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strawbxrryneptune · 1 year ago

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College BKG <3 (enemies to lovers ish)

unedited, lowkey rushed at the end cause im exhausted but at least i posted something after like a year teehee

@miggiisdumb

You walk into the lecture hall a couple minutes early, dragging your sleep deprived friend along with you.

“I genuinely don't understand why we have to get to class so early. The professor isn't even here yet."

You huff at her complaint, pulling her towards the front where you always sit.

"I just want to keep my seat.”

Before she can reply, you cut her off.

“Yes, I know, I’ve been sitting in the same place the whole semester and no one’s taken my seat, but there’s still the risk. Remember when Bakugou fucking took it last week and wouldn’t stop being smug about it?”

Slipping into the second row, she sits on your left, sighing heavily.

"Honestly, the little petty battle you have with him is getting old babe, just fuck him at this point."

You laugh, resting your head in your hands as you stare at your friend.

"Excuse me?"

She scoffs in your face, obviously too tired for your conversation.

"Listen, we all grew up together, anyone who went to UA can agree that you both have hard ons for each other, but you’re too busy arguing to see it.”

You sigh dramatically, flopping back in your seat.

“He’s an asshole-”

"An asshole you wanna fuck.”

You swipe at her, and she laughs before pushing at your arm.

“Look me in my eyes and tell me you don’t want to fuck him.”

“...Okay, he’s kind of hot-”

“So fuck-”

“-no, he’s so annoying!”

She gives you a look then sighs,

“Yes, yes he is.”

You both laugh, your mind wandering elsewhere for a bit before she taps your arm and nods her head behind you, wiggling her eyebrows. You hum, turning to see none other than Bakugo Katsuki himself. He’s walking towards your aisle, plopping down into a seat behind you and putting his bag down next to him. He’s wearing a black sweater draped over black pants, hair fluffy but still somehow spiky looking, and a smoky, almost woodsy scent wafting from him.

Bakugou meets your eyes, and the intensity in his gaze makes your stomach twist. He raises an eyebrow at you, lips curving up to conceal a smirk. You roll your eyes and turn back around, annoyed that he caught you staring. Your friend holds back a laugh next to you and you pointedly ignore her, willing the professor to start the lecture already.

Before you can get fully lost in thought, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn your head and almost hit your forehead against Bakugou’s.

“Jesus, have you ever heard of personal space?”

He ignores your question and squints at the small table in front of you.

“You got an extra pencil?”

You stare at him, then look around to the other people in his row.

“Why are you asking me? There's like 5 other people in your sectio-”

“Do you have another fuckin’ pencil or not, Brat?”

You huff and shake your head no. You definitely have another pencil, but you're not giving it to his rude ass. He slides his eyes from your face to the bright pink pencil case on your table, full to the brim with pencils and highlighters.

“Alright.”

You give him another roll of your eyes and go to turn around, but he stops you by leaning over your shoulder and snatching the pencil you were currently using off of your table, retracting back and sitting in his seat. You're pissed, but you can't even bring yourself to turn around because holy shit were his arms always that muscular? And did they always have those veins running through them all the way to his big hands? And fuck when he bent over you his gold chain came out of his shirt a little and it made you think how it would look dangling over you while he fucked the breath out of you. You take a quick breath and dig through your pencil case, taking a pen out and focusing on the smart board at the front of the class. The professor finally starts talking and you welcome the distraction, taking your notebook out to start taking notes.

Once it hit the end of your class, you closed your notebook and let out a sigh, thankful to be done for the day. You felt a tap on your shoulder, and this time you just give Bakugou a side eye when he slides his face close to yours and plops the pencil back on your desk.

“Thanks.”

“Dunno why you’re acting nice like you didn’t steal from me but you’re welcome.”

His face comes into view, and even though you aren’t looking directly at him, you can see his eyes drilling holes into the side of your face.

“Don’t give me shit as if you didn’t lie to me.”

You scoff and fully turn, almost nose to nose with him.

“Why would I want to give you a pencil when you’re such a dick?”

His eyebrows shoot up, and his eyes darken in a way that makes your stomach turn.

“You wanna repeat that?”

You don't want to repeat it, actually, but you’re not about to back down and pissing him off is too fun, so you get closer.

“I said, why would I want to give you a pencil when you’re. a. dick.”

He gives you a sadistic smile and closes the already small distance between you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“If you want dick so bad I can give it to you, you don't gotta call me one Sweetheart.”

Your face heats up and your eyes dart around the room, relief flooding your chest when you realize everyone cleared out of the lecture hall except for some girl who was closing her laptop and shoving her things into her bag.

You turn back to him and step back, grabbing your notebook and pencil case and putting it into your bag.

“Please, I’d get more satisfaction from a metal pipe than your dick. You can’t handle this.”

He grabs your wrist, and when you turn back around he’s in your face again, this time staring at your lips with dark eyes.

“You wanna bet?”

You look around again, watching that last girl walk out the door. Fuck it, if the dick is bad or you embarass yourself you still have time to drop the class.

With that in mind, you shake your wrist free from his grip and lean in to kiss him, sighing softly when he kisses back because his lips are so soft. He brings a strong hand to your jaw and tilts your head, kissing you deeper. You make out for a bit before you start to become aware of the awkward position you’re both in, straining to kiss each other over the seats of the hall. He seems to have the same thought, and he brings his hands down to your waist before pausing and pulling away.

“Can I touch you?”

You think it's a bit silly for him to ask you at this point, but you appreciate it nonetheless.

“Yes.”

You say it breathily, and he gives you a crooked smile before grabbing your waist and whispering, “Jump” against your mouth. You do as he says and he effortlessly lifts you up over the seats and into his arms, hands moving to cup your ass. He continues to kiss you and you start to feel yourself getting hot, moving your hips against his stomach to alleviate some of the tension. He squeezes your ass and moves to sit down, placing you on the ground before turning you around and making you sit on his lap with your back to him. He leans forward to kiss your neck while bringing a veiny hand up to lightly choke you, not applying that much pressure but still making your head spin.

“Grind on me.”

“Ask nicely, Bakugou.”

He chuckles and gives you a sharp bite on the side of your neck, making your hips jolt against him.

“There you go, good girl.”

You want to tell him off, but you can feel his dick through his pants and you want to feel more. Biting your lip, you grind against him slowly, picking up the pace gradually and forcing moans out of the both of you.

“Fuck, Bakugou take your pants off i wanna feel you.”

“Ask nicely, brat.”

You huff and turn to try and undo his pants, but he stops you.

“I said, ask nicely. You're not gettin’ shit actin all prissy.”

“...fine. Please take off your pants so I can sit on your cock, Bakugou.”

He hums and gives you another murmur of “good girl” before tapping your hips to get you up again, shimmying his pants to his knees and taking his dick out. He reaches over and takes your bottoms and panties off, rubbing your hips before reaching around and starting to rub soft circles into your clit, causing you to let out a small moan. He pulls you closer and continues to pleasure you, teasing you and pulling at your clit occasionally while slipping his hand into your shirt and tweaking a nipple. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, and you start to move your hips along with his hand. He groans against you as he feels you getting slick, taking his hand away quickly to slide your wetness along his dick. He uses one hand to pump himself while sliding one, two, three thick fingers into you, curving them and pumping rhythmically. He whispers in your ear about how soft you are, how beautiful and wet and perfect your pussy is, and you just can’t stop gushing on his fingers. You start to feel your orgasm coming up, and you stop his fingers.

”Fuck me, Bakugou, please.”

He moans at the desperate tone of your voice, bringing you further back and sliding his cock along your pussy, rubbing the tip against your clit and making your legs shake. You whine and reach back, wrapping your hand around his and guiding him inside you, gasping at the stretch. He takes it slow, and once you give him a whimper and a nod he starts to thrust into you, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back. He fucks you good, and you start to feel your legs shake and your vision blur as he hits that spot over and over and over again until you feel him consume you and you’re cumming just like that, back arched and eyes shut, moaning loud. He moans along with you, slamming his hips into you through the squeezing of your pussy. He slows down his thrusts to give you time to calm down, and you lean back and moan in his ear, squeezing him some more. He groans and pulls you off of him, cumming onto your ass.

You both take a moment to calm down, getting dressed in slightly awkward silence as you both grab your shit. You check your phone quickly and hold back a laugh when you see a text from your friend telling you she left in hopes of you getting dicked down. Little did she fucking know.

#neptunewrites🪐#bakugo smut #bakugou thirst #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #neptunetalks🪐

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bellarkeselection · 1 month ago

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Hello ! I love your work sm and was wondering if you could maybe possible do a Charles Xavier x reader where the reader is British like him but had lived in France most her life so when she gets angry like in class when teaching the students or just in general with other people and or things she start yelling and insulting in French (reader has ANGER ISSUES) ? If that is to much to ask I understand completely, thank you and I hope you have a great week my lovely xx

The British and French Professor

Hi there, anonymous asker - I’m sorry it took me a while before I got this posted but I hope you enjoy what I have wrote

Some people simply find enjoyment in staying in the state or country they were born in.

Others have this desire to travel the world and see more than what we have been around most of their lives.

And I used to be one of those people that stayed at home until I met Charles Xavier and his beautiful dream that he had for mutants and the rest of the world at Oxford University when I had gotten my dream job to teach as a professor here.

The first time I had left my childhood home in France I had to adjust to many different things, especially switching from my French accent to a British one that my mother had. She taught me all she could but I haven’t been able to not curse in French when I let my anger get the better of me.

Walking into my college classroom I sat my bag down seeing most of my students were already in their seats and ready for our exam that day. Taking out my exam papers I heard one of my students coming up to my desk with a nervous look on her face. “Excuse me, Professor L/n. I was hoping I could be excused from today’s exam cause I didn’t get enough sleep last night.” The girl's name was Penny and she had her blonde hair up in a ponytail.

Holding the exam papers up against my chest so she couldn’t see the questions I sent her a half smile. “You’ve known this exam has been coming up for two weeks now.”

“Professor L/n, I can’t take the exam today because I broke up with my girlfriend and that was really draining for me.” One of the boys that sits next to her came up coming up with a half assed excuse.

Rolling my eyes I glared at him. “That’s not a valid reason to not take this exam, Bryan.”

“But Professor L/n-“

The classroom door got thrown open and I saw one of the cheerleaders running inside the classroom completely dressed in her pajamas. “I totally thought she was joking about us having an exam the day before fall break.”

“Alright that’s enough.” Laying the exams faced down beside my laptop that was sitting on the desk.

Easton, who was a senior who had failed this class two more times rose from his seat, beginning to put on his backpack and leave the room. “I’m out of here. I don’t need to learn about English if I’m going to play in the NFL one day.”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” Another boy began to pack his things, making the blood inside of me start to boil.

Slamming my palms down on the wooden desk I raised my voice at the students who were trying to leave the classroom. “Nobody leaves this room unless I say that class is over!”

“But half of them aren’t prepared for class, Professor L/n. Why should we make it where they pass because we came prepared for the exam?” Amy, who was one of my best students, raised her hand getting frustrated with the fact that their good test scores would help out the ones who could care less about trying to take or pass the exam for today.

Running a hand down my face I huffed doing my best to not let my anger take over. Even if this wasn’t the first time we have had this conversation in my class this year. “Amy, you shouldn’t worry about the curve. I will not improve the others' grades considering we have already discussed this.”

“So since we’re having this conversation I’m assuming we aren’t having the exam today. I’ll see you on Monday.” Penny slowly started walking backwards towards the door.

“Vous tous gèlez cet instant ! Je refuse d'avoir cette discussion cette année. Vous devez suivre ce cours, je suis votre professeur, ce qui signifie que vous ferez ce que je dis, ce qui signifie que nous aurons l'examen aujourd'hui et que toute personne qui échouera à l'examen devra écrire un essai pendant la pause qui explique comment vous serez préparé pour notre prochain examen. Est-ce clair pour tout le monde ?” - - - - - ( All of you freeze this instant! I refuse to have this discussion anymore this year. You are required to take this course, I am your professor meaning you will do what I say, so that means we will be having the exam today and anyone who fails the exam will be required to write an essay over break that explains how you will be prepared for our next exam. Is that clear to everyone? )

All my students' eyes were locked onto me after I had stopped shouting in French and a familiar British accent could be heard throughout the classroom. “On that note I’d say Professor L/n isn’t feeling well and needs to step out. My colleague Hank will be protruding your exam and will make sure everyone finishes before they leave.” Charles slowly enters the room with his friend Hank coming in behind him moments later.

Slumping my shoulders, the anger that I was feeling almost went away instantly when I saw his face and those piercing blue eyes. “Charles.”

“Let’s both be done for the day. I think you and your students have been stressed out enough for some time.” The telepathic professor extended his hand out to me waiting for me to give him my hand. Slowly intertwining my hand with his own he led me out of the classroom and grabbed my bag.

Once we were outside I felt my entire body relax with the wind in my hair and the sun on my face simply taking a walk with the man that I loved. Charles found a park bench and we sat down where I laid my head against his shoulder sighing heavily. “I didn’t mean to snap at them. My anger - my anger issues just got the better of me.”

“I know you didn’t mean for that to happen, Y/n. You are one of the greatest people I have ever met. So don’t beat yourself up over what happened in your class a few minutes ago.” Charles tucked some hair behind my ear.

Lifting my head up I gently kissed him, threading my fingers through his long brown hair. “Thank you, Charles. I appreciate you being here for me.”

