#so it's like quotes but also maybe they take some pictures off the locker room wall for keepsakes

[gansey-like]

But Neil Josten was a Fox. Andrew called him home; Nicky called him family. Neil wasn't going to lose any of it.

The Foxhole Court: A Scrapbook

[http-konoha]

haikyuu!! as questionable classmates headcanon pt. 2

as always, these might not make sense <3

here is pt. 1 (karasuno) and  pt. 3 (nekoma, fukurodani) !!

AOBA JOHSAI

oikawa

would have weird scribbles on his arms, and sometimes on his face. he often falls asleep in class and his friends, specifically iwaizumi hanamaki and matsukawa, would do a game of ‘who would wake oikawa first’. poor oikawa he was tired from practicing all night and would not realize the weird, inappropriate drawings until he saw some girls stared at his arms instead of his face.

iwaizumi

during self study, he would roll up his sleeves and start doing sit ups or pushups when he gets too frustrated to study. would recommend running around the school for 5 laps as a fun activity to do together as a class (sometimes when he’s nice he’d suggest a ‘fun, safe’ volleyball match)

matsukawa

that kid who would randomly giggle deep, manly giggles during literature class because he read a word and remembered an inside joke he and his friend made. also it feels weird if he stays radio silent throughout class. 

hanamaki

that friend and they’d make eye contact with each other every now and then. hanamaki would randomly throw in tiktok moves and outdated vine quotes and dances when he presents. he’s nervous and would unconsciously do so. watch him throw it back while presenting his opinion to whether or not death penalty is acceptable.  

yahaba

eats his lunch in class. he picked fights and was sent to the teacher’s room at least once in three months because he would disagree with the teachers and end up arguing with them. yahaba somewhat gets good grades so the teacher gave in and lets him do whatever he wants in class.

kunimi

hacked into the school system and exposed the pe teacher for having an affair with the janitor. this isn’t that questionable oops he blackmailed the pe teacher with money and the choice to skip running laps in exchange of taking the news down. unfortunately the whole school knows about the affair. 

kindaichi

kunimi pansted kindaichi during lunch time, revealing his bright yellow minion boxers. now people would call kindaichi minion onion head.

kyotani

ate a few pages from his english dictionary because he genuinely thought that it would absorb the words to his brain for the exams. also he thought nobody would realize, but he has a small pink notebook where he would journal. in the middle of class. 

watari

he has a rather small bag, but when he gets to school you see him pull out his textbooks, a volleyball, lunch bag, a whole banana branch, a huge jar of condiments (ketchup and mayo), his volleyball uniform, a full first aid kit box, and occasionally you can hear purrs and meows from his bag... 

DATEKO 

futakuchi

his locker is a very popular spot because he would bring a bunch of items like snacks, comic books, stationary, printed homework/revisions, and sell them to other students as if he’s dealing. he is somewhat surprised that the teachers haven't called him to the office, but futakuchi doesn’t care because he’s getting money.

aone

as soon as the bell rings signalling that class ended, he would dash and run outside. it’s to talk to the teacher to go over the things he doesn’t understand in class. but it’s just interesting to see how aone would look like he’s ready to commit arson when class ends.

koganegawa

brings everything else to school except his stationary. he keeps forgetting to bring his pencil case and would ask the people around to lend them to him. at this point you’re all convinced that futakuchi stole his pencil case and tricked poor koganegawa to buy them from him. 

SHIRATORIZAWA

ushijima

colorcodes his textbooks and notebooks accordingly. also has a picture of his beloved cactus plant in a4 size, right on the very of of his folder stack that everyone can see. like watari, he carries a volleyball in his bag. 

tendou

sometimes shows up to school with ridiculous accessories. one time he wore the colorful clown wig, the next day showed up with his right hand completely wrapped up like kaidou shun, and once he showed up with his hair down with two pink antennas and green tinted glasses. it’s surprising how he never got told off by the teachers maybe because he’s living in an anime world or the teachers just love to see what he’d do next.

reon

he isn’t weird, he’s just misunderstood. bby is actually soft and loved by everyone because he would share cookies to his classmates. sometimes you catch him watching twice music videos and live performances during breaktime. 

shirabu

has a one, big binder for each subject and it’s super heavy. you can hear him pant after carrying the binders. he only has 1 pencil and 3 set of pens in black, blue and red. he’s at the top of his class but no one would ask him to share his notes because his handwriting is awful. tiny but long, cursive awful. 

semi

takes art instead of music class as an elective, yet you’d see him with a music textbook. he would also bring his electric guitar to school although he’s in the volleyball club. he wants to appeal to people that he has a hobby outside volleyball, poor bby

kawanishi

brings two water bottles to school everyday. convinces everyone that one is just plain water and the other one is juice to wake him up. yeah no, one of them has liquor mixed in it, you just know. sometimes he’d collect the monster energy drink cans and line them up in his locker as a decoration. you’ll see at least 5 cans a week.

goshiki

would secretly look up nude roman and greek statues on the school’s computer because of the filtered internet. i have nothing else to say

[vanchlo]

Green Eyes

*Thanks so much for reading! c: There are now several parts you can read here:   2    3    4 

I’m so happy to share that I won a fiction writing award for this short story through my college’s art journal! c: 

Blurb Synopsis: You had been subbing for Mr. Styles for the last couple of months, but you’ve yet to meet him. The notes you leave for each other have sparked a friendship, leading you to want more, and you wonder if he does too.

Genre: Teacher Harry, lots of fluff, friendship, and maybe even some romance? ;) 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5.5k words

Pairing: Harry x Reader

Music Inspo: Green Eyes by Coldplay (click to listen)

*

His shelves were full of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Rumi, and Charles Bukowski. His desk was covered in scribbled Post-It notes, Bit-O-Honey wrappers, and empty mugs of tea. 

This is what you noticed the first few times you subbed in his classroom. 

These were the only details you knew about the man whose face you’ve never seen. As you gradually began to substitute for his high school English classes more and more, you learned about him more. This was due to his students, and his personal belongings. 

What he didn’t and didn’t like: all the way from no fringes on a notebook paper, no red pen ever because that was his grading color, no using the word ‘can’t’ in his class, and students can eat all the snacks they want as long as the trash goes in the bin where it belongs. 

The CDs in a stack on the shelf told you which ones he actually listened to because they were the ones that were on top and without dust. 

You learned that the pristine book on his desk was never the one he was reading. No, it was the weathered and used copy beside his mug with dog-eared pages and penciled notes. 

His drawers told you another story with their contents: boxes of teas ranging from peach to vanilla macaron, journals filled to the brim with words, adult coloring books with tv show themes, and books on Van Gogh and Monet hinting at his artsy background. His students slowly warmed up to you, and through them, so did he. 

At this point, you’d only been subbing for Mr. Styles the last five months, racking up around two and a half weeks worth of subbed days. He always left precise and concise lesson plans for you. The books were where he said they’d be. The webpages he mentioned were bookmarked on his desktop. The teacher copy of the textbook and current group book were on his desk. At the beginning, his desk looked like a professional organizer had gotten their hands on it. Slowly, as you came to sub more for him, it grew messier, albeit you kept it tidy during your appearances. As the first few months passed and you became one of the few subs in his room, you started to find notes. They weren’t just any notes. They were more than the straight forward sub notes for the day’s agenda. No, they weren’t that simple. You can still remember the first one you found on a Post-It note - it went like this: 

Y/N, peanut butter on your waffles or syrup? 

It took you by surprise, but nonetheless, you answered his call. Each time, you’d find a contrasting pen color and scrawl your answer underneath his. Then leaving it somewhere he would find it the next day. They were one-liners at the beginning, and always interesting. Walking to his classroom from your car on those mornings, you’d fill with excitement at the anticipation of finding the next one. Sometimes it took you the entire day to find where he had hidden them. 

In the closet. 

In a nook in a drawer. 

Under the chair. 

On the backside of one of his books. 

Hidden in plain sight amongst his current choice of notes and lists. 

They never failed to spark a smile on your lips, whether it was quirky, confused, astounded or humored. 

Guitar or piano?

FRIENDS or The Simpsons?

Vanilla or Chocolate?

Would you rather become a superhero or a wizard?

The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?

Slowly, the questions became more personal, and more than just ‘this or that.’ His questions became longer, and so did your answers.  

What was the moment that made you decide to become a teacher?

Is Donny a good student for you, or is he lying to me about that?

What color are your eyes?

What book/film do you believe had the largest impact on you while growing up?

What is the one meal you always order at a restaurant?

Do you have a family?

Should I splurge and buy a new desk chair?

What book should I buy for my classroom you think I need to have? Why?

Why don’t you have a classroom of your own?

When is your birthday?

Star Wars or Lord of the Rings?

They were never a chore for you, or tedious. No, they were fun and you felt as if you saw a little sliver of who he really was with each note. After a while, you started to write and leave your own notes for him to answer. At first, many of them were similar to ones he had left you, because you wanted to hear his responses, too. 

*

The newest one stares back at you, his half-cursive registering in your eyes.

What’s your favorite part about subbing in my classroom? Don’t say the students, that’s what everybody says. 

Giggling to yourself, you reach over to his Pink Floyd mug to pull out a green pen. You take a moment to think of your answer. This time you found the note peeking out from behind the smart whiteboard. The sounds of the end of a school day tickle at your ears as you scribble down your answer. Pressing it to an open square of wood on his desk, you turn back to the royal blue pad of Post-Its. Peeling one off, the green pen hovers over the paper, but you can’t get yourself to write the question you’ve been wanting to know all along. 

He didn’t have a Facebook, or an Instagram. 

The high school doesn’t have a wall of staff pictures like others you’ve subbed at do. 

It’s late winter, so yearbooks are still a ways off. 

For all you know, you could have seen him here before in the halls when you subbed in another classroom. 

Exhaling, you press the pen to the paper before you can convince yourself to stop. Unlike the many times before when your fears got the best of you. 

What do you look like?

With a proud but nervous smile you stick it to the desk, layering the first note on top. It sticks to your lips as you bend down to reach your hand into your bag. The glossy bag greets your hand, and you pull it out to set down beside the note. 

A small bag of Bit-O-Honeys. 

Looking up, your eyes scan the empty classroom. Few footsteps, voices, and lockers slamming trickle in from the halls. You suddenly realize that this is the same view he sees, these are the same sounds he hears, and the same place he sits in every day. Well, when he’s not away on personal days, sick days, on holiday, and at workshops, hence your appearances. The thought knits something together inside of you, making you feel just that bit more closer to him. Something that’s been slowly happening over time since you first stepped foot in his classroom. 

One of the first things that did this was the posters scattered across his walls. A poster from the 2013 remake of The Great Gatsby, The Beatles’ Abbey Road album cover, a cartoon of William Shakespeare, a unifying print of Keith Haring’s art, and several posters of quotes from famous books - To Kill A Mockingbird, the Kite Runner, Of Mice and Men, The Life of Pi, and even The Hunger Games. It delighted you watching him add some of them to the walls since your time here, and you’ve been itching to purchase him one as a gift. You’re unsure of what he would like though, and the fear of failure has held you back from doing so. 

A bleep! catches your attention. Casting your eyes to the dormant desktop screen, you wiggle the mouse. A red circle has appeared on the title of a tab opened to your professional email. Clicking over to it from a YouTube video he had you show the class, you find you have a new message. At the sight of who sent it, your heart skips a beat: harry.styles@isd . . . . . . . 

Hi. I reckon you’re still sitting at my desk this moment, now that’s a funny thought. I wanted to ask you a question while I remembered. I have to go out of town on Friday for a funeral. Believe me, I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, but these things are a must. I apologize for it being short notice, but I thought I’d ask you if you would like to take it before I posted it to the sub database. Please let me know either way by tonight, so it has a few days to sit on the website to be claimed. Also, I wanted to say thanks for everything you do. My students really love you, and it makes me wonder what I’m missing. Enjoy your night! 

Sincerely,

Harry Styles

“Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you. - WW”

A smile warms your cheeks as you finish reading his words, and the familiar poem that ends every email of his. You quickly type up a response to him, agreeing to take the job on Friday, thanking him for thinking of you. A new email appears in your inbox shortly after from another colleague, which occupies you before you lose yourself in your thoughts again. 

Perhaps your favorite addition in his classroom is the Fender acoustic sitting on a stand in the corner. Of course, you’ve yet to see it move in the last five months. The stories his students have told you in a way have given it legs of its own in your mind. Much like the little notes you’ve been leaving for each other, something you dread ever ending. 

*

It was a Wednesday. You’re convinced that Mrs. Watson’s Pre-Calc class is surely the bane of your existence. You keep cursing yourself for taking sub assignments for math classes. Seeing that you’re terrible at the subject, you vowed you’d never take one of her assignments again, but you have to pay the bills somehow. You found your respite in the cozy staff lounge. Couches lined two of the walls, along with an arrangement of tables on the other side of the room. 

As you walk in, you see that one of the ancient history teachers has nodded off again on the plaid couch. Otherwise, the room is empty, and all to yourself. If that didn’t make you happy before, the assortment of food on the counter definitely does. 

Voices float in through the open door as the plastic lid to the cupcakes opens with a pop! 

“Ah, looks like ya got tha last chocolate one. I was savin’ that one fer me,” a voice comments from behind you. Turning, you find a tall man in his late 20’s walking towards you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, you can have it,” you volunteer, holding the blue-iced cupcake out for his taking. 

His blush lips curl up with an amused smile. Dimples fall neatly into his cheeks covered with thick stubble. Its deep brown color matches that of the short quiffed curls atop his head. Misty green eyes stare back at you in the middle of his round, but sharp face. “‘m only joking. Go ahead and have it. I already had one earlier. They’re quite good actually, but I dunno ‘bout tha vanilla. Never really cared fer tha flavoir when it comes t’ cake and ice cream,” he comments, passing you to stop at the nearby sink. 

“Yeah, I like to forget vanilla exists half of the time,” you remark, peeling away the paper liner of the cupcake. 

Leaning against the counter, you watch as his ringed hand grabs a red coffee mug from the cabinet. “So do I. ‘s ratha boring, if I do say so meself.”

Nodding to yourself, a silence follows your words. The sweetness of the cupcake is shocking when you take a bite. It makes you wonder how you devoured these sugar bombs as a child. A few beeps and a hum from the microwave echo throughout the room as you check your phone. 

“Y’know, I haven’t seen ya here at tha school befo’. Are ya new dis year or a sub?” he asks, bringing your eyes back to his lean figure. He pulls a yellow square packet from his tight-fitting black slats, a blush button-down tucked into its waist. 

“I started subbing here this year,” you answer before taking another bite of the cupcake. Half of it consists of the sickeningly sweet frosting that makes your teeth ache. 

“Mmmm I see. How d’ya like it so far? Are ya a new teacher, ‘s that why yer subbin’?” 

“Yeah, I went back to school kinda late in the game after doing something else. I figure I’d sub for a little bit for some experience, because what’s another year of waiting by this time?” you comment, observing how he fiddles with his black tie while searching in the refrigerator. 

“Well, congratulations. ‘s a big step t’ go back t’ school fer sumthin’ ya love. ‘s a good profession, I reckon. I’ve been teaching fer 7 years, and here at dis school fer 5. Sumtimes schools even hire subs they’ve had when a position opens, so keep yer eyes open,” he tells you, turning to you with a smile, a yogurt in his hand. 

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, returning the smile. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Sure thing. I know it helped loads when I was a newbie. ‘ll see ya around, I gotta get back t’ class befo’ me students do first. Have a good one!” 

Walking towards you with the steaming cup of tea in his hands, he pats your arm with his other hand on the way out. Nodding at your ‘thank you’, a small ‘you’re welcome’ falls from his lips before the door closes behind him. Eating the last bite you can muster of the cupcake, you toss its remains in the bin. A thought worms its way into your mind as you sit down at the table. 

Wow, I wonder who that guy was? And is he married, because shit, he was handsome. 

*

The smell of orange essential oil greets you when you stepped foot into his classroom the next time. The state of his desk made you frown, and made you want to scratch the itch to clean it. You resisted it and didn’t, and that thought was taken away when his students began to find their desks. 

Another day of 7 classes came and went. 2 classes of Introduction to Creative Writing. 3 classes of American Literature. 2 classes of World Literature. Amusing YouTube videos broke up the monotony of your day, and those of his students. The lesson notes he left for you had become more concise as the months have passed, and as you learned from each other. The same couldn’t be said for the dish of Bit-O-Honeys on his desk that he’s kept stocked for your appearances. You’re just glad he’s put the bag you left for him to good use. All throughout your day you had been looking for his newest note, but this time it wasn’t in any of his usual spots. After correcting some quizzes from today, you finally found it in the bottom left-hand drawer of his mahogany desk. Stuck to a tall can of Coke, your favorite drink of choice. 

I’m sorry it’s warm, although I’m not sure how you like to drink it. I just find warm soda to be rather nasty. The answer to your question is I have green eyes, brown hair, I’m rather tall, and I like to dress up. Is that good enough for you? Now, what do you look like, love?

Your insides melt at the sight of his answer, but then you groan at the vagueness of it. Off the top of your head, you know there are at least 10 male teachers here at this school with brown hair, maybe more. Maybe even with green eyes, too, and you know that because you’ve seen them in the staff lounge or in the halls. The thought only grows worse when you lose count of  how many teachers there are here at this school. Let’s just say, there’s a lot. Yeah, that sure helps a whole lot. Annoyed, you pluck a pen from the green mug and answer his question with as little detail as possible. Two can play at this game, you think to yourself as you sigh. 

If you could have a jam session with any musician, dead or alive, who would it be?

Sticking the new note where its corner peeks out from under his tabletop calendar, your eyes return to the Coke. It’s undeniable, you feel a little less perturbed at him just at the sight of it. Only a little bit, that is. Sure, you’ve subbed for a countless number of teachers at this school, and more so in this school district. A few of them are even friends or relatives of yours, but you’d never connected with one before like you have with Harry. You just wish more than anything you could find out what he looks like and what he’s really like. Continuing to take his sub jobs doesn’t really help with that. It only drives you crazier wanting to know the other side of this fascinating human being. 

*

There he was, snoring on the couch again, tv remote in hand. The weather channel is playing, surprising you very little. Snickering, you yank open the door to the black refrigerator. After retrieving your striped black and blue lunchbox, you place the container of leftovers in the microwave. A laugh is heard over your shoulder, and when you turn, you find Green Eyes from the other day. 

Tittering as the door closes behind him, he says, “No fail, John ‘s always passed out on dat couch, I swear.”

“I know, it’s every time I’m here. Maybe he should just retire already so he can take his naps at home. Then maybe we could watch something on the tv for once,” you comment, shaking your head. Unpacking your lunch box, you take out a clementine, vanilla yogurt, and silverware. 

“Nah, he loves it too much. I don’t see him leavin’ anytime soon,” he remarks, walking past you to search the shelves of the fridge. “What’re we having’ t’day? Couldn’t find any cupcakes dis time?”

“No, those ones were too sweet anyways. They gave me a stomachache,” you complain with a grimace. The beeeeep! of the microwave interrupts your thoughts. 

“Mmmm, I dunno, I thought they were pretty good.” Rubbing his tummy, he pulls a breathy laugh from your lips. 

Your steaming container of leftovers almost burns your hands, and you dread trying to eat it within the next 10 minutes. Setting up for a lesson in Mr. Harrison’s classroom was a pain, making you wonder why you take any sub jobs besides Harry’s anymore. 

“No free food fer us t’day,” he pouts beside you, closing the fridge door before venturing to the vending machine in the corner. Your eyes drift to his outfit choice today - a white button-down topped with a buttoned vest the shade of ochre, all tucked into brown slacks.

“That’s why you pack a lunch. I thought you’d know the drill by now, since you said you’ve been teaching for a while.”

“I do, but sumtimes I forget. Yer already ahead o’ me with dat part, love,” he who doesn’t have a name answers with a short laugh. Sliding a leather wallet from his pocket, you see him type in a number before you sit down at the table. “Who are ya subbin’ fer t’day then?”

“I’m on the west side in the Science wing for Harrison. Bloody Bio.”

“Ugh, I neva cared fer science. Where were ya a few weeks ago when I last saw ya?” he questions, sliding out a chair across from you. An assortment of vending machine food hits the table with a slap - peanut M&M’s, a nutrigrain bar, and a bag of Sun Chips. 

“Upstairs in Watson’s Maths class. Remind me to never sub for her again, because I can’t understand Pre-Calc for the life of me. I never could in high school so I don’t know why I thought I could know,” you chuckle. A warmth fills your cheeks at the sight of his lips spreading into an amused smile. 

“Yeah, I neva cared fer Maths meself eitha. Numbas neva made a bit o’ sense t’ me, words were always betta,” he explains. You nod along with his words, your mouth occupied with a bite of spaghetti and meatballs. “What subject would ya like t’ teach once tha year’s ova an’ ya go searchin’ fer a job o’ yer own?”

“Um, probably something in English since that’s my focus area. Dabbling in History has been fun, though. I enjoy learning about it myself, and I always have a better time subbing in either of those classes,” you reveal. 

“I see,” he replies, his head going up and down. The crinkling of the granola bar wrapper fills the silence between you before he takes a bite. Crumbs pepper his chin, but he wipes them away from his thin beard. “How often d’ya sub here then?”

“I’d say probably 3 days a week typically, but some weeks are 4. Otherwise, I sometimes sub for a friend or somebody I know over at the middle school.”

“Ah, so yer license is sumthin’ like 8 - 12, ‘s it?” he inquires, picking up the black mug you hadn’t noticed he had. 

“Yeah, I thought that would give me a good range for those grades. With my experience now, I think I’d like to stay at the high school level though,” you continue, twirling you fork around in the noodles covered in tomato sauce. Crossing your legs, the satiny fabric of your black dress pants moves with you. 

“We could always use anotha good teacher here. Ya neva know what’ll happen,” he smiles, standing to his feet with his snacks held in his large hand. Returning his smile, he adds his mug to that hand, patting your back once on his way out. “See ya next time, love. Keep yer head up, it’ll get betta.” 

“Thanks,” you automatically respond with. When you go to say his name, you’re lost for words, because you suddenly remember you’ve never gotten it. Now, he’s already too far away to ask for it. 

Shrugging your shoulders, you stab a meatball with your fork, wondering when the next time will be that you’ll see him again. Because, he sure is nice to look at, and he’s nicer to you than anybody else here. 

*

Stevie Nicks or John Lennon, it’s a tough call. Okay, I’m doing two questions from now on, because you ask such good ones :( Who would you jam with then? Question #2: What was the last concert you went to?

This time, you found the Post-It before the school day even started. It was on the seat of his chair, making you think he wanted you to find it right away. You’re thinking maybe he remembered one of the last times you complained about how hard he had made it. Sometimes you worry about how excited you get to look for these each time you sub in his classroom, but then you remember it’s only once every few weeks. 

That can’t hurt, can it? 

That day the hallways were louder than they usually were after school. You attributed that to the boys’ semifinals basketball game set to be played tonight in the gymnasium. The school’s home team against a nearby rival school. Students couldn’t stop talking about it all day, and many of them shared they’d be sticking around after school to attend. Checking your watch, you note that you should have enough time to stop at home to eat dinner before coming back for it. Even though you hadn’t even known about it before today. 

The Sufjan Stevens song floating from his desktop fills the room as you get out books for tomorrow. Your hands are full with copies of The Kite Runner, making you feel grateful again to Harry- Mr. Styles for picking a decent classic for the class to read. Although you’d only read it a few years ago yourself, and it broke your heart, you’re excited to sub next time to help his World Lit class with it. 

“Oh hey, be careful there, yer gonna slip and fall with all o’ those,” somebody says from behind you, distracting you from your mission of bringing the pile of books from the closet to a desk. 

Don’t I know that voice? Turning your eyes to the doorway, you find Green Eyes walk in with a coat slung over his arm. Wait a second. 

“I-I’m fine,” you stutter, but your actions that follow negate your words. Your eyes run over his familiar features, and slowly the puzzle pieces start to click in your head. Harry? A thought bomb explodes in your head, and the books tumble from your arms. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yer okay,” he murmurs, stopping in front of you. Kneeling down, you both begin to pick up the books, stacking them on top of each other. “Thanks for gettin’ me set up fer t’morrow though. I appreciate it.” 

“Mmmhmm,” is all you can say, because any words that want to come out can’t get past the lump in your throat. One that’s there because of the realization you just had.

Green Eyes and Harry are the same person. 

How did I not figure this out sooner? 

“So, ya must be Y/N, huh?” he giggles, his head bent down as he helps you pick up the books. 

“Y-Yeah, surprise,” you admit, and your laugh soon joins his. Before you know it, the both of you can’t stop laughing. 

“Here,” you hear him say. Looking up, you find him standing in front of you holding his hand out for you to take. A cozy looking maroon sweater covers his upper half, and blue jeans don the rest. “Fancy meetin’ you here,” he jokes in between laughs. 

“You’re right about that,” you answer, taking his hand. He helps you to your feet where you smooth down the violet skirt of your dress. “I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots.”

“Yer not tha only one, love,” Harry comments, bending over to grab a stack of books. He begins to set one on each desk as he walks down the aisles of them. “But I s’pose there wasn’t any way t’ know.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find you on Facebook,” you confess, cursing yourself for the slip up a few seconds later. Lifting your head from the book you just set on a desk, you find his amused eyes on you across the room. 

“Ah, so ya were stalkin’ me, were ya?” he smirks, his delightful laugh following his words. 

“No, I wasn’t! You’re just one of the only colleagues I’ve subbed for who I’ve never met, or like don’t know what they look like.”

Your small stack soon disappears and when you return to the pile at the back of the room, he does too. 

“So, what d’ya think? Are ya disappointed then?”

“No,” you say automatically, lifting your eyes to his green ones that land on you. His cheeks lined with a thick, neat beard crease with dimples as he smiles at you. 

“Neither am I . . . .  Ms. Vance Joy fan,” he returns, holding your gaze. The sincerity in his words gets under your skin, going straight to your heart. The sarcastic joke inside of them makes you giggle. 

Clearing your throat, you look away with what you’re sure are blushing cheeks. Most likely, an entire blushing face. “What are you doing here, anyways, if you were gone for the day?”

“I can’t miss me boys’ big game, a few o’ me students are on tha team. I thought I’d catch up on sum emails and grading befo’hand, but didn’t know ya’d still be here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just leaving, anyways,” you mutter, your movements stilling. 

“I didn’t mean it dat way, love. ‘m glad we finally met, it was about time, anyways,” Harry insists, and you nod before continuing to place a book at each desk. “Hey wait, you said you were short and all plain in yer note. No, yer not, ya fibber.”

“Oh like your description was any more accurate,” you scoff lightheartedly, setting down a book before grabbing another from your dwindling stack. 

His rich laugh meets your ears, and you can’t resist looking over to him. “Ya didn’t give yerself enough credit, ya know,” he almost coos, and you swear your heart melted into a puddle right then and there. That’s if it hadn’t done so already when you realized he’s Green Eyes. Swoon. 

It’s hard to hold back the excitement curling at the edge of your lips. Soon, you run out of books again and when you take a peek at him, so has he. 

“Were ya gonna go?” he questions, and you deal him one when you look at him confused. “T’ tha game, I mean.”

Your body feels like jello, and that any move you make would be sloppy. Embarrassing. That’s the last thing you want to look like in front of him. With his dazzling smile, adorably dimpled cheeks, and the cozy vibes he’s giving off. Not to mention, the clean citrus scent wafting off of him. A smell you certainly would be okay with smelling for hours on end. If only. 

“Well bloody Rob around tha corner bailed on me, so I have an extra ticket now. Would ya like t’ join me? I was thinkin’ o’ grabbin’ a sub from ‘round tha corner befo’. Concession food ‘s always too expensive, and never worth tha lines at halftime,” Harry suggests, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. One corner of his mouth climbs up his cheek, making you feel like maybe you’re not alone in these jumbled feelings. Or in the fun you’ve had carrying on this blind relationship with him. 

“Yeah, that sounds like fun. Maybe we could get to know each other a little better than the few words Post-It notes can hold.”

Slowly, the other corner of his lips curls upwards, making the dimple fall into his cheek once again. Nodding, his lips split into a full-fledged smile, singing with a chuckle. “I’d really like that,” he reveals before venturing to the door and shutting off the light. Extending an arm, he waves a hand towards himself.

“Hold on, let me get my things.”

“No rush. ’s not like ‘ve waited seven months fer dis or anythin’,” he quips. By now, you’re certain your face resembles a tomato. You hope that in the muted light, perhaps he won’t notice. 

Hurriedly, you slip on your light coat and drape your bag over your shoulder. Your eyes catch something as you’re tucking your phone in your pocket. Grabbing one last thing, you turn to find him watching you from the lit doorway. 

“What?” he wonders aloud, still with that smile etched onto his face. One you’re fairly sure you could get used to seeing. 

“Here,” you tell him, placing the Post-It note in his palm. His fingers dotted with dark hairs brush against you, just for a second longer than need be. 

“Ah, can’t forget dis now. Important stuff here.”

“Indeed,” you note, stifling a laugh as the sarcasm floats in the air. 

You observe his eyes flit across the paper holding your cursive as your steps echo down the empty hallway. 

“Hmmm, funny. It says ‘would you like to meet up sometime’ on here,” Harry reads, casting his twinkling eyes to you. Green eyes. “I was jus’ ‘bout t’ ask ya tha same thing on me next note. But I had sumthin’ that woulda took tha cake fer sure.”

“What’s that?” you remark, wondering how that could be. Those thoughts fly out the window when you feel his arm come around your shoulder. A squeal sounds inside of your head, but hey, at least that’s far less embarrassing than doing it out loud. 

“I was gonna tell ya dat Tracy across tha hall from me ‘s leavin’ afta dis year, and I may have recommended a certain sumbody t’ tha principal t’ replace her,” Harry hums, a knowing glint dancing in his eyes as they hover over you. “What d’ya say t’ bein’ colleagues instead o’ bein’ me sub?”

“I think I could get used to that,” you answer, letting your smile take over your entire face.

“So could I, love. So could I.” 

[hankwritten]

Lies, Damned Lies, and Valentine’s

Day 7 of the valentine’s day event, Whole Team

“Have the RED team vandalized us in the middle of the night?” Medic asked, gazing around the common room which had been papered with tiny hearts. “What is with all the pink?”

“Ach, it’s Valentine’s day, boyo!” Demo told him with a hearty slap on the back. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

Medic adjusted his glasses, which had fallen out of place with the overzealous display of masculine affection. “My wife and I are…estranged. I have not celebrated a Valentine’s day in a very long time.”

“Well, so long as you made your cards, you’re celebrating just fine.” When Medic didn’t respond, Demo pressed a, “you did make some cards, right lad?”

“Cards for who? I told you I have not spoken to-”

“For the team ya quack,” Demo snorted. “We always make cards for each other on Valentine’s day.”

“…Like kindergarteners,” Medic asked drily.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud doc,” Demo elbowed him. “It’s a tradition.”

Medic crossed his arms, and kicked a small paper heart that had fallen on his shoe. “Well no one told me about it.”

At that, Demo finally paused. “Ah, I suppose everyone forgot to mention it to the rookie. Don’t worry though!” This time, Medic dodged the pat aimed at his shoulder. “Everyone knows you only got here a month or so ago, they won’t hold you to any obligations.”

“What a relief.” Medic rolled his eyes.

He was able to put the ridiculous conversation out of his mind thanks to the oncoming battle, slinging on his pack with a feeling of purpose. Dealing with REDs and avoiding Spies took most of his concentration, as a day that he went about distracted was a day he’d find quite a few Sniper shots through his head. However, as much as he’d dismissed Valentine’s by the midday break that afternoon, it appeared his teammates hadn’t.

He’d followed Heavy to the cover of the sentry nest, but as his partner was filling up Sasha, he noticed that Engie had laid out a few pieces of folded paper on top of the dispenser. Medic wandered closer. It took him a moment to parse what he was seeing, but then he remembered the travesty that had become of the common room and realized Demo had been dead serious about Valentine’s Day. Engineer’s valentines were spread out neatly, all unique, all cheerfully signed by members of the team. Scout had draw a rather good rendition of the man himself standing next to his sentry, a little heart between them. Sniper had written ‘THANKS TRUCKIE’ in block letters. Even Soldier had put in some effort, as he had used red, white, and blue construction paper to make what might have been the shape of Texas if you squinted enough.

Nearby, Pyro was showing off their own collection. Scout had also drawn a picture for them (of Mayor Balloonicorn), which they had delicately set in the grass, their other cards out before them. The one from Engie they were attacking with vigor, since the Engineer had been forward thinking enough to glue tiny pieces of candy to the folded paper.

“They’re all real nice Pyro,” he was chuckling. “Though maybe put them back in your pocket? Don’t want them to get dirty.”

Pyro nodded, and began shuffling them back into a pouch within their chemsuit.

“They take this very seriously, don’t they?” Medic noted absently about the pair.

Heavy, having loaded on the ammo required, turned and saw Medic mulling over Engineer’s cards. “Oh, da! Every year. We do not spend holidays together, so for team, is closest thing.”

As he spoke, he reached into his front pocket. Something with Demo’s handwriting dashed all over it appeared in his hand, obnoxiously saccharine with its copious hearts and overuse of the color red. Yet the Heavy Weapons Guy displayed it proudly, and Medic offered him a wry smile.

“I had no idea,” Medic mused.

“…Team forget to tell you?” Heavy rumbled. “Heavy see. Heavy wondered why doctor did not give him one.”

Medic coughed lightly into his hand. “I wasn’t aware until this morning-”

“No, is alright. Heavy’s little joke.” He patted Medic on the shoulder, which was (surprisingly) more reserved than Demo’s attempt at the same. “We kill RED babies, that is gift enough, da?”

Medic agreed, and followed him off into battle. However, this time the threat of the loving spirit stuck, and Medic found himself skewered on the end of the Spy’s knife more than he was comfortable with. He tried to shake himself, to forget his teammates’ foolish obsession, but one thought kept rankling him: he might have not known to send out cards, but why hadn’t anyone gotten him anything?

They returned to BLU base with an embarrassing loss on their collars, though you wouldn’t know by looking. Everyone was in the common showing of their haul, passing around heart shaped cookies that someone had made last night and stuffed in the fridge. Medic tried one, and nearly gagged on how much sugar had been crammed into such a small package.

Apparently everyone had gotten the same memo about Demo’s cards, as each one came with a tiny novel vodka attached. Demo peeled off the last one (from Soldier with a picture of a shovel on it, saying simply I Dig You) with the utmost care, lining them up next to his whiskey bottle.

“Look!” he grinned to Soldier. “Me scrumpy’s birthed a litter!”

Soldier, who had taken to taping his own cards to his helmet, slapped him on the back. “Congratulations! You’re a grandfather!”

Scout, like Pyro, couldn’t help but flaunt his, claiming that he got the most out of anyone. When Sniper pointed out that everyone got seven cards, he pivoted to say, “yeah well mine are the best, quality over quantity Snipes.”

Medic shouldn’t have been irritated. He didn’t care about Valentine’s Day, not in the slightest, so why was he getting so terse about his teammates’ holiday cheer? Of course they didn’t get cards for the rookie, they probably would have gotten cards for their old Medic, not him.

That thought itself would have put anyone in a sour mood, but the tipping point was when he walked the corner and saw Spy delicately arranged bits of red-hued paper into a manila folder, smiling slightly as he set the last one down. Medic was close enough to read, saw Sniper’s handwriting, and also that the poem it was quoting was incomplete. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. / I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. The next two lines were missing— Medic knew enough of poetry to glean that��which meant Sniper probably had the other half. All shuffled always with the other ones he’d gotten from Scout and Engie and Demo and whoever, but the most important thing Medic could determine from the display was all those people had given Spy valentines too. Spy. Medic’s eye twitched. Before he knew it he was barreling past Spy, out past the others in order to get to the hallway. There were a couple exclamations of confusion, a few calls asking what was wrong, but Medic ignored them all.

He didn’t need their obligatory attempts to include him, he could see when he wasn’t wanted.

“Doctor! Wait!”

He considered not stopping for the deep voice behind him, but unless he wanted to go charging off onto the battlefield, his path would eventually take him back around base. He sighed, and turned to face the man behind him.

“Can I help you?” Medic snapped. There was no use pretending he wasn’t miffed.

“What is the matter?” Heavy asked. “Have not seen you this angry before.”

“Well that is not a big surprise considering we barely know each other, apparently.” Medic crossed his arms.

Heavy furrowed his brow. Always a man of few words, he either didn’t know what to say, or figured it was better not to antagonize Medic further, and so he settled for waiting for his teammate to elaborate.

Medic relented eventually, shoulders sagging as he exhaled. “I realize I am not…part of the team so to speak. I understand I am not as close to you all as your old Medic was, and I do not blame you for not including me, but it is still…difficult to watch everyone open cards and…not receive any myself.” God it sounded so childish when he said it allowed. He was a doctor for god’s sake! He should be above such petty jealousies.

As his self consciousness closed in, he hunched, and failed to look at Heavy. It took the man saying, “doctor did not get valentines? Is not possible,” for Medic to turn back around and see him shaking his head. “At very least, Heavy give card.”

“You…?” Medic unfolded his arms. “When?”

Heavy raised an eyebrow. “Did doctor not check locker?” When Medic blinked, Heavy added, “is where we put at start of day, so none get lost.”

“…Just like in kindergarten,” Medic finished the thought and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God I am such a dummkopf.”

Heavy chuckled, clearly glad to have resolved the situation. “Medic is far from. Come, we look now.”

So Medic did come, entering resupply and walking to his locker, taking a moment to brace himself as he grasped the handle. He turned it. Immediately, he was hit with an avalanche of purple, pink, and red, an absolute tidal wave of valentines rushing out to greet him from where they’d been conglomerating inside his locker like a clogged artery.

There were so many, decorated all with his class symbol or words of thanks. Pyro had made at least four, decorated with crayons and rainbow drawings, sticking slightly where the paint hadn’t dried. Medic picked one off the floor. Scout had drawn Archimedes beautifully, which was astounding considering the two hadn’t gotten along since the Über incident, and it must have been quite a strain to sit still long enough to capture the bird’s likeness. Engie had detailed out a list over every time Medic had saved his bacon in the past month, Spy had written something long and oddly heartfelt, Soldier had gifted him a coupon for one free haircut. The list went on.

It took Heavy gently touching his shoulder while he read Sniper’s uncharacteristically kind letter to realize he was holding his hand over his mouth. He cleared his throat, but despite that still couldn’t find words.

“Medic is part of team,” Heavy stated, matter of fact. “We appreciate. Do not forget that.”

Medic’s eyes fell on a large card, tucked behind the Quick-Fix in the back of the locker so it hadn’t come tumbling out with the rest. This one was unquestionably from Heavy. Medic wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did.

Delicately, he reached out and took it, seeing it was nearly the size of a proper book, made out of two pieces of paper tied with a string. He gently gazed over the words inside, drinking them all in, and then softly spoke, “thank you mein friend.”

“Is no trouble.” Heavy squeezed his shoulder, and Medic could tell his friend was smiling by the chuckle in his voice. “Now! We go. Back to party, doctor should get to show off his cards too.”

“Yes, lets. But ah…not this one though,” Medic finished, softly folding Heavy’s card back up. “This one I will keep here.”

Heavy smiled. “If doctor likes.” With that, Medic followed him back to the party.

[frustrated-writer-skyeknight]

S.q.u.a.d. reacts to the Lion King

Based on this article: I watched The Lion King as a grown-ass man.

"Man, Disney should just stop with the remakes already." Jamie sighed as he took some textbooks from his locker, "I mean, I think the Lion King one was just a CGI version of the original."

Jack frowned, scratching the back of his neck. "There was an original version?"

"What? Dude, of course there is. It's a classic. Everyone's seen it." Jamie snorted, turning towards the approaching brunette trio. "Hey guys, you know about the old Lion King movie, right?"

Dimitri shrugged, "I know there's a new lion movie out." He said. "Looks more like a documentary thing, if you go by the trailer."

"Didn't have cable growing up," Jim replied, "still don't. Plus, Disney is overrated anyway."

Hiccup hummed thoughtfully, "What's lion king?"

Jamie stared at his friends dumbfounded. "Okay, we are so having a movie night now." He said.

Later that Friday evening, Jamie and his friends find themselves in the den of his home, parents out with the younger sister, and three bowls of popcorn with different flavors; cheese, butter, and barbeque. Plus, two boxes of pizza.

"Wow, Jay," Astrid whistled as she settled on a spot next to him, "you sure went all out for this."

Jamie shrugged, "Disney is my childhood." he said.

"I still say they're a gold digging empire," Jim deadpanned, but took a handful of popcorn. "But I never say no to free food."

Dimitri took a slice of pizza as Jack had too, and they 'toasted' to it, "Preach."

"Okay guys," Jamie rolled his eyes as he set Netflix on the television, "at least wait for the movie to start. Since I brought it up earlier, let's start with 'The Lion King.' I've got tissues ready in case you need it."

Jim snorted, rolling his eyes. "It's an Animated kids movie." He said. "Nobody cries over those.

───────────────

🎶On the day we arrive on the planet~🎶

"Well, opening song sounds good." Jack hummed, "wouldn't mind getting it stuck in my head. Unlike that overrated Queen Ella single one."

Dimitri groaned, "Ohmygod, yes." he groused, "People will not shut up about it!"

"Okay boys." Astrid rolled her eyes, "focus."

They did so, but it didn't take long for someone else to speak up. "Whoa, now hold up. So, that monkey dude..." Jim frowned, and Jamie felt the need to pause the movie. "I mean, come on, this monkey chief dude comes hobbling around on a walking stick earlier, and you expect that he can hold a damn newborn over a cliff? That's shady, man."

"Just watch." Jamie rolled his eyes, smirking at his friend's offended expression. "Also, I'm gonna have to preemptively warn you to suspend your disbelief for a lot of these movies." He hits play once more.

And they watched.

"He's as mad as a hippo with a hernia."

"That's some mad alliteration skills," Jack mused, "ugh, alliteration. Still confuse that with assonance."

Hiccup stared at his boyfriend, "The fact that you even bring that up casually..."

"Okay, feeling that Scar's the bad dude here." Astrid interrupted, "but I'm liking the accent."

Rafiki is painting Simba on his tree...

"There's that shady baboon butt again, doing grafitti without his goddamn walking stick." Jim snorted, "I don't trust that punk."

Dimitri chuckled, giving his boyfriend a one-arm hug. "Pup, you have trust issues. It's your thing." He cooed, "it's a cartoon monkey, he can't hurt you."

"But he can hurt his fellow cartoon animal peeps." Jim countered. "Shady bastard."

Dimitri rolled his eyes, "and they say you're a cold, insensitive prick." He snorted.

"Wait, a Lion in a Pride mates with all the lioness..." Hiccup frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "He's literally sleeping with his wife and the rest of his, uh, concubines in a single..."

Jamie groaned, "You're ruining my childhood here."

"So, this is that famous overmemed scene." Jack snorted, "pretty grand, I'll give it that. Tempted to google what the shadowy place is, though."

Jamie shook his head, taking Jack's phone. "No spoilers." He said. "It's coming up soon anyway."

"Forgive me for not leaping in joy. Bad back, you know."

Hiccup nodded faux sagely, "Scar is me at every social gathering." He said.

"No, no! Don't, you gullible lion cub!" Jim shouted at the TV, much to everyone's amusement. "THAT DARK PLACE IS OBVIOUSLY NOT AN ELEPHANT GRAVEYARD, SIMBA. DON'T DO DUMB SHIT. LISTEN TO YOUR PARENTS. GO TO LION CUB SCHOOL!"

Dimitri snickered, gesturing to his soulmark. "He's talking in capslock again." He said.

🎶"I just can't wait to be king~!"🎶

"Okay, I'm so finding a playlist in Spotify now." Jack mused, scrolling at his phone that Jamie returned earlier. "These tunes are gonna be my jam."

Hiccup shrugged, "I still find it funny that the animals are so okay with their predators being their king. No revolution sparked by discontentment at all." He pointed out. "Sounds kinda fishy."

"Okay, anyone else feeling kinda awkward with Simba and Nala's sexual tension?" Jim voiced out, "I mean, they're kids... Or cubs... Whatever. They're young."

Hiccup nodded, "Not to mention, cousins. Being in the same Pride..." He trailed off as Jamie kicks him lightly on the shin.

"Again, ruining childhood for me." Jamie sighed, and Astrid rubs his arm soothingly.

Jim points at the screen accusingly, "Ah! An elephant graveyard!" he gawked. "okay, was wrong on that, but still creepy as hell. Especially now that practically everywhere in the Savannah is an elephant graveyard... Even a rhino graveyard."

Jack shook his head, "Guys, you need to chill."

"Okay, these hyenas reminds me of that old Cartoon Network show, Ed, Edd 'n' Eddy." Hiccup mused, "Especially Ed, who's basically Ed. Can't be a coincidence."

Astrid snickered, "He's also you; laughing or making jokes to laugh about in inappropriate situations." she teased. "Got us in trouble a lot in those 'bring your kid to work' events."

"Aaaand Mufasa comes in to save the day," Jack slow clapped, "knew it. But boy, is Simba grounded. You done fucked up, kid."

"I'm surrounded by idiots..."

Jim huffed, leaning back against the couch and Dimitri's arm. "Mood." He deadpanned. "Also, calling out their cruelty to animated zebras."

"I know right?" Dimitri humored him, "where the fuck is PETA when you need them?"

Jamie snorted, smirking at them, "Uh, I don't know... Reality?"

"Doesn't feel like it either." Astrid quipped, "elephants still dying everywhere."

Jack rolled his eyes, "Fucking chill guys."

"Ah, Hiccup, look. How's that for discontentment?" Astrid pointed at the screen, "Scar's not satisfied with being sass king of the jungle. Wants to run for real king, that can't end well."

Hiccup shrugged, "I'll take it." He said, "and it's not a jungle, actually.

"Dude has mad pipes though." Jack pointed out, "I'd definitely attend the opening night of 'Scar: The Musical.'"

Jamie hummed thoughtfully, "Huh, a lion king remake with his perspective instead would be an improvement." He said.

"Simba, it's to die for!"

"Okay Hiccup, take notes." Astrid quipped, "Scar's pun game is topnotch."

Hiccup snorted, tossing a throw pillow her way. "Must've learned from me." He shot back, "I'm a master."

"Still," Astrid said, laughing as she threw the pillow back, "I have the feeling this is the point of the movie I'm gonna start hating Scar."

Jamie cringed as the stampede started, and he paused the movie much to everyone's frustration. "Okay, guys. Again, maybe you need ti—" he trailed off.

"PLAY THE DAMN MOVIE!"

Jamie did so. And he found it strangely satisfying when everyone cried out a despairing 'NOOOOOOOOOO!' along with Simba as Mufasa fell to his death.

"Mufasa is dead?!?!" Jim gawked, "he died?!!? Just like DUMBLEDORE?!?!?! Just like MY FATHER?!" He whimpered, leaning on Dimitri as his boyfriend reached for the box of Kleenex from Jamie. "Feeling unusually upset right now. It's a damn kid's movie. It has no right to be hitting it home, and right to the feels."

Dimitri sighed, patting his back consolingly. "There, there..."

"Fuck you, Scar. Just..." Jim groused, "Fuck. You."

Astrid sighed, taking a sheet from the Kleenex herself. "Gotta say, though," she started, "for a schemer like Scar, he sure does skimp on the quality of his henchmen. Letting Simba go is gonna bite him in the ass someday. Guaranteed."

"Okay," Jamie paused the movie. "intermission. Who needs a bio-break?"

Jim just stood up and went for the bathroom. The rest finished the pizza and Dimitri made sure to leave some for Jim.

"You good, Jim?

"Shut up and play the movie." The brunette groused, "ugh, I can't believe I cried. Damn you Scar."

Jamie laughed as he plays the movie once more. "Told you you'd need tissues."

"Screw you, man."

───────────────

"Mufasa's death was a terrible loss..."

Jim eats his pizza. He continues to curse Scar as he speaks of Mufasa's death. "Don't fall for his crap, come on!" He scowled. "Zazu, he fucking slammed you to a rock!" He sighed, "Why the hell are you letting him become king? This is why you animals are getting extinct."

"It's.... really not." Hiccup protested.

Dimitri massaged his shoulders, "Jim, you can print out a picture of Scar and dart him, okay pup?" He soothed.

"The hyenas look like they can get shit done, though." Jack mused, "well, except for giving Simba the slip."

Jim hummed, "Oh, baboon guy. Almost forgot about this dude." He said. "Cutting him some slack because I feel he's going to drop some Yoda shit on this bitch."

"You get so feisty when you're irritable." Dimitri mused, "and this is why Scroop secretly has a thing for you."

"WHAT!"

"What?"

"Don't worry," Dimitri shrugged, kissing the tip of his nose. "I don't share."

Jim huffed, "Well, I bloody hope not!"

"You gotta put your behind in your past."

"Gotta get a tattoo of this Pumbaa quote." Jack joked, "words to live by 101."

Hiccup audibly whimpered, taking Jack's hand. "Please don't " he said. "Your skin's perfect. It's bad enough that my choice of words already marred it."

"Aw, babe..." Jack hugged him, "you know I love it."

Astrid blew a raspberry. "Get a room."

"Uh, my house, so no." Jamie protested.

Jim blinked, "Wait, I know this is Timon and Pumbaa because I had them on a pencil case when I was eight or something. Then, I got one of space and that was that." He started. "But damn, I didn't know Hakuna Matata was from here. I have heard this song before, I am not entirely ignorant."

"I'm so hungry, I can eat a whole Zebra."

"I'm condemning this casual Zebra slaughter," Hiccup declared. "Let it be known. You can't just eat a whole Zebra, Simba. Come on."

Astrid gagged, "Insects? Really?" She shakes her head. "Simba's diet is fucked. I'm not a nutritionist or a zoologist, but I really, really, don't think insects are enough to get Simba through all those years in the jungle. I mean, it's like asking humans to survive on dog food alone."

"And yet he has grown into a fine-ass lion over the course of about three bars of song." Jack whistled, "Intriguing. Switching to insect-based diet after the movie."

Hiccup shakes his head, "Snowflake, I rather you go vegan."

Rafiki appears and takes Simba's floating fur with the dandelions...

"There's monkey Yoda again," Jim snorted, "jumping down on trees, not a walking stick in sight. He's on to something though, so I'll let it sli—HOLD THE PHONE!" The brunette balked, "Did baboon man REALLY figure out Simba was still alive from smelling dandelions that floated from miles away?"

Dimitri rubbed his back in circles, "Pup, stop being antagonized by the damn monkey already." he snickered, "it's cute, but I'm worrying over your mental health."

"Don't tell me what to do, dimwit." Jim scoffed, "I mean, really, this insane Yoda monkey with inconsistent usage of walking aids might be the movie's last hope. How to feel about this, I don't know."

"AAAAAAH!"

Hiccup hummed, faux sadly. "We're gonna lose Pumbaa. I can feel it." he said. "Life's just not fair, and warthogs just aren't fast."

"Oh, wait, it's Nala!" Jack cheered, "Yaaay!"

The freckled brunette snorted, crossing his arms. "Nala goes from hunting Pumbaa one minute to having a conversation with him after Simba vouches for him?" he shook his head, "So, tell me how there aren't any riots with the predators being friends with some preys, and others not? Unjustifiable exceptions."

"Guys, suspend your disbelief." Jamie sighed, "I think I gave out that warning earlier."

🎶...You needn't look too far; Stealing through the night's uncertainties, love is where they are~🎶

"Whoa, 'Can you feel the love tonight' was from this movie? Okay, it's official, I'm in love with this soundtrack." Jack made an exaggerated bowing down motion towards the screen, "Hands down one of the best soundtracks I've ever heard."

Dimitri narrowed his eyes at the screen, in scrutiny. "They totally boned at this scene, right?" he deadpanned. "I mean, did you see those bed room sex eyes?"

Jim stuffed him with a pillow, "At least the sexual tension between them doesn't feel as awkward now."

"You said you'd always be there! But you're not... it's because of me..."

Hiccup nodded his head, "Sexual tension replaced with crippling self-loathing, just like real life." he sighed, "feel ya, Simba."

"God, I don't know how many therapists mom made me see until I finally got over blaming myself for my sperm donor leaving us." Jim sighed, shaking his head. "and then guidance counseling when we found out he killed himself a few months before Freshemen year started."

Dimitri stared at his boyfriend worriedly, "Pup, do you need a hug?" he embraced him without waiting for a response.

"It ain't your fault, Jim. Shit happens... Especially stampedes if you're in a forest."

Jamie sighed, "Savannah."

"Real talk, though," Astrid mused, "shit happens when you've got scheming uncles who planned to push their brother off the buffalo freeway."

The brunette stared at his girlfriend before picking up his phone, "I'm tweeting that."

Rafiki appears humming incoherently...

"I swear to god, this monkey is on meth." Jim snorted, shaking his head. "Yeap, he just called Simba a baboon. This primate is trippin'."

Dimitri stared at the rest of his friends, as if he was in 'The Office'. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I?"

"Better not bring him to any Zoos soon," Jack advised. "He might try to throw rocks at the monkey containment."

"Okay, I take it back." Jim raised his arms, "This is going to be some pivotal revelatory shit." he started.

"Correction, I know your father."

Jim glared at the screen, pointing an accusing finger. "Okay, still trippin'" He scowled at the meditation monkey, "I hope this really is Mufasa and not some metaphorical mambo-jumbo. If not, I call subterfuge."

Jamie was starting to wonder if this whole movie marathon was a good idea. They were just starting with the first one, and Jim already seems like a lost cause. Maybe there was a reason innocent children were the target audience.

"CALLED IT," Jim growled at the television, "that's a reflection, you punk-ass monkey. Way to let a brother down." He shook his head, frowning as the screen shows cloud Mufasa. "Aaaaand now he's slipped Simba some acid. Just great."

Definitely a bad idea.

"Wow, it worked." Even Hiccup is surprised. "who'da thunk it. Hm, might wanna check for hidden projectors, though. Monkey might've pulled a Mysterio... Well, for a good cause, but still. Jim's got it right with subterfuge."

Dimitri glared at him, "Dude, spoiler alert."

"Oops." Hiccup blushed, "sorry."

Jack blinked at the screen, "What the fuck," he scowled, "He just left Nala behind and returned home? When it was her idea in the first place? Bro, that's your soulmark. Boy, is he in for some pain."

"I think this came out before the discovery of soulmarks." Hiccup patted his hand soothingly. "there, there.... What we should really be questioning is that desert. I'm still wondering how there's even an oasis in this movie."

Jamie face palmed, "Suspend your disbelief, suspend... Oh, forget it." he groaned.

🎶"He eeee's a big pig (Yup, yup). You could be a big pig too. Oy!"🎶

"In a movie filled with amazing songs," Jack snickered, "Timon's luau song's gonna be my personal favorite. Bonus points for presentation."

Astrid sighed, placing a hand on her forehead. "And they fell for it," she tossed her hand in a 'I'm so done' manner. "This is why you hire quality hit man, Scar. You can't half-ass a coup and not expect repercussions."

"Well, if he was Loki-smart," Jamie shrugged, "well, there's no Avengers to beat him up and the heroes don't win."

Jim snorted, "Simplified hero-winning's overdone." he said. "Villain redemption arcs like Zuko's should start catching on."

"So, you have no cable for Disney," Dimitri started, "but you know ATLA?"

Jim shrugged, "A therapist was a fan," he explained, "and she thought it'd help with my father abandonment issues. Confirmed: It did."

"I killed Mufasa..."

Hiccup face palmed, and groaned as if he was in real agony. "Aaaagh, typical villain behavior." he groused, "shut your damn Zebra-holes, and finish the job for once, you idiots never learn."

"Chat shit, get banged, Scar." Dimitri snickered, "Chat shit, get banged."

Jim stuffs a pillow at him once more, "Stop it with the innuendos!" he sighed, as he stared at screen. He raised a brow, "Amidst this all-out melee, meth-monkey is doing some serious damage. How, I do not know."

"Well, guess he's been hiding his pizzaz all along."

Simba and Scar finally battle it out

"NOOOOOOO!"

"YEEEEEEEEES!"

Jack cheered, "SIMBA WINS." he grinned, "And the hyenas have also found a temporary solution to their food shortage. Win-win."

"This was a kid's movie..." Jim narrowed his eyes at the screen, "and they heavily implied Scar getting gang-devoured."

Jamie snorted, and snickered. "You should see the one when the villain got hanged from the treetops."

"WHAT!"

"Remember who you are..."

"Feel like 'The Eye of the Tiger' would be a proper song for this moment," Jack mused, before pausing in thought, "wait, wouldn't that be 'Eye of the Lion', then?"

Hiccup laughed, shaking his head. "And just like that, the land is glorious again. No mention of rehabilitation process with might have included replanting trees, and attracting livestock with lucrative real estate prices." he mused.

"Let's just hope this heralds a decline in the merciless killings of animated Zebras." Jim snorted, "still unsure as to how meth-monkey hasn't managed to drop a cub off the cliff yet."

Jamie shook his head, as he went back to Netflix's home screen, and grinned towards his friends, "Now, as payback for effectively ruining my childhood, here's a little piece of info to mindblow you guys: The Lion King is basically Hamlet but with lions, and a happy ending."

"WHAT!"

"Ohmygod!" Jack balked, "IT IS! IT SO IS!"

Hiccup frowned, shaking his head. "I can't believe I didn't see it," he frowned. "And I fucking love Hamlet. I feel like I've let Shakespeare down."

"Baboon man should've made like Yorick and turned into a skeleton head..." Jim snorted, "Wait, was that why they made Scar hold that skull in a certain way?"

Dimitri rolled his eyes, "And here I thought we moved past the whole Rafiki antagonized drama."

Jamie laughed outloud, clutching his stomach. "Just wait till you see the Romeo and Juliet sequel."

"Can we get a movie with more..." Astrid scrunched up her nose, "... humans please?"

[petersasteria]

The Forces of Nature || Ch.10

Pairing: Peter Parker x Superhero!Reader

Summary: “There’s this kid out there that can control the wind or something. I think she’s a great addition to the team. Let’s recruit her.”

SERIES MASTERLIST  ||  PP MASTERLIST

Click the picture for better quality

"Step five. Let her know you're Spider-Man. I don't know how, but she'll have to know." Peter muttered to himself as he silently read step five that was on the recruiting method which was pinned on the bulletin board in his room above his desk. For the next three days since Friday night, a.k.a the night he did step four, he had been reading and re-reading step five over and over.

After all, telling Y/N that he was Spider-Man was different and he had never done it before. Ned, aunt May, and MJ found out and figured it out on their own. "At this point, Y/N may have already figured out." Peter told himself, but he immediately shook his head.

However, it was impossible for Y/N to figure out because she and him weren't really close before. Therefore, Y/N has never really paid attention to Peter. Y/N may have picked up a few of MJ's traits here and there, but she never got MJ's way of observing. Again, Peter asked Scott for help when he took a break from patrolling on a Monday afternoon.

"Hey, what's up, Petey?" Scott smiled as he answered the phone. He munched on some chips while watching television. Peter scrunched up his face because it sounded like some weird ASMR mukbang video on YouTube.

"Yeah, hi. I need your help again." Peter said as he lifted his mask until his mouth so that he could speak properly and so that he could be understood.

Scott put his phone away from his ear and looked at Luis and grinned, "Hey dude, guess what."

"What?" Luis smiled.

"I'm talking to Spider-Man on the phone!" Scott bragged. "We're, like, besties now. He asks me for help. Like, I'm so honored! So, so honored."

If Peter didn't have any steps to be followed or if he weren't recruiting anyone, he would've laughed at Scott. But now, he didn't. He was desperate for help. He didn't know what to do.

"Um, Mr. Lang? You still there?" Peter asked.

Scott quickly pressed the phone on his ear again and said, "Yeah! And don't call me Mr. Lang. I sound old or whatever. Call me Scotty!"

"That sounds kind of weird." Peter admitted. "I'll, uh, I'll call you Scott instead."

"Sure thing, spider-bro!" Scott said excitedly as he looked at Luis, who gave him two thumbs ups. "Anyway, what did you need help with?"

"I don't know how to tell Y/N that I'm Spider-Man." Peter said in a hushed voice, afraid that someone might hear him despite sitting on the rooftop.

Scott nodded and hummed, "Well, I don't know what to say. I guess, just ease your way through it before actually telling her."

"How?" Peter questioned.

"I don't know." Scott shrugged. "Drop hints for a few days or something and when the time is right, just say it. Tell her."

"Scott, that's genius!" Peter grinned. "Thank you!"

"No problem, Spidey!" Scott chuckled. "I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Okay. Bye! Tha-"

Scott hung up and put his phone on the coffee table. Luis was shocked, "I can't believe you hung up on Spider-Man."

"I mean, I have to act chill, you know? I don't want to let him know that I'm freaking out!" Scott shrieked. "Like, he called ME!"

"Yeah, that's awesome!" Luis laughed and gave Scott a high five. Meanwhile, Peter was already planning on what hints to drop before telling Y/N about his secret.

-

Tuesday

Today's the first day that Peter would showcase his spider powers to Y/N. He didn't know which skill to show first. Although, that question was already answered when Y/N walked in school pushing a very very big box full of different items.

Peter jogged up to her and he said, "Good morning, Y/N!"

She gave him a sweet smile as she wiped her sweat with the back of her hand. She mumbled a small 'good morning' before pushing the big heavy box again.

"Allow me." Peter stopped her as he picked up the big heavy box with ease. Y/N looked at him in shock.

"Peter, oh my god." Y/N said. "Where the hell were you when I needed you? We literally live near each other."

"Sorry about that." Peter said as the two of them walked to her locker. "I woke up late and I went straight here. I was surprised that I got here first and when you entered the school with a big heavy box, I figured out why."

Y/N chuckled and opened her locker. Peter looked down at the loosely closed box and was able to take a peek at the things inside it. Peter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and looked at Y/N, "Um, what's all this, anyway? Are you running away or something?" He joked.

"No!" Y/N laughed and shook her head. "Those are all the old things from my community theater. I figured I could take it and bring it here and donate it to the theater club. Plus, the glee club need props too."

Peter nodded and pursed his lips, "Right, right. I forgot that you joined all of the clubs."

"Not all. I didn't join the cheer squad." Y/N smiled politely before closing her locker.

"Why didn't you?" Peter asked. In his opinion, not that anyone was asking, she would be a perfect fit in the cheer squad.

"I didn't want to risk my power for memory." Y/N whispered. "I can't touch the ground directly, remember? What if I'm on the bottom of the pyramid and the rocks start forming some memory on the field or something? I can't risk that. No one else knows about my powers except for you and Eunice."

'And the Avengers.' Peter thought. He nodded and said, "Yeah, that's understandable. Anyway, do we head off to the auditorium first before going to class? Or do we take this big ol' box with us to history?"

"Auditorium, please." Y/N smiled.

"Lead the way, Barbra Streisand." Peter chuckled as they walked together.

"You know Barbra Streisand?" She asked with a laugh.

"Of course, I do! I mean, not personally, but I do know her. I've seen her movie with Seth Rogen and her carpool karaoke with James Corden."

"That rhymed! Are you a rapper now?" Y/N laughed.

"Who knows?" Peter shrugged. "Maybe I'm the next Eminem." He joked.

The pair arrived at the auditorium and she made sure they placed the box on stage in the middle for the theater club moderator to see. Y/N pulled out a paper from her backpack and wrote down: My community theater decided to get rid of our old props. I figured I should donate them here instead of throwing it away. Sincerely, Y/N Y/L/N.

Y/N looked through her bag and pouted when she realized that she didn't have any tape or anything that could stick. Peter saw this and remembered that he put some leftover web fluid in a container in his backpack.

"I, uh, I have something sticky." Peter blurted out as he quickly looked inside his backpack for the container.

"Pete, you're my friend and all, but that sounded wrong." Y/N giggled. Peter's face flushed red, but didn't pay attention to it as he handed her the container. It was in an old Elmer's glue container.

Y/N thanked him before squeezing out the 'glue' at the back of the paper. Her face lit up when she didn't see the typical white color of the glue. She was surprised that it was transparent. "Okay, tell me where you shop for school supplies. This transparent glue is my new everything!" She said as she gave back the 'glue' and pasted the paper on the front side of the box.

"Uh, I didn't buy it. I actually made them." Peter said, which wasn't a lie. He really did make it, it just wasn't glue, that's all.

Y/N nodded. She was impressed. She grabbed her backpack and said, "Can you make me some?"

"Sure!"

The pair walked out of the auditorium in silence and the silence continued on even when they reached the classroom. It wasn't an awkward silence like before. It was comfortable.

"Peter?" She called his attention as they sat down in their respective seats.

"Hm?" He hummed.

"Thanks for carrying the box. If I had known you were that strong, I would've called you before I left my apartment." Y/N chuckled.

"No problem." Peter smiled. "I'm really glad I could help. Helping people is a part of me." He hinted, as if his super strength and web fluid weren't enough hints.

"You know, Spider-Man is like that." Y/N smiled. "That's why I admire him so much. I just wish I could know who he is."

"I know right? Same here." Flash said from behind her. Y/N and Peter turned to look at him as Flash shrugged.

Flash looked at Peter and nodded at him, "'Sup, dickwad?"

Peter gave him a thumbs up before he and Y/N turned around to wait for the teacher.

-

Wednesday

Y/N came to school that day wearing the most early 2000's look ever. She also wore pink as an homage to the most famous Mean Girls quote, "on Wednesdays, we wear pink". She wore a slightly fitted, long sleeved, pink shirt with a pink skirt and heels. She was dressed as Karen Smith. MJ, Ned, and Peter were surprised with her outfit.

"What's with the Mean Girls get up?" Ned asked with an amused smile on his face.

"Ned's right." MJ said as she looked at Y/N up and down. "I've never seen you wear pink before, but you actually look good in it."

Peter nodded, "Yeah, I agree."

"No mean remarks, Peter?" MJ asked and eyed him suspiciously. Peter just shook his head before he smiled at Y/N, who smiled back at him.

Later that day during lunch, Y/N was walking to her seat when she slipped on the floor. With Peter's enhanced reflexes, he immediately caught Y/N before she fell and he was able to catch her tray and her food.

Y/N gasped and she looked at Peter with wide eyes, "How did you do that?! You're so cool!"

Peter shrugged as he set down the tray before helping Y/N sit down so that she wouldn't slip again. MJ and Ned looked at each other because both of them knew that Peter was up to something and they had to corner him and ask him about it.

When the day ended, Y/N had to go to the auditorium for theater club. Finding Peter alone by his locker, Ned and MJ immediately cornered Peter. When Peter turned around, he was surprised to see MJ and Ned.

"Um... hey guys." Peter said.

"You're being really obvious, Peter." Ned said.

MJ nodded, "Yeah. I thought you being Spider-Man was supposed to be a secret. Why are you being obvious?"

Peter sighed. There was no choice but to come clean, "I need to drop hints about my powers to tell her that I'm Spider-Man."

"Why do you need to tell her?" MJ asked.

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but he immediately closed it. MJ didn't know about Y/N's powers and it wasn't his secret to tell. As much as his feelings were complicated towards Y/N, he would never tell her secret to anyone else. He wouldn't do that to anyone, even Flash Thompson. Thankfully, he thought of a quick cover up.

"Because I want her to know. We're friends after all." Peter reasoned.

-

Thursday

When Peter arrived at Y/N's apartment to pick her up like he did every morning, it was announced that classes were cancelled because of the storm.

"Peter, why don't you stay here for a while? You and Y/N can hang out here while I go to work." Eunice offered.

Y/N smiled, "Yeah, Pete! We can bake or something."

Peter shrugged, "I suppose I could stay." He pulled out his phone to text aunt May that he'd be staying at Y/N's apartment until it was safe to go out.

Eunice eventually went to work an hour later and the two teens were doing different things. Peter made himself comfortable in the couch as he watched Mean Girls. Y/N was busy in the kitchen as she cooked brunch for the two of them.

The two of them didn't know or didn't notice that it was all domestic at that moment. They failed to notice that they both looked good together. At one point, Peter paused the movie and stood up to stretch. He walked to the kitchen and watched her.

"You could've told me that you were cooking. I could've helped you." Peter said. He grabbed plates and set the table. It was the least he could do.

"Nonsense! You're a guest, Peter." Y/N smiled. "I'm done, anyway." She brought the food to the table and sat down. Peter sat down across from her and they ate in comfortable silence.

"This is really good." Peter said as he broke the quiet ambiance of the dining area. She grinned and thanked him.

"I have to tell you something, Y/N." Peter gulped. He figured it was time to tell her. They were alone together and neither of them could walk out due to the storm.

"What is it?"

Peter took a deep breath and said, "I'm Spider-Man."

Y/N stared at him and smiled, "That's cute, Pete. I'm Spider-Man too. Anyone can wear a mask."

"No, no, no. I mean it, Y/N." Peter sighed. "I really am Spider-Man."

"How am I supposed to believe you, Peter?" She raised an eyebrow.

"One, because I believed you when you told me about your powers. Two, I lowkey showed you." Peter said.

"I used my super strength to pick up the heavy box, I used my web fluid for your paper and told you it was glue, I told you that I loved helping people-"

"Helping people isn't a power, Peter. It's a choice and the web fluid thing sounds wrong."

"I also used my enhanced reflexes and agility to catch you when you slipped at the cafeteria. I'm Spider-Man." Peter added. Y/N stared at him and said nothing. "Please say something, Y/N."

Y/N blinked a few times and cleared her throat, "Well, thanks for telling me. I'm just mostly embarrassed because you know about my big crush on Spider-Man and YOU ARE Spider-Man."

"Oh, right." Peter blushed. "I forgot about that."

"And please continue to forget about it." Y/N chuckled lightly. "Anyway, let's talk about something else. What's it like being the friendly neighborhood hero?"

"Oh, you have no idea how hard it is. But I love my job." Peter said.

The rest of the day was spent with Peter talking about his patrolling stories and Y/N showing off her powers and Peter also showing Y/N his wall-crawling ability. He even showed her his web-shooters.

"I can show you my web-shooters!" Peter said excitedly.

"You know, no matter what you call it, it really sounds wrong." Y/N laughed. "It's like you're going to show me your penis or something."

"I never thought I'd hear you say 'penis'." Peter looked at her.

She shrugged, "What can I say? I'm surprising."

"That's true." Peter nodded in agreement as they smiled at each other.

* * * *

sorry it took a long long time x

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @myblueleatherbag @harryismysunflower @buckys-little-hoe @justanothermarvelmaniac @itstaskeen @sandystoriess @heeeyitskay @slytherin-chaser @quaksonhehe @yaya4302 @lil-mellow-bunbun @starlight-starks @swiftmind​ @alex-stancati @sovereignparker​

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell​ @justasmisunderstoodasloki​ @rubberducky-jrr​ @petersholland​ @osterfieldnholland​ @miraclesoflove​ @god-knows-what-am-i-doing​ @perspectiveparker​ @hollands-weasley​ @itstaskeen​ @call-me-baby-gir1​ @the-panwitch​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @chloecreatesfictions​ @holland-styles​ @halfblood-princess-505​ @spidey-reids-2003​ @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual​

[dreamingabouthendery]

Soarin’ (m)

pairing: jaemin x reader

au: disneyland worker!jaemin and reader

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 6.4k

warnings: smut, swearing, mentions of drugs (you’ll see), descriptions of sick? slight tainting of childhood (not enough to scar), controversial opinions (but not literally), unfunny humour

specific smut warnings (in case you dont want spoilers): fingering, blowjob, unprotected sex (but assume character is on the pill), semi-public sex?

summary: You have worked at Disneyland since the first year of uni, which has all but destroyed your ideals of magic. But when a new boy becomes the Mickey to your Minnie, you can’t help but find yourself intrigued by the bright-eyed newbie. Maybe Disneyland is magic, afterall. (this sucks im so sorry)

very, very heavily inspired by this thread on reddit. also, i hope you enjoy! any feedback will be much appreciated (this is my first fic as im sure youll be able to tell)

Ah, Disneyland, ‘The Happiest Place on Earth’. If you’re a child, that is. Not only can you meet your favorite characters who are probably doing lines in the back between rounds, but you have the honour of being able to watch them dangle helplessly from a wire during the firework display and narrowly avoid death. It’s no wonder you’ve been working there since your first year of uni.

‘Johnny told me there’s a new Mickey coming today.’ Eva, Princess Tiana and, quite frankly, the only decent princess in the whole park, says. She’s currently struggling to pull the long, white gloves over her own blue plastic pair of gloves she puts on for ‘safety reasons’ - her words, not yours. Though, it’s not like you can blame her when the outfits only get washed...well, never.

The two of you are currently the only two in the spacious dressing room which is permanently accompanied by the stench of sweat clinging to the walls, especially since it’s summer.

‘Oh, really?’ You ask from in front of her on the worn wooden bench, pulling your clunky yellow shoes on that dwarf your feet in their enormous size. It took you months to be able to walk in them without constantly tripping. Thankfully, it seems they at least got a wash after being puked on a few days ago.

She nods, moving towards the vanity and smoothing down a stray hair. ‘I know, it didn't take them long. Poor Jeremy, though.’

You hum in agreement. Jeremy ran into some trouble whilst covering a shift for the Donald Duck regular, resulting in a few broken ribs, a black eye and a dislocated shoulder. Or so the NDA requires you to say, anyway. Needless to say he quit on the spot.

‘____?’ You turn and see Johnny, your manager, making his way over to you with a cute guy in tow. ‘This is Jaemin. Jaemin, this is ____. He’s the new weekend Mickey regular. I need you to show him around Toontown discreetly,’ He gives you a pointed look to remind you that your characters aren’t supposed to talk. ‘And then you can camp out in Mickey’s House until the attractions close.’

You smile at Jaemin and he smiles back sheepishly as Johnny walks away without another word. Jaemin has arguably the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen, accompanied by the prettiest lips and the prettiest - is that too many ‘pretty’s? -  twinkling eyes and you can wholeheartedly say you have no problem showing him around ‘discreetly’.

‘Hi, Jaemin.’ You say, suddenly aware of your current state of half-dress with your suit still unzipped and bunched around your waist. You catch him glancing at your exposed top-half and quickly zip up the back before clearing your throat and gesturing towards the locker opposite yours. ‘Mickey’s suit is usually kept in there.’

‘Uh, thanks.’ He turns quickly before looking back at you, clearly not wanting to ask you to leave but not wanting to change in front of you.

‘Meet you outside?’ You take the hint and stand up, grabbing Minnie’s head and placing it over your own.

He nods gratefully and you leave.

‘You’ll have to get used to that, you know.’ You say quietly as he joins you. For a late Saturday afternoon in the summer, the park isn’t as busy as usual; only the occasional family loiters in Toontown, though in the distance you can see the beginnings of a crowd forming in front of Sleeping Beauty’s castle in preparation for the fireworks as the sun begins to set.

‘Used to what?’

‘To seeing other cast members undressed and to them seeing you undressed.’ You say simply, waving to a child with a short brown bob and bucket hat that’s walking towards you as you head slowly from the staff area towards Goofy’s Playhouse. The child stops and asks both of you for your autographs, something that every Disney cast member has to perfect before they get to wear their suit.

‘Right,’ He mutters when she leaves. ‘What happened to the guy before me?’

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, momentarily forgetting you can’t see his face. ‘What’ve you heard?’

‘Nothing, why?’

You sigh. ‘He was jumped by some asshole teenagers. You don’t need to worry, though,’ You add quickly at his sharp intake of breath. ‘You aren’t dressed as Donald Duck so you should be fine.’ You joke.

He laughs slightly at that. ‘Who thought dressing up as a kids’ character could be so dangerous?’

‘Oh, you have no idea.’ You laugh, a little too loudly, drawing more attention to yourself than usual but automatically correct your pitch to match Minnie Mouse’s. You wave at the kids that turn to look at you and they hurry over, asking to take pictures. After they run back to their parents, you turn to Jaemin and ask, ‘So, why did you apply for the job?’

‘Wow, it’s like a second interview.’ You shake your head, mumbling a quick apology. ‘I’ve never actually been to Disneyland before, and you know,’ He gestures his hand aimlessly. ‘This is supposed to be The Most Magical Place on Earth’ - he quotes - ‘so, I guess I wanted to experience the magic firsthand.’

‘That’s Magic Kingdom.’ You correct automatically.

‘Huh?’

‘That’s Magic Kingdom’s motto. Ours is ‘The Happiest Place on Earth’.’

‘Huh. I guess there is a difference, then.’

‘Of course there’s a difference. Magic Kingdom isn’t nearly as good as Disneyland.’ You say simply.

Jaemin snorts. ‘I’m sorry I offended you.’

‘Anyway,’ You say, ‘If you’re looking for a magical experience, you’re coming at it from the wrong angle.’

‘Exactly how bad is it to work here?’ He questions, though you can hear a hint of amusement in his tone.

‘The best I can give you is unforgettable.’ You would explain to him the number of times you’ve caught both members of the public and workers having sex in various places including on various rides, and how Haunted Mansion is notorious for having people leave their loved one’s ashes in it despite the fact they just get vaccumed up, but it’s only his first day and you don’t want to scare him off.

‘Gotcha.’ He merely says and you continue on to show him the Chip ‘n’ Dale Treehouse, your favorite place in Toontown. At night, the treehouse is lit in such a way as to make it whimsical, the ragged branches no longer menacing as they are during the daytime. You can’t complain at the fact that it’s quiet due to the fact that most people overlook it, either, instead mistaking it as decoration and not an actual attraction that you can go in.

This makes it the perfect place to hide out in the nighttime, when people are busy with the most popular attractions and has made it sort of an escape to you. Well, that and it’s given you a bad back.

You pause in front of Mickey’s House. ‘This is your crib,’ you joke. ‘Are you ready for your first official shift?’ You say, feigning drama in your tone.

‘Oh, gee, Minnie, I sure am!’ He replies in Mickey’s tone, emulating it perfectly and making both of you crack up.

‘I have to warn you, though, expect your arm to go dead within the first few minutes from all the waving.’

‘Noted. This job isn’t going to give me carpal tunnel syndrome, is it?’ He asks, only half serious.

‘No, but it may make you hate kids.’

He chokes, but before he can say anything in reply, a small boy who looks about four illustrates your point by pulling down his denim shorts and taking a dump right on the tarmac next to the hideous grey mouse-shaped letterbox.

You can read Jaemin’s horror in his speechlessness as you merely sigh and pull out your radio to call in, ‘We have a code Pooh outside Mickey’s House, over.’

As you walk in your front door to your shared apartment with your roommate, Ailee, you catch her and her boyfriend, Sam, making out on the couch in the living room. You two met in the first week of uni when you both ended up at some frat party that you hated and hit it off.

‘Ew, gross, guys. You have a bedroom, you know.’ You say, throwing your bag on the coffee table and slumping down on the couch next to them, sinking into the plush white cushions.

Ailee merely throws her head back and laughs before saying, ‘Tell me all about it.’

You frown. ‘About what?’

She tuts at you impatiently. ‘Work, duh. Everyday you come home it’s been a bad day,’ She plays with a few strands of your hair comfortingly. ‘So, tell me about it.’

You scrunch your nose up. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary happened.’ You say simply, looking at your nails.

Sam laughs. ‘Even I know you look at your nails when you’re lying, ____.’

Your mouth falls open in shock, offended. ‘I do not.’ You insist and scowl internally.

‘You do,’ Ailee agrees. ‘But it’s okay, that doesn’t matter right now. What’s the juicy story for today?’

You roll your eyes. ‘I’m glad my misery is so entertaining. The only thing that’s different is that there’s a new weekend Mickey regular.’

Ailee and Sam share a pointed look. ‘And?’ She asks, drawing out the syllable.

‘And he’s cute. I guess.’ You add as an afterthought.

Ailee snorts. ‘You guess?’

You groan. ‘Okay, he’s cute, period.’ You concede.

‘So, ask him out.’

‘Can’t. It’s against the rules.’ You mumble.

She gives you an exasperated look. ‘____, sweetie, you’re the most lax person with a job still in the whole park. What’s one date to you that nobody knows about?’

You bite your lip. She does have a point. You think about how cute Jaemin was when he was nervous to greet the kids at the House and hide your grin.

‘She’d have to actually see him again, though, right?’ Sam interjects, interrupting your daydream.

‘Sam, don’t be such a Debby downer.’ Ailee whines.

Whilst it’s true that cast members in a couple usually split up, you doubt they would make Jaemin do his second shift on his own. Resolving to pluck up the courage to ask him out, you go to bed that night apprehensive about the following day.

Apparently God is punishing you for some unknown reason, because you don’t see Jaemin at all that day, or the week after. In fact, you don’t even catch a glimpse of him or the big round ears that are telling of Mickey’s character.

Eve informs you that Johnny teamed him up with Goofy for ‘variety’, meanwhile you’re being sent over to Soarin’ in Grizzly Peak, the most boring area in the whole park due to its unpopularity. You can’t help but worry slightly about Jaemin, though, thinking of the previous time you saw Daniel, Goofy’s actor, when he pulled a flask from seemingly nowhere inside his costume and took a long, deep drink before heading back out, slightly stumbling.

Before you step out, Bella, the girl who plays Cinderella (no, the irony is not lost on you), stops you and says, ‘Oh, ____, I heard the new Mickey Mouse arrived yesterday. Fingers crossed you don’t scare him into quitting, too.’ Ever since you auditioned for the part of Cinderella and lost it to her, Bella has taken to rubbing your inferiority in your face every chance she gets.

You roll your eyes and Eve says back, ‘Oh, fuck off, Bella,’ She turns to you. ‘She’s just jealous ‘cause she thinks he’s cute and he hasn’t even acknowledged her yet.’

You snort as Bella narrows her eyes and stomps away as best she can in her flimsy costume heels.

‘He was asking after you when he came in earlier, you know.’ Eve says.

‘Jaemin was?’

She hums before saying, ‘He looked so disappointed to be paired up with Goofy.’

You feel the blood rushing to your face as you smile. ‘Really?’

Eve looks at you knowingly. ‘Yep, said he wanted to thank you for being so understanding yesterday since no one wants to babysit the newbee.’

‘I’d happily babysit the newbee anytime if they looked like that.’ You say and Eve laughs.

Whilst you’re at the most boring attraction in the park, the day is still no less than eventful. You encounter a child stuck in a tree trying to skip the line for Anna and Elsa’s Royal Welcome on your way to the bathroom due to the nearest one being blocked off. After you manage to actually use the bathroom, you’re surprised to see Elsa herself there, half-dressed at the sink and you can’t help but wonder if that’s the reason the line is so long. To top it all off, one of the only times you manage to fill the ride at Soarin’, you notice a couple getting on while holding a backpack that’s moving and alert the ride operators. When they finally report back to you that there was a six-month-old baby in there, they have to convince you not to ring child protective services.

After you slam your locker closed in the deserted dressing room, you sink down on the rigid bench, putting your head in your hands and massaging your growing headache.

‘____,’ A voice starts and you jump, looking up to see Johnny standing above you, clipboard in hand. He barely gives you a second glance when he startles you, instead pretending not to notice and continuing, ‘I need you next Friday for a grad night.’

You groan. Grad nights are the worst events Disneyland continuously puts on, in the past coming second only to Nights of Joy, the annual Christian festival, before it was cancelled for good. Even the managers rejoiced in the abolition of Nights of Joy. ‘Can’t you find someone else to be Minnie? Everyone knows how bad grad nights are.’

Johnny sighs. ‘Fine, then. I’ll put you on watching the cameras for Star Tours with Jaemin.’

You ignore the way you want to immediately jump on the chance for some one-on-one time with Jaemin and raise an eyebrow. ‘Aren’t you not supposed to do that? You know, because he’s new and I’m not trained in…’ You trail off at the glare he’s giving you and purse your lips, nodding your head in acceptance.

‘Great, thanks.’ He says sarcastically and walks out.

At least the next time you return to Hell on Earth it won’t be in a Minnie costume.

You feel strange as you unlock and push open the door to the CCTV monitor room. If you had to put money on it, you would say it’s because this isn’t your job and you technically shouldn’t be here, but you’re not much of a gambler.

The heavy metal door gives way, opening to a small room with roughly fifty monitors, each displaying the Star Tours ride, the attraction itself as a whole and the surrounding area. You note the odd statue opposite the entrance that you don’t remember the name of - the satellites surrounding a distinct shape that is rocket-like. You shake your head internally at the sight. Why are the only pretty decorations reserved for Fantasyland?

You also note the dim red lighting and frown in confusion as your eyes land on Jaemin, sitting in an office chair in front of the wall of screens, wearing the same uniform consisting of a pale blue shirt and black trousers as you, except wearing it a hundred times better.

He turns upon your entrance, smiling as he takes in your attire. ‘I thought I’d set the mood with some lighting.’ He grins cheekily.

‘Oh?’ You say, stepping into the room, locking the door behind you. ‘What mood is that exactly?’

His smile grows wider as he says, ‘Adventure. We’re in for a night, so I hear.’

You groan, ‘You’ll wish you never agreed to doing this.’ You make your way to the chair next to his, sitting down on the flat cushion and leaning back.

‘How bad can it really be? These are literally a bunch of eighteen-year-olds who aren’t of legal drinking age yet and they’re supervised.’

You shook your head in mock sympathy. ‘Sweet, sweet, naive boy,’ You say. ‘Now you’ve jinxed it.’ You eye his coffee cup and wrinