caught?"

Your heart aches at his words, but the anger still burns bright. "You don't understand," you say, your voice cracking. "I'm scared too. Scared that I'll never be able to stop. But you tricked me, you lied to me."

Kyle's face flushes with frustration, his eyes darkening. "I was desperate! Do you think it's easy for me to watch you self-destruct? To see you steal and smoke and hurt yourself over and over again?"

"Don't you dare make this about you," you snap, your hands trembling with anger. "You don't get it, Kyle." 

Kyle takes a step closer, his jaw set. "I'm trying to help you, but you keep pushing me away. You act like I'm the enemy when all I want is to see you get better. Why can't you see that?"

Your chest heaves with each ragged breath, the tears burning in your eyes. "Because it doesn't feel like help! It just doesn't, can you get that in your fucking head? Why are you trying to fix me?"

"I'm not trying to fix you. We can't fix each other but we can help and that's all I want to do," His gaze softens "Just tell me what to do," he says, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, everything feels suspended in time. You don't know what to do. The intensity of it all crashes over you like a wave, and you find yourself struggling to breathe.

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. Instead, a sob escapes, raw and broken. The anger that had fueled you moments ago dissipates, leaving behind a profound sense of helplessness. Your shoulders shake as the sobs come harder, your vision blurring with tears. You don't have the answers Kyle is looking for; you don't even have the answers for yourself.

Kyle's face softens, his expression shifting from frustration to concern and heartbreak. "Hey, hey," he murmurs, taking a step towards you. "It's okay."

It's not okay. Nothing feels okay. You're overwhelmed by the realization that you're spiralling, and if you don't find a way to get help, it's only going to get worse. You knew it was getting bad when you couldn't even run a mile without coughing up your lungs.

As the sobs wrack your body, you feel your knees weaken. You take an unsteady step toward Kyle, and he immediately closes the distance, pulling you into his arms. The moment you feel his embrace, the dam truly breaks. You collapse into him, your fingers clutching at his shirt as if he's the only thing keeping you from drowning.

"I don't know what to do," you whisper between sobs, your voice barely audible. 

His arms tighten around you, one hand gently cradling the back of your head. "We'll figure it out," he says softly, his voice thick with emotion.

You bury your face in his chest, the sobs continuing to pour out of you, each one tearing at your heart. You feel a mix of shame and relief, the two emotions intertwining in a confusing dance. Shame because you're admitting, finally, that you need help. Relief because, at this moment, Kyle's arms around you make you feel less alone, less lost.

You made a decision in your mind, after months of back and forth with yourself "That was my last cigarette," You sniffle "Ever." It was far from your last in truth but still proved to be a pivotal moment in your life.

[fwtomura]

Breathe Into Your Hungry Appetite.

(a simon riley x john mactavish fanfic ^_^)

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER THREE

cw: ghostsoap (simon riley x john mactavish), modern au, drug dealer au, mentions of weed, smut?, kinda transghost ngl, VERY BAD SPELLING!! that’s abt it.

haii guys i wrote chpt1 earlier and decided that it needs more added to it so here’s chpt2 :3

Simon’s morning started off just how it always did; kicking off the blankets, stretching out his back, and making that same awkward shuffle across the room towards the bathroom to brush his teeth and his hair. He still had that same old ache in his back and his joints as he slowly felt himself come back to the realm of the living. He didn’t bother with putting on a proper pair of pants before heading downstairs to the kitchen. It was a wednesday, he had the house to himself until much later in the evening.

He made himself his usual breakfast, hunching over the kitchen counter to eat as he scrolled through his phone. When he opened it, he realized that he’d forgotten to text Soap the night before. His phone opened up directly to Soap’s contact, which he’d noted down as ‘Johnny’ with a bar of soap emoji, but he hadn’t managed to send a message before he nodded off. Fuck. That’s awkward.

Simon💀: meant to text last just but got sidetracked, sorry

A half-assed apology was better than one, he decided. He didn’t include his name in the message, but judging by how quickly his phone vibrated against the counter, he didn’t necessarily need to add it.

Johnny🧼: all good, sweetheart

Johnny🧼: how’s ur morning going? did you sleep well?

Oddly charming. Not that he’d expected Soap to be turned off from texting him in the slightest. If anything, he was grateful for it to be just business as usual.

Simon💀: bit of a late start, but slept good.

Simon💀: eating breakfast now, how’s your day going?

He finished up his bowl of cereal, giving the bowl a half-asses rinse at the sink so that nothing would harden up before he gathered the willpower to properly load up the dishwasher. Maybe he’d get to it later this evening, maybe he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t seemed much more likely at the present moment.

Johnny🧼: nothin too crazy

Johnny🧼: It’s a slow day. fuckin boooooooooreeedddd >:(

Ghost nearly rolled his eyes as soon as he read the message. Of course he’d been bored. It seemed like that was always the case.

Simon💀: you poor thing, whatever will you do.

Ghost put his phone into his pocket briefly before heading upstairs, shutting the door to his room behind him out of reflex. He didn’t necessarily need to, but it wasn’t the worst habit to have. He opened his stash box and got out his pipe, he really did need to clean it.

As much of a pain in the ass as it was, he walked into the bathroom and got everything he needed. He’d leave the piece soaking overnight and would use a backup one for now. He checked his phone again as soon as he got the pipe settled into a plastic bag.

Johnny🧼: have u tried the new stuff yet?

He’d nearly forgotten about it, in fact. He looked over the baggie as he sat down onto the bean bag chair in his room. He could tell from the smell of the weed alone as he loaded up the grinder that it was potent . incredibly so.

Simon💀: not yet, loading up a bowl rn

Simon💀: smells strong as shit ngl.

The bud was nearly sticking to his fingers as he packed the bowl, the smell filling the room before he’d even sparked his lighter. It wasn’t that Soap always gave him shit weed, but he hadn’t expected this from a random strain that he’d given him to try. For free no less. And who the hell would Ghost be to turn down free weed that seemed to be at least halfway decent?

He flipped on the TV before settling down onto his beanbag chair and sparking up his bowl. The hit was sharp, almost immediately giving him that subtle, burning feeling at the back of his throat. The smoke still grunted slighting on the blowout, but there was a subtle almost citrusy flavour to it that say heavy on his tongue. Fuck. It felt good.

Simon kept taking slow, lazy hits from the pipe, leaning back and watching the smoke swirl and dance above him before it slowly dispersed throughout the room into nothing. The sunlight streaming in through the window made it look almost magical.

Simons phone had gotten tossed onto the bed at some point and he’d long since forgotten about it. He could feel the high slowly creeping in, his head filling with cotton and that euphoric loosening of his limps and muscles. Nothing else mattered in that moment… Aside from cracking a window; he’d finished smoking his bowl and the room was feeling rather stuffy. He opened the window quickly, swaying slighting from standing up too fast, and settled back down into the beanbag chair. He tapped the ash out of his pipe onto his rolling tray, stamping out the still smoldering bits with the bottom of his lighter, before leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t going to be moving from this spot for a minute. He could tell almost immediately. He could faintly hear the TV going in the background and that was the only thing keeping him grounded in the present. He hadn’t gotten a high like this in a minute.

For some reason, he felt durant to his acoustic guitar sitting over in the corner. The guitar was old, probably just as old as Simon was but he didn’t particularly care to do the math on that. He didn’t know the exact type of guitar he had, but it was a Suzuki SG-2S guitar and it was scuffed to hell and back. That guitar had seen him through three different moves that he knew about, the pick guard being coated in hundreds of overlapping scratch marks. The finish of the guitar was worn off in several spots, but Simon still found it beautiful. Tommy had called the color ‘Tobacco Sunburst’ but Simon thought the same was fucking stupid.

(If he remember right, they’d gotten into a spat over it. Tommy has insistent that it wa the proper name for the color, Simon didn’t care regardless. The name was stupid.)

He sat up briefly before slinging the guitar over his lap, not bothering to slide the strap over his shoulders. His fingers quickly slid to pick out from between the strings and the fretboard at the top of the guitar, the calluses on his fingertips lining up perfectly with the strings. He idly picked through a few different scales. Warming up on the guitar was practically second nature to him at this point. He’d been playing guitar for just about as long as he could remember. His mother had taught him as soon as he was big enough to hold a guitar and he’d fallen in love with the instrument as soon as he touched the strings. Some of his fondest memories growing up were of playing guitar with his mum, often accompanied by Tommy singing along to whatever song they were playing, his voice being incredibly loud and off-key.

The guitar belonged to his mother originally, and it had been a birthday gift from her. He’d part with it over his dead body. Though the guitar didn’t look the best, it was absolutely priceless to him. He hummed softly to himself as he slowly worked through different riff that had been giving him trouble. The guitar was tuned perfectly, and Simon felt himself getting lost in the sound of it. The soft squeaks of the strings against his fingers, the gentle thrums from the pick, nearly everything was enchanting.

Playing guitar was always an incredibly therapeutic thing for Simon. At the very least, it was a conversation starter for just something he could bring up for meaningless smalltalk. He’d been asked to play at a few of Gaz’s parties, but the idea of having that many people staring at him while he was playing made him want to gouge his throat out with a fork. He’d rather play alone in his room, and he had no problem with admitting that.

He hadn’t been to many of Gaz’s parties recently, but he appreciated that Gaz didn’t nag him too terribly for not showing up. He didn’t know everyone who was there and his idea of fun didn’t typically consist of sitting off in a corner awkwardly for a few hours before he deemed it acceptable to leave.

Funnily enough, Soap always seemed to be at Gaz’s parties whenever he’d have them. Soap would never outright approach Simon, but he’d always give him a wave and that same, charming smile he always seemed to have primed and ready. Did Soap know how to play guitar? Could he at least sing halfway decent? He’d have to ask next time he saw him. 

Simon decided he was done playing guitar for now once he’d realized he’d been staring at the wall for the past ten minutes, not moving a single muscle. He placed it back onto its stand in the corner before immediately laying back down into bed. The soft breeze coming in through the window made his room cool, but still extremely pleasant for him to be in. He laid on his stomach with one leg lifted up as he started scrolling through his phone to keep his mind occupied. 

Even while being on his phone, his mind couldn’t stop drifting towards thoughts of Johnny. Objectively he was mildly annoying, to put things lightly. He always seemed to gravitate towards Simon like a lost puppy just to make flirty comments towards him. (It had taken Simon an embarrassing amount of time to figure out that he was flirting and not just being nice.) Though he was annoying, Simon couldn’t deny that he was incredibly attractive despite his horrifically outdated mohawk, but it did suit him quite well. 

Simon didn’t consider himself to be very much of a relationship person. Things had a tendency to not work out and he’d much rather save himself the grief than fling himself at anyone who showed him the smallest bit of attention. While this was true, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the attention that Johnny was always all too willing to give him. Johnny made him feel like he was the most important person in the room. He’d be stupid to not enjoy it.

He wanted to get closer to Johnny, nearly feeling shitty for how little he actually knew about him. He didn’t know much about his hobbies, only knowing his taste in music from their drives that they would go on together. Their respective tastes in music had a significant amount of overlap, which Simon greatly appreciated. He found himself always feeling drawn towards Johnny. He wanted to be closer to him, whether that was just as friends or otherwise.

Johnny was undeniably attractive; you could even argue that he was Simon’s type. He had a decent amount of muscle to him, a stunning smile, and those beautiful blue eyes that Simon could easily get lost in for hours. His patchwork tattoos that were more than likely done in someone’s kitchen or basement left something to be desired, but Simon couldn’t say much on the quality or overall design of his tattoos. (He didn’t have much ground to stand on with his overly edgy sleeve he’d gotten the week after he turned 18.) Johnny was cocky and oftentimes overly confident, but Simon liked it, oddly enough. He was charming and always seemed to know exactly what to say to get a laugh or any other reaction out of Simon. He liked Johnny much more than he’d initially expected to.

 Simon wasn’t entirely picky with who he hooked up with, but it wasn’t something that he often sought out. With Johnny, however, he had half a mind to invite him over. The longer he’d thought about him, that low simmer of arousal pooling in his gut had roared into a rolling boil. Sleeping with Johnny wouldn’t be the worst idea he’d ever had. He’d stolen glances at his groin when he would wear gray sweatpants and Simon was more than just pleased with what he’d seen. At the very least, he’d have fun. That would be worth it. It had been a minute.

Simon💀: idk if it’s the strain or what

Simon💀: but i’m fucking horny

Simon💀: did that happen to you when you tried it?

Simon seemed to have an uncanny talent in sending risky text messages when he was stoned. It wasnt recommended at all, but he usually gained something pleasant out of it. He’d never sent a risky message to Johnny, mind, but he doubted anything bad would come from it.

He knew damn well how Johnny looked at him like he was something to be devoured. Any time he needed to lean down to pick something up, he could always be certain that he’d find Johnny’s eyes trained carefully on him. He was never shy about his intentions. Simon was practically waiting for Johnny to make a move, but he’d make it first if Johnny wouldn’t.

Despite Johnny’s track record of responding within five minutes whenever Simon would text him, nearly ten minutes had lapsed since Simon had messaged him. Disappointing. He tossed his phone onto the bed before opening the drawer on his bedside table. He tossed a bottle of lube and a dildo onto the bed near his phone before lying back down. It seemed like closing the door earlier had been a good idea after all.

He checked his phone one again, just to check, and was surprised to see ‘Read 1:23pm.’ He was very neatly thrilled to see the typing bubble pop up on screen. He needed to see this through, a pang of tension cutting through his arousal.

Johnny🧼: u kno..

Johnny🧼: as ur plug in responsible for ur high

Johnny🧼: i could come take care of u

Of course he’d say that. Simon had completely expected for Johnny to jump at the opportunity. Strangely enough, it was endearing.

Simon💀: mhm.

Simon💀: you can barely take care of yourself

Simon💀: I’d like to see you try.

Simon grinned as soon as he saw that Johnny was typing again rolling onto his stomach. He kept his phone held up in his left hand as his right hand slid down beneath himself. He didn’t let it slide fully into his boxers, idly playing with the waistband of his boxers.

Johnny🧼: I can come over n prove it, si’

Johnny🧼: I’d be more thn happy 2

As much as the idea seemed appealing, Simon wanted to guarantee that he’d have the house to himself. He couldn’t risk having Roach coming home in the middle of everything. He truly did want to tell Johnny to come over, particularly with how long it’s been, it wasn’t work the risk of getting interrupted.

Simon💀: maybe you could.

Simon💀: where would you start?

Though he couldn’t have Johnny over right away, playing with his food was always an entertaining pastime for Simon. Particularly with someone like Johnny. He always was incredibly upfront with his intentions. Whether he’d put his money where his mouth is was still up for debate.

Johnny🧼: do u have any idea how crazy uve been driving me??

Johnny🧼: every time i see u it drives me fuckin insane

Johnny🧼: can barely keep my hands to myself when i see u

Cute, but Simon already knew that. The art of subtlety was not something that Johnny was skilled or familiar with. He liked that about him. He couldn’t deny the thrill that rushed down his spine whenever he would turn around and catch Johnny staring at him. He always looked at him like he was starving, his eyes looking nearly dark with desire each time. It almost seemed as if he could call Johnny over to him with a simple tilt of his head and he’d drop to his knees in front of Simon like an obedient dog. He loved that feeling.

Simon 💀: cute… 

Simon 💀: you can do better than that, can’t you? 

Johnny🧼: u have no idea just how badly i want to ruin u

Simon had half a mind to drop the conversation there. He wasn’t in the mood to have to lead the conversation himself. If Johnny wasn’t going to hold his attention, he wasn’t going to keep playing along for the sake of Johnny’s ego. Interestingly enough, he responded before Simon could set his phone down fully. 

Johnny 🧼: if you tell me to i’ll come over rn

Johnny 🧼: i’d push you up against the wall, kiss you breathless with my hand around your neck 

Johnny 🧼: have you riding my thigh while i’m marking what’s mine

Marking what’s his?  

Simon 💀: marking what’s yours? i’m not yours. 

Johnny 🧼: not yet >_<!

Incredibly cocky, yet he didn’t hate it. Johnny was always incredibly forward with his intentions. The current moment was no exception to that. Simon would be lying if he didn’t find the idea of it appealing. He could almost perfectly envision it. 

Johnny’s hand gripping almost uncomfortably tight onto his hips, no doubt leaving bruises where his fingertips had been. The delectably rough scrape of his stubble against his jaw and neck as biting kisses would be placed across his skin, the warm metal of the barbell in Johnny’s tongue tracing across each hickey left across his neck. He could almost hear how Johnny would chuckle against his skin as he pressed his leg up further between Simon’s thighs, the pressure against his cock as he would roll his hips down and be met with an approving hum from Johnny. He wanted to hear just how rushed and heated Johnny’s breaths would get, feel his cock hardening against his hip…

Johnny 🧼: i’d treat you so well if you’d let me

Johnny 🧼: i’ll make an absolute mess out of you just with my tongue and fingers

Johnny 🧼: i’d leave marks all over your body just to make you think of me each time you see them

He would be on his back, bullied up closer to the head of the bed with Johnny between his legs. He’d have his hand in Johnny’s hair, pulling on it just to see how Johnny would react. He could almost feel Johnny’s steely blue eyes watching each expression he’d make. Johnny’s eyes would never leave his face, even when he leans his head back against the pillows. The coil in his stomach winding tighter with each pass of Johnny’s tongue against his cock, his fingers curling up just right inside of him and making him squirm. 

He knew Johnny would wrap his free arm around one of his thighs, pulling him closer and effectively locking him in place. He’d pull back just briefly, his chin nearly dripping wet with Simon’s arousal. 

“Don’t run away from it, sweetheart.”

Johnny 🧼: can’t wait to hear all the pretty little sounds you’ll make 

Simon 💀: hate to disappoint but i’m kind of quiet 

Johnny 🧼: we’ll see about that when i get my hands on you

Simon couldn’t even find it in him to be annoyed by his confidence. Johnny was well aware of the effect that he had on Simon and to his credit, Simon couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this interested in texting someone like this. 

He was on edge, his hand having creeped into his boxers long before Johnny started typing. He could feel his heartbeat racing as he watched the bubble continue, a low curse leaving his throat as he curled his fingers upwards inside of him.

Johnny 🧼: takin a while to respond, sweetheart

Johnny 🧼: what are you up to?

If he wanted to know so badly, Simon had no problems with showing him. He had a mirror at the foot of his bed for a reason. He sat up just slightly, leaning his weight on his left elbow and angling the camera so that his face wasn’t visible. He spread his legs open a little further for the picture. The damp spot on his boxers was just barely visible, but made more apparent by the flash of the camera. 

The image was tasteful, but you could still clearly see that Simon had two fingers buried inside of his cunt. He ground the heel of his palm against his dick as he sent the picture over.

Simon 💀: i think you can guess…

Johnny didn’t immediately start typing and Simon couldn’t deny the slight puff that it gave to his ego. He was well aware of the fact that Johnny found him attractive, but seeing a visual demonstration of him not having an immediate quip back from a risque picture was amusing to him. It was, of course, short lived. 

Johnny 🧼: got you that riled up from a few texts?

Simon 💀: don’t flatter urself 

Simon 💀: i’m home alone. just gotta take care of it myself. 

Johnny 🧼: i could change that

Simon 💀: maybe

The offer was incredibly tempting. Simon knew if he told Johnny to come over, he’d be at his house within the next twenty minutes, if not faster. Best case, the hookup would be pretty decent and he’d have a reason to invite Johnny over more often. Worst case, he’d have some mediocre sex and need to find a new drug dealer. That still didn’t account for running into Johnny at parties, or Roach coming home in the middle of everything. Maybe that wasn’t the best course of action…for now.

Johnny 🧼: can i save that pic?

Johnny 🧼: won’t show it to anyone. i just want that for me

If he’d been standing up, Simon knew that message would have made him dizzy. He could feel the slight rush of adrenaline down his spine at the suggestion. Just wanting to keep that picture for himself? Would he be looking at it later, touching himself thinking about Simon? Would that be the first time he’d done something similar? The mental image of that was all too appealing for Simon to say no.

Simon 💀: you better fucking not

Simon 💀: my face isn’t in it, go ahead

Johnny 🧼: perfect. 

He slid a third finger inside of himself as he waited for Johnny to finish typing, gently chewing on his lower lip in anticipation. Would Johnny be touching himself looking at that picture?

His face dimly illuminated by the light of his phone, sitting up with the hem of his tank top tucked between his teeth. His eyes carefully scanning over the picture as his hand stroked over his cock, his thumb trailing over the head on each upstroke. 

Johnny 🧼: just want to fucking ruin you 

Johnny 🧼: i’d keep you up all night, fill you up until you can’t take any more

Simon 💀: doubt you have the stamina but you can try

Johnny 🧼: cute that you think that

Johnny 🧼: when’s the last time someone properly took care of you? 

In all honesty, Simon could barely even remember the last time he’d hooked up with someone, let alone had a memorable and at least halfway decent hookup. He knew it had been more than a few months, but he didn’t exactly keep track of it either. He didn’t necessarily have people lining up to sleep with him, Johnny being the exception, and didn’t see the point in lying about it just to make him jealous…though it did sound appealing. 

Simon 💀: it’s been a while

Johnny 🧼: poor thing

Johnny 🧼: i could take care of you

Johnny 🧼: have you start on your hands and knees, flip you on your back when you get too tired

Johnny 🧼: push your knees to your chest and watch how you fall apart for me

He’d be on his back, his knees held tight to his chest, Johnny no doubt deeper inside him than anyone had been in a long time. He could hear the slap of skin on skin, harsh pants and soft groans. He was certain he’d be able to see the sweat dripping down Johnny’s temples, messy trails down his neck. How his eyebrows would be knit together tightly, his eyes closed and focusing on the sensations of everything. Open mouthed panting, his muscles flexing and relaxing beneath his skin so perfectly, shoulders begging to be bitten into. He’d make such a pretty picture, wouldn’t he?

Johnny 🧼: show me what you’re up to, doll

He deserved to see a little more, didn’t he? Simon pushed himself up to be sitting fully, tucking his legs beneath him and getting into more of a straddle position. He kept the camera carefully angled to hide his face as he hit the record button. He kept slowly fingering himself as the video ran, being careful to not make much noise. He didn’t need to inflate Johnny’s ego any more than it already would be. He didn’t watch the video back before sending it off. It was only a few seconds long, but it was clear what he was doing.

His eyes lit up as soon as Johnny started typing again, not having the energy to feign disinterest any longer. 

Johnny🧼: I can hardly even see what you’re doing, sweetheart

Simon💀: greedy.

Johnny🧼: you love it.

His next video started the same as the one he’d just sent, this time making more of an effort to grind against the palm of his hand as he worked himself open. This time, he lowered the camera from his face as he pulled his hand out of his boxers. He locked eyes with the camera in the mirror as he raised his hand towards his mouth, slowly trailing his tongue between his fingers and effectively cleaning off all evidence of his own arousal. He immediately sent off the video as soon as he stopped recording.

Simon💀: does this give you any clues?

He couldn’t deny the headrush he got as soon as Johnny didn’t reply for almost a minute, the read receipt being the only evidence he’d seen it. He was nearly giddy as he waited for Johnny to finish typing.

Johnny🧼: i think i’ve got an idea

Johnny🧼: i’d clean off your fingers just like that if i was there

Johnny🧼: dying to find out exactly how you taste

Simon💀: i bet you are

He’d been dancing around inviting Johnny over for too long, and he was starting to wonder if it’d be worth it to invite him over. Johnny hadn’t let up once in texting him. Simon wouldn’t mind the company. It could’ve just been the weed talking, but Simon felt he deserved at least the chance to prove himself. What did he have to lose?

He shifted up on his knees, turning so that his profile could be seen in the mirror. He pressed his chest down towards the bed, forcing his back to arch as his hips stayed high up in the air. He adjusted himself just slightly so that his body was in better view of the mirror to the camera. He sent off the picture as soon as he’d gotten a good shot.

Simon 💀: you gonna come get behind me or what?

Read 1:58pm. 

For a few moments, Simon figured that Johnny was just in shock and didn’t know how to respond. Maybe he hadn’t expected Simon to send that and needed a moment to process. One minute passed, then two, then five, then ten. Simon couldn’t hold in the disappointed sigh as he tossed his phone to the side. He was disappointed, yes, but still not entirely surprised. He’d expected Soap to be all bark and no bite, but had hoped that wouldn’t be the case. 

He rolled back onto his back, reaching for the dildo and lube he’d tossed onto the bed earlier before sliding his boxers off and tossing them onto the floor. He’d hoped for something different, but this would have to do for now.

an: sorry for cockblocking you guys i promise they fuck in the next chapter. but anyways. thank you for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed!! next chapter should be up relatively soonish!!

[pastel-c4rtmansz]

requested by: @superyokaigamer

PREMISE: YOU ARE SHELLEY'S BEST FRIEND VISITING THE FARM. SHELLEY IS AT A DOCTOR'S APPOINTMENT WITH SHARRON AND STAN IS OUT WITH HIS FRIENDS SO IT'S JUST YOU, RANDY, AND TOWELIE FOR A LITTLE WHILE. 

Y/N walked towards the farm house's door at a fast pace looking down at theirs and Shelley's messages. 

Y/N: when r u gonna be back at ur house? im at ur door rn lmao

Shelley: I'm sorry itll probably take about an hour im doing a physical exam you can just sit on the couch. my dad may be annoying tho lmao

Y/N: ugh okay

Y/N stepped in the house, slipping off their black shoes. They sat on the couch mindlessly scrolling through Insta when a blue towel with blood shot eyes came up to them.

"Hey wanna get high?" It asked. 

"Huh? What?" Y/N gave it a confused look.

"I'm Towelie, follow me."

"Uh okay…" Y/N reluctantly followed.

Towelie grabbed their semi sweaty hand and brought them out to the weed testing room. 

Y/N heard a voice they recognized, none other than Randy Marsh, "Did you find a new test subject already, Towelie?" He asked, his back turned to the both of them while he stayed focused on his new weed blend. "Sure did." Towelie piped up. "Perfect, I really need someone to test this new strain for me. We're not letting Stan's friend's family across the street sell more than us." Randy put the finishing touches on the strand and turned around.

Pleasantly surprised at the person Towelie brought over, Randy spoke cheerfully, "Oh! Y/N, nice to see you! I didn't know you liked to smoke. Honestly it's refreshing to see kids like you. Nowadays everyone's been using those pussy vape sticks. I'm honored to show you some true weed, Some Tegridy.." He switched to a southern accent halfway through his mini speech. 

"Hi Mr. Marsh, it's good to see you again… I didn't exactly know I'd be smoking but I'm always 100% down for getting high!" They giggled. "Well that's great! come here, I have 3 joints all rolled up for us already." 

Taking a few steps closer, Y/N slipped their phone in their pocket and took the joint Randy offered them. Of course, Towelie took one as well. 

"Alright, let's light up guys." Towelie announced.

They all took turns lighting their joints. 

Y/N took a slow and long hit. The type that you still feel in your lungs even minutes after you exhale. "Mm that's good" Y/N closed their eyes and sat down on the floor immediately feeling the effects. "You can say that again." Towelie stood next to them now at eye level.

"I don't want you sitting on the floor, you're a guest Y/N. Come on, let's go back inside and sit on the couch." Randy grabbed their limp hands helping them up. 

After being seated for around 40 minutes the three heard the door open. 

"WHAT THE FUCK DAD I HATE YOU STOP STEALING ALL OF MY FRIENDS" Shelley yelled. 

"Now Shelley I know you have a weed problem but your dear friend Y/N wanted to try some of the new strain." 

Y/N gave a thumbs up in response. 

"Whatever, c'mon Y/N, we're going to my room." Shelley pulled Y/N off the couch.

A few hours passed and Y/N was about to leave, before they could make it out of the house though Randy and Towelie stopped them. "Come over again sometime?" Towelie asked. Y/N nodded and smiled then left out the door.

(SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AND SORRY ITS KINDA SHORT :/)

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Tuesday

Monday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: anxiety, doctor’s offices, taking pain pills (not sure if I need to tag that, but just in case), stalkers, blackmail, swearing, non-consensual taking pics of nudes, slight body dysmorphia, self-loathing, toxic friends

Word count: 5,326

(A/N): another long chapter, my little wlw heart loved writing this chapter! Also holy shit I was not expecting the first part to blow up, thank you to everyone that read it! Gosh, it’s enough to make a grown woman cry :’)

You cracked open your crusty eyes to Wilbur poking his head into your room. “(Y/n), Dad wants you.”

You groaned rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. “I’ll be down in a sec.” Your voice was scratchy and thick with sleep.

He closed the door silently and you heard his socked feet thumping down the hallway. Your pain faded slightly into soreness, but your shoulders and upper back were slightly stiff. After you drug yourself out of bed, you shambled down the stairs to see your family at the table eating breakfast. Your stomach growled loudly, making you blush slightly in embarrassment. 

Your eldest brother snorted. “Hungry (y/n)?”

You slumped into your seat next to him slowly shoveling food into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“You wouldn’t be that hungry if you ate dinner when you got home like I told you to do last night, young lady. You better eat every single thing on that plate.”

There was no arguing with a stern Dadza, so you reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Tommy and Tubbo were telling Wilbur about your match animatedly. 

“And the ball was like fwoosh and she- the ball and-and-”

“And she hit it and Haley hit it to the other side! It was so cool!”

Wilbur merely smiled listening to them ramble about how badass you were last night. They made you feel genuinely happy that they admired your volleyball abilities; they were probably your biggest fans and that made your day most of the time. You remembered the first match they came to during your freshman year, they had run up to you right after the end-of-match whistle blew to spew about how good you were on the court. They met the team that day. Your team adored having them at your games, over the years they slowly replaced your school’s mascot. They played a huge part in morale boosts before and during matches. 

He looked over to you, “I didn’t know my little sister could be so badass.”

You felt your cheeks flare up. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. It really wasn’t anything special.”

“(Y/n),” Philza pursed his lips, “you did all that with a bruised back, I’d consider that something special.”

“Wait (y/n), you’re hurt?” Tommy and Tubbo looked at you with wide concerned eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I can still move and stuff.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “it’s bad if you’re going to the doctor for it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday, so I’m not worried.” 

“You’re deadass wincing everytime you move your arm,” WIlbur deadpanned, “it clearly still hurts.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t say the pain went away completely. Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Language,” Philza glared at you two, gesturing to the two fifth graders watching the exchange with interest. 

You and Wilbur resumed eating and murmured out a defeated “sorry Dad.” You both glared at Techno when he huffed in amusement. 

“If you three keep bickering, you’re going to be late to school. Remember, you two have to drop off Tommy and Tubbo today cuz I’m taking your sister to her appointment. Now go get ready, I’ll take care of your dishes.”

Your brothers took off up the stairs, each competing to get to the bathroom first. Occasionally, you would hear shouts and slapping noises. You felt glad you didn’t have to deal with that today. Judging by Techno’s gruff voice laughing and an explosion of loud complaints from the rest, you assumed that he won today. “I swear, they’re gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You and me both Dad, you and me both.”

You went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pain pills from the junk drawer. Various bottles of Motrin and Advil were scattered around the house because when you live with a rambunctious family like this one, people are bound to get hurt and headaches are common. Popping three into your mouth, you washed it down with a glass of water. The sound of the running water faucet and the slight splashing of water filled the silence of the room. 

“How’s your back? Does it feel any better?”

“Kinda, today it just feels more sore than throbbing, my headache went away mostly, and my shoulder doesn’t feel any worse, so that’s better I guess.”

He shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry off his wet hands. He moved over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen package of peas that your family never ate. You all used it whenever one of you would get a bruise. He moved behind you and held it against your back without warning. Flinching forward from the unexpected temperature change, you winced with the wave of pain moving brought you. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re good. Just give me a little warning next time,” you chuckled. He gently placed it back on your back and you sighed from the slight relief that it brought you. You leaned into the peas and closed your eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I bet. That bruise was pretty bad yesterday, can I look at it again?”

You reluctantly left the sanctuary that was the medical grade frozen peas and leaned forward, moving your hair out of the way for him. “Knock yourself out.”

He made a hissing noise as soon as he moved your shirt out of the way. “Dad, it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“...Have you seriously not looked at this yet? It looks pretty bad, hun.”

“Well, sorry I can’t move to look at my back without being in pain. I’ll try harder next time.” You snarked him.

“Hey, watch the attitude. Here, I’ll take a picture so you can see how bad it is.”

You heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his phone out of his pocket and the obnoxiously loud click of his camera app. You turned around to look at the damage. You squinted at his bright phone screen. Your entire back was swollen in some areas and was covered in ugly reds, blues, blacks, and purples. You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and cringed away from the screen. You always got nauseous seeing injuries.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes isn’t the only word I would use, it’s bad (y/n).”

“It looks worse than it feels, I promise. I’m gonna go get ready so we’re not late to my appointment. It sounds like the boys are finally done with the bathroom.”

You hobbled up the stairs slowly and made your way to the bathroom. The door was wide open ready for you to use. Turning on the light, you closed the door in a hurry so that your brothers wouldn’t try to get in again to hog the bathroom like they usually did. You frowned at your appearance. Your hair was sticking up in every direction and you had dark eye bags around your dull looking eyes. A few pimples dotted your skin like constellations in the night sky, but much uglier and more out of place. Turning your body, you scanned your figure. Your eyes watered as you realized that you had gained some weight. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were right, you looked like garbage all the time.

You ripped your eyes away from yourself in the mirror with disgust etched deep into your features. You were disgusting through and through. Ripping your brush through your hair, you winced at the pain emanating from the back of your head. You deserve the pain for letting yourself go. Once you were slightly more satisfied with your appearance, you stepped out of the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes you would wear today. You decided on a hoodie and a pair of tights. You didn’t feel like dressing yourself up. 

You once again walked down the stairs and slipped on your shoes to meet your dad in his car. You idly scrolled through your phone while you waited for him, looking at your notifications for the first time that day. You had ten texts from the group chat that you were in with Adrian, Annie, and Sammy.

Sammy <3

(Y/n) where the hell are you?

Adrian <3

Do you guys think she ditched us?

I knew she was ignoring us

Sammy <3

Who ignores their friends?

Annie <3

(Y/n) apparently. 

She has more important things to do ig

Oh my god

Do you guys think she skipped school?

Adrian <3

I wouldn’t put it past her

Maybe she finally gave up

(Y/n)

I’m sorry guys, I just have a doctor’s appointment today

I would never ignore you

Sammy <3

Yk, it’s hard to keep defending you when you keep ditching us..

(Y/n)

I’m not ditching you!

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about my appointment

I’ll make it up to you guys

Adrian <3

How?

You’ve already skipped out on us enough already

Annie <3

Oh ik!

She can write our final research paper for us Dri!

I haven’t started it yet lmao

Adrian <3

Saaaame lmaoooo

Sammy <3

Guys, what about me???

Adrian <3

Idk, figure it out yourself

Sammy <3

Rude!

Uhhh

Ur gonna put together my final presentation for us history

(Y/n)

Alright, I can do that for you guys

Sam can you pls send me the rubric? 

Annie <3

Thanks love ;)

(Y/n)

No problem, I like doing things for friends

My dad’s coming, I gotta go

Talk to you guys later

Adrian <3

Byeeee (y/n), ur the best!

(Y/n)

: ) <3

You put your phone down as your dad started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. The drive was quiet as you stared out the window and thought about how much work you now had to do. On top of your own classes, you had two more to write and a presentation to make in a class you hadn’t taken since the first semester in your sophomore year. The research papers had to be at least four full pages long with a minimum of ten sources each due on Friday and you had no idea how big Sammy’s US history presentation has to be or what it’s even about. But that was fine, you’d do anything for your friends. 

“So, who were you texting? Your boyfriend?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, just Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. I don’t have a boyfriend Dad,” because you were a closeted lesbian, but you wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “You know that.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. How have they been?”

“They’re good. Adrian got a job at the diner, he’s a host. Sammy and Annie have been focusing more on raising their grades.”

“Good for them! You should invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I was actually thinking that I could maybe go hang out with them on Halloween...?”

“(Y/n), the family was going to take Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating.”

“I know, but there’s always next year. Plus, we haven’t been able to hang out in so long! We’re always free at different times.”

“I don’t know (y/n), what if they don’t want to trick-or-treat next year? What were you planning on doing with them?”

“We were just gonna hang out at Annie’s house and watch some horror movies,” you lied. He would never let you go if he knew you were going to a party. Especially one where alcohol would be involved and hormonal teenage boys ran rampant actively scouting for an easy lay.

“...I’ll think about it.” The car pulled into the doctor office’s parking lot.

“Thank you Dad! It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He chuckled as you both walked into the lobby, checked in, and waited for your name to be called. About ten minutes later, you were summoned by a nurse so you went into the back leaving your dad to wait in the lobby. The nurse recorded your height and weight (much to your dismay, you gained four pounds) and asked you the standard questions about your injury and uncomfortable questions about your overall health. The clacking of her acrylic nails on the plastic keyboard filled the awkward silence.

Once that was done, she left and you had to wait a little bit for the doctor. After slipping into the backless gown the nurse left, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Jumping when someone knocked on the door, you looked up to see your family’s doctor smiling at you.

“Hello (y/n), how are we feeling today?”

“I’m alright.”

“I hear that you had quite the fall onto some concrete, is that true?”

“Yes, I landed on my back and the back of my head.”

She reached over and squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands, rubbing it in and looking back at you. “Can you please lay on your stomach so I can take a look at your back?”

You nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable paper covered cushioned table onto your stomach. You felt her cold hands gently graze your bruises before she pulled out her stethoscope. “Can you take a good deep breath in for me?”

You complied and she instructed you to let it out. Doing this multiple times along your back, she put her stethoscope away and continued prodding at your exposed back. 

“There’s definitely some swelling in multiple areas… It doesn’t feel or sound like you cracked or broke any ribs, which is excellent… Do you have any pain deep in your shoulder when you move it?”

“Yes, I landed on it wrong last night at my volleyball match.”

“How would you describe your pain? Stabbing, sore, throbbing…”

“More sore, but a little stabbing pain when I move my arm.”

She moved her fingers to examine your shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a sprain or fracture, can you move it up and down for me?”

You moved your arm up and down, front and back, and side to side. “You still have a full range of movement, that’s good. Can I have you sit back up again?”

You sat back up and she started testing you for a concussion. After passing her tests, you were cleared of having a concussion. “Alright (y/n), it appears that you only strained your deltoid and teres muscles and you have severe bruising along your back. Make sure you ice your back and, if you have one, wear a shoulder compression sleeve. Anti-inflammatory medications such as Ibuprofen will help with the swelling. Other than that, you have a clean bill of health! You can still participate in volleyball practices, but you need to take it easy. Don’t do anything that will strain the muscles any further.”

“Thank you Dr. Samson,” you smiled at her. 

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to change back into your clothes and you’re free to go! You may leave the gown on the table.”

She left the room and you redressed yourself. Walking out to the lobby, Philza’s head perked up when he heard the door opening. He stood up and walked over to you with a slightly worried face. You both walked back out to the car.

“So?”

“Dr. Samson said that I don’t have a concussion, sprains or broken bones. She told me that I just strained my shoulder muscles and I need to keep ice on my back.”

He visibly slumped in relief. “Thank god. What’d she say about volleyball?”

“She said that I could keep playing, but I have to take it easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing finals on Thursday. Do you know if the team you’re playing is any good?”

“Dad, of course they’re good, we’re the top two teams in the area.”

“I bet their setter is nowhere near as good as you are and I bet the setter and spiker aren’t as synced as you and Haley are. You two make a good pair.” 

“Yeah we do, don’t we?” You looked out the window and smiled a little and felt your ears turn red. The very mention of Haley’s name was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The car fell silent again as you neared your high school. 

In your AP world history class, the class was looking at the test you had taken yesterday. Surprisingly, you got a 74% on the multiple choice part and a 50% on your essay portion, so that landed you with a just below passing grade. You thought you completely flunked that test yesterday, so that was a pleasant surprise. It took a good portion out of your overall grade in the class, lowering it from a comfortable A- to a slightly alarming B. You supposed it could’ve been a lot worse. Besides reviewing your tests, the class didn’t do much except starting the reading for the next chapter.

Your psychology online class went like it usually did, however your phone blew up with texts about midway through the block. Glancing down, you saw that it was Haley. Shouldn’t she be in class?

Hales : )

(Y/n) meet me in the locker room right after school

I need to talk to you before practice starts

It’s an emergency

(Y/n)

What’s going on?

Hales : )

I’ll explain after school.

Can’t talk about it over text

(Y/n)

Alright, see ya then ig

You felt your gut twinge. Something’s wrong, but you didn’t know what. You were worried about Haley, usually she was really bubbly. You’ve never seen the senior act so strange before. You could only wait the block out until the bell would release you from the confines of the library and into the locker room. After sending a quick text to your brothers that you were going to stay after school for your practice, you stared blankly at your laptop’s clock as you counted down the minutes left in the class period. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Four minutes. Two minutes. Thirty seconds-

You shot up from your seat as the bell rang. Pushing past some groups of freshmen that congregated in the hallways, you made a beeline for the locker room. In the locker room, you found Haley sitting on the metal bench on the opposite end of the locker room with her back facing the last row of lockers and facing the brick wall. She was clenching her phone in her hand with an iron grip. You hurried to sit next to her.

“Hales, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s bad (y/n). Like, really bad.”

“What’s bad? You’re worrying me.”

Wordlessly, she unlocked her phone and handed it to you. On the screen was something that you weren’t expecting to see. You scrolled through the contents and felt your stomach drop with each scroll; someone took pictures of you and Haley throughout the match last night. Every picture was a violation to yours and Haley’s dignities, they had gotten zoomed in pictures of your boobs and asses. Deeper, there were even pictures taken of you changing into your volleyball uniform through your open window. You were only in your underwear. Haley had a similar picture that you scrolled past as fast as you could. Scrolling to the bottom of the text message thread, the person that sent Haley the pictures added a caption to the last picture. It was a picture of you and Haley together celebrating your match, her arm slung around your shoulder with your mouth open mid-laugh.

Unknown

I’m sending these out to the entire school unless you stop hanging around her.

If you tell anyone, the pics will be printed off and put in every single locker and bathroom the school has.

You’ll be the sluts of Klinkver High. 

Cut all ties now. You have two days. 

Do not try me.

“Jesus christ Haley. Who the fuck would do this? This is sick.”

She took her phone back and locked it without looking at the screen. “I don’t know (y/n). I wanted to tell you not to openly talk to me for a few days. We don’t know who took these, we don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t wanna risk angering them.”

“We can find them! If we look close enough, we might find a few clues where they were sitting. Do you remember seeing anything suspicious last night?”

“(Y/n), our best option is to leave it. We just can’t talk in person anymore; we can still text each other.”

“Hales, how are we gonna not talk? I’m your setter.”

She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “I don’t know (y/n). Just-just don’t talk to me anymore, I don’t want your pictures leaked.”

“I don’t care about my pictures. My name’s been drug through so much shit this past year that it won’t affect me. I don’t want your stuff leaked.”

She gave a watery laugh, “you care too much, I love that about you…” Glistening eyes turned to look deep into your own. “I’m so scared (y/n), I don’t know what to do.”

You pulled her into a hug, wincing slightly when she squeezed her arms around your upper back. She buried her face into your shoulder and started shaking with muffled sobs. “Haley, I promise I’ll catch whatever sick bastard is doing this to you. You don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing as you rested your chin on the top of her head and started to rock her back and forth slowly. You two stayed like that even after her sobbing resided, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Glancing at the clock, you realized that you two have been in the locker room for an hour. Practice was set to start in fifteen minutes, people were going to start coming into the locker room soon. 

You reluctantly pulled away from the hug and looked Haley in her bloodshot eyes, “I’m not going to let those pictures of you get leaked. I swear on my-”

The door to the locker room swung open and loud laughter echoed throughout the room. Haley pushed you away and speed walked off to a bathroom stall, slamming the door shut behind her. 

“Damn (y/n), what’d you do? She’s pissed.” 

“It’s none of your business, Zara.” 

“Oh, so it’s a lover’s quarrel then~” She cackled, her hair bouncing slightly with each heave of her shoulders. 

“For the love of… Haley and I aren’t dating, we’re both straight.” She’s straight.

“Mmhm.” She brushed past you to go to her locker. You followed her, your locker was in the grouping next to hers. You shared the area with Haley. You changed as fast as you could so that Haley would have time to change before practice starts. Speed walking into the gym, Zara was hot on your trail wearing a shit eating grin.

“Why are you in such a rush? Giving your girlfriend the silent treatment?”

“Zara. We aren’t dating. For the last time, we’re both heterosexual, not homosexual!” You wildly gestured with your hands to emphasize your point, your voice being amplified by the vast gym. Coach Williams gave you a confused look from across the gym. 

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi serious,” a soft voice replied from behind you, “I’m Jazzy.”

You groaned at the pun at the same time Zara started cackling, giving the short libero a high five. “Nice!”

“That was so bad, Jaz.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto your face.

Zara poked your cheek with a wide grin. “C’mon, you’re smiling!”

“I am and I hate it.”

Your bickering continued with Jazzy watching you two with a content smile. The remaining members of the team (Haley, Marlene, and Zuri) filed into the gym right as Coach Williams blew her whistle. 

Practice went by slowly without Haley talking to you. Sure, you had the rest of the team, but it didn’t feel the same with you guys ignoring each other. If the team or Coach Williams noticed you two not talking to each other, they didn’t say anything. By time practice was over, you all went to the locker room to change. After slipping into your fuzzy pajama pants, you sat on the bench and texted Wilbur to come pick you up. He was supposed to pick you up after practice today because he and Techno took the car home after school. Five minutes passed and he still didn’t reply. He probably won’t see the text until you got home from walking.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward. One by one, the girls left the locker room until it was only you and Haley left. 

“Do you need a ride (y/n)?” She asked gently.

“But what if the person sees us together? I can just walk home, it’s not really a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “It is a big deal. It’s cold and dark out. You could get kidnapped or something. You don’t even have a coat with you. I’m giving you a ride whether you like it or not.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her and stood up to walk next to her, “okay, mom.”

“Don’t give me that attitude young lady.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom!”

She gasped and lightly smacked the back of your shoulder, “I married your- are you alright? Shit, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you’re good. It’s just this damned bruise.”

She moved her hands and frantically turned you around to pull the neck of your shirt down. You two stood in front of the school’s main entrance with the nauseatingly bright fluorescent light bouncing off the reflective surface of the tiles. The orange tinted street lights lit up the sidewalk outside.

“(Y/n)-”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

She scoffed, “oh really? What am I gonna say then, o wise one?”

You turned around to face her, “‘oh, this is bad, yadda yadda yadda.’ Everyone’s been saying that about it. Honestly it looks worse than it feels. Tis but a scratch, m’lady.”

She snorted and covered her mouth, “never call me ‘m’lady’ ever again.”

You started to walk to her car in the empty parking lot. “Or what? What’re ya gonna do?”

“I swear to god, (y/n), I’m gonna leave you here.”

“Do it, pussy. Bet you won’t.”

“You really wanna bet?”

You grinned at her, “hell yeah.”

She broke off into a mad dash to her car, laughing freely into the night sky. You chased after her trying not to move your arms much, your laugh mixing with hers like a perfect symphony composed of the world’s best musicians. The sound of your rubber soles slapping the pavement resonated throughout the parking lot as you quickly gained on her. Reaching out to grab her shirt, she smirked at you and sharply turned to the right into the grass.

You grinned as her pace slowed down slightly. You’d be able to catch her at this pace. You pushed your legs to move faster as she looked at you from over her shoulder and shrieked in surprise at how close you were to her. You cackled at her reaction, reaching out once again, you grabbed her hand. She was stopped dead in her tracks as your shoulder was yanked with the sudden momentum, making you hiss in slight pain. Despite that, you didn’t let go of her soft hand. 

You both stood there under the moonlight and the soft orange street lamps trying to  catch your breath. The slightly damp blades of grass tickled your ankle as you shifted to face her better. Through gasping breaths and a dopey grin, you said “you… lost, pussy.”

She let out a breathy laugh as she pulled you to her car. “Shuddup.”

“Make me~”

She opened the passenger side door for you and got into the driver's seat. Her car smelled like vanilla and citrus. “Oh, you will later when I make you do more sets in weight lifting tomorrow, hurt shoulder be damned.”

She turned on the ignition and the car revved to life, soft indie pop wafted from the speakers. She backed out of the parking space and sped off to the main road. “You wouldn’t…”

“I’m your captain, (y/n). I can make you do whatever I want.” You felt your cheeks heat up a tad. You were happy that she couldn’t see you.

“Naw, you’re too much of a softie for that. Admit it, I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

She chuckled as she pulled into your driveway and put the car in park. “...Alright, maybe you do. Just a bit.”

She turned to look at you. She looked stunning with the shadows accentuating the contours of her face perfectly. You found yourself glancing at her lips and leaning slightly towards you. To your surprise, she started leaning into you as well. Before your lips could finally mesh together, she pulled back with a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. You felt a rush of disappointment and fear course through your veins. She didn’t like you like that, you should’ve known better. You were so stupid. So, so stu-

“I can’t (y/n). I want to kiss you so bad, but we can’t. Not yet at least. Not until we find the pervert that took those pictures of us.”

You sighed, “right.”

The car was filled with awkward silence. Not even the soft music streaming from the speakers could alleviate the awkwardness. God, you really screwed up your friendship, didn’t you? Sammy, Adrian, and Annie were right; you messed up everything you touched.

You coughed, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah…”

You grabbed your bag and walked into your house, the smell of chicken slapping you in the face instantly. Without checking in with your dad, you hurried up the stairs, desperate for the warm comfort of your bed. That, and if you wanted to get Sammy’s presentation and Adrian’s, Annie’s, and your research papers done by Friday, you had to start as soon as you could. You were going to skip dinner for tonight, you’d just grab more breakfast tomorrow morning. 

You plopped on your bed and got started on your research paper. Luckily, you already had all of the sources you were planning on using and the rough outline of each body paragraph, so writing the actual paper wasn’t going to take long. You worked until you heard a knock at your door. 

“(Y/n),” Techno’s monotone voice called out, “dinner’s ready.”

“Tell Dad I’m not hungry. Practice’s got me beat, I’m going to bed soon.”

He grunted, “you know he’s not gonna like that right?”

You felt frustration start to swim circles around your chest, “Techno, just tell him that I’m not hungry right now. Please.”

“Damn, you don’t need to be like that. I’ll tell him.”

You heard his stomping footsteps thumping down the hall. Shit, you pissed him off. You were a terrible person, he was just trying to get you to eat something, Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, you forced the panic that was starting to swirl around your body in laps deep into your being. You didn’t have time to deal with your failures and stupid emotions, you had to get this done. You didn’t have time to think about Haley’s warm breath ghosting across your lips. You didn’t have time to think about how she probably regretted almost kissing you. You didn’t have time to fall into an anxiety spiral, you needed to focus if you wanted Adrian, Annie, and Sammy to forgive you. You ruined yours and Haley’s friendship and did the same to yours and Techno’s. They were the only ones you had left. You needed to be a better friend.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added or if I missed you, it won’t let me tag some tumblrs :((( ):

@immadatmostthings  @thaticecreambish  @hee-hee-haw  @dearnataliealoveletter  @wasteofspacze  @dcml04  @bbigbbrainn  @dirtydiavolo  @vanhakirja  @rinzyx05  @misselsbells06  @ialexabsuniverse  @im-a-depressed-gay  @energy-drinkk  @mothra-main  @i-need-hugs  @dragons-lurk-here  @katj733  @m4r-s  @vievi  @dykeragee  @waterstrawberry  @aplaintart  @kakamiissad  @myunfinishedsymphony  @nagitokinnieissad  @autumnpleaves  @justanothergirlwithdemons  @zachariethememerie  @moon-asia  @m0on-blue  @strawberrysodababy  @akikko-yataro  @haikkeiji  @shiningsunrises  @cinnamonmochi  @queen-turtle-boiii  @imanewsoul  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelicaschuyler-church  @vixenfoxpup  @ella-ivanov  @shio-yuki  @mosstea-png  @ijustshatbricks

[combat-wombatus]

Truth or Dare

Pairing: Sero Hanta x reader

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of crack

Warnings: swearing (bakugou), but other than that, none! (unless u have traumatic memories of truth or dare)

WC: 3.1k

Summary: Mina and Denki work together to make sure that you know exactly who Sero's crush is. 

(A/N): so @klvbxlove requested some headcanons about sero’s fem!crush having an obsession with kpop/anime and sero doing cute stuff for her and i tried sticking with the prompt in the beginning but then i led myself off-topic (oops) so it turned into this! sorry it’s not what u requested, i can write something else for u if u want! i was just struck by sudden ✨inspiration✨ for this fic so...here u go...

“EEEK!” You squealed, bouncing over to your friends. “LOOKLOOKLOOK-”

“(Y/L/N),” Bakugou grumbled. “Calm the fuck down, no one can understand you.”

You took a deep breath, then handed your phone over to Mina.

As soon as Mina saw the screen, she started squealing just like you were.

“(Y/N)!!!! OMGOMGOMGOMG-” she grabbed your arms and started jumping up and down like an overexcited toddler.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, gave an exasperated huff, then stomped away. “Can’t deal with you idiots when you’re like this.”

Mina dragged you by your arm over to a bench on the side of the cafeteria and the two of you spent your lunch break slurping udon and watching your favorite K-pop group’s newest music video on repeat.

Sero was chatting idly with his friends, mouth full of sushi. Unbeknownst to you, he had been watching you from the corner of his eye, sneaking glances every couple of minutes. Dense as Kaminari may be academically, he had noticed Sero’s preoccupation with you throughout the meal.

“Hey bro,” He poked Sero’s elbow with the clean end of his chopstick. “Whaddya keep looking at (Y/L/N)-chan for?” He squinted at Sero. He glanced briefly at you, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, turned his eyes back on Sero. “Do you have a crush on her or something?”

Sero choked on his piece of salmon and spluttered, face beet red. “N-no! It’s not l-like that!”

Bakugou snorted. “You dumbass. The hell you mean ‘it’s not like that’? Any idiot with eyes and half a brain can see that you’re obsessed with her.”

As Sero tried to deny his feelings for you, Mina slowly shifted her attention from your phone to hers, which was dinging incessantly.

Kaminari

hey bro bro broski my man my lady? minaaaaa

Mina

asdkjfhluhal i told u to stop calling me that and what

Kaminari

so u know abt seros crush right

Mina

u have the AUDACITY to ask me, the queen of gossip, whether or not I know abt seros crush? the sheer AUDACITY is STAGGERING-

Kaminari

ok ok stop bullying me anyways wanna get them tog?

Mina

D U H would be easier if y/n wasn’t so dense and sero wasn’t so chicken

Kaminari

since ur in do u have a plan

Mina grinned. Of course she did. What kind of person did Kaminari think she was?

Mina

take sero to the boba place after school meet u there

Pocketing her phone, she turned back to face you. She had to resist the urge to cackle. This was gonna be fun.

Later that day, you and Mina walked to the dorms together.

“Whaddya say we go out today?” Mina asked excitedly, eyes gleaming. You found it a bit suspicious, since yesterday she had told you that she was failing math and was going to study with Yaomomo today.

“Didn’t you say you were going to study with Yaomomo?”

“Shit.” Mina face palmed. “I did, didn’t I? But I don’t waannnnaaa,” she whined. “Let’s just go out and get some boba and we’ll come back,” she promised, giving you the puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, okay.” You relented. “But if you fail math again, don’t blame it on me.”

She clasped a hand to her chest dramatically. “I would NEVER.”

Giggling, the two of you made your way to Coco’s Café, a cozy little place that served everything from coffee to cookies. It was also a developing cat café, mostly due to the popularity of the kitty that the place was named for, Coco.

Sidling up to the counter, you ordered a matcha boba tea while Mina ordered a strawberry milk tea with lychee jelly and boba.

“Is that it for you ladies today?” The man behind the counter asked cheerfully.

“Yes please!” Mina replied. The two of you sat in a corner booth, sipping your drinks and gossiping.

“Hey (Y/N),” Mina started. “So you know about Sero’s crush, right?”

You halted mid-sip. What? Sero had a crush?

Laughing at your startled expression, Mina leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “So,” she whispered. “Who do you think it is?”

You sat there, drink forgotten, racking your brain for possibilities. Jirou and Hagakure hung out with Sero sometimes, exchanging memes and goofing around, but they weren’t really around that often. Usually, Sero only hung out with Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Mina, and you. Mina, possibly? Was Sero gay? Did he have a thing for, say, Kaminari or Kirishima? You didn’t think that Sero would be the type to like Bakugou, but hey, he put up with Bakugou’s temper all the time, so maybe? Ugh. You resisted the urge to groan and drop your head into your hands. This was so complicated.

Mina sat back, this reaction obviously not being what she had hoped for. “Well?” She crossed her arms. “Do you have a guess yet?”

You thought about it, then decided to pick an answer randomly. “You?” You tried.

Mina snorted and almost spit out her drink. You were absolutely unbelievable. Of all the people you could’ve chosen, you picked HER? “No, (Y/N). It’s not me,” she managed to choke out in between fits of laughter.

You sprawled out on the table, no longer concealing your frustration. “Who is it then?” You whined. “Jirou? Hagakure? Is Sero gay?”

Mina actually did spit out her drink this time.

As she cleaned up her mess, Mina silently judged you with her signature side-eye. She really is that dense, huh. Guess I’ll have to knock some sense into her.

Furiously brainstorming, you tried to think of any more possibilities. As you sat in silence, something warm and fuzzy crawled sneakily onto your lap, and stayed there.

Knocked from your daze, you glanced down and the unfamiliar presence, only to realize that it was a kitty. THE kitty. Coco, the café’s namesake.

“Aww,” you cooed, lightly scratching behind her ears. She purred happily in response to your ministrations and curled into herself, tail tucked neatly around her haunches.

Just then, the doorbell jingled and the rest of your close friends walked in.

“Hey!” Kaminari chirped, giving you and Mina a lighthearted wave.

“Hey!” You replied, unaware of the glare Mina was currently giving Kaminari. As soon as they went up to order, Mina stood up and announced that she was going to the bathroom. You took out your phone and scrolled through your social media feeds, taking advantage of this time to research.

“Psst!” Mina pinched Kaminari’s elbow lightly.

“Ow! What?” Kaminari turned to face her.

Mina gave Kaminari her scariest glare. “I told you to bring Sero, not the whole squad!”

Kaminari whimpered. “But Kirishima heard and wanted to tag along too! And it would’ve been suspicious if I said no! And then Bakubro heard that Kiri was coming and decided to come too-”

Mina sighed. “You could’ve texted Sero in private!”

Scratching the back of his head, Kaminari gave Mina a sheepish smile. “Sorry Mina, I hadn’t thought of that”.

Mina stole a quick glance back at your table, and seeing that you were otherwise occupied, she turned her attention back to Kaminari.

“So, Stage 1 of the plan didn’t work. She didn’t even seem to consider herself as a possibility! However, no fear! It is time that we put Stage 2 into action!” Mina whisper-shouted. “It’ll be more complicated with Kiri and Bakugou present, but we always have a Plan B!” She quickly related her backup plan to Kaminari, who promised to tell the boys (minus Sero) to make it run more smoothly.

After giving Kaminari a quick fist bump, Mina slinked back into her seat. “So, (Y/N),” she paused, chin resting on her hand. “Since the boys are here, why don’t we ask Sero himself?”

You looked up from your phone. You hadn’t really found any clues as to who Sero’s crush could be. Most, if not all, of his posts were with your group of friends. You thought about it for a moment.

“Wouldn’t it be awkward if he didn’t want us to know?” You asked Mina.

“Oh, but we’re nosy friends! It’s our JOB to know and then tease him about it!” Mina giggled. “And besides,” she added. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious?”

You hesitated. She did have a point. You were curious, but at the same time, a little voice in the back of your brain nagged at you. Did you really want to know? Did you really want to see him crushing on someone else, and then tease him about it? That wouldn’t really be funny, for you, at least. But if you disagreed with Mina, it would be suspicious, and besides, you WERE curious. Even if the answer wasn’t the one you wanted, you would still rather it be out in the open than bottled inside. You’d rather know for certain than lose sleep over it at night.

Sighing, you relented. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

Mina rested both of her elbows on the table and smiled at you, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Truth or dare.”

As the boys returned, each holding their own drinks, Mina was bouncing in her seat. Bakugou and Kirishima each pulled up a chair, and Sero took the chance to sit next to you. At that, Mina smirked devilishly.

“So,” she grinned, fingertips dancing on the table. “Let’s play truth or dare.”

Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He couldn’t believe he’d been roped into this, but Kirishima and Kaminari wouldn’t let him ruin it. Kirishima dropped a fist on the table. “Yeah!” He turned towards Mina. “Who’s starting?”

Mina pretended to think about it, when in reality, she had already made plans.

“How about (Y/N)?”

“Me?” You raised an eyebrow. You thought that Mina would be the one to interrogate Sero.

“Yes you, dummy,” Mina teased. “Is there another (Y/N) sitting here?”

You rolled your eyes. “Who are you calling dummy?”

Mina grumbled. “Just get on with it, would you? Who are you going to ask?”

“Hmm. How about Sero?” You turned to face him. “Truth or dare?”

Sero was panicking. You weren’t the type to give out ridiculous dares, and he definitely needed to be cautious about truth. “Dare.” He said confidently.

You chuckled. Mina had prepared you for this possibility.

“I dare you to kiss your crush within the next 24 hours,” you said, “and the whole squad had to be there to see it.”

Mina and Kaminari let out simultaneous “oohs”. Bakugou pointed out the obvious. “Why the next 24 hours?”

“Because we don’t know who his crush is and they’re probably not here right now,” you answered. “And the whole squad will have to see it to make sure that he does it and doesn’t chicken out. You’ll have to ask their permission first, though,” you added. “Consent is key. Even if they turn you down, as long as you tried, we’ll count the dare as completed.”

Your friends nodded in agreement. Mina clapped her hands gleefully. “You should’ve known, Sero! You can’t hide things from us!”

Sero was *this* close to having a panic attack. He had to consciously remind himself to keep breathing. This is going to be so embarrassing how am I going to do this without making an utter and complete fool of myself gosh you really should’ve not stared at her at lunch today Sero or this wouldn’t have happened jeez are you really that dumb now the whole squad will know and you won’t be able to look her in the eye anymore adfkhiavelrsnjaerliaevr BREATHE SERO BREATHE-

The game continued. Mina dared Bakugou to smile for 5 consecutive minutes, at which Bakugou nearly flew out of his seat, palms crackling.

“You fucking extra how dare you-” He didn’t get to finish, as Mina quickly took out her phone and opened the timer app.

“And the countdown starts now!” She cackled. “That is, unless you forfeit-”

“I’M NOT GONNA LOSE TO YOU, YOU DUMB FUCKING EXTRA!!!” With that, Bakugou angrily took his seat again, disregarding all the angry scowls he received from the rest of the café’s patrons, and pulled his lips up into what could only be described as the devil’s grin. He sat like that for a full five minutes, glaring lasers into Mina, not moving a muscle. You think Mina was mentally scarred after that, because she never looked at Bakugou for the rest of the game.

Kirishima dared Kaminari to record a video of him singing the pi song and send it to Jirou. The poor boy had so many voice cracks while singing it that Kirishima went easy on him and told him to just send the first 15 seconds.

Bakugou dared you to let everyone look through your phone for one minute. You were reluctant, but seeing as you were relatively normal with only minimal embarrassing photos, no confession texts, and a fairly clean search history, you let them do it. The most embarrassing thing they found was your playlist.

“How the fuck is your playlist 74 hours and 42 minutes? What the fuck do you have on here?” Bakugou held out your phone for the rest of your friends to see.

“And why is your history full of that shitty Korean music?”

You gasped. He did not.

“Hey!” You snatched your phone back. “If you’re going to insult my music, you don’t get to continue!”

“Tch.” Bakugou sneered. “You call that shit music?”

You were thoroughly offended by this point and refused to even acknowledge his statement. You glared at Bakugou with as much intensity as you could muster. This man had no taste in music whatsoever.

The 1-minute timer dinged, and Bakugou was saved from a scathing talking-to as you all moved onto the next victim.

Mina was dared to order a glass of milk with ice, then put it on a random table (with customers) and leave without an explanation. She ended up choosing an old couple, likely in their sixties, who were cuddling with two cats. They’d each ordered a cup of coffee and shared a plate of cookies. When Mina put the glass of iced milk on their table, and the two women shared a confused look before turning their attention to Mina.

“Thank you?” The lady with horn-rimmed glasses asked rather shakily.

“Yes, thank you very much young lady, but we didn’t order this?” The one who had a tabby on her lap said, perplexed, looking Mina up and down.

Mina made a motion with her hand, zipping her lips, then giggled and sat back down at your table. The two ladies, baffled, took one look at your table and seemed to understand what was going on. They turned back to their coffees and cats and resumed their conversation.

You had all gone one full circle, and everyone had finished their drinks, so you all decided that it was time to go. You rubbed between Coco’s ears one last time and walked out into the afternoon sun.

“Hey Sero!” Kirishima clapped Sero on his back. “Don’t think we’ve forgotten about your dare,” he smiled cheekily. “Better get it over with when we first head back into the dorms, huh? That’ll probably be the easiest time to get it over with.”

Sero groaned. He’d hoped that you would all forget after the game was over, but his luck had run dry. He’d have to face the music sooner or later. He debated on his options. If he waited too long, he’d seem cowardly. He didn’t want to do that. On the other hand, maybe if he waited a full day, you would all forget? He shook his head. No, with Mina here, she’d never let him live it down. And besides, who was he to renege on a dare?

Taking his hands out of his pockets, he rubbed them together nervously. This was it. This was the moment of truth.

“Hey guys! Wait up!” He called out to Kirishima and Bakugou, who had walked ahead of the group. “I’ve got something to show you!”

Bakugou quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?” He smirked. “Whatcha got, Tape Arms?”

Sero cleared his throat. “I-I’m ready. I’m ready to do the dare.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. It was just you and the rest of the squad here. Did you really have a chance? You were scared to get your hopes up, but maybe, just maybe, you would be the one he kissed.

Hands curled into fists at his sides, Sero gulped. He was doing this. He was really doing this. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath in and out, and strode over to where you and Mina stood.

“(Y/N),” He stared at his feet. “Would you…would you allow me to kiss you?”

You covered your mouth with your hand, trying to calm yourself down. It was you. Sero had a crush on you. Your crush liked you back!

After a while, Bakugou felt the need to step in.

“Oi, dumbass!” He hollered, garnering the attention of curious passerby. “You gonna let Soy Sauce Face over there kiss you or not?”

Your face flushed a furious red. “U-Umm, y-yeah!” You stuttered. “You can kiss me, Sero!” You cringed at how excited you sounded.

Slowly, Sero tilted his face downwards. He lifted your chin tenderly and lowered his lips to yours. His lips were soft against yours, his breath tickling your cheek as he let go. You blushed harder than you ever thought was possible, and he looked down with a pleased smile.

“Thanks, (Y/N).” He said in a soft voice. “Can I take this as a sign that you have feelings for me too?”

Nodding frantically, you whispered a noncommittal “mhm”.

“Can’t hear you, sweets,” Sero teased. “Come on, I’m gonna need a verbal confirmation.”

Looking up at him, you cleared your throat. “Yes.” You whispered in a slightly louder tone. “Yes, I h-have feelings for you too.”

At this admission, your friends all cheered, Mina hooting especially loudly. “Hells yeah!” She high-fived Kaminari. “We did it!”

“Best wingmen ever!” Kaminari shouted.

“That was so manly of you Sero!” Kirishima added, flashing a thumbs-up. “Congrats!”

“Tch. Yeah, whatever. Finally got it in their thick skulls that they liked each other. Big fucking deal,” Bakugou grumbled.

“Hey, hey! Don’t you go and ruin the mood now!” Mina scolded him. “Just look at them! They look so happy!” She pointed towards you and Sero.

“Hmph. Well, those idiots could’ve been happier sooner if Sero had the fucking balls to confess earlier.”

“Oh, shut it already! Just be glad that they’re finally together!”

“Like I care.”

“Stop pretending, you big grouch! We all know you care!”

“Tch.”

Masterlist

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt. 2 (Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5)

-----

Peter will admit that during he took an extended moment during his journey home to grieve the loss of his free afternoon, and indeed the impending headaches.

And the rest of his future, if he was honest.

Not that Peter was prone to melancholy by any means, but with this assignment his fate was officially sealed, there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fail this assignment. He was going to, for the first time in his academic career, be forced to submit garbage of a caliber worthy of Tony Stark. It will forever be a black mark on his academic record.

No respectable college is going to accept him after this. In fact, he might as well drop out of school now and hit up Mr Delmar for a job. All of his prep for his MIT application is as good as useless after this. Extracurriculars? Goodbye.

Because it’s confirmed.

He’s doomed.

Swaying with the motions of the train, Peter types a text to Ned, the only person who might provide him with some much needed sympathy.

>  I’m doomed >  paired w/stark for an assignment lollllllllll.  >  help

Maybe Peter could trade with Ned. Maybe he could plead with their teacher, for honest fear of his life and scholastic integrity. He wasn’t even exaggerating. In no known iteration of this universe could Peter amicably work with Tony Stark. It would be like Harry Potter sitting down for tea with Voldemort, or Frodo and Sauron chilling with a pint and a pipe in Bag End. 

It was unthinkable. Implausible. Laughable.

And Peter would laugh, were it anyone but him in this situation.

The feeling is unusual. Never had he found reason in his life to truly dislike anybody before, everyone could be redeemed or given the opportunity for penance. Natasha has said more than once that Peter would offer the devil himself a sandwich if he appeared. 

Tony Stark on the other hand? No sandwich for him.

Well, maybe a slice of bread. A stale one.

While he waits for Ned to responds he catches sight of his injured reflection in the train window, which is admittedly pretty gnarly. Even with his hood drawn up, there was a noticeable berth allocated to him in the busy carriage between himself and the other passengers.

< sux. can I have ur lego hogwarts if u die?

> dude :( pity me.

< lol. so, can i?

Peter sighs.

> sure. Look after May for me, bro. delete my internet history.

< deal. godspeed

Pocketing his phone, Peter wonders if it’s too late to take up praying.

---

By the time he’s back in his apartment his mood has managed to swing back up.

Tony Stark is not going to be the arbiter of Peter’s fate. Hell no. He’s smart, he’s creative and hardworking - it isn’t up to anybody but Peter to determine his outcomes. If he has to do the assignment with Stark then he will. And he will work his hardest. 

If he has to do it sharing the credit with Stark, well, Peter knows a concession when he sees one.

No matter how reluctant he is.

But he powers through it, like ripping off a bandaid. It’s fine! He’s a Parker and he’s come this far in life already against ill, Parker-like odds. What was being paired for one assignment with someone who escaped the nearest hellmouth? 

It’ll be fine. 

Probably.

Not letting himself linger on his fears, Peter clears out his previous plans of going on a YouTube spiral and eating sour gummies until his teeth stick, instead utilising the time to get his foot in and and begins prepping for the assignment. Cursory, preliminary research at first, before the inevitable deep dive begins.

Neanderthal, Peter scoffs, mad all over again. Who is Stark to call Peter a neanderthal? He’s second in his class. He’s a straight A student. He likes school.

And as much as he is moderately skilled in, and enjoys JV, it’s not like he received his scholarship to study at Midtown based on his physical prowess.

The graze on his cheek that stings every time he yawns is proof of that.

Stark can eat his entire ass and choke on it, he thinks darkly, as he continues his research. He doesn’t know the first thing about Peter.

The data is sobering as he delves into job listings and statistics of his projected salary in a three year margin. This is really what his teachers earn? Wow. Depressing.

The contrast of expected salary versus the forecast of steep student loans is disheartening further still.

Teaching quietly slips from second to third on his list of ideal occupations.

Turning on a playlist on his phone, Peter continues to compile notes, amassing a truly gargantuan amount of tabs on his browser. His computer, old enough to be on its’ last teeth, whirrs loudly in protest.

It’s not until his room goes dark that he thinks to check the time.

Ah, shit. It’s nearly six.

Peter pauses. Should he tidy up the apartment?

...Nah, no point in breaking a sweat for Stark.

He continues typing. Then he hesitates, fingers suspended in mid-air. 

But what if Stark sees his unfolded laundry out on the dining table and publicly shames him for his old-but-comfortable Bulbasaur themed boxer shorts?

Goddamnit.

---

A quick, cursory clean ensues and leaves a relatively orderly Parker apartment. No freshly laundered underwear is in sight.

Peter wraps up just a few minutes before six. Right on time.

Taking a seat at the now clear dining table Peter drums his fingers on the surface and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

---

He knows when Tony finally arrives when he hears the sound of a car pulling up outside his apartment block. The riffs of a Roxette remix can be heard playing loudly  from the ground to the seventh floor of his apartment, the bass so thunderous it reverberates the windows all the way up to his floor.

Drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, Peter checks the wall clock again. It’s nearly seven.

Tony’s late.

Not that Peter is particularly affected with surprise that Tony is incapable of following basic instructions, but still. Really? Really?

By the time there is a knock on his door, Peter is already before it, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Every second between Tony pulling up and his ascent to Peter’s floor has him positively fuming. He can’t believe how this day played out. It started with such promise. He had such innocuous, but high hopes.

Clearly, he miscalculated.

Feeling a touch petty, he waits to answer, listening to Stark knock a second and then a third, more insistent time before he rouses enough calm to open the door.

He instantly regrets it when he does. 

Tony’s expression is curious one as he breezes right passed Peter without waiting for further invitation. There’s a smudge of something dark on his brow, his otherwise white undershirt smeared in dark stains.

Peter watches incredulously as the other boy drops his backpack by the door with a thump.

“You’re late.”

He closes the door behind Tony and scowls at the other boys easy posture, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes taking in the apartment.

“I didn’t realise you lived all the way out in fucking Queens. Do you have any idea how bad traffic is at this time of day? Also, your elevator doesn’t work. I just climbed seven flights of stairs, where’s the hospitality?”

“Try earning it.”

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Like it’s worth my time.” He breezes past Peter and slides his leather jacket off his arms, tossing it atop of his backpack in the corner. “Look, I’m here now. Okay? You can unclench now. So, do I get a tour or what?”

“Or what. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we had just started straight after class like I said.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tony clutches his hands to his heart before gesturing to the room. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your busy Friday night, Parker. You got a keg and the rest of the meatheads stashed away somewhere?”

Without waiting for a response, Tony wanders around the living room like a curious child in a new play room. His gaze inspects everything all at once, from peering at up close at the wall mounted photos and hovering his grubby hands over the oddments and knick-knacks speckled throughout the space.

Apprehensive, Peter can’t help but shadow him, afraid he just let loose a hurricane in a china shop.

Without asking, Tony picks up May’s old Magic 8-Ball and gives it a good shake. Peter’s fingers itch to reach over and stop him, but stops himself because then that would require actually making direct skin contact the other boy.

Not worth it.

“Cannot predict now. Huh,” Tony says to himself before placing the ball back in the wrong spot. 

They both watch silently as it rolls precariously close to the edge. 

“Anyways,” Tony helps himself to an armchair, lounging back and spreading his legs wide. “I know your long-term memory is probably as defective as the rest of you, so don’t strain yourself recalling that I had other priorities.”

“Like what?”

“Like literally anything that isn’t being around you,” the other boy grins. “Now, are we doing this thing, or did you invite me over so you could bitch at me?”

“I didn’t invite you,” Peter grumbles, swiping his notebook from the dining table before sitting on the sofa, as far away from Stark as possible. Shifting, he takes his phone from his pocket and opens the notes he’d taken earlier.

“So, I cross referenced some websites and current job listings,” Peter scrolls through his research, adjusting his glasses as they slip down his nose. “Assuming you have no savings, we’re looking at an average of sixty-thousand per annum based on my salary alone. The average rent in --”

“-- Uh, why are we assuming I have no savings?”

"Because... we’re being realistic?”

Tony springs to his feet and paces across the living room.

“Well,” he says, gesturing to Peter, “if we’re being realistic, does having no savings also that mean I have no debt -- or are you paying off two student loans on your salary?”

“I don’t --”

“Do we have car loans? Health insurance?”

“Wait, slow your roll, Stark. I haven’t yet --”

“-- Of course you haven’t. I mean really, Parker, do you ever think ahead? You should try it, we do have a baby on the way, you know.” Tony clicks his fingers and points at Peter. “Oh, names! I want to call it Molly.”

“As in the drug?” 

“No, as in Ringwald. Anyhoo, seeing as only one of us has the intellectual capacity to construct a budget,” Tony gestures to himself, “that would be me, consider maybe that I spent my savings paying off my student loans and bought a car for me and Miss Molly, leaving you with just your own stagnant debt. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling utterly steamrolled. “But we’re not calling the baby Molly.”

“Yes, we are. Think of all the great nicknames. Hey wait,” Tony pauses in his pacing, “are your parents going to be home soon?”

It was in that moment Peters world narrows down to one, botched cosmic joke.

Turning his gaze heavenwards, Peter prays silently for mercy. What did he do to deserve this. This is all his bad karma come at once. This is the bad place.

“Ah, no,” he replies, eyes widening. “No, my parents are not going to be home soon.”

“Cool. Lucky you.”

Oblivious to Peter’s existential turmoil, Tony resumes his patrol through the living room, picking up a frame on the mantle. It houses an old photo of Ben, May and a young, bespectacled Peter. 

It is one of the more embarrassing immortalisations of his younger self, eleven-years old and grinning widely, bearing his silver braces to the camera as he holds up a science fair trophy, curls wild and untamed.

Oh god. That was exactly what Peter needed on this unholy day - Tony Stark in his living room, witnessing Peter in his prepubescent glory. 

Quick, create a diversion.

“So, as I was saying,” he says loudly, “rent is reasonably affordable with a sixty-thousand budget in --”

“Who’s the babe?” Tony points to a younger Aunt May in the photo.

Peter gets to his feet and removes the frame from Tony’s grasp. He glowers as he places it back on the mantle. 

“No one you would have a chance with. Can you stay focused? Like, are you physically capable of it?”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ve got a lot of anger for someone so vertically challenged, you know that, shortstack?” 

“Focus, dumbass.”

“I’m focused! Let’s see, we’ve established that I am excellent at managing my money. You have a shitty job and a shitty salary, and apparently my imaginary future self has terrible taste in men. So. Have I got that right? Where are we living?”

“Queens. LIC has some one bed, one baths that could be affordable.”

“Uh, rewind. Going to have to eighty-six that - I am not living in Queens.”

Peter stares at him.

Tony rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Fine, whatever. But I want a Pontiac Firebird in this imaginary life if I have to deal with you.”

“For someone so keen on getting away you’re doing your best to prolong this experience. It’s literally painful.”

“Well, I just like to see you get all riled up, Princess,” Tony grins, leaning back against the mantle and folding his arms over his chest. “You have this vein that bulges on your forehead when you’re mad. Makes you look like a pitbull.”

Peter swallows the particularly acidic retort sitting on his tongue and tries not to let Tony’s words sting. Be the bigger man, Ben used to say. As difficult as it is to channel even a modicum of the mans’ eternal patience, Peter takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay focused. The less he gets sidetracked by Tony’s fuckery, the sooner it’s over.

He mentions the next part with unease. 

“...Miss Ahn said that we need references and should do field research. Speak to realtors. Ask people who have a similar lifestyle and budget.”

The look that comes over the other boys face is one of unequivocal revulsion. Peter can relate. The thought of having to spend more time with this guy makes his stomach turn.

“Well, Parker, any bright ideas who we can ask?”

The hinges of the front door squeaks before Peter can respond.

Moments after, Aunt May walks into the living room, placing her bag down on the dining table. She looks between the two boys curiously.

“Hey, Pete,” she comes to his side to squeezes his shoulder. “Who do we have here?”

Tony rushes over with his hand outstretched, an eager grin on his face. 

“Tony Stark, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, ah, okay, well,” May laughs as he enthusiastically shakes her hand. Her eyes are soft as Tony smiles brightly at her. “Nice to meet you too, Tony. I’m May, Peter’s aunt. Are you... friends with Peter?”

Peter snorts. 

“Definitely not. We just have an assignment --”

“-- Great friends, actually,” Tony talks over him, taking a seat beside Peter on the sofa. To Peter’s utter disgust, the other boy puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep encouragingly. “Aren’t we, Pete? Hmm? Best buds. We go way back.”

Peter freezes, feeling the line of heat from Tony’s against his side, the weight of his arm on his body. 

Eyes widening, he feels his skin crawl. 

“That’s sweet,” May smiles, putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m starving. I’m ordering pizza, Friday special. You should stay for dinner, Tony.”

Tony places his free hand on his chest.

“I would be honoured.”

May looks at Tony strangely before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve the menus.

As soon as she’s out of sight Tony takes his arm off Peter and quickly shifts away from him like he’s been burned. 

“Dude,” Peter whispers, bewildered. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Tony whispers, shuddering as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I’m going to have to pour scalding hot water on all the places your skin just touched me. Ugh, I feel like I just touched toe fungus.”

Peter slaps his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tony backhands Peter’s arm in retaliation and then shudders all over again.

“Your aunt is crazy hot, okay, I couldn’t help myself. It was an instinctual reaction. Is she taken? C’mon. Vindicate me.” 

“I’ll eviscerate you --”

“-- I mean, clearly she married into the family, she doesn’t share your unfortunate phenotype, but I didn’t see a ring on her finger. So? Yes or no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter hisses as his aunt comes back in. “She’s not available to you. Not now, not ever.”

“But she is available?”

“Don’t even, Stark. You’re like, sixteen. Don’t you have any shame?”

Tony smiles, as she nears. “Not a shred.”

“So,” May waves a menu at them. “You boys happy with pepperoni?”

Closing his eyes, Peter wishes for death.

As fate would have it, he gets pepperoni instead.

-----

If you had ever told Peter that he would be sitting down for dinner with his Aunt and a dirt-streaked Tony Stark, he would have laughed.

And if Peter were outside himself he would probably find the sharing of pizza and soda over their plastic, chequered table-cloth comical -- in that uncanny, Dogs Playing Poker kind of way. But in reality there was nothing funny about the discomfort of having Tony in his personal space or the heavy, suffocating tension that has removed the air from the room. 

The entire time Tony has been hamming it up, cracking jokes with his aunt, complimenting her on the decor, asking what she does for work. Peter doesn’t know if he’s being sweet to May for the purpose of buttering her up, or, given the wealth of his family in contrast to the Parkers, if he’s being cruelly facetious. 

Nonetheless, Peter has felt on edge. It’s disconcerting, is what it is. Every single movement Tony makes, every time he opens his mouth -- frequently to sweet-talk his aunt -- has Peter’s anxiety standing at attention, hyperaware of everything the other boy does.

He’s beginning to feel like a meerkat whose den has been invaded by a lion.

Through the course of a single meal Peter’s attention moves from the sky to the floor. There is no grace or higher power that is coming to save him from this profound, unusual torture. 

So he focuses his hopes to the south, seeing through their tiny, cramped, dinner table, past bargaining. He’s willing to trade his soul to end it all. Surely some wayward being from hell would come to his rescue. 

May has Peter’s chin between her fingers. She turns it this way and that, inspecting his injuries.

“What happened this time, bubby?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “You look like you got beat up.”

Peter, very aware of Tony’s amused gaze on them, gently pulls away from her grasp. He smiles placatingly and picks at his pizza slice. God he’s never going to live this down.

“Training accident. It’s okay, I feel fine. ‘Tis but a scratch,” he brings himself to joke.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek, carefully avoiding the fresh scabs and injured flesh. “God, you bruise like a peach. Be careful, baby, you’re our money maker,” she laughs. “What about you Tony, do you play football?”

Tony, who is mid way through chewing on a mouthful of pizza, momentarily chokes, beating his chest with his fist to swallow down the obstruction.

“Uh, no,” Tony gulps, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Nope. No recreational sports for me. Can’t.” He gestures to his chest and sighs heavily. “Asthma.”

Peter sips his coke and rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s a half-empty pack of Marlboro Light’s in the pocket of Tony’s jeans. Asthma. What a schmuck.

“That’s a shame. Do you boys have classes together?”

Unfortunately, Peter thinks.

The other boy seems to have the same thought, as he glares at Peter from over the table. When he picks up his can of coke, he gives Peter the finger outside of May’s eye-line.

“That’s why Tony’s here,” Peter twists his napkin in his grip. “We have an econ assignment together on microeconomics. Teach says Tony’s destined to be on welfare.”

Tony leans in, chin rested on his hand. He addresses May but his stare, dark and odious, rests on Peter.

“Not accurate. Stay-at-home parent, actually. One might say that is the most important job of all. Wouldn’t you agree, May?”

She raises her Coke.

“Hear, hear.”

Tony grins roguishly, the same grin he gave the girls at the lockers earlier. “Petey here was just saying that we should ask you about your experience running a household on a single salary. We’d love to have you as a reference.”

“Was I saying that?” Peter narrows his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Tony kicks him under the table. The hit lands right in his knee cap.

Wincing, Peter kicks back, satisfied when the other boy bites his lip to hold back a pained groan.

“Yeah, well, not surprising,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “Hit your head today, didn’t you? Maybe you should get all that damage looked into.”

The napkin rips in Peter’s grasp.

“Maybe you should go f--”

“I’d be more than happy to help with your assignment, boys,” May cuts in.

Whatever snide reply he has in his mouth instantly wilts when he looks over to his Aunt. She looks...pleased. Delighted, almost. Her eyes under the dull, yellow kitchen light seem to get warmer, and her smile is small but softens around the edges.

Instantly, Peter feels like the worst person in the world. Of course May would be the best person to ask. She does so much for him, the least he can do is set his pride aside for one moment to make her feel good about how hard she works for their life.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, smiling as gratitude swells unexpectedly in his chest.

“Thanks, May. That would be great.”

Across the table, a smug Tony looks like the cat who got the cream. 

Without warning, Peter’s chest goes hot with contempt, his fingernails dig into his palm. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone he couldn’t like, until now.

I hate you, Peter mouths while May busies herself with rounding up the pizza boxes.

Kiss my ass, Tony mouths back. 

In an instant his expression flips from contemptuous to angelic when he stands and offers to help May clean up.

Peter stands too, sparing a disdainful glance to the floor. Turns out not even the devil was willing to give him a hand.

Natasha was right. It’s going to end in murder.

---

Peter walks Tony to the door after dinner to say goodbye to his ‘friend’. Following him into the hall, Peter closes the door behind them.

“What do you want, Parker?” Tony asks wearily, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m trying to make a getaway here.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that with my aunt. I’m not joking, asshole. It’s not cool.”

“Relax, princess,” Tony rolls his eyes, fishing for his lighter in his backpack. “I’m not actually interested. Just trying to get under your skin. Worked, see? You’re easy like that. Hey, why do you live with your aunt anyways?”

“None of your business,” he frowns as Tony holds one hand up in surrender and lights his cigarette with the other. “Dude, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Can’t, shouldn’t, gonna. By the way, you’ve got sauce on your chin, it’s very distracting.”

Peter wipes at it without thinking. When he pulls it away there is indeed a smear of red sauce on his hand.

Tony walks backwards down the hall and exhales a cloud of smoke, waving in a sardonic imitation of a farewell.

“See you Monday, bubby.”

Peter doesn’t bother with a response, too tired from the week, exhausted by this whole darn day, and it’s not like the other boy cares what he has to say anyway. He takes a moment to swallow his anger before he heads back inside, sighing. 

Well, at least he has an entire weekend free of Stark to look forward to.

May looks at him curiously when he reemerges, but says nothing. He considers for a moment about heading to his bedroom and playing a video game to disassociate - but then, suddenly, remembers her smile earlier, and how alone she looks now. A surge of affection hits him right beneath his breastbone.

He checks his watch and then catches her eye.  Tilting his head towards the living room, he says, “Hey. You wanna eat some ice cream and watch some Colbert before bed?”

She smiles just like she did earlier and kisses his cheek. “Sounds nice, Pete.”

Maybe the whole day wasn’t lost.

As May heads to the sofa and switches the TV on, Peter catches sight of the Magic 8-Ball from the corner of his eye. He walks over and gives it a shake.

Outlook good.

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @muse-of-gods

[onthepyre]

and it hurts (part 4)

part 1 part 2 part 3

shes finally done...... now to start another, longer fic

Alana stands awkwardly next to the door, several feet away from Zoe, who sits with her legs stretched in front of her on the couch.  It feels like the opposite of what she was expecting.  She thought Zoe would be weird and she’d have to ease her into the neat, tense, and clearly meticulously cleaned house, but Zoe seems to be at home while Alana can’t think straight.  

She blinks at the ground for a moment, trying to take a full breath, before she looks back up at Zoe.  “Do you, uh, want something to eat?”

“Sure!” Zoe says, and she nearly jumps off the sofa, following on Alana’s heels to the kitchen.  “What are your parents up to?” she asks, leaning against the door frame.

Alana pauses in her search for something easy to cook.  “They try to avoid me when I have friends over.  Since I’m the one who has a guest, it’s my responsibility to be hospitable and also teenagers stress them out.”

“Did they decide it’s your responsibility or did you just get lucky with a mom who occasionally agrees with you?”  Zoe’s envy is audible, but so is her sarcastic grin.

“I got lucky.”  Alana smiles, suddenly glad for her parents and their good nature and a little bit worried about the Murphys.  She spins around, facing Zoe.  “We have pizza rolls, ramen noodles, and cereal.  Everything else requires real cooking.”

“Oh my god, my parents have never let us have pizza rolls.”  Alana nods and pulls them out of the fridge, but turns back to Zoe.  

“Wait, you’ve never had pizza rolls?”

Zoe shakes her head.  “They say they’re ‘too unhealthy.’”  She rolls her eyes.

“This is going to be quite the night.”  Alana dumps the frozen pizza rolls onto a plate and sticks them in the microwave.  “Do you want anything else?”

Zoe ventures into the kitchen, glancing at the mugs hung along the wall.  “Do you have any hot chocolate?”

Alana grins.  “In the cabinet by the fridge.”  

In just a few minutes, they’re sitting across from each other at the kitchen table.  Zoe takes a bite of a pizza roll and her eyes widen.  

“It’s so hot!”  

Alana tries to hide a laugh.  “I probably should have warned you.”  

Zoe nods, but takes another bite anyways, clearly burning her mouth.  “Why must everything I love hurt me?” she wails.  Alana doesn’t even try to pretend she isn’t laughing.  Zoe glares up at her, smirking.  “Are you mocking my plight?”

“Yes.”

Zoe places a hand to her chest.  “I shall die.  Then you may no longer mock, for you will be… sad or whatever.”

Alana laughs again.  “I’ll be very ‘sad or whatever.’  You’d better not die.”

Zoe wrinkles her nose and eats another pizza roll whole.  “You aren’t my boss.” 

Alana sighs.  “Please?”

They stare at each other for a moment, silently debating the matter.  Zoe is the first to break.

“Fine.  I guess I won’t die.”  She rolls her eyes, but smiles.

“Good.”

They finish their meal in a comfortable near-silence, occasionally pausing to crack jokes, mostly at Zoe’s expense.  Alana does her best to avoid staring, keeping her eyes focused on her plate.  They force themselves through an hour or so of awkward smiles and almost-forced laughs before Alana invites Zoe into her bedroom.  They tumble onto the floor, giggling like little kids, both secretly trying to come up with a reason to inch closer to the other.

“Okay,” Zoe says finally, once she’s calmed down a bit, “Okay.  Do you want to play a game or something?”

Still not completely composed, Alana nods.  “Yeah, what… what do you have in mind?”

Zoe grins wickedly, like she’s just come up with a dastardly plan.  Something catches fire in Alana’s stomach.  

“Truth or Dare,” she states.  Her smirk widens, and Alana groans.

“What are we, thirteen?”  She smiles in spite of herself.  

“Yes,” Zoe says.  “C’mon, ‘Lana, it’s a classic!”  

Alana glares, mentally battling the girl sitting in front of her, but she relents.  “Fine.  Fine, you fool.”  Again, she smiles, making no effort to hide it from the celebrating Zoe.

“Alright,” she says finally.  “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Alana says without consideration.

“Okay…” Zoe pauses in thought.  “What’s your biggest fear?”

“Whales.”

“...Whales?”

“They’re massive, Zoe.  You could swim through their veins.  They’re so huge, I can’t even imagine it.”  Alana waves her hands frantically, trying to convey the scale of the whales she’s talking about.  Zoe stares on in wonder, trying to figure out how Alana knows this.

“It’s your turn,” she says once she thinks Alana has finished.

“Alright, truth or dare?”  Alana’s face bears the expression of a mother who has just been proudly presented with a necklace made of the macaroni she planned to use for dinner.

“Dare.”  Zoe embodies the roll of the mischievous toddler well.

Alana ponders for a moment.  “I dare you to text the most recent person in your contacts and ask if they’ve seen your copy of Justin Beiber’s autobiography, because you lost it.”

Zoe sighs, shakes her head, and pulls out her phone.  “Oh, my god.”  She cringes.  “It’s Connor.  He texted me, like, five minutes ago,” she tells Alana.  She does not tell Alana that the text reads, “did u kiss her yet.”  She sends a discrete no in response, and then tacks on Alana’s question.  Immediately, Connor responds with several question marks, and then adds, “ur so fuckin weird zo.”  

“He called me weird.  Truth or Dare?”  Zoe tucks her phone back into her pocket, hoping Alana won’t ask to see the response.  She doesn’t.

“Truth,” Alana says again.  “Make it an interesting one, though.”

“Who’s your crush?  I know you have one.”

For a second, Alana considers telling her.  It’s practically the perfect moment, but she doesn’t.  

“Dare.”

“Alright,” Zoe says, barely containing her smirk.  “Call them and ask to speak to their mom.”

And then she’s cornered.  She takes the option she sees as easier, hands shaking as she unlocks her phone.  Alana can barely breathe as she scrolls to Zoe’s contact.  She hits the call button and raises the phone to her ear, staring at the floor.

Zoe’s phone buzzes.  She cocks her head, confused, and pulls it out again.  Alana’s name is displayed on the screen in big letters.  Zoe looks up at her, wide-eyed, as it finally clicks.

“Hi,” she says into the phone.

“Hi.”  Alana’s voice is trembling.  “Is your mom there?”

“No, sorry.”  Zoe is uncharacteristically quiet.  “I’m not at home.”

“Oh.  Sorry to bother you.”  Alana hangs up, but doesn’t lift her gaze from the carpet.  

“‘Lana, I…” Zoe trails off, unable to form a sentence that doesn’t consist only of swearing.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Alana sniffles.  She tries to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a choked-off sob.  

“Wait, Alana, I didn’t mean it like that.”  Zoe crawls closer to her and places her hand on Alana’s jaw, forcing her to look up.  A few tears roll down her cheeks, and she wipes frantically at them.  Zoe’s mouth falls open as she tries to come up with something to say that could make it better.  She can’t.

She kisses her as an apology.

Alana’s lips taste of tears, but Zoe doesn’t mind.  She pulls her closer by her waist, knocking Alana almost into her lap.  She reciprocates, propping herself up with a hand on Zoe’s shoulder and the other on her knee.  She pulls back, still crying a little.

“So what-” her voice cracks “-what did you mean?”

Zoe wipes the tears from her cheeks.  “I didn’t realize it was me.  I didn’t mean to force you to say it like that.  I can’t say I’m not glad you said it, though.”

Alana giggles through the last few sobs.  “I can’t, either.”

She kisses Zoe this time.  And for the first time in ages, nothing hurts.

[killingxrangers]

It Started with a Like

Instagram wasn't something Trini really messed around with before meeting Zack Taylor, more importantly known as the most annoying human in the world. He made one for her one night when the two of them were hanging out for the single purpose of sending her "quality" memes, and now she found herself on it frequently. Rarely did she post pictures of any kind, and her follower and following count was less than ten each, but the explore page did offer some nice videos to scar Zack with.

Today though she was feeling somewhat good about herself and the recent picture Zack had taken of them up in the mines. It was trespassing to go there, but it had a little bit of sentimentally to it for the both of them seeing as they'd met there. It was a simple photo, just the two of them sitting on the old train Zack favored, Zack holding the phone and Trini in the foreground, but the lighting was nice and she actually looked happy, so she decided to post it. It was the seventh photo she had posted, with the others being either her brothers or Zack. It was actually the first picture she had up of herself that wasn't her profile. Unsurprisingly, only two people liked it, one being Zack and the other being a boy in her science class. Not that it mattered to her who liked her photos, and she forgot all about posting the picture until she got a notification nearly an hour later.

k.harteyes liked your photo.

She'd never seen the username before, so she clicked it, admittedly surprised to find it belonged to the one and only Kimberly Hart. Trini knew Kimberly in the way everyone at school who weren't friends with the girl knew her; co captain of the cheer squad, dating a football player, and a complete bitch. Well, Trini wasn't sure if that last one was true, since she's never actually had a conversation with Kim, but she can only assume. They did share biology together, a class that Trini loathed more than anything, though Kim answered enough questions when called on to seem as if she reasonably understood it.

k.harteyes commented on your photo: You look really good!

It only took a second to click 'reply' and respond with 'Thank you.', and not even a minute later Kim was commenting again, a smiley face with the heart eyes that had Trini setting her phone down with a frown. That wasn't flirting, was it? As far as she knew, Kim Hart was that ideal small town girl; hot and straight and completely out of anyone's league. Trini thought she was cute, gorgeous even, but she hadn't given her much consideration outside of those few thoughts. And as far as she knew, Kim wasn't even aware of her existence. She was about to force any other thoughts from her mind when her phone dinged again, and she was honestly afraid it was Kim again, but thankfully it was just Zack.

Zack: yo dude Kim hart liked ur photo

Zack: she flirting

Zack: what if she wants to fuck

Zack: she fucks girls u know?

Trini: Shes dating Ty Flemmings dude

Zack: I'm telling u she sets off my gaydar

Trini: I didn't even set off your gaydar

Zack: we aren't talking about you

Zack: we're talking bout Kim hart wanting to fuck u

Zack: I say go for it

Trini: You give horrible advice. Kim is straight with a boyfriend. I'm not into her. We don't know each other

Zack: so talk to her

Zack: talk, flirt, fuck

Zack: then u have a gf

Trini: I'm going to bed

Zack: try not to have any wet dreams of Kim!

Kim didn't say anything as Amanda rolled off of her and laid on the other side of the bed, the blankets long since having been kicked to the floor. They were both sweaty and naked, marks on both of their bodies as Kim’s chest heaved up and down from the orgasm Amanda just gave her. The silence continued as Amanda stood up and jerked her underwear and t-shirt over her head, forgoing the bra and pants altogether as she looked to Kim and and finally said, “You should head home before my dad is back.” 

It always went this way with them, though Kim wasn’t one to complain or take offense. Especially on nights like tonight when Ty was expecting her over once his parents were asleep. He had clue about the truth to Kim and Amanda’s relationship and that’s exactly how Kim wanted to keep it. Her relationship with Amanda was purely physical anyway; she didn’t love Amanda in the way she loved Ty. And she did love Ty. Amanda just satisfied more of her physical needs than Ty could. 

“You’re probably right.” Kim followed Amanda’s lead and sat on the side of the bed, pulling her own clothes on as well. Nights like these happened frequently enough, especially given that Amanda’s father worked late most nights. If it wasn’t Amanda texting Kim to come over it was Kim texting Amanda asking if she could. The change in their relationship happened almost a year ago, right around the time Kim started dating Ty. The three of them were drunk at a party and Kim found herself alone with her best friend in a bedroom. As it happens, they started kissing and fell into bed together. Instead of their friendship ending or becoming awkward the following morning, they continued their affair behind  whoever Amanda was seeing and Ty’s backs. Its worked well ever since, and Kim would continue to let it happen for as long as she enjoyed it or Ty found out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Amanda.” 

Amanda didn’t offer to walk Kim out and Kim didn’t ask as she grabbed her phone and keys and started the short walk back home. The two girls lived in the same neighborhood, less than a five minute walk between houses, and it was a nice night out, so Kim moved slowly as she walked down the sidewalk. She scrolled through Instragram as she went, liking most of the photos of either fellow cheerleaders or football players.

When her main page got too boring she switched over to the explore page just for something new. It was mostly beauty videos, a few memes, some suggestions to follow this person or that, and Kim ignored most of them. It wasn’t until a page  appeared for a girl called Trini did Kim stop walking. The first thing that popped into Kim's head was 'who was this girl?', and the second was (upon clicking on the page and finding only seven photos) 'this girl is really pretty'. The user name was Trini_Gomez, and Kim thought the name was somewhat familiar, but not really, and so Kim looked at all seven, four of which were what she guessed to be Trini's younger brothers, and two of a boy who looked somewhat familiar to Kim but she couldn't place his face. In both photos the guy seemed to be goofing around, one in which he was hanging upside down from an old and rusted train shirtless, a dark beanie on the dirt next to his phone and wallet, and in the other he was in the back of a pick-up, a game-boy in one hand and a Popsicle in the other.

Kim barely looked for longer than a few seconds at the guy or Trini's brothers, focused completely on the one of Trini herself. The same guy was back in it, in a pair of tan jeans and white v-neck, a discarded jacket thrown behind him as he stood on the top of the train from the previous pictures, and Trini stood a few paces behind him, a pair of guy's sunglasses over her face and her jacket also thrown to the ground. She had her tongue sticking out, showing her teeth as it seemed the guy took the picture mid laugh, and was doing the peace sign. Overall it was an adorable and quirky photo that Kim liked right away, and also found herself commenting that Trini looked really nice.

Trini responded only a few seconds later, nothing more than an appreciation of the compliment, and Kim added another comment, this one being an emoji. She's not sure why she did it, but something about this girl caught Kim’s attention, and she couldn’t stop staring at the photos. Trini didn’t acknowledge the most recent comment, and Kim slid her phone into her back pocket as she walked into the front door of her house. It was quiet in her house, not unexpected given the time of night, and she had hoped she’d be able to just go to her room quickly to change before leaving for Ty’s, but was stopped by her parents. 

Both Kim’s father and mother were sitting in the living room when she climbed the steps, and they stopped their hush conversation to stare at Kim. She knew she was in for it, especially when her dad crossed one leg over his knee and scowled at her. “And where have you been all night, Kimberly Ann?” 

“At Amanda’s. I texted Mom earlier that I was heading over there to study.” Kim stood with crossed arms before her parents, silently begging her mother to back her up, but to no avail. Ali Hart had a glass of wine in hand, and seeing as it was close to ten at night, Kim would bet money it wasn’t her mother’s first glass. She’d be of no help against Kim’s father, and said nothing as Kim kept talking. “I wasn't aware I couldn’t leave the house. I’m at Amanda’s all the time.” 

Kim’s father nodded, looking thoroughly displeased as he said, “That’s exactly the problem, Kimberly. You seem to never be home. Is there an issue you would like to discuss, seeing as you’d rather be at Amanda’s home than your own.” 

“Seriously? We were doing homework, dad!” Kim rolled her eyes as she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, guessing that most likely it was Ty urging her to come over now for a booty-call. She definitely was not in the mood for that now. 

“Raise your voice under my roof one more time and it will be the last time you find yourself in this house.” Roger Hart was standing up, his face red with anger as he too started to yell. Kim’s mother continued to sip and look between father and daughter as she sipped her wine, still maintaining her silence. Not surprising. Kim and Roger came to blows frequently and Ali has never once stepped in to intervene. “Go to your room now. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.” 

Kim said nothing as she turned and stomped to her room, slamming her door harder than needed as she knew it drove her father crazy. She hated him, hated her mother too. Hated everything about her family and was counting the days until college so she could leave Angel Grove behind her. Once she was out of this town she was never looking back. There was nothing that could possibly keep her here. 

She could hear her parents downstairs: her father’s loud ranting about how much of an annoyance Kim was, and her mother moving from the living room to the kitchen, probably in search of another bottle. Ali’s voice was too low to make out, but Roger stayed loud enough, continually screaming how Kim took too much for advantage and was ungrateful. From his point of view, he could did nothing wrong, and his actions towards his daughter were justified. 

Kim hated her father more than anything. 

The urge to leave her house was nearly overwhelming, suddenly feeling too confined in the tiny bedroom. She couldn’t keep listening to her father rant about how much of a disappointment she was, but knew leaving would make things worse if they came to check on her. So she stayed, curled up in a ball on her bed. There was nothing else to do but check Instagram once again, though she went straight to one specific profile. Seven posts, four followers, and following twenty-nine people, and right under that information was ‘Message’. Kim hesitated for only a moment before she clicked it and her screen immediately switched to the DM page. 

She started to type ‘hey’ then erased that, before typing ‘hey its Kim hart. just wanted to say you looked really nice in that pic’, and then replacing that with ‘Hey!’. That last one was too energetic for having never talked to the girl before and was promptly removed as well. Finally, Kim settled for a simple hello and introduction of herself. Her heart beat too quick in her chest when she sent the message, though she couldn’t grasp why, and a large part of her wanted to click unsend when given the option. Just as her thumb held down the message and she went to click ‘unsend’, the worst possible thing appeared under the message. 

Seen. 

“Fuck me.” Kim shouldn't have sent that fucking message because now she was coming off as a creep. She’s already liked and commented twice on a photo, she shouldn’t have gone and messaged the girl. Besides, what if Trini wasn’t interested in girls like that? Was Kim even interested in Trini like that at all? Sure, she was hot, gorgeous even, but Kim had Ty and Amanda, did she really need to add another person to that mix? Kim had no fucking clue what she was doing and really was just regretting her entire existence when she saw that Trini had begun typing, and then her message popped up. 

Hello. 

thank you for taking the time to read this! its my first time writing fan fiction at all really but ive been reading for years now. id really appreciate it if you could let me know how you felt about it? any suggestions? thank you so much for reading this! theres definitely more to come of this story! 

[fiftyeightminutes]

I love to read how kalagang relationship would if they're not sensates can you write this prompt Someone gave me a fake phone number and it’s actually yours and if you can't its okay and I really enjoyed reading your drabbles thankyou

I also got another request from another anon for the same prompt:

“Omfg I saw ur reblog about thrilling au’s and I was wondering if you could do the “someone gave you a fake number and its mine” with kalagang pls and thank you”

First of all, thanks both of you for being so nice. :)  I’m glad you guys like my writing so much.  Also, holy shit this really isn’t a drabble anymore.  This became like 2500+ words.  I really don’t think I know how to do short AU fics lol.  Kala is working inBerlin in this AU because that made things easier for my brain.  Please accept any geographical errors, theonly part of Germany I’ve ever visited was Munich.  (Also holy shit y’all, people are making baddecisions in this fic.  I do not advisedoing what people do in this fic.  Like Imade it fluffy, but IRL this is not a good idea lol.)

—

When Kala wakes up on Saturday morning, she finds a textfrom an unknown number on her phone.

Do you want to come tomy place? (Received 3:02 AM)

She’s confused.  Noone she knows would have messaged her at that hour.  Kala wakes up early to visit the local templeevery morning, and she doesn’t keep that fact a secret.  Plus, her family is a million miles away.

Who is this?(Delivered 8:39 AM)

Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t receive a response rightaway.  If they were asking someone over at three in the morning, they’reprobably in bed now, she reasons. Kala puts it out of her mind, choosing instead to get out of bed and concentrateon preparing for her day.

—

Kala has all but forgotten about the stray text message bythe time she’s finished praying that morning. When she gets home and begins to cook herself some breakfast, her phonebuzzes.  She absentmindedly takes it outof her pocket, unlocking the screen to find that she finally has a responsefrom the unknown number.

Wolfgang.  We met at the club last night.  (Received 10:46 AM)

She raises her eyebrow. She’s only been living in Berlin for two weeks or so, but she didn’tthink anyone was actually named Wolfgang anymore.  Kala wonders if this person has given her afake name for some reason.  She dismissesthe thought pretty quickly, though.  Towhat end would they do that?

I think you have thewrong number. (Delivered 10:49 AM)

And with that message, Kala figures her conversation withthis stranger is done.  She puts herphone down on the counter and turns her attention back to her food.  Several minutes pass as Kala finishes cookingand serves herself a plate.  She grabsher phone to listen to music while she’s eating, only to find that she hasanother text.

I just checked.  This is the number that was written on thenapkin.  If you don’t want to come over,I’m not offended.  (Received 10:55 AM)

She chuckles as she realizes what must have happened.  Poor guy.

I’m not sure who youthink I am, but I didn’t go to any club last night.  Someone gave you a bad number.  (Delivered 11:07 AM)

Kala eats her food and cleans up after herself, her phonebuzzing as she’s putting everything into the dishwasher.

Sorry.  My mistake. Won’t bother you again. (Received11:21 AM)

And from there, Kala intends to forget about the exchangeentirely.

—

A little over a week later, Kala ends up getting stranded ather job.  She had been working late, justwanting to test a few more things before going home for the day.  But before she knew it, thirty minutes turnedinto an hour turned into three, and now it’s dark out.  Normally she walks home, but normally shealso leaves work at 5 PM.  She is a lotless comfortable with the idea of walking home in a strange city at night.  Kala checks her bank statement on her phoneand winces.  She hasn’t received herfirst paycheck from her new job yet, and without that Kala isn’t sure she canafford both cab fare and groceries for the week.  She hasn’t even been in town long enough toreally make friends, either, so she doesn’t know anyone she can ask for a lift.

Kala scrolls through her text messages just for something todo with her hands while she’s thinking over her options when she happens uponthe unknown number from the previous week. The area code tells her the number is from Berlin.  She doesn’t want to contact this person – she’snever met them, doesn’t know anything about them except that they wereaccidentally given her number.  But shefigures it can’t hurt to ask a local for advice.

Do you know a cheapway to get from Rhinstrasse to Haupstrasse? (Delivered 8:11 PM)

When she doesn’t get an answer right away, Kala startsscolding herself.  What am I doing?  You don’t knowthis Wolfgang person and now you’ve told him where you are and where you wantto go?  But Kala considers her otheroptions and sighs.  She can’t come upwith a better idea.  A few minutes later,her phone vibrates in her hands, and she tentatively opens the message.

How cheap are wetalking? (Received 8:17 PM)

Kala thinks about her bank account.

As close to free aspossible? (Delivered 8:19 PM)

She wonders why this person on the other end is answering atall.  But since they’re kind of her onlylifeline right now, she figures beggars can’t be choosers.

There’s nothing reallylike that.  Why do you ask? (Received8:22 PM)

Kala’s wondering that herself.  She’s not sure what exactly sheexpected.  All she knows is she’s gettingkind of desperate.  There’s no food inthe building where she works, but if she leaves to get some, the timed locks onthe doors will stay shut behind her.  Soit’s stay here and go hungry for the night, risk walking home alone, or messagethis person.  None of the choices aregood.

I’m new to Berlin andstuck at work.  Was just hoping theremight be an inexpensive way home.  Thankyou anyway.  (Delivered 8:24 PM)

The next message comes almost immediately.

How stuck areyou?  Is it an emergency? (Received 8:25PM)

She half laughs at that, as if she would be contacting somestranger if she had any other choice.

I mean, I’m not goingto die if I stay the night, if that’s what you mean.  But there is no food.  (Delivered 8:26 PM)

Again, she receives a reply almost instantly.

I’m near Rhinstrasseif you need a ride. (Received 8:27 PM)

Kala considers this. Is she really going to accept a ride from a stranger?  Her stomach growls as if to answer herthoughts.  She hasn’t eaten since aroundnoon and is actually starting to feel a bit light-headed, but she doesn’t wantthat to distract her from the danger she may be putting herself in.  She weighs it against the potential risk ofwalking home in the dark, and finds that both kind of terrify her.  Part of her feels like she should just try tostick the night out in the office without food, but she also wonders what theywould even look like to her boss tomorrow. (She imagines herself, and she knows it won’t look good.  Nothing nearby that sells food opens up untilaround the same time as she is supposed to get to work, which will mean she won’tget a chance to eat until lunch.  Wearingthe same clothes as the day before and possibly sick, she wonders what thatwould even look like to her supervisor. She literally can’t afford to lose this job.)  In the end, she’s not sure if it’s logic orhunger she’s following, but she decides to text this Wolfgang person back.

Sure.  I’ll meet you at the corner of Rhinstrasseand Allee der Kosmonauten. (Delivered 8:30 PM)

—

She’s only been waiting for a few minutes when a black carparks nearby.  After a moment, shereceives a text.

I’m here.  I just realized I don’t know who I am lookingfor. (Received 8:48 PM)

Kala looks down at her clothes, grateful she’s always had acolorful sense of fashion.

I’m the woman inyellow pants. (Delivered 8:49 PM)

And sure enough, after that message is sent the black carpulls up to her.  When it gets to thecurb, the man inside the car rolls down his window.  “Hello?” he asks.

“Wolfgang?” Kala replies with her own question.

The man nods and she hears the doors of his car unlock.  Tentatively, she pulls the passenger dooropen and gets in.  She clutches her phonetightly, the thought that at least she can still call the police if necessarythe only comfort in her mind.  After shebuckles herself in and they start pulling away, he asks, “Do I get to know yourname?”

She looks down in embarrassment, not even realizing she’dnever given it to him.  “Kala,” she sayssoftly.

Wolfgang doesn’t reply, instead focusing back on theroad.  She looks back up, finally takinga moment to actually observe the stranger she is trusting.  His features are sharp, intense blue eyesframed by high cheekbones and a square jaw. He’s dressed in black from head to toe. She notes with amusement that he’s even sporting a leather jacket to completethe ensemble.  Part of her wonders if she’sjust gotten into a car with a German mobster.

To his credit, though, he is taking the fastest route to theaddress Kala gave him.  (If he’s planning on trying something, shethinks, at least it’s not a kidnapping.)  Never good with silence, Kala feels the needto say speak.  “Thank you for doingthis.  I know you don’t know me and thisis probably a huge inconvenience, but I really didn’t have anyone else to ask.”

Wolfgang shakes his head, giving her a small smile beforelooking back to the cars ahead of him.  “Don’tworry about it.”

Kala shakes her head. Now that she’s out of the immediate panic, she’s frustrated with herselffor even getting stuck in this situation in the first place.  “It’s my own fault.  I just got so caught up at work that I losttrack of time.”

“What do you do?” he asks.

“I work for a pharmaceutical company,” she answers beforeshe thinks about it.  (She wonders whyshe’s telling him any of this, actually. Why is this man she’s never met so easy to talk to?)

“So you make drugs,” he says with a chuckle.

Kala scoffs.  “Idevelop new medicines.”

“The only difference between the two is how you use them,”he replies.

She pauses.  “That’sone way to look at it.”

Before Kala knows it, they’re pulling up to her street.  Wolfgang pulls over at her address and stopsthe car.  The doors are still unlocked,and she realizes he really isn’t going to try anything.  He’s letting her leave.  This stranger really just showed up out ofnowhere to drive her home, with no ulterior motive at all.  She’s kind of amazed at her luck.

“Do you want gas money?” she asks.

He shakes his head.  “Isaid don’t worry about it.”

Kala nods, but she still feels like she should thank himsome way.  “Have you eaten?” she asks.

Wolfgang shakes his head again.

“Just a minute.  Waithere,” she says.  Kala gets out of hiscar and hurries up to her apartment.  She’snot sure if he’ll still be there when she gets back, but she wants to at leastgive him something.  When she gets intoher home, Kala scurries over to her kitchen and grabs some tupperware out of acabinet.  She then grabs some of theleftovers that she had been planning to eat that night out of the fridge andscoops a hearty amount into the new container. It’s not fresh, but she figures it’s better than nothing.

She’s almost surprised to find Wolfgang still waiting whenshe comes back outside.  But there he is,checking his phone while his car idles at the curb.  She knocks on the passenger window to get hisattention, and he rolls it down.

“Here,” Kala says with a smile and hands him the food.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“Nothing special. Just some leftover lamb curry. But I figured it was the least I could do.”

Wolfgang inspects the food for a moment, then puts it on hispassenger seat and smiles up at her.  “Thankyou.”

Kala shakes her head. “You’re the one who came to save me.”

He chuckles.  “I wasin the neighborhood.  It’s nothing.”

She shrugs.  “Well,the food’s there now.  So you might aswell enjoy it.”

Wolfgang’s grin widens. “Alright, alright.”

“Thank you again, Wolfgang,” Kala says.

“Any time,” he replies with a nod.  With that, he finally rolls back up thewindow and pulls away.  For some reasonthat Kala can’t quite place, she feels a bit disappointed.

—

That Friday, Kala is feeling restless.  Other than her adventure at the beginning ofthe week, she hasn’t had a chance to do anything but go to temple, work, eat,and sleep.  Once she gets out of work,she wants to do something different for a change.  But she still doesn’t know her way aroundBerlin or have anyone to show her, so she’s not sure what to do.

An idea comes to her. Kala’s not sure if it’s a good one, but she just got her first paychecktoday so she really wants to go out somewhere to treat herself.  So even though she has no reason to expectthis to be a necessarily great plan, she texts the only local person outside ofher coworkers that she has in her phone.

Hey.  Are you busy tonight? (Delivered 9:01 PM)

She doesn’t get a response at first, and she scolds herselffor having sent the message at all.  Just because he helped you in an emergencydoesn’t mean he wants to be friends, Kala thinks.  You don’teven know him.

Kala has all but resigned herself to another night in whenshe feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. (She doesn’t admit to herself how eager she is when she retrieves it tocheck the message.)

No.  What’s up? (Received 9:26 PM)

She thinks about how to word what she wants to saynext.  (Kala feels a bit like a teenageragain, analyzing text messages so acutely.) In the end, she scrolls back up to their first conversation and decidesto take a cue from there.

Do you know any clubsnear Hauptstrasse?  Finally got paid and wantedto see what Berlin has to offer. (Delivered 9:28 PM)

Wolfgang’s next answer comes much more quickly.

I can think of acouple.  Do you need another ride?(Received 9:29 PM)

No.  I was thinking more of a tour guide this time.(Delivered 9:30 PM)

If that’s okay, Imean.  Don’t feel obligated.  (Delivered 9:31 PM)

Kala kind of wants to smack herself.  (She wonders why she’s so bad at this, whentalking to him in the car had felt so easy.) Then her phone goes off again.

I think we could worksomething out.  Meet you in 30? (Received9:33 PM)

She pretends her stomach isn’t full of butterflies, but whenshe goes to her bathroom to start putting on makeup, Kala finds she can’t stopsmiling.

[sftykth]

when ur high || Joe Sugg

A/N OMG! THIS WAS AN REQUESTS, AND IT WAS BASED ON ARCTIC MONKEYS AND I LOVE THEM SO SO MUCH. SO THANKYOU AS TO WHOEVER REQUESTED THIS. (also this is my first song request, so don’t judge)

You can find my masterlist here masterlist

enjoy xo

the mirror’s image it tells me it’s home time but I’m not finished ‘cause you’re not by my side

Joe was a little tipsy.

Joe was a little tipsy. Perhaps more than a little; Joe was blitzed. It has been a long night for Joe trying to find one particular person in the room. He had a drunken grin plastered on his face.

Feeling confused. Until he laid eyes upon the woman across the room. That one person he felt completely full when her presents were close. Home. She reminded him of someone: who can comfort him, someone, that can take good care of him, and someone who he loves, right?

Minutes previously, Joe had experienced difficulty in keeping his vision in the singular but as soon as he spotted her, focus returned to her. His knees buckled as he tried to stand up from the booth he was sat in.

He winced at the sudden pain throbbing in his head when he stood up but kept on approaching her. The burned picture of her glued in his head not forgetting how exquisite she looks.

and as I arrived I thought I saw you leaving carrying your shoes decided that once again I was just dreaming of bumping into you

The once grin that was placed on his face turning into a muddled look, a frown appearing on his face. Turning around swiftly, trying to catch her gaze. Although, Joe was becoming more addled as seconds passed. Not seeing you anywhere in the bar.

Picture of her still glued and carefully stuck in the head, of her alluring face and her auburn brown eyes Although, deep inside Joe knew that the picture wouldn’t stick for long. He knew that; the picture that once was in a perfect shape will crumble apart and vanish into nothing but dust.

now it’s three in the morning and I’m trying to change your mind left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply why’d you only call me when you’re high? high why’d you only call me when you’re high?

He stumbled out the bar bumping into some guy he never met before and probably, will never see again quickly apologising and kept his steady speed. Somehow getting his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his contact. Trying to find the specific person.

Y/N. Was not, surprisingly, on the screen currently. Fumbling with the phone in his hand he finally, pressed the call button. The bitter breeze hitting him as he roamed down the road of London.

One call turned into multiple missed calls. Which made Joe feel so addled and kept on stumbling your way home.

somewhere darker talking the same shite i need a partner well, are you out tonight?

But of course as clumsy as he was he tripped on his own feet and fell right on his front. His body instantly felt achy and his knee was grazed. Blood oozed. Things poking him in the back.

His chest pounded and pounded like it was desperately trying to get out of Joe’s body. Joe was trying to catch a breath in what seemed to be a place without oxygen.

Undulate trees towered above him smothered him with their shadows. Crystals of broken water drops fell vigorously over his face crumbling like a thousand diamonds.

Feeling his head spinning and drowsy, he couldn’t think properly for more than few seconds before being reminded of the throbbing pain in his knee.

He laid in a contorted position, hearing the crisp leaves crunching in the distance, slowly becoming louder. He clenched his fist in his hands in pain filled with moist and muggy mud.

He stood up on his feet his head rolling to the sides before carrying on ambling towards her place. Like he usually, would.

He needed her right now. To help him, to take care of him and then for him to leave the next morning. Per usual.

it’s harder and harder to get you to listen more I get through the gears incapable of making alright decisions and having bad ideas

Although, both of them struggled. Their relationship; if you even call this a relationship, was like a piece of paper crushed together ready to throw it away. Their relationship was something similar, slowly, but surely disintegrating.

At the start, everything was so much better: they stayed close to each other, helping each other out either if it was Joe needed someone to film for home or just help Y/N out in the house.

They were unbreakable, something that would need more than an axe to break. It was something they both shared, that colossal spark that would simmer outside of them. It like you could spot the light of happiness, from anywhere.

But time went on, and the spark that once lighted the whole world vanished and got shattered into millions of pieces like it never mattered.

Joe became much closer with the alcohol spending his time in the bar rather than with Y/N at home. Visiting many places like they used to do, stopped. The once good morning pecks turned into Joe moving out.

But they didn’t want this to end they both were hurting, they knew that deep inside. But none of them could make a move to say anything about it.

-

Joe always thought about how his life would be if Y/N wouldn’t be there anymore. Would he be happier? Would he find someone else? He made mistakes in this relationship.

Yes. He hooked up with different girls. He never told her, but she knew ever since. She didn’t even need to see him, she knew. It broke right through her. She cried herself to sleep every night, blaming herself for this thing they both once had, just disappeared.

She stopped. She didn’t care anymore. About anything. She was empty, isolated and not even bothered about Joe and what he was up to.

now it’s three in the morning and I’m trying to change your mind left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply (message you reply) why’d you only call me when you’re high? (why’d you only call me when you’re) high why’d you only call me when you’re high?

Things she thought about Joe was something completely different like she thought about him when she met him. He seemed so… human! Now he changed and she doesn’t recognise the Joe Sugg she once knew.

She saw all the missed calls and messages he left. She of course never replied to any of them. The only one thing she ever wanted to ask him was ‘Why’d you only call me when  you’re high?’

Her head not getting around that one thing. Was he just using her for comfort or sex only? Every night she saw him on the same doorstep, drunk and blood trickling down his head.

She didn’t even feel any empathy for him. He was like a stranger to her.

and I can’t see you here when I’m high sort of feels like I’m running out of time i haven’t found all I was hoping to find you said you got to be up in the morning aonna have an early night And you starting to bore me, baby why’d you only call me when you’re high?

He licked his dehydrated lips and swollen the saliva to soften his dry throat. Approaching, a very known door he brushed the discoloured grass out of his hair.

Focusing his eyes on the rain sliding off the leaves in the distance. The drops pattered delicately and constantly. He examined the endless grey sky above him. The smell - it reminded him of something. Something that he usually wasn’t surrounded by every day.

The sheep manure and soggy, waterlogged grass. His feet grazing the floor the smell making him relaxed than he was before.

-

Standing in front of the one door he so used to see but not the inside. Knocking once, twice forgetting the amount of knocking he done. Leaning on the door not stopping knocking.

She watched him through the window, moving her body closer to the side so he doesn’t notice her staring. Which he probably, wouldn’t but she still was not certain and wanted to stay hidden just in case.

why’d you only ever phone me when you’re high? why’d you only ever phone me when you’re high?

why’d you only ever phone me when you’re high? why’d you only ever phone me when you’re high?

Her phone rang multiple of times, she didn’t even look at the contact name knowing it was him. As he was stood there looking down his phone trying to type a message that could be read. Which was an obvious that he failed, at that?

She felt something, deep down inside of her. It was like she wanted to run to him and hug him tight and never let him go, ever again. She felt a burning desire to run to him.

But she knew he only called her when he was high