“I’ll always have my girls back. You are my love, Y/n.” He smiled gently cupping my face in his hands deeply kissing me back where we just enjoyed the peaceful moment together.

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ppushable · 3 months ago

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two ibuprofen

jean kirschtein x gn!reader / oneshot / wc: 7.3k

part 1 of rose tinted hours

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Sunday morning. What's the best way to spend a Sunday morning?

Craned over the plaguefest of the guy I'm dating-not-dating, trying to shove two ibuprofen down his throat?

(It works the second time.)

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

ao3 tags:

ok here we go / Alternate Universe - College/University / Sickfic / Sick Character / Fluff / Kissing / Alternate Universe - Modern Setting / Texting / Vomiting / Not at the same time / Winter / gender neutral reader / i dont know how to make tea / mentions of sanrio / mentions of bagged milk / slight angst? i guess? if you squint? / reiner texts like a boomer and im sorry / POV First Person / Present Tense

i live in a special part of canada so excuse the bagged milk. (just kidding bagged is better)

reader is gn! if anything seems off please lmk. (do that if the text names are confusing too!)

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Bzzz.

The darkness and warm comfort of sleep cracks as my eyes peel open to the vibration of my phone. My blurry wall is bathed in orange light and the cold draft coming in from the open window carries the swoons and trills of birdsong. Pretty…

Holy shit I have class I’ll be late—

With effort, I blink until the shapes around me become clean and defined. Am I late? Sunlight on the ruffles of my quilt like a Renaissance painting. Coats and bags hanging from the hooks on the back of my bedroom door. Clothes from the night before, still on the ground from when I dropped them there, dead-tired. My phone buzzes again, causing an internal jolt that spurs me to snatch it off the nightstand and expel the charger in one swift movement.

mr. handsome: emergency alert! 🚨 alert! god-level threat!

mr. handsome: One image attachment

Oh, it’s a message from Connie.

Oh, it’s 8:19 AM.

Oh, it’s a Sunday.

The glowing numbers on the screen indicate the next minute and I toss the phone somewhere on the bed before re-curling myself into my nice warm quilt in this nice cool morning. Sorry, Connie, the grocery run to 7-11 for more sushi will have to be done by someone else. This is probably the happiest I’ll be all day, provided I stay sleepy enough not to feel guilty for doing nothing. The world goes black.

Bzzz.

This time, my eyes peel open on their own.

Fine, Connie, you win.

Trying to ignore the bitter taste of morning in my mouth, I grope for my phone and lift it above my head.

sashacado: BAHAHAH GOOD LUCK WITH THAT ONE BALDY

Another message pops up.

mr. handsome (replying to @/sashacado): 🖕

mikachu: you need to get out of there, connie. like rn.

lainah: Run while you still can! LOL! 🤣

Although the last text pains me on a metaphysical scale, I open up the groupchat. It’s getting fishy now: first of all, Connie’s never up this early, least of all on a weekend; secondly, he said ‘god level threat’ (which is apparently the worst level of threat), and third, Mikasa rarely speaks in the groupchat. Sure, she lurks, but she only ever emerges when something big is happening.

Some more people are active now and I have to scroll up to find Connie’s image.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Blurry and off-centre as the picture might be, it clearly depicts the ugliest green-and-white striped couch I ever laid my eyes on (“It’s an antique!” Connie had argued) that belongs to Connie and Jean’s shared dorm in which the latter of the two is curled up in (yet he still scrapes the armrests with the top of his head and toes). Littering the stained carpet around him — they prefer eating on the couch than on an actual table, so spills are inevitable — are wads of crumpled-up tissues. To really top it off is the Cars blanket that Jean won at a festival that’s seemingly in the process of being violently torn from his form, clinging to the armrest closest to the camera and pulling beyond. A message banner pops down from the top of the screen.

jean: i’m fine. and give me my fucking blanket back. i can hear you giggling from your bedroom. connie.

grammar police: connie give his blanket back

lainah: Haha!

grammar police: i swear things like this only happen when I’m gone

Right, Marco usually goes home for the weekends.

ymi: Lmfao that thing prolly gave you a disease in the first place

ymi: Have u even washed it once

mr. handsome: cut the ccrap Ymir we wash it more than you wash ur hair

sashacado: LMAOOO

ymi: At least I have hair

sashacado: AGAHAHH CONNIE

grammar police: you guys

grammar police: missing the point here

mr. handsome (replying to @/ymi): and its sad cuz mine is still better than youres

mr. handsome: like girl tf is up with the shaved sides

mr handsome: jojo siwa looking ass

sashacado: LMAOOOOO CONNIE EAT HER UP

Smiling, I return to the main chat screen.

ymi: Count your fucking days springer

ymi: At least I still have a girl

grammar police (replying to @/mr. handsome): ^yours

mr. handsome: ok nerd

grammar police: I’m taking away your Netflix

mr. handsome: I sincerely apoligize for my words.

grammar police: it’s the effort I guess

grammar police: back to Jean though

jean: i told u im prrfectly fine. just give ne back my blanket i’ll sleep it off

grammar police: do I need to come back to campus for the weekend?

mikachu: im stopping by the store. can grab some medicine

jean: ffs IM FINE GIVE ME MY BLANKET CONNIE OR IM TELLING THEM ABOUT THE GRATER THING

grammar police: Jean you need some medicine at least. I heard there’s a nasty flu going around and you’d be the type of person to catch it

grammar police: did you call your mom? I can call her if you want

jean: IM

jean: FINE

jean (replying to @/grammar police): DO NOT DO THAT

Poor Jean. He doesn’t have anyone to take care of him. Connie’s a mild germaphobe, believe it or not, at least when it comes to sickness (he nearly went crazy during Covid) and is probably keeping a safe distance from his roommate. And it’s not like any of his other friends are willing (or able) to help out, with Marco out of town. He doesn’t have any siblings here; the closest relative he has might be his mother all the way back in Trost. Not even a significant other.

Well. I mean.

There’s me.

But we’re technically not dating. Not yet. We’re still trying to figure things out — hell, I don’t even know if he likes me back.

Well, okay, there was that time we kissed. But it’s just a kiss. And it was an end-of the year party, and everyone was feeling it. And it’s January now and we haven’t done it again so it’s nothing. It’s nothing!

But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at my foundations like a tiny, evil beaver.

Wow. So you’re willing to let a guy suffer just because you’re unsure? Now that’s selfish. While you’re sitting here muttering to yourself he’s probably burning with fever and wishing he were dead. Real classy.

Shut the fuck up, beaver. It’s weird to just barge into someone’s house like that. And we don’t know each other that well.

You’ve known each other for a long time. He’s sick. At least take care of him. You don’t need to be his lover or whatever. Just be a good friend, huh?

I guess…

And you know Connie, too, don’t you? You’ll be doing him a big favour by getting this plaguefest out of his living room. He needs to finish off Breaking Bad so he can look at the memes without being spoiled. You’re not helping dear old Connie out, either.

Fuck, you do have a point.

Besides, everyone knows what happened between you and Jean at the Christmas party. They’re probably waiting on you to—

With great effort I manage to unfocus my eyes to see if anyone mentioned me but Connie and Jean have devolved into another stupid somewhat one-sided argument. So they aren’t saying anything outright. But they’re probably thinking it.

They’re definitely thinking it.

Okay, that’s enough from you.

I swipe off the groupchat to see all of my chats and open up my DM with Jean — right near the top — and start typing.

me: hey. sorry if this is weird, but i wanted to check on you bc ur really sick apparently

No, that won’t do. I purge the message.

me: hey fuckass. did you go out without a coat again? do i need to come and take care of

No, not that, either. Hopefully he isn’t looking at our messages or else he’d see me typing like an idiot. I tap the side of my phone as I think, stringing together ideas and words and different ways he could perceive me based on how I put them together.

I go back to the main groupchat.

me: @/jean @/mr. handsome im coming over. be there in 15

me: also @/mikachu could you pick up some lozenges and cough syrup? ty i’ll pay u back <3

I zone out at the screen until someone starts typing and throw the phone down on the bed again before scanning the ground for something wearable. Goodbye, sweet air and Renaissance scene and birdsong. After assembling myself and brushing my teeth, I check the mirror attached to the back of the shared bathroom door that Sasha decorated with some Sanrio stickers from Amazon. She had a phase.

Matching socks, jeans, campus sweatshirt, T-shirt underneath big enough to splay out underneath like a fan. Hair a mess. Face a mess. Good enough. It’s not like Jean will look much better. It’s not like I care that much about how I look around him.

I pull the door aside and collect my belongings — phone, bag, coat — before whisking through the door, full sail for Connie’s res building. I hit the stairwell running.

Do I know how to take care of sick people? I mean, more or less. It’ll be fine. All you have to do is feed them and make sure they don’t puke all over themselves. Right?

On the way I stop by one of the cafeteria atriums, one of the smaller ones I frequent for its souped-up coffee counter with every additive known to man. I scan the containers on the counter — milk, cream, nutmeg — until I find the packets of honey and shove one into my bag while trying not to look guilty to the few people that dot the room. I more than paid for it just by attending.

Now on the main floor by the parking lot, I struggle to untangle my keys from the mess in my bag and, without looking, push the unlock for my car. It beeps faithfully in the same place I left it and I hurry to the sound like a moth to flame.

It’s a smallish car that’s starting to rust near the top. I open the drivers’ door and toss my bag in the passenger seat before throwing myself in and shutting the door, shutting out the world, disturbing the rubber Kuromi keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. My breath comes out steamy. The car comes to life on the third try — best to let it warm up a bit before I go.

Inhale, exhale. I open up the groupchat.

jean: you will do no such thing

jean: @/me

mr. handsome: so THATS what it takes for u to finally visit

mr. handsome: ive been keeping it nice and clean just for u 😙

mr. handsome: until mr covid came and ruined it

mikachu (replying to @/me): dw about it babes xx

sashacado: mika get me chocolate

mikachu: maybe. driving

Mikasa and I, weirdly enough, were the first to get our full licenses. A smile pulls at my face and I duck down to look at my lap. Jean had nearly begged us to give him driving lessons, and of course, I agreed. Days of close calls, driving under the speed limit, getting honked at, constantly checking the mirrors, nearly rear-ending people at stop signs, elbows touching on the armrest…

Of course, now Jean can drive without a hitch. Maybe not good enough yet that I’d sleep while he does it, but that’s a personal thing.

I almost put my phone down before noticing I have a few more private messages.

jean: seriously you dont have to come. im fine

jean: its acc not a big deal

jean: i had colds like this before. im not ur responsibility

Something about that last line stings. I guess he’s right, technically. We’re not that close. Who am I kidding?

But I already announced to the world what I’m going to do. And I already decided on it.

me: im coming whether you like it or not. watch connie for me

When I can’t see my breath anymore I start driving.

Stohess is a big campus. And while I’m not a huge fan of carbon emissions, I’m also not a fan of 20-minute walks in blistering, dry cold (or wet cold, for that matter). Also, I don’t want to keep Jean waiting. The eco society is going to kill me.

I pull in to the all-too-familiar parking spot, the one Jean pulled into a hundred times in preparation for his driving test in his new, expensive car his parents bought him because “he was doing so good with his driving!”

He’d thanked me profusely for helping him out, which, in hindsight, was mildly out of character for a broody, arrogant guy like him.

But then again, so was kissing me at that party. Not so much the kissing part. Just the me part. And the gentle-tight way he held me, the way he looked into my eyes…

I suck in a sharp breath. But I’m doing this as a friend. Not because of whatever we might be. If Connie was the one who got sick, I’d be here, too.

Steeling my nerves, I take my bag with an iron grip and make for the dorm.

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The door is already open when I arrive, propped open by a deflated volleyball. Weird. Some music that sounds like it was taken straight from Fast and Furious plays from inside. Knowing Connie, it probably is.

Nothing stirs when I open the door, but it is a pretty quiet door. The living room is right in front of me, ugly antique couch and all, but it’s completely empty. I didn’t walk into the wrong room, did I?

“Connie? Jean?” I slip off my shoes — Connie is insistent (I think shoes in the house is a crime anyway) — and creep through the dorm. “You guys?“

My voice rings through. Nothing. Peals of dread condense in my stomach and I pick up the pace, nearly barreling to a stop in front of the bathroom. I knock; first on the bathroom, then Jean’s bedroom. Connie left his door open.

“Jean? You in there?”

No response.

“I’m gonna— I’m opening the door, okay?”

And without time to think about what might be on the other side, I twist the knob and push.

Nothing. I even look behind the shower curtains.

Who even closes an empty bathroom?

Next is Jean’s room, but it’s also empty.

Where the hell are they?

I check my phone again and text the group chat.

me: @/mr. handsome @/jean where are you guys?

Waiting…

lainah: Gym

What.

me: are you sure.

lainah: One image attachment

Sure enough.

I should have noticed when his parking spot was empty.

me: dont let them leave. omw now

Sasha starts typing something but I throw my phone in the bag. I should have known they’d pull some bullshit like this. Well, not they. He. Something blistering and boiling threatens to spill over within me, but I take a deep breath. I’ll deal with him when I get there.

Jean’s a smart man, but not when he’s being stubborn.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

The car ride, despite being short, gave me a chance to cool my nerves.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. I grip the steering wheel in front of the gym. It’s fine. And step out.

Anytime Fitness is a strange and marvellous place full of people you might not see anywhere else. I don’t care about them. I scan the machines and see Reiner on the treadmill, and he meets my eyes a moment after. He nods in a different direction and I follow his gaze until I see the unmistakable bronze and shaved hair combination. I mouth a thank you and he smiles.

I must look completely out of place here, weaving between sweaty and half-naked bodies in my coat and jeans like I have a demon on my tail until I’m standing behind the chest press.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Connie’s saying and by the way Jean grunts it’s definitely not the first time.

“Let it go. I’m fine, and I’m going to the gym like I always do.” Jean’s voice is thick and nasal. “Buzz off.”

“Look, I already left the house with you. I can’t let you die here.”

“I said I’m fine—”

At the end of Jean’s rep, I slip the pin out of the weights. Jean nearly lunges over as the heaviness suddenly decreases.

Both look at me.

Connie looks normal. Jean is already slick with sweat, hair askew, red-nosed, with a slight wheeze lining his breath as he sits on the edge of the seat. Not normal. Not fine.

“Jean. My car. Now.” I point at Connie. “You take his back.”

A slight smile cracks his visage and that’s all I see before whipping around like an army man and making my way out.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

There’s a lot of things I could be saying, but I don’t, because there’s too much. So we drive home in silence.

Now that we’re closer, I can really hear the struggle with Jean’s every breath, the occasional cough, the mucous-laced sniffs, as much as he might try to hide it. He just sits there, going on his phone, staring out the window, until:

“Pull over.”

And his eyes are closed, head tilted up, pained look on his sweat drenched-face. I move to the side of the door without question and he scrabbles for the handle — I unlock it for him — before opening the door and half-falling over as he pukes.

I pinch my lip between my teeth and look the other way as the smell hits right after. Fine my ass.

Ever since I was young, the sound of heaving has always unsettled me. Even fake gags. Like it flips a switch in my heart to induce a sudden thrill of terror as if someone horror-movie screamed. And yeah, it’s just throwing up, but I hate it.

My heart races as he unloads again and I just want to plug my ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t sit here.

When the coast is clear I hop out and walk around the back. Jean is squatting on the pavement right before it hits the grass where his vomit lays, poking up through the stiff shoots. Though we’re outside, the smell is even worse. I try not to look at it as I hand Jean a bottle of water and set a stack of napkins I filched from Wendy’s on the passenger seat beside him.

“Thank—” he manages to croak out before pitching over again.

He’s been growing out his hair. I guess I didn’t notice it before, but now it’s long enough to get in his face in this position.

I gather the strands in my hands — soft as that day before the turn of the year — and hold them on the crown of his head as he retches.

When he’s done, I consider rolling down the windows, but decide against it.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Jean hardly notices when I pull in (again). Weirdly enough, his car still isn’t here — either Connie drives like a grandpa or he’s gone off somewhere.

“Jean.”

He inhales through his mouth, sucking up the new, pukey scent of my car, and opens his door with half-lidded eyes, leaning hard. It bumps against the campus van I’m parked beside and I cringe. Parked too close. He’s in no state to stand up on his own, let alone walk.

“Let me help you.”

He grunts in something like disagreement and I shut my door on him, going around the back again. Soiled napkins are shoved into the door storage and the water bottle is half-empty and crushed on the floor. Well. I offer a hand and after some hesitation he takes it, clasping my shoulder, and when I help him stand the added weight nearly crushes me. Jean is big, maybe not muscular like Reiner, but tall. Even through my coat and his too-thin sweater he radiates heat and he grunts a sickly air into my ear as he finds his footing. There’s barely enough room for the both of us between the car and the van so I shuffle us sideways, around the other side of the car and to the front. I gently lower Jean so he leans against the hood.

“Wait here.”

He doesn’t object as I shut the passenger door and lock the car before going back and offering my shoulder once again and I nearly fall over once again and we huddle together into the building. He’s never this quiet. Never so agreeable. Never so willing to take the help that’s offered to him.

This is a side of Jean I’ve never seen before. A side that I surely was never meant to see.

I swallow thickly and shuffle our bodies forward so I can push the button for the elevator. His head bumps against mine as it droops but he quickly straightens. “Sorry. Sorry.” His voice is gravelly and small, so small, as if it came from another person entirely.

I stare at the side of his face, but he’s focussed on something far away. “You’re okay, Jean.”

The elevator dings open and we go in. Seventh floor button. The door rolls shut.

Beep. Our knees buckle as the elevator accelerates and the screen above the button panel indicates that it’s going up. It usually smells of antiseptic unless it’s been raining.

Beep. The elevator’s always been slow which is why most people take the stairs instead. Connie calls it the ‘hellevator’ because he swears it almost dropped him once.

Beep. Jean’s trying to steady himself; hold himself up.

Beep. We haven’t been this close together since the party.

Beep. Jean takes an unusually large, wheezy breath and holds it. “Sorry.” His voice is hardly a rumble against my side.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask, quietly.

Beep. “For making you do this.”

Beep. The door retracts and muffled hip-hop fills the air. We walk off the hellevator and stand in front of the dorm. 704. An opaque plastic bag hangs off the handle and I take it in the same hand I hold my bag — thanks, Mikasa.

“You have your key?”

Jean grumbles and taps his pockets, pulling out a key ring. A rubber charm — Badtz-Maru, the little angry penguin — hangs from the ring. Sasha gave all of us one in her Sanrio phase. Keroppi for Connie, Charmy for Mikasa, Pompompurin for Marco, Cinamaroll for Eren, Kuromi for me. I (was forced to) help her choose.

The key retracts and Jean uses his free arm to turn the handle and shoulder the door open. He clears — tries to clear — the phlegm in his throat. “Alexa,” he gurgles. “Alexa, stop.”

The music immediately ceases and we stumble to the couch where Jean unceremoniously drops and tucks his head between the armrest and cushioned back, looking utterly uncomfortable.

“Get up, Jean.”

He sniffs.

“Come on. Bed.” I drop my bags on the coffee table. “Not couch.”

“No.”

“Connie will throw a fit. And so will I.”

“Just—” he tries clearing his throat again— “go.”

“I’m not leaving until you get better.” I blink. No, I’m not leaving him here alone. Why does that surprise me?

“I’m fine. I told you. Done it before. I’ll get better.”

“Done it before?” I giggle falsely. “What, you used to rawdogging colds all by yourself?”

A car passes outside, a familiar rising and falling sound against the unfamiliar silence of the dorm.

“Jean?”

“Go…”

And I swear he’s never sounded so… vulnerable before. Like he’s laid out all his organs on a big table and I’m holding the scalpel. Just waiting for the incision.

A little softer, I tell him, “I’m not going anywhere, Jean.”

And I take the goodie bag and head for the simple kitchen — that is, an inlaid fridge, stove, and pantry cramped behind an island counter with a sink. I hold the electric kettle Reiner got for Jean’s and Connie’s fifth anniversary (he thought they were together at first) under the sink and let it fill to two cups just in case before setting it back and switching it on.

Then I rummage through the drawers and cupboards until I find an old, strangely moist box of tea packets. Yuzu mist or Cheerful Citrus? I opt for the latter.

Tearing open the package, I glance at Jean who still hasn’t moved. The teabag I dump into a printed mug that Jean likes to use.

NUMBER 1 COUGAR

I wonder where he got that.

The kettle clicks off when the water boils and I fill the mug. Oh. Honey would be good. I return to the couch and sift through my bag, shifting my keys in the process. Now Jean stirs.

“Are you leaving?”

“No, Jean.”

I keep rummaging. I know it’s in there. Might be in deep, but—

“Please don’t.”

I pause, emotions — affection? concern? — swirling like particles of tea in water. “Okay, Jean.”

I finish making the tea in silence with an almost-empty bag of milk left in the fridge. How do these boys even survive? All that’s in there are cold cuts and a bag of only bread butts, among some other, strange things. Including a pair of boxers.

“Can you sit up?”

Jean sighs into the cushion and braces against the armrest to push himself into somewhat of a sitting position.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

His eyes cast down. I swallow the silence that suddenly envelops us. Nothing weird. Just a room. I’m just a caretaker. “Come on, Jean.”

“Can— can you help me?”

I fall into the little divot in the couch where Jean sits and let him wrap an arm around my shoulder. “Ready?” I say. “One, two…”

We stumble up and pass through the already-ajar door to Jean’s bedroom and I nearly stop to take a better look. He has blackout curtains, currently drawn, painting the room in a dark blue light except for a thin bar of sunlight from between the curtains that propagates as a glowing line on the carpet. The walls are plastered in posters, sketches, paintings, sketches. Half-finished drawings on his desk and swivel chair and a few on the ground. A small compartment shoved into one corner with every art supply imaginable.

Still taking in the view, I (we) back into the bed, butt-first, and Jean unwraps himself from me.

“You won’t… do anything weird… to me?”

I smile. Conversational, that’s good. “Not unless you want me to.” And I wish I had shut up before the first word even came out of my stupid mouth. Standing, I look over my shoulder. “I’m getting the medicine.”

“Wait. Don’t.”

Under the doorframe now, I pause. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right back.” And I go to the goodie bag.

I should just work on keeping my mouth shut. Mikasa had picked out some ibuprofen, NyQuil, and lozenges. Pills should be good. I take the mug and the box and head back.

When I get back Jean’s sitting against the headboard, trying to uncrumple his blanket to get underneath.

“Let me help.”

He watches me then, helpless — Jean fucking Kirschtein, helpless! — as I set down the pills and mug on his glass nightstand and unfold the mess he’s got on the mattress. “Pull your legs up.”

He obeys. I pull the quilt over him.

I try not to stare. “You can put your legs down now.”

He obeys.

“Sit up, Jean. You need more pillows.”

Eyes glued to me, he leans forward so I can take his other pillow to prop him up more comfortably, leaning back when I touch his warm shoulder. Then I take the mug and offer it to him. “Drink some of this.”

Painfully quiet, he takes the mug with both hands and takes a tentative sip, lips curling around the brim of the ceramic to slurp up the soothing drink. He’s doing good. Until he hits a bump and starts sputtering.

Immediately I take the drink as he coughs up whatever went down the wrong way. When he’s done I realize I’ve been rubbing circles into his back so I take my hand off.

My phone buzzes in the living room. Shit.

“I’ll be back.”

Jean stares at his knees under the blanket and doesn’t move when I come back.

sashacado: omg yall

sashacado: theyre gonma be killed💯

armong us: What’s going on?

sashacado: @/lainah what did u do

lainah: One video attachment

sashacado: ONG LMFAOOO

sashacado pinned a message

mr. handsome: @/me im headed to urs with sash for a while. hope thats cool w you and all lmk if u need anything

jägermeister: are u fr leaving those two alone

mr. handsome: well good morning to u too pricness

Deleted message

jägermeister: oh right

sashacado: connor springer delete that message rn @/mr. handsome

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

mr. handsome: ok ok jfc im sorry

sashacado: @/mr. handsome

sashacado: ok good

Whatever the hell they’re up to now.

Jean thrashes slowly and I feel a little guilty for staring down at my phone the whole time. “Are you okay?” I breathe, sticking to his beside like a magnet. “Are you in pain?”

“Hot,” is all he says.

I peel the blanket off. He is hot. Really hot.

Not like that. He’s feverish.

“Can you… help me?”

“Yeah?” I stare at him — help with what? — until he raises his arms over his head.

Oh. A few circuits in my head switch off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m can help.” Idiot.

Like touching something radioactive I grasp the edge of his sweater and slowly raise it, catching the shirt underneath for a fleeting second before it falls back down. Deep breath. Yes, I am helping out a guy I’m dating-not-dating who I’m definitely not attracted to to take off his clothes in his bedroom in his empty dorm. Because he’s sick. No problem. Because I’m a good friend.

The neckline catches on his jaw and I unhook it, delicately trailing the scruff on his jaw in the process.

And it’s off and on the ground. Holy shit. Jean’s been sweating. And I know all that dampness on his shirt, clinging feebly to his attractive sick form, didn’t come from his 10 minutes at the gym.

He doesn’t lower his arms. Oh, so we’re doing it like this.

Okay.

I come forward again, within earshot to the rattling in Jean’s chest with his every breath, and quite literally peel the thin white shirt off. This time it’s impossible not to touch his incredibly warm and damp body, not to scrape my nails against the softness of his skin, from his waist to his broad shoulders all the way down his arms. Now he puts them down.

I almost forget he still smells like puke.

“My pants…”

Ohoho. No way, buster. You’re on your own. I’m calling Connie. Nooo way.

“Okay, but unbuckle yourself.”

He does without question, fumbling first with his belt, which I help slide off, and then his jeans.

What in the ever-loving fuck am I doing? This sounds like a smut setup. No. I’m just a friend helping out a sick friend, two friends who have never done anything even slightly romantic together.

“Sit up on the edge, okay?”

He heaves his sweaty self to the edge of the bed, palms leaving wet marks on the sheets, and, staring at the ceiling, I grasp at the hem of his pants (skirting his boxers or whatever he’s wearing because I’m not looking) and pull them (he lifts himself at first to help) all the way down. In one smooth movement I turn back around.

“Put your shirt over your… yourself.”

I wait a good few heartbeats before turning back around and lo and behold, he’s done as told. Frankly, it looks even worse now, like he’s lying in bed completely naked with just a shirt covering him. (But that’s only true if I think it’s true!) The jeans I’m still clutching for some reason I deposit on a chair.

“Jean, I’ll be right back, okay?” I wait for a response I should know isn’t coming before going out again, this time in search for a facecloth. Which I do find, shoved in the corner of the linen cabinet. I should be grateful they even have some, but then again, it might’ve been another gift from Reiner they didn’t have the heart to throw away. I rinse it under some cool water and announce my re-entry.

“I’m back. Sit still.” Folding some of the damp cloth over two fingers, I carefully dab at the sweat on his forehead. No, I need to… I pick off some strands of his sandy hair from his face, holding his hair back against his scalp, and try again. Better. “Jean?”

He opens his eyes halfway, and they raise lazily to meet mine. He’s sweaty everywhere and too late I catch myself stroking his head. I wipe his cheek next.

“Drink some tea, okay? I need you to take a pill.”

“Pillk?”

“Yes,” I say encouragingly, like training a puppy. Neck next. “Just a pill.”

He takes in a deep mouth breath. There’s a portrait stuck to the ground on the other side of his bed.

Is that…

“I can’t.”

My eyes snap back and I pause, dabbing at his collarbone. “What’s that?”

He shakes his head, furrowing his brows as if the action took too much effort. “Can’t… swallow. Can’t swallow pills.”

I blink. “You can’t take pills?”

A fleeting smile meets his lips. “Vitamin gummies. Not. Vitamin pills. Might get stuck in m’throat.”

I fold up the cloth into a rectangle and smooth it out onto his forehead. “Just take some tea with it.”

“Tried. No.”

Who knew? For a guy with such a big mouth, he sure has a small esophagus.

“Jean, it’ll make you feel better.”

“No.”

I pop open the box and break open the tinfoil seal to take out a single pill.

“Noo…”

“Jean, you’ll be fine. You’re a big boy now.” And I vow never to speak again.

When I push the little oval against his mouth, I find it won’t open. Jean is breathing laboriously through his 90 percent clogged nostrils.

“Open up.”

He purses his lips, further preventing entry, and I swear he’s smiling a little.

“Very funny. Take your pill. You’re gonna suffocate yourself.”

Still nothing. I pinch his nose. He makes a muffled noise but otherwise doesn’t react.

Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. At thirty-three I let go. “Are you really willing to kill yourself over a pill?”

“Don’t want. Don’t need.”

“Yeah, and I ‘don’t need’ you choking over your own puke in your sleep.”

“No…”

“Jean.” I feel terrible already for doing it like this. “Try. If you don’t at least try, I’ll leave.”

I bite my lip, awaiting his response. I really shouldn’t have said that. I’m such an asshole. Fuck.

“Okay.”

Deep breath. I push the pill against his bottom lip and the soft tissue yields against my fingers for a moment before he opens. The mug is to his lips not a moment after; he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing, and the tea in his mouth suddenly explodes out and sprays warmly all over my face.

All. Over.

I peel my eyes open after impact. Jean looks more awake than he did before, and with a discernible expression, too: terror.

Okay. Good!

Slowly, he reaches for the sweat-soaked cloth on his head and offers it to me. I shake my head.

“Be right back.”

Bathroom. Cold water. Cold water against my face. There’s two razors on the sink and the edges of the white surface have some hairs on them. Face hairs, I’m sure. I pray.

If whatever Jean has is contagious, I sure as hell have it now.

I turn the tap off and swipe the water from my face. Great. Okay. I bunch up my now-wet sweater. I can do this.

I re-enter the bedroom. Jean sits up a little straighter now, sipping in small increments. “Sorry.”

I put my sweater on the chair. “It’s okay.”

“I— really—”

“Jean, it’s okay.”

“I’m fine. I’ll get better.” Which is about the most complete sentence he’s said in a while.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t say anything. Almost unconsciously, I gravitate to his bed.

“You already did too much for me.”

“Nonsense.”

“Why do… you do this?”

Now that gets me thinking. Because you’re sick. Because I’m a good friend. Because you’re my guinea pig for Hospitality 101. Maybe all three.

My eyes trace back to the scribbled portrait on the other side of Jean’s bed and I take the cloth from his forehead.

Thousands upon thousands of excuses, and a singular truth.

“Because I like you.”

And I take my time going back to the bathroom.

Cold water. Cold water against my hands.

“Coming in.”

“It wasn’t nothing.” Jean clears his throat, almost inaudible against my beating heart. “Back at the party. Wasn’t… nothing.”

“Wasn’t all that much, either,” I say dryly. Hopefully he doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are. How shaky against his pallid skin.

Jean inhales and I can see the movement through his chest. “No. Wasn’t a lot.” He tilts his head up at a minuscule angle to scan my face, and maybe it’s the perspective, or the weird lighting, but I could swear he’s never looked at me like this before.

Except for that time.

“So I’d…” he swallows. “Like— like to have more.”

For a few seconds, it’s silent. For a few seconds, all that there is are his dim eyes and mine. For a few seconds, we fall into each other and tread water, sinking, fading…

I break our gaze and tremblingly pluck a tissue from a box on the ground; hold it to his nose. “Blow.”

He takes a shaky breath and obeys.

Fold. “Again.”

He shuts his eyes and blows.

“Again.”

He blows until his air gives out. I drop the spent tissue.

“Again?”

He shakes his head.

“Let’s try the pill.”

He nods and stares as I open the foil for a second time and pop the new one in my mouth.

He watches, confused, until a wave of realization seems to hit him.

He stays statue-still as I lean in, put a hand on the headboard on either side of his head.

His heat, like a barrier, raises the hairs on my skin. He cups my jaw. I cradle the side of his neck, and his pulse beats at a million miles a minute. The pill begins to dissolve.

Our mouths barely touch, and I make the final connection.

Jean is tall. Jean is arrogant. Jean will laugh at you when you fall.

But Jean has the softest lips, the sweetest mouth (even when he puked out a buffet no more than half an hour ago). Jean will melt like soft butter under your touch. Jean will accept your tongue, no questions asked, and retaliate with twice the vengeance.

Like I’ve been dreaming of since that brief moment at the party, I let my hand run insouciant through his hair. No eyes watching. No social boundary.

He gasps softly for air and I do the same, pulling his scalp so he tilts to meet me better with a small grunt. God, I fucking love his hair.

Now both of his iron-hot hands are on me, hooking under my shirt, running up and down, claiming every square inch, and I let mine fall from his neck down to his slick chest down to his stomach down to his abs. Other still planted firmly in his hair, pulling, twirling, pulling, and when I tug again Jean squeezes so hard, doubling down, suddenly hungry, suddenly a starving man. Wrapping his arms around my back and pulling me closer, I oblige, hooking a leg onto his bed, between his knees, and my thigh brushes against his still-damp T-shirt, and he groans softly into my mouth—

and swallows with an ulp!

and it’s over.

I stroke his throat as the pill goes down and he stares hollowly at me until it’s gone. I recline and smile.

“Is that enough for you?”

Unblinking, he pulls me down again.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

Connie kicks the asphalt with his definitely real Gucci slides. “Are you done?”

“Shh!”

He shoots his friend a withering look — that is, as withering of a look that he can muster.

“This is creepy. And I’m cold. Can we at least—”

Sasha puts down her binoculars and shows him what a real killer glare is. He rolls his eyes and scans his phone. Eren’s sent a message to the matchmaker groupchat.

emo king🖤⛓️: are u sure this plan of urs worked out

emo king🖤⛓️: excuse me if this is harsh, but it’s probably the dumbest shit of ur dumbshit ideas

me: yeah try telling Sash that

sharmin ultra soft: Eren’s right. Chances are Jean puked and turned everyone off

intimidating woman: i think there’s a chance

emo king🖤⛓️: are u fr in on this mikasa

sashami: you guys shh the star coming

Sasha shoots him another look before putting her non-stalker scope away in preparation for the star of the day’s arrival.

“Whad’d I do?”

As far as he knows, Connie is doing everything right. He’d told everyone that he was sleeping over at Sasha’s. (Her idea.) And now it’s Monday, and it’s time for the star’s (code name) first class (and also Sasha’s), and now they’re sitting out in the cold like a couple of dumbasses watching the stairwell windows. (Also her idea.) What the heck?

“I’m going in the car,” Connie grumbles. He doesn’t wait for the inevitable retort and climbs in to the drivers’ seat.

The car. The one silver lining to this whole ordeal. He’d eaten, put his feet up in, and used up every last drop of gas on this baby and Jean couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

But the person coming through the door isn’t their star. It’s Jean. Huh?

Connie pops out of the vehicle and joins up with Sasha.

“Oh— you’re here, too?” Jean’s brow furrows deeper. “What’s going on?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Connie grins. “Looks like you‘re doing a lot better.”

“No thanks to you lot.”

“Where are you going?” Sasha pipes in, and he knows what’s coming next. She’s using her interviewer voice.

“Just… going to class.” Jean smacks Connie’s shoulder. “Keys?”

He produces them with a flourish and a jangle and the taller takes them, unlocking the car.

Beep beep!

Sasha casually tails him, twisting around to block the driver’s side door.

“Sash.”

“Were you a good host?”

“I mean, I was really sick.”

“You have actual, proper food, right? Did you feed your dear caretaker?”

“Uh…” he smirks. “Yeah.”

“Is your room clean?”

“It’s fine!”

“Did you sleep together?”

He rolls his eyes and wedges a hand between his car and the girl. “Okay, get out.”

“Answer my question!” Sasha cries as she stumbles back and Jean hops in. Without another word, the car backs out. Jean turns and comes forward so he’s perpendicular to the parking spot before lowering his window.

“Connie! You owe me 20!” And then he’s gone.

Dumbfounded, the boy looks to Sasha, finding her staring at her phone. “What’s wrong? You on your period?”

“Oh, fuck off. Look.”

star: sorry sash,, not coming to hospitality. i got sick :(

star: jeans staying home for me tho. dont wait up <3

And the mastermind screenshots the fruits of her labour.

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

would you look at that. more kissing. *throws tomato* i did 80% of this in one day. no regrets!! (said eren.) (ill shut the fuck up now) i hope you enjoyed! it actually turned out a lot less gross than i originally planned (they were gonna do it with the nyquil ewwwww) but this is fine. right? i never actually kept a pill on my tongue like that for so long so for my sanity's sake let's pretend this is how it all works.

this started out as a oneshot. however,,, i decided to add more parts to it because i'm a sucker. check it out if you like! <3

byebye

⋅ ⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋅ ⋆

masterlist part 2 - low tide

#jean kirschtein fanfiction #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein fanfiction #jean kirstein x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #pushable #pushs oneshots

89 notes · View notes

crystallizsch · 6 months ago

Text

[💜|| Yuusha Tala (she/they) ━━━━━━━━━━━━✦

(slightly not canon-compliant / set in an AU where everyone is 18+ like a university)

Forcibly brought to Night Raven College by the black carriage for unknown reasons. She is enrolled as a student with a feline monster named Grim as her “familiar” — her magical half to compensate for her own lack of magical ability — and is appointed the “beastmaster” and the prefect of Ramshackle dorm.

Dorm: Ramshackle Grade: Freshman (First-year) Class: Class A (No. 9) Birthday: July 22 (Cancer) Age: 18 Height: 5'8 ft / 172 cm Dominant Hand: Right Homeland: Modern Earth Club: None Best Subject: Music Hobbies: Sketching Pet Peeves: Making contact with anything filthy Favorite Food: Anything with noodles Least Favorite Food: Soft drinks Talent: Playing instruments

Yuusha Tala is the witty and sarcastic prefect of Ramshackle who tends to be open and blunt with people depending on the situation (this bluntness sometimes lands her in trouble). Sometimes her confident facade fails her because, for the most part, the way she presents herself is an attempt to exaggerate herself in order to make herself seem more outgoing. In any case, the prefect still doesn’t fail to be also headstrong and stubborn, refusing to let others step all over her.

[💜|| Quick Notes ━━━━━━━━━━━━✦

I made Grim more cat-like in this yuuniverse just for fun :3

Has the same birthday as me aaaa

Like I said, this is also set in an AU where NRC is more like a university so that everyone is at least 18. So like:

First-years -> 18 Second-years -> 19 Third-years -> 20 Fourth-years -> 21 Leona -> 22

This ask lives in my head rent-free whenever I think about Yuusha's backstory and personality, so at this point, I just have her twisted from Frozen characters (mainly Elsa) when I hadn't initially intended for her to be so.

Another ask rambling about an overblot yuu + bits of her pre-twst.

[💜|| Random Facts ━━━━━━━━━━━━✦

💜 For the DND nerds: Yuusha has a high charisma stat who manages to roll consistently low and nat 1s. (For everyone else: Yuusha is a girlfailure whose social interactions fail her despite her confident attempts.)

💜 Can be very affectionate with people whenever she starts to vibe with them. And she tends to unashamedly throw around “I love you” a lot to those she genuinely cares a lot about to the point where it sounds disingenuous even though she does mean it earnestly.

💜 Caffeine addict™ and refuses to sleep unless necessary due to her nature as a workaholic. Yuusha knows that she becomes a very heavy sleeper and that she can be hard to wake up.

💜 Yuusha has an affinity for playing instruments. While she has her specialties in certain instruments, generally she can work pretty much any instrument she can get her hands on (and despite whether or not it can be considered a “normal” instrument).

💜 Her memory is abysmal when it comes to small things so she makes little notes in different ways to remind herself of things. But for some reason when it comes to sketching, suddenly her memory is picture-perfect.

💜 Started to work part-time in Mostro Lounge after Azul's overblot, admittedly a desperate choice to earn some income.

💜 After the Scarabia episode, Yuu often gets her extra food from Scarabia as long as she helps to cook (and is totally not an excuse to hang out with the Scarabia duo).

💜 Yuusha gets anxious and restless during dark mirror ceremonies. They remind her of orientation which was really not the best memory for her. She often has to go outside to catch a breath.

💜 She generally remembers bits and pieces of her past life when certain things cause her to remember them. She still feels extremely homesick despite the hazy memories. The one thing she cannot remember is the very moment she got taken by the black carriage, and has some fear of heights and being in deep water in relation to it.

-> art masterlist -> relationship dynamics (tba) -> extended lore (tba)

#i just wanted to finally release her out into the wild 😭#i went overboard with some writing so i'll have them as separate posts #[—✦-#-✧ my art #twst art #twst #twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twst yuusona #(💜) yuusha #-✦—]

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munsonluhvr · 3 months ago

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♡ the 1 | steve harrington x reader (ex-high school lovers) (record player series #4) word count - 948 words

“It would have been fun if you could've been the one…”

The sun shines brightly across your face as you make your way to the farmer’s market that is set up across the town square – families and individuals bustle across the closed down streets, shopping for the best fruits and veggies in all of Hawkins, Indiana. Nearly the whole town of Hawkins is at the market and carry large brown paper bags, busting at the seams with their purchases.

You weave your way through the crowd, taking a peak at what each tent has to offer – all the fruit and vegetables you can imagine, mixed in with sweet-smelling homemade candles and soaps. You feel a sense of calmness as this is the first town event you’ve been to since returning home to Hawkins after graduating college. Since you’ve been home, you’ve had countless encounters with old classmates, allowing you to reminisce about your times at Hawkins High School – all of which feels so long ago.

You continue to walk, bumping shoulders with those who walk through Hawkins Square. You were sent to the farmer’s market by your mother to pick up apples for her and you scanned until you found the tent for the apples. You budge your way through the crowd, politely saying ‘excuse me’ as you cut across. With one last soft nudge, you cut in front of the last person to be able to make it to the booth. “Y/n? Is that really you?” A voice that’s all too familiar says from beside you, causing you to stop your pursuit of apples.

You turn slightly, the sun igniting behind you. Your breath escapes your lips, a soft sigh escaping too. “Steve?” you say, a nervous flair taking over your body. You feel goosebumps begin to rise on your forearms.

The sun shines brightly onto his face, highlighting his deep brown locks, and beautiful facial features, yet he lifts up his infamous sunglasses to get a good, real look at you. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since graduation,” Steve says softly. “And that’s been nearly four years now, isn’t that right?”

You nod slowly, the sorest of memories rushing back to you. Steve Harrington is your high-school boyfriend, your ex-boyfriend, and while it’s been numerous years since you’ve seen or talked to him, you’re sure, as you stand in front of him, that the love you had for him has never gone away – you’ve carried him with you since the day you parted ways.

Steve holds a full bag of what you assume is vegetables, leavy greens sticking up at the top of the bag and shifts it between his arms nervously. “I’ve heard that you’ve been in and out of town from Nancy and Eddie, but I’ve never caught sight of you myself.”

All around you, the farmers market continues to flourish, laughter and voices coming from every direction yet all you can focus on is Steve and the way you daydreamed about him holding you as a way to soothe yourself to sleep your first year of college. It truly had been the best decision for you and Steve to part ways, you went to college elsewhere in the state and he had decided to stay near Hawkins and work. The breakup was bittersweet; as graduation loomed in the nearby distance, you both knew it was coming. While you were on good terms, and hardly talked since you left for college, there always was the feeling of unfinished business – the acknowledgment that you’d find each other again someday.

“Well,” you say, feeling like being honest. You smile, looking at the way his brown eyes twinkle against the sun. “I always ask Nancy how you’re doing so I’ve been keeping my tabs on you.”

Steve laughs, his mouth widening into a blinding white smile. He runs a hand through his fluffy brown hair that he’s let grow out. “Even though it’s been years, I feel like I just saw you yesterday. You haven’t changed a single bit, y/n.”

You shrug, a light breeze tossing a few strands across your face. You lift your hand, swiping them away. “You know how it goes, Steve. I had to make I didn’t change too much so you’d still recognize me after all these years.”

Steve smiles, his big, brown eyes sparkling like gems against the sun. “Like I could ever forget your face, y/n.”

Beads of sweat begin to gather at your hairline. You swallow hard, Steve’s comment causing heat to creep down your neck. You open your mouth to speak but find that nothing comes out. You attempt to quickly rack your brain to think of a witty response but draw a blank. Silence hangs in there air, though Steve seems unphased by it.

“Would you want to go out for dinner while you’re back?” Steve asks, his head tilting to the side. “We probably have a lot of catching up to do, don’t you think?”

You nod slowly, unable to take your eyes off of Steve. “Yes, I’d love to.”

Steve nods too, shifting the brown paper bag that is bursting with fresh vegetables and fruits in his arms. “Maybe sometime this weekend, I can give your house a call to figure out what time works for you.”

You nod again, butterflies flapping their wings in your stomach. “O-Okay.”

“You know, I’ve always thought we’d get back together some day. Maybe now is our time.” Steve says with a lopsided smile and twinkle in his eye. “Well, I better get these groceries back to my parent’s, they’re probably wondering what’s taking me so long.”

You smile, continuously flustered. “Of course, talk to you soon, Steve.”

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington

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atimeofyourlife · 1 year ago

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Part 2 (or 1.5?) of this Eddie's POV of after the argument outside the diner (AO3)

Eddie felt sick as he watched Steve walk away with Danni. He knew he'd fucked up by listening to Gareth, and allowing him, Grant, and Jeff to fill his head with their dislike of Steve and twist what he knew of Steve. Steve who had, as Danni had pointed out, been so hurt by cheating. Nancy cheating on him with Jonathan. His father's constant affairs that Steve had been aware of from a young age, where his mother would leave him home alone in an attempt to prevent her husband's wandering eyes turning into wandering hands. The hurt expression on Steve's face was one that would haunt him forever. It was a hurt that he had caused, by listening to his friends over choosing to trust the one he loved.

He went back inside feeling lost. Had he just fucked up the relationship beyond repair? He didn't even know how to start to fix it.

"How pathetic was he? Was it all crocodile tears and claiming it meant nothing, and he still left with-" Gareth started, but Eddie cut him off.

"I fucked up. Seriously fucked up." He dropped back into his seat at the table, and started to push around his food, he'd barely started it, but couldn't stomach finishing it.

"Yeah, you fucked up by trusting someone like that, but you know now. He's the one that seriously fucked up the relationship, by fucking that-" Grant said, sounding like he was trying to be reassuring.

"She's his cousin." Eddie snapped. "Not some girl that he's fucking. And I fucked up because he told me about her before he left for Chicago. That he'd be spending all his time with her because she's the only person in his family that isn't insufferable."

"If you believe that, you're way less smart than we give you credit for, man. That's just one of the classic cheating excuses, oh she's my cousin. We just grew up kissing and sleeping naked together, so we don't want to stop." Jeff replied, his tone growing mocking toward the end.

Eddie didn't bother replying, just standing up and dropping the few dollars to cover his food on the table. He needed to get out of there. He needed to find a way to make it right.

Eddie just drove around for a while, trying to organize his thoughts. Trying to come up with some way to apologize to Steve. His bandmates were obviously no help. He considered talking to the kids, but then he would have to explain to them why he needed to apologize. And they would give him hell for treating Steve like that, not that he wouldn't deserve it. There was no chance of Robin helping, she would have heard it all from Steve and would come out swinging.

He got home, thankful that Wayne's truck was there. Wayne was his only hope for any help, even if it would come with judgement for his actions. Because Wayne liked Steve, and had warned Eddie not to do something stupid and hurt Steve. That warning had come way before the accusation of cheating, and now felt like Wayne had known that something like this would happen.

"What's going on, Ed. I thought you'd be out with the boys longer than this?" Wayne asked as Eddie walked in.

"I fucked up, Wayne. Really seriously fucked up, and I don't know how to make it right." Eddie pulled his hair over his face, not wanting to see the judgement he knew he would get from Wayne.

"How'd you fuck up? Is it anything to do with why you've been avoiding Steve?" Wayne questioned.

"I accused him of cheating. Gareth got in my head about it." Eddie admitted.

"Where in the hell did you get an idea like that from? Anyone with eyes could see how devoted that boy is to you. How much he loves you."

Eddie hesitated for a second, before explaining everything that had happened. Steve's trip to Chicago, how he'd planned to hang out with his cousin. Gareth seeing them out together while he was doing college visits, and assuming the worst. Gareth telling him and Jeff and Grant as soon as he got back from Chicago, as he was back before Steve. Eddie believing him because Steve wasn't there to defend himself, and because he'd assumed that Steve's cousin was a guy. Steve coming home, and Eddie trying to avoid him. Seeing Steve at the diner with Danni, and taking it all out on him. "And it's just. His face, Wayne. I've never seen him so hurt. He was trying not to cry. And it's my fault. I don't know what to do to make this right. I don't know if there's anything I can do."

"Boy, you must've got that stupid from your momma or your daddy, because you sure as shit didn't get it from me." Wayne sighed. "Right now, you apologize and make it a damn good one. He don't have to accept it or forgive you, because you accused him of something pretty big. You chose to believe your friends over Steve, and even I know that they don't like him. That they hold some grudge against him."

"I don't think I'll be able to get close to him, he's gonna have a pair of guard dogs ready for blood." Eddie replied.

"You still got to try. Apologize, make it clear, then follow his lead. If he wants to talk, let him. If he wants space, give it to him. If he dumps you, you leave him the hell alone. He deserves a good apology, and only he gets to decide if it's good enough. And you got to consider which you value more, your friendship with Gareth, Grant, and Jeff, or your relationship with Steve. Because you ain't gonna be able to have both, not in the same way as before. Now, you gotta go figure out how you're gonna fix this." Wayne gave him one last look, before turning back to his paper.

Eddie still didn't know how, but he was going to find a way to fix this.

This will be 3/4 parts long. No guarantees, but I'm hoping to have part 3 done in the next week or so! tags: @kengwisi @oh-yeah-honey @estrellami-1 @hardboiledleggs @zerokrox-blog

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie angst #atimeofyourwrites

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haileybeehappy · 2 years ago

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Fuck Buddies - Harry Styles

Harry and Y/n are college friends. With benefits, rules set in place to keep each other at arms distance keep getting broken. What happens when Harry drops a bomb on her?

Warnings: none really. No smut yet. Some fluff I guess? Cute soft college Harry. Golden retriever Harry.

Word count: 2.9k

THANK YOU FOR 400 FOLLOWERS <3 I love you all so much and this really gave me the kick in the butt to finally finish this piece. Though I’m posting it from my phone cause I’m on vacation and don’t have my laptop with me so it’s a lil wonky <3 love you guys so much thank you.

(I fuckin love prince Harry era. Almost as much as long hair Harry soooo that’s what we’re going for here. Just sayin)

Friends with benefits with no feelings doesn't really work. Not with Y/n at least. She caught feelings fast. Especially when the friend she’s fucking is the hottest. Cutest. Sweetest man she has ever met. Harry Styles. Haz as she calls him. And as seniors in college it’s not like they have much time for relationships anyways. But here they are three months into their arrangement.

If she ever told Harry about her feelings he would end the arrangement right away because that was rule number one. No feelings. Along with no dates. No sleep overs. And no cuddles. But they broke the no cuddles rules all the time. So here she was laying in bed after a very satisfying go around and he fell asleep. She wanted to savor the feeling of laying next to him before she woke him up. She traced the scratches across his back that she had just put there a little while before. His slightly longer than normal hair was swept in curls at the base of his neck. She ghosts her fingers up the center of his spine to the dark chocolate curls. She runs her fingernails along his scalp. A whispered groan leaves his throat.

“Haz you gotta get up, go home,” she whispered. He began to mumble and whine

“I’m so tired, go away,” he grumbled.

“No Harry. Now come on I have to get ready for my shift at the coffee shop,” she whips off the covers and expose both of their naked bodies. His body tenses at the cold he turns to look at her but his eyes are still closed. He slowly opens his eyes. The soft green makes her heart skip a beat.

“Just go I’ll sleep here,”

“No sleep overs,”

“Rules are made to be broken Y/n,” He chuckles.

“You better be gone when I get out of the shower,” He gives her a chuckle and wiggles back under the covers. She gets out of bed and drags herself to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her and clicking on the lights in one fluid motion. She stands in front of herself in the mirror and examines her body. Little marks scatter her skin. Barely noticeable but she sees them. Feathered kisses that turned into sloppy open mouth breaths and then to light bite marks down the length of her torso and down in between her legs. She lets out a sigh.

“Shoulda made no marks a rule too,” she laughs. Once she’s standing under the hot stream of water she hears the door click open and shut. She doesn’t look but speaks. “You better be in here to be taking a wee,” she mocks his accent. His arms then envelope her waist.

“That was going to be the excuse but I got distracted,” he hums into the skin of her shoulder.

“Mmm, well Mr.Styles,” she turns to face him and he immediately places a kiss to her lips causing her to quiet. He pulls back only to plant another one on her. He finally pulls away for real after a few more pecks.

“Got I love your lips,” her heart jumps at the word love. Like it’s telling her to say ‘HEY! HEY! HARRY I LOVE YOU TOO!! She runs her hands from his sides up to chest crossing over his inked skin. Coming to the back of his neck to bring his face to hers. The words at the tip of her tongue. His mouth collides with her causing her head to clear and make the need between her legs grow. His hands scoop her up and bring her to the edge of the shower. A yelp escapes her as she makes contact with the cold tile. Which sends the both of them into a fit of laughter.

“Holy shit that’s cold,” she laughs. He sets her down and smiles through the kisses he continues to press against her skin.

“Sorry baby,” the nickname sends shivers down her spine. She is now back in the spray warming her body. She then pushes him away from her. A frown etches itself into his face.

“I have to actually shower before I work so get outta here,” He goes to grab at her and she slaps his hand. “No, go home you horny bastard,” He just smiles and stays where he is.

“Shower then,” when he still didn’t move she just turned around and continued her shower routine. By the time she started to rinser her the shampoo from her hair he had left the bathroom.

. . .

Once she was done with her shower and dressed she made her way out of her single bedroom into the living area. Harry was standing in her kitchen wearing just boxers and socks. Music blasting in the sound system Harry said you just had to have. He is using the whisk as a microphone in between stirring the pancake batter.

“I have to open the coffee shop, Harry. I can't stay for breakfast,” she laughs.

“I know, these pancakes are for me,” He smiles.

“Well why are you making them in my kitchen? With my ingredients?”

“I don’t have any,” He points at her with the whisk. Flinging batter in a line across her body. The white of the batter contrasted against her black outfit. Harry holds back a smile.”Shit I’m sorry Y/n.”

“Harry!” she gasps. “I’m already late,” She whined. His lips are rolled into his mouth concealing a smile.

“I really didn’t mean to do that,” he clicks off the stove and puts down the whisk. She is just standing there with her arms frozen where they were when he doused her in batter. He grabs her hands and brings them down to her sides, not letting go just letting their intertwined hands hang. “I’m sorry, let me go get dresses and you can change and I’ll drive you so you don’t have to use the bus?” she makes her thinking face. “I know you like using the bus but this will save you time,”

“Okay fine,” she didn’t like Harry offering to drive her anymore because she hated to seem like a burden. Also why not use public transportation when you can? They made their way to her bedroom and began changing clothes. As she looked over at him buttoning and zipping his pants and her undoing hers his eyes caught hers and he raised his eyebrows with a smirk?

“You like what you see Y/n?” She catches her bottom lip in a smile. Shaking her head.

“You’re so annoying,”

“That’s not what you said last night,”

“Oh shut it Styles,” She laughs. She goes to her closet and grabs another simple outfit. Jeans and one of her band tees. Well it used to be Harry’s but he left it here one night after their escapades and she has since claimed it her own. After the fabric falls over her torso Harry comes up behind her in the mirror, his eyes finding hers in the reflection. He then eyes her up and down.

“Seeing you in my clothes gets hotter every time,” he places a kiss on her shoulders. His hands coming up to hold her waist. “Makes me feel things I shouldn’t want to feel,” He continues kissing up her neck. Her head falls and meets his shoulder revealing more skin he greedily attacks. Her heart skips a beat as the words leave his lips. Could he like her? Was he just talking dirty? She had no clue and didn’t wanna hurt her feelings if it was just talk. She pulls away as his hands were nearing her chest.

“I have to get to work Harry,” she groans. His shoulders slump as she pulls away. They shuffle out of her room. Out of her apartment and out into the parking garage to Harry’s car. An older camaro that he has been working on for years. His baby. The ride to her work is quiet and boring. As he pulls into the parking lot. He grabs her arm.

“Gimme your apartment key,” he grabs at her purse and she snactches it.

“Why?” she gives him a look.

“I wanna go clean my mess and make my pancakes?” she rolls her eyes and takes the key off the chain.

“Don’t leave a mess and just leave it in the doorframe spot when you leave,” he smiles at her.

“Thank you love,” she can’t help the smile that breaks across her face.

. . .

Her six hour shift was never ending. She got yelled at far too many times. She messed up far too many orders and got far too little tips. So when Harry came in when she had twenty minutes left of her shift she felt like she was gonna break down. His presence just does something to her. She had to take a minute before getting back to the rush. Harry got his black coffee and sat at the table closest to the counter. She could feel him watching her and it made the hairs on her neck stand on end.

“You okay Y/n?” her co-worker asks. “You seem like, on edge or something,” she just shrugs.

“I’m just feeling off, I don't know,” she shrugs again.

“Adriane just got here so you can head out a little early if you want?” Y/n nods and reaches up to untie her apron.

“I think I’ll take you up on that thank you,” you let out a breath. Make yourself a coffee before clocking out and you are in front of Harry.

“Whatcha doin?” she asks.

“Coming to pick up a friend,” he smiles at her.

“Oh really?” He nods and stands. Grabbing her bag off her shoulder and walking out the door. He slips the strap over his shoulder. She follows behind him grabbing at his coat sleeve when squeezing in between patrons. He reaches out from the fabric and laces his fingers with hers and her heart skips a beat. She suppresses a smile with a nose scrunch and squeezes his fingers. Once they escape the flood of people feening for their caffeine she takes a deep breath of stinging cold air. The tension releases from her shoulders and she sighs.

“Long day?” Harry asks. His hand was still wrapped with hers.

“Never ending,” she has the urge to lean into him and warm her body with his but fear of rejection stopped her. It’s always what stops her. He pulls at her hand dragging her down the sidewalk.

“Well talk about it,” he pulls her close to him causing the length of their arms to touch. “I couldn’t park anywhere close so we gotta go around the block okay?” she nods.

“Well I was yelled at like a million times. I fucked up way to many orders and we have been so busy all day i only got like one ten ish minute break,” she let out a big sigh. “I just want to crawl into bed and sleep for like a year,” he huffs out a laugh.

“Well we can do that,”

“We?” she asks

“I may have lost my keys. I have no idea where they went,” he held up her key between his pointer and thumb. “But I still have yours,” he smiles cheekily. She snatches the key from his hand and tries to put it back on her key ring. The cold caused her fingers to shake and made her unable to get the key on the ring. Harry’s hand comes over hers and grabs the key from her. “I got it,” his hands are warm and unshaking, letting him slip the key on the ring easily.

“Thank you,” he slips the key ring into his pocket and grabs her hand and slips both of their intertwined fingers into his pocket.

“I guess you can stay at my place until you can get into yours,” she shrugs.

“Good because Lord knows I don’t have anywhere else to go,” his cute dimpled smile can always coax a grin out of her. Usually complimented by a blush across her cheeks.

“What about Mitch’s place?”

“He just got a girlfriend and they,” he pauses and cocks his head slightly. “Have been going at it like rabbits,” causing both of them to chuckle. “I swung by the other day and they were just fuckin right on the couch. So I just turned around and walked out,” she slowly moves over and presses herself into Harry’s body. The cold chills her to the bone.

“Ah okay,” she nods. “You can sleep on the couch cause you’re a blanket hog,” he pushes against you and laughs.

“Yeah, so says the bed hog. You had me smushed into the corner all night. What self respecting adult has a corner bed?”

“I have a tiny room okay?” They had finally made their way to the car and Harry was opening her door for her.

“Well we will just have to see where we fall asleep love,” and with that he closes the door with a smirk.

“Honey.” she whispers to herself as he makes his way over to his door and gets into the car. He turns the key in the ignition and the air blasts sending a shock down her spine.

“It’ll get warm I promise,” He quickly pulled out of the parking space and off they went. The ride back to Y/n’s apartment is quiet but comfortable. The heat finally starts to kick in right as Harry pulls into the designated parking space for her apartment.

“So. I may have cleaned up the apartment a bit. Um,” he awkwardly twitches his neck. “I started with my mess and it just kinda spiraled from there,” he shrugs. She rolls her eyes at him.

“Why can’t you just leave my mess alone,” she laughs.

“Because I’m at your apartment more than mine and it drives me crazy,” the pair had made it out of the car and to the back entrance of the complex. Y/n unlocks the door and makes her way into the building Harry slowly trailing behind her. She stops at the wall of mail boxes and searches through her never ending key ring to find the mailbox key.

“How did you manage to lose your keys but still drive?” She asks as she finally finds the key and inserts it into the lock.

“I took it off to get a copy. Made the copy. Lost both keys,” he shrugs sheepishly.

“Why did you need a copy?” She closes the mailbox locks it up and starts sifting through the mail. They make their way up the stairs.

“I lost my spare,” she rolls her eyes.

“You know. You’re kind of a dumbass,” Y/n scoffs.

“Yeah but I’m your dumbass right?” She gives him a look.

“I mean I guess,” Harry shrugs. Once they’ve made it up three flights of stairs she lets them into her apartment. Once the door is open she can smell the pine-sol and cleaners.

The floor basically sparkles and not a stray piece of clothing around. All the dishes are tucked into the small kitchen. The dingy old couch has VACUUM LINES?!

“Harry what did you do? How long were you cleaning?”

“Your place was a mess Y/n. I had to do something,” he says as he dumps himself into the couch limbs flopping everywhere.

“I would've gotten to it!” She says. Which causes Harry to let out a laugh.

“When?! When your lease is up?” He smiles.

She grabs a pillow off the armchair and throws it at him. Then makes her way to the kitchen. Harry watches her open the fridge from his spot on the couch. She opens the door to a fridge stocked full of food.

“HAROLD!” She groans. “Why did you do this!” He smiles and drops his head back on the couch.

“So. Um,” he coughs. “We need to talk?” He asks more than commands.

“Harry?” She says. In a way that condemns him to speak. “What is it?”

“I may have been kicked out of my apartment yesterday,” she doesn’t say anything. She stands there with her mouth agape and her eyes wide. “Fuckin Chad,” he laughs at the nickname you had given his roommate at the beginning of the year. “He took my keys. Packed my shit and left it in the hall with a note saying. Sorry bro. Gotta find a new place,” he shrugs.

“Did you tell the RA?! That’s not okay! He can’t just kick you out of your dorm room. It’s not his to kick you out of?!” She has since closed the fridge and is now pacing the kitchen floor.

“No I just took my shit and put it in the back of my car and now I’m here,” he stands himself up from the couch and makes his way to her. Grasping her arms in his hands and stopping her from wearing a hole in the floor. “I mean I figured since I basically already live here I could crash with you for a bit?” She freezes. Her eyes stare into his. He can almost see her brain running one hundred miles a minute thinking about it. After what feels like a lifetime of silence he sighs.

“I’ll just go stay with Mitch then,” he lets go of her bus she grabs his shirt just before he’s out if her reach.

“No, you can stay here,” he looks at her with a raised brow. Almost like he’s asking ‘but?’ She sighs and rolls her eyes. “But we’re not fucking,” she lets go of him and walks to her bedroom. He rolls his lips into his mouth and breathes out of his nose. As her door closes behind her he shrugs and lets out a little.

“We’ll see,” and smiles.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #prince harry #lhh!harry

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lionlena · 1 year ago

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We don’t love each other (PedroPascalxreader) angst! Part V

Summary: You and Pedro are: friends with benefits, for many years. Your layout is simple and clear. You don’t love each other. You’re friends on a daily basis, you take care of each other… Sometimes you sleep together. You go on dates with other men and Pedro doesn’t mind. Everything is simple until you accidentally hear Oscar say that Pedro loves you. Then you decide to tell him the truth and you ruin everything.

Warnings: angst!!! smut, mentions of sex, friends with benefits, sad, broken hearts, age difference (reader is 15 years younger than Pedro)

Part V

He rested his forehead against the tiles and sighed as he felt the streams of warm water hit his hard muscles. God... He was so tense. It's all through pretending. He smiled when he saw the fans and when he signed autographs. He laughed during interviews. But it was all a lie, and he was working hard to make the world believe him.

He had no cause for joy, and going out into the outside world was a torment.

Maybe, only the interviews with Bella, did him feel better, but that was only because she reminded him of his little sister in some way, and he felt the need to take care of her. He was wondering, if you would like her? Probably yes.

You and Bella would probably tease him about taking naps on set, and he'd allow it.

He felt the pain in his heart again. God, he was so tired, so sad... Yes, he'd screwed up and he had no excuse for it. You had every right to hate him, and yet... Part of him wanted to tell you that it wasn't all his fault that he tried... He tried so hard, but he failed.

When he got out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked over to the medicine cabinet. He reached for sleeping pills and immediately took two, washing them down with tap water. He doubted it would help anyway. He couldn't sleep since you left. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your tears and the horror on your face. What did he expect? He's never yelled at you before. Yes, in play or while you were helping him with role. But he never shouted in anger. Though honestly, he wasn't angry at the time, he was terrified. Terrified that he ruined everything. That he spoiled everything for years.

He entered his bedroom and put on a t-shirt and sleeping shorts. He glanced at his phone and winced at the two missed calls from Oscar. He didn't want to talk to his friend and had been ignoring him for several days. It's not like he blamed him for the current situation, and yet... Oscar had tried for years to help him, in a way to put it mildly: useless. First, he urged him to break off the deal with you. Then he thought Pedro should confess his love to you. Then he said him that since you two been stuck in a suspension for so many years, it's better for you if your paths diverge.

However, when you parted ways, Oscar saw how wrong he was. Pedro was tired of listening to his advice. There was nothing to fix. Everything broke down.

And even though he knew it, he stared at the phone screen for a while longer, hoping that your name would be displayed on it. But nothing happened, so he decided to fetch a bottle of water from the kitchen and at least try to sleep.

As he entered the living room, the blonde sitting on the couch smiled at him. She put down the tablet she was holding in her hands.

"I already checked everything. I have a flight tomorrow morning. So, I won't bother you any longer."

Pedro shook his head.

"No problem, June. You don't remember, when I living with you and Ann for two weeks in college."

"Yes, but... I feel so stupid."

"Anyone can miss a plane. Don't worry."

June looked at him carefully.

"You look tired."

Pedro smiled sadly. If she only knew how exhausted he was.

"Yes, fame is tiring. That's why I'm going to sleep right now, but you stay as long as you want."

June immediately replied:

"Oh no, no. I'm going to bed too. If I miss my flight again tomorrow, my wife will kill me."

Pedro laughed and suddenly remembered something.

"While I was taking a shower, I thought I heard a bell ring."

"Ah yes, your neighbor was looking for her kitten."

"Hmm, strange. I didn't know they had a cat. Well, I hope she finds this kitty."

"Me too. She looked very nervous."

Pedro nodded, wished her good night, and went back to the bedroom . He laid down on his stomach and drew to himself the pillow that you always slept on. He stuck his nose in it, though he knew it was useless. You hadn't been in his bed in months, and yet he felt like he could smell you. Well, maybe because he used your shampoo in the shower. He whined as he realized how pathetic he was. But he needed so much a minimum of comfort. Just your smell.

He couldn't stop the tears escaping from his eyes. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, hoping the pills would finally take effect. Maybe his brain will show him mercy and see you in his sleep?

All I want is nothing more

To hear you knocking at my door

'Cause if i could see your face once more

I could die a happy man i'm sure

When you said your last goodbye

I died a little bit inside

I lay in tears in bed all night

Alone, without you by my side Kodaline - All I Want

Part IV

Part VI

Storm is coming....

There will probably be 2 more parts to this series, but I am slowly approaching the end of this series (which was never meant to be a series).

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the last of us #angst #so sad #pedro my poor baby

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thefanficmonster · 2 years ago

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It is I!! With (yet again) another small Idea I JUST had

Imagine this: Corpse x Apartment neighbor reader, where one night Corpse just Scream to the top of his lugs and then the reader screams back just for fun and then they get to know each other that way

I found it kinda funny honestly but that's like a rough idea of what I just thought let me know if ya liked it, k?

-with love Miss Kia

PS: Remember to take care even if it's just sleeping a bit or a glass of water okay?🥰 Whatever you do is good enough for us

PS2: Please tag me with it done, if you do make it ☺️

Hi dear! I know it's been literal months since you sent in this request but I've finally gotten around to it and I hope the final product makes the wait worth it. Love you with all my heart, Vy 💕

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of Anxiety and Stress, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: see request above

As you slump against the only standing piece of furniture in your otherwise barren living room, you can't help but sigh. Boxes surround you, silently judging you for leaving them in their status quo for yet another day. Postponing the inevitable unpacking awaiting you isn't much of a choice with your busy schedule but it is what it is and anything else would be making excuses. And there's nothing you hate more than making excuses.

You moved into this new apartment three days ago and yet you have only spent twelve hours in it total. Your stuff is still in boxes which you are quite frankly afraid to open, worried of all the broken crap you'll find because the movers you hired turned a blind eye to the large bold letters the word FRAGILE was written in.

Working two jobs is the only way you can pull through your final year of college but it's starting to feel like you're digging your mental health and sleep schedule a grave instead.

You wanna scream. Scream your fucking lungs out. But you can't with these shitty thin walls. You don't want your neighbors to think you're a nut-job. At least not already. Hell, they haven't even seen your face. You could be living next to Leonardo DiCaprio and have zero clue.

Ok, full disclosure, the building is filthy, so Leo is certainly not living next-door but a serial killer might be.

And speaking off....

Just as that ridiculous though passes your mind and causes you to chuckle, the aforementioned thin walls are straight up rattled by a guttural scream, the vibrations of which nearly bring the ceiling down on you.

You let several moments go by as the building settles in it's slot in the Earth following that vocal earthquake. You stare blankly at the wall behind which the scream emanated from, the wall separating you from your neighbor.

That serial killer thing seems to check out, you think to yourself as your loopy, exhausted brain hits the wrong instruction button, sending you in a fit of quiet giggles.

They can't think I'm a loose canon if they're just as bad, can they?

You decide they can't and go on and rip your friendly neighbor a new one. A scream much stronger, louder and longer that simultaneously establishes your dominance as well as deflates the tension that had built up in your chest.

It's the relief you've needed for a while now.

Similar silence follows your scream, leaving you to catch your breath, head tilted back with peace you haven't felt since you decided to move.

At least until there's a knock at your door.

"Hey, um, you good in there?"

The knock maybe put you on edge, but the voice is what seriously caught you off-guard. In all honesty, it intrigued you more than you'd like to admit. Not enough to get you to open the door, but enough to get you up from the couch and get you to approach the door at least a little.

"You're one to talk. You started the chain, pal." You retort without a second's hesitation which probably should have been considered, with the whole serial killer theory and all.

You hear the guy chuckle, "Desperate times call for desperate measures. It's not like I own a stress ball."

Another step brings you closer to the door, "I mean, they don't really do much. And therapy is expensive. Scaring your neighbors is free."

"I scared you?" He has the audacity to sound shocked, almost offended, "You scared me!"

"You bet your ass I did. Gotta let you know who the boss is around here." You sass right back, unable to prevent the bubbling laughter from escaping you.

It mirrors his, "Well, boss, wanna open this door? I feel a little looney and I probably look so too. Talking to a door and all."

His comments provokes a mumbled apology from you as you, against all the better judgement your 2-minutes-ago self possessed, go to open the door.

And my, oh my, did you win the neighbor lottery. You got a lethally cute one.

"Hi there, neighbor." You greet the taller figure crowned by a mop of messy dark curls. His dark eyes barely peer through the curtain.

But you still manage to make out his smile, even with the mask blocking it from direct view, "Hello to you too, neighbor."

"Y/N, nice to meet ya."

"Corpse, the pleasure's all mine."

His name wouldn't help his serial killer case if you weren't so focused on the few features of his you could see.

There's a brief beat of silence he puts an end to with a shy yet still witty comment, "I know you're supposed to bring baked goods to new neighbors but I can't cook for shit....I got beer though?"

A smile brightens up your face which clearly releases some tension from him, "Say no more, Corpse. You got my full attention. Even if you might be a serial killer."

His eyes blow wide, "What?"

So do yours, "What?"

Well, if that isn't the most rom-comy thing ever. Hallmark and audience approved.

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idontplaytrack · 6 months ago

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Slightly strange request that you totally don’t have to do but I just wanna see how reader would react to seeing Aj and Janis like reader goes to an art fair or something art related with Janis but gets lost and bumps into Aj or the other way around I just want some confusion and chaos lol maybe like a “woah you have my face” kind of moment lol

(-Totally not cheesysoup-arlo)

Twin Stranger

Janis ‘Imi’ike x gn! reader (ft. AJ Campos) reader’s gender isn’t mentioned

Warnings: some coarse language

In which reader goes to Janis’ art fair with her. Little did they know that their girlfriend would cause some chaos at the fair.

“Rise and shine, Jan.” You spoke into your phone.

“Mmm.” She mumbles sleepily, “I’m up, baby. I’m up.”

“Good. Everything ready?” You chuckled over your words.

She tells you, “Yeah, I got the artworks ready last night before I went to sleep.”

“I’ll be right over to pick you up.”

“Sure, baby. See you soon.”

With that, you hung up, “See you in fifteen, babe.”

You made sure you’ve got everything you needed in your sling bag before you grabbed your car keys and left the house to drive to Janis’. Once there, you spot Damian waiting out front with her. “Hi, Damian.” You grinned, unlocking the car doors so they could get in. Janis sat in the front with you, he got in the back. “Hi, you.” Janis leaned over to capture your lips into her own. “Hey.” You smiled into the kiss, “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good.” She answers, you started driving off. “Damian, how was your date?”

“It went well.” He couldn’t hide his smile.

“Aww.” Janis teased, tossing a mini pack of jelly beans into his lap, “You finally got some?”

“Excuse me?” He gasps, “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“You just did.” Janis sighs.

“Literally.” You agreed, “Ooh, can I have one?”

“Yeah, of course.” Janis rummaged through her bag and handed you a pack of those jellybeans as well.

“And you had to throw mine to me?” Damian scoffs playfully.

“Well, I didn’t hit you anywhere, did I?” Janis played along.

You laughed, she puts her hand on your thigh while you drove. Like always.

It took you all about 45 minutes to arrive at the expo hall for the art fair. Janis got signed in and you followed her to her area to put up her work. There were some volunteers around if she needed help with them, but she never did. Especially not with you and Damian around with her. Janis loved going to art shows, it allowed her to show off her artwork, and if she won an award, it would look pretty damn great on her transcript for college.

After setting up, Janis slipped away to the bathroom while Damian went to go grab a bite from the snack bar in a corner of expo hall. You waited near Janis’ area for them to return but your eyes panned across the hall to check out the other artwork. But your eyes…they land on a pretty familiar face. One that looked so similar so Janis’ you had to do a double take. You thought you were seeing things. You were looking at her a second too long before she looked back at you and you just panicked and looked away like a creep. “Hey, I’m back.” Janis returns from the bathroom, “What’s the matter? Why are you so…jumpy?”

“Oh— I uh, saw somebody—” Your eyes search for the girl again, “Oh, right there. That girl looks just like you! I thought I was hallucinating.”

“Holy shit!” She gasps, “The one in the striped shirt? Literally doppelgänger.” You nodded, hooking your arm with hers. Janis continues, “Oh, my God. You know what we should do?”

You chuckle, “What?”

“We should totally go say hi to her and get her to join us in messing with Damian.” Janis bit back a grin, “Come on— before he comes back.”

You two scurried across the hall to locate the girl and introduce yourselves to her. “Uh, hey!” Janis tapped on her shoulder. She turns around, “Oh— my gosh, hi.”

“You have my face.” Janis beamed.

“And you have mine.” She laughs lightly, finishing her set up as she spoke.

“I’m Janis. This is my partner— y/n.” Janis began.

“Hi.” She stuck out her hand for you two to shake. “I’m AJ.”

“AJ, nice to meet you.” Janis carries on, “See, me and y/n were thinking we could mess with our friend, Damian a little.”

“Mess with him…?”

“You know, like make him think you’re me and just make him confused.” Janis nearly snorted, “He’s right there at the end of the snack bar drinking the crappy fruit punch.”

“I see him.” AJ follows her finger and spotted Damian amongst all the people present. “And, I’m down. Let’s have some fun.”

“I’ll sit at your table. You two go up to him and just…do whatever.”

"Can I put my arm around y/n?" AJ asks.

"Oh, absolutely. Go for it, cheek kisses I'll allow if y/n's okay with it. But yeah, that's it. Go."

"Okay." AJ shrugged

“Okay, be right back, babe.” You laughed, walking over to him with AJ right behind you.

“Can’t wait to see what happens.” Janis could not stop laughing already. In fact, you could still hear her as you and AJ were walking away.

————

"Damian!" You exclaimed, "Hey. How's the fruit punch?" "Honestly, this one's not that bad but— wait." He stares at AJ. "Did she change her clothes? I am not liking this look." "Excuse me?" AJ gasped.

You already wanted to laugh— you sucked at these things. But somehow, you kept it together long enough, "I think she looks fine."

"Yeah, fine. Dull." Damian continued. AJ scoffs, rolling her eyes, "Let's go get something to eat. Those muffins look good." She put an arm around your shoulder before heading for the tower of muffins. You each grabbed one then walk back to AJ's table on the other side of the hall. "Okay, Janis. You're up." AJ snorted, "He said you changed your clothes and that he hated this look. Called you dull."

"Bitch." Janis guffaws, "Can I have a bite, babe?"

"Yeah, sure." You shrug, letting her take a bite out of the chocolate muffin in your hand.

"Ooh, this is really good." Janis remarked, "Maybe even the best one we've had at these art shows. Alright, you two sit down, face the wall. Judges aren't coming by for another 25 minutes so we're gonna keep this up."

Janis weaved her way through the crowd, now finding Damian who was in line waiting for the bathroom. "So, ya happy?"

"Damn, how fast do you do your makeup?"

"Like you'd know." Janis scoffs.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Janis smirked, "Too much fruit punch?" "Well, I'm bored, alright? Those judges always take forever." He says in a hushed tone.

"Fair." Janis shrugs. "Hey, have you met my friend?" "What, friend? Girl, you don't have any friends that I don't know." He jokes.

Janis sighs, dialling your number, "Baby, could you two come over? Damian doesn't believe that i have a friend."

"What the hell are people doing in the bathrooms?" Damian grumbles.

"Why are you still drinking it if you need to pee so bad?" Janis laughs, slipping her phone away into her pocket. "Ah, Damian, look."

He nearly spat his drink out into your faces, "Okay, now, this is just — y'all tricked me? I cannot believe what I'm seeing." "Hey, you're bored? We’re bored too.” Janis shrugs, “This lovely twin stranger is AJ, who I believe we’ve actually seen before at a couple of art shows.”

“Still I cannot believe how much she looks like you.” You commented.

“I know, it’s kinda crazy to think about. You know how they say it’s like a bad omen to meet your doppelgänger?”

“I don’t believe that shit.” AJ chuckles.

“Me too.” Janis agrees, snaking an arm around your waist, “You’re cool. Let’s be friends.”

#auli’i cravalho #janis ‘imi’ike #aj campos #mean girls 2024 #crush(2022)#x reader #reader insert #lgbtqia #queer #queer fiction #fanfiction #drabble #gender neutral reader

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royal-ruin · 1 year ago

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red, white, and royal blue (rwrb) fic recs (part 4)

other rwrb fic recs here other fic recs here personal favorites are starred, by the way. everything is complete unless stated otherwise.

since the first 3 were well-liked, here are a few more of my favs.

*Turning of the Season by indomitablelove (~5k)

‘What’s going on, Philip?’ And then, Philip slumps. His head falls into his hands and his back curls in on itself, his palms cover his face and he pinches at the bridge of his nose. When he looks up at Henry again, he looks like a different man, broken. ‘I have to know,’ he says quietly. Henry's brow furrows. ‘I have to know who it was,’ Philip says. A few weeks after the emails, Henry and Philip talk, and Henry looks forward.

it broke my heart most how philip was henry's enemy in the book, i just wanted some wholesome sibling feels (bea's the absolute best!), so this is a little fix-it, i guess. post-canon btw.

Redemption by MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays (~3.5k)

Bea sighed. She looked just like how Philip felt: drained, angry, and exhausted. ”What if you had never been allowed to marry Martha?” She asked. “What if you’d been forced to sneak around, and suddenly, in spite of how hard you worked to keep it quiet, you’re both in a load of trouble for it, and everyone is screaming at you, and she is crying to you and you can’t even comfort her because you’re still not allowed? How do you think you’d feel then?” Philip was silent for a long, long moment. Bea gave him one more glance as she opened the door to the dining room. ”Read the e-mails, Philip. And try to understand.” Or, Philip says some very bad things, does some very bad things, reads the e-mails, and finally, finally, finally understands.

another philip does better fic. warning for homophobia at the beginning, please please please always read the tags.

I can't breathe, if you're not there by softcinnamonroll (~2k)

One moment, Alex was laughing at some joke Henry had made, and then the next there was a loud noise from the TV and the livestream cut out, leaving Alex alone in their dark living room. At first, Alex was sure there had just been a power cut, or some technical difficulties that caused the stream to cut out, but then the messages and BREAKING NEWS notifications started pouring in. BREAKING NEWS: Explosion at Prince Henry of Wales Charity Event. Casualties Unknown.

read the tags please, it has some things that may be triggering.

Powerless by floatingaway4 (~3k)

“Do you know what I’ve had to put up with in the last twelve hours?” Henry wants to point out that in that same twelve hours he’s had his body sliced open and an organ removed, but this doesn’t seem to be the time. He also got to sleep through his experience, while Alex was very much awake while dealing with Henry’s family. And Henry got the nice drugs, while Alex looks like he could use a drink.

sex ed in 6 steps by coffeecatsme (~9k)

“Please tell me you used a condom, Fox,” Alex drawls out, leaning against the wall, and Henry chokes on his next breath. “Excuse me?” “You’re gonna tell me all about this tomorrow, but for the love of God, tell me you used a condom and we won’t have mini Henrys on campus anytime soon.” Or, 5 times Alex thinks Henry's straight and 1 time he finds out the truth. Or, 5 times Alex jokes about Henry's sex life and 1 time he gets to be a part of it.

college au where they are roommates and alex is oblivious.

Let's Finish What We've Started by andrealyn (~16k)

When Alex fell in love with Henry, his dreams changed into something new -- still bright, still exciting. Eight years on, Alex is running for the Senate and taking those steps to achieve those dreams, but something feels off in his marriage and Alex can't really explain if it's in his head or whether he and Henry actually have a problem. In the midst of a busy campaign, eager to show Texas what he can do, Alex also has to ask himself -- is it all worth it if Henry isn't at his side?

future fic.

If you feel the way I do by everwitch (~2k)

It's apparently true, what they say about soulmates. Once your sixteenth birthday has passed and you find yourself in their presence, close enough for your soulbond to come alive, you'll be able to feel it. You'll simply know. Henry knows, all right. He opens his eyes, his heart beating madly in his chest as he looks across the cafeteria. His gaze is drawn to a presence that he can feel so completely, now, almost like it's become part of himself, like a piece he's been missing. He blinks, slowly, as he meets the wide eyes of another boy. It's Alex Claremont-Diaz. Henry's breath hitches. Fuck. Oh, fuck.

high school soulmate au, it's super cute.

*she's a (rock & roll survivor) by loyaulte_me_lie (~3k)

"Good for you," Stevie Nicks says, "the world needs more rock and roll princesses." // the (un)making of Beatrice Fox Mountchristen Windsor.

BEA NEEDS MORE SCREEN TIME. tell me why this had me sobbing at 1 pm. i adored her before, but this fic made her so heartbreakingly human, i can't help but love her now.

#red white and royal blue #red white and royal blue movie #rwrb fic recs #rwrb fanfiction #rwrb fanfic #rwrb movie #rwrb #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #royal's rwrb fic recs

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chronic-creation · 7 months ago

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I wrote this for my college English class. I was eventually chosen out of hundreds of students to perform it live in front of an audience. It's a true story.

TW: Domestic Abuse

Seizing The Day - Destin Cramer

The day that I left Josh was the worst day I possibly could have imagined. We had been together for five torturous years. I spent most of our relationship attempting to soothe his explosive episodes. His blood would boil until his face turned pink, the vein in his forehead throbbing as venomous words would drip from his lips. Living with him for so long, I felt hopeless, especially the day I left.

That day was just like everyday that I was with him. Except, that day, we were living out of a hotel room. The walls of our previous apartment were haunted by the sounds of our screams, and the neighbors refused to put up with it any longer. We caused too much of a disturbance. So, the landlords didn’t bother renewing our lease, and we couldn’t find anywhere with our bad credit. I had been unable to work for years due to my nerve pain and PTSD. Josh had been unable to work because he was “tired.” I knew he was just lazy.

Josh, my fiancé, a 23-year-old man child, was sitting on the unmade hotel bed, sheets strewn across the room, coffee in hand. His eyes narrowed at me as he noticed my eyes open to the sunlight streaming across the small hotel room. “I couldn’t even wake you up! We missed the apartment viewing!” His voice thundered against my tired ears.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I had to take my sleeping medication. It must have knocked me out,” I muttered, pulling my aching body up from the pristine mattress to confront the demon that haunted my every waking moment. His face held a strong resemblance to a small child who just sucked a lemon for the first time, while simultaneously looking like a constipated old man.

“Well, you should have woken up. If we can’t find a place to live now, it will be all your fault!” his voice echoed against the empty hotel walls. It seemed extra pitchy and annoying today. My service dog, Meatball, whined as he got louder. It seemed like even she agreed that he was being obnoxious today. She stared at me with her big brown eyes, begging for me to get him to shut up.

“That’s not true. And I really can’t talk about this right now. I just woke up. You could have gone without me to see the apartment,” I said desperately attempting to avoid another argument.

The day hadn’t even started yet. I dragged my feet across the old red carpet. The fabric was rough against my feet, and I was grateful for the sensation to focus on as I felt a psychogenic seizure starting. I was diagnosed with “Stress induced seizures” a few years into my relationship with him, and to this day I believe he was the cause of them. Though of course, I did have another one when I found out my favorite band, My Chemical Romance, reunited. Perhaps I should blame it on that.

“We’re going to be homeless for even longer now just because you were too lazy to wake up on time! I couldn’t have gone without you; you would have gotten upset if I left you behind!” I sighed deeply as his yelling penetrated my concentration. “I really can’t do this right now. Stop yelling at me! I just woke up and I can’t have a seizure to start my morning.” I felt the anxiety swirl in my stomach, rushing its way up my throat, threatening to choke me. Josh was very aware of my seizure condition, but that didn’t mean he was ever respectful about it.

“You can’t always use that as an excuse! You fucked up, and now we’re going to be homeless. Just apologize for not waking up on time!” His face grew more and more red. Oddly enough I remember thinking that he looked like a radish in that moment.

“Just stop screaming at me! Please, I can’t handle this right now!” I started shaking, the stress rising in my body, and I could feel it approach the threshold. My hands were unable to stay still as I poured the store-bought coffee into the paper hotel cup. I heard his screaming grow louder as the world around me started to blur into a dark cloud. I felt my legs give out beneath me, and I felt the rough texture of the floor scrape against my face.

I suddenly felt my vocal cords erupt as fear washed over me. I couldn’t control my body anymore. The tremors clenched every muscle in my body, straining all the strength I had against me, twisting me into horrific positions. I was a husk of anxiety and despair. I heard someone screaming “Please, Stop!” repeatedly. I hung onto that voice- my voice; hoping that I would come back to full consciousness when the screams ended.

Suddenly, my voice was muffled, and I felt my breathing get heavier. I tried to see out my eyes. The suffocating darkness surrounded me, as I shook uncontrollably, I was unable to catch my breath. That isn’t normal I thought to myself. I heard the door slam and the room got quiet except for my desperate sobs and gasps to get air. The seizure was straining every muscle in my body, causing an unbearable burning. I focused on the pain, and I slowly found myself climbing back into my body. I felt the feeling of control return to my stomach, then my legs, then arms, and eventually my hands. Desperate for air, I reached up to my face attempting to push whatever it was out of the way. My hands connected with something soft. It was a pillow. He had put a pillow on my face in the middle of my seizure.

Shaky and exhausted, I pulled my phone out of my pocket only to discover that it was wet from the coffee I spilled. I wiped my hands and phone off on my pants and quickly told my friends what had happened. My fingers mistyped as I shook, still feeling off I texted on our group discord “He put a pillow on my face while I was having a seizure.”

I ran into the white hotel bathroom and turned the shower on to drown out my voice. I hopped in the video chat section as I pressed my back against the door, just in case Josh came back. I cried as quietly as possible as I waited for them to answer. What felt like an hour passed until my friends’ voices broke through the noise of the shower and my sobs.

“You’re going to move in with me, and you don’t have a choice,” My redheaded best friend, Julia, said sternly. Julia was my closest friend in the group chat, and she lived only 3 hours from me in San Diego.

“What? I can’t do that on my own. I have nothing. I have no money, bad credit- I mean, Josh has access to all my bank accounts!” I said, panic oozing from my voice.

Morgan interjected, “Don’t worry about that- I’ll take care of it. You just need to break up with Josh and get in the uber that I order,” I could see her wispy brown hair in a messy bun as a cigarette dangled from her worried scowl. She was the “mother” of the group, constantly giving us stern advice, but always from a loving place.

“I’m scared- he won’t let me leave if I just say that I’m going to Julia’s.” Tears filled my eyes

“Goddamn it Destin,” Morgan raised her voice, “you can’t stay there, he could have killed you! If you don’t leave today, I will fly out there and pull you out by your hair!”

She was right, if I stayed something like this was bound to happen again. How many injuries from these “accidents” could my body really sustain? I was falling apart already. It was only a matter of time before he killed me and blamed it on my mental illness. How close was he really to smothering me with that pillow? I didn’t want to stay and find out.

“Okay, can you guys stay on the phone with me while I leave?” I sobbed softly, whispering in case Josh was close. “Of course, lets just go get your stuff.” Julia pushed.

I opened the door to the dimly lit hotel room. I sighed and pet my cats, knowing that this would be the last I saw of them. I had gotten them with Josh, but I knew Julia was allergic. Mama purred against my hand, not knowing my fate. I was going to leave this time. I didn’t know what the future had in store for me, but it had to be better than whatever level of hell this was.

Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door and my breath hitched. It was him, it had to be. He must have forgotten his key again. Idiot, I thought as I brought my phone with my friends anxiously waiting on the other line. I held the phone between me and the door like a shield. I opened it to see Josh’s smiling face holding two plates of food. “Honey, I think you need to relax, I got you some food, and tonight I wanted to take you on a really nice date.” His sickly-sweet voice rang out against the tension in the air.

My eyes narrowed into daggers as I realized what he was doing. He was attempting to get me to forget what just happened using bribery. I opened the door for him to come in.

“Actually, I’m not feeling well. I don’t want to go out tonight, and I need to talk to you about what just happened.” He looked at my phone as I spoke, noticing our audience.

“Yeah, we can talk, but I don’t want your friends listening.”

“I want them on the phone for this…” my voice quivered, along with my confidence. “What’s going on?” His voice darkened as he realized the seriousness of the situation.

There was a long pause as I drew my breath. The tension hung in the air like knives.

“I’m breaking up with you. I’m taking the dog and I’m moving in with Julia.” I stated bluntly. I didn’t care if I hurt him anymore. I was tired. This relationship was a dead limb, rotting on my body as I struggled and begged it to come back to life. It needed to be amputated and I was now my own surgeon. His screams broke my realization

“How could you do this to me? We’re a family! We’re supposed to be together no matter what! You can’t take Meatball!”

“Today you put a pillow on my face during a seizure. Last year you gave me multiple concussions. This was the final straw.” I stated, ice in my voice as I shoved random articles of clothing in my bag. He grabbed my phone out of my hand, screaming profanities as he attempted to stop me from packing. Usually I’d be scared, but that day, with my friends backing me up I knew I’d be okay.

“Let me go Josh, or my friends will call the police.” I pushed past him, grabbing my phone out of his hand as he attempted to fight me off, now only halfheartedly as he realized that I was serious this time. I pulled Meatball along behind me. Without missing a beat, she followed, wagging her tail as we left the monster behind. I cried violently as I ran out the door, dragging my few belongings with me. I felt a wave of grief wash over me as I shoved myself and Meatball into the back of the black tesla that waited for me outside of the hotel. Meatball licked my hands, attempting to calm me down as we left the hotel behind, her blocky head nudging into my legs the whole ride. We drove across the barren southern California landscape for three hours and I allowed the emptiness of the scenery to fill me with a sense of relief and terror as I realized this was the beginning of an entirely new life.

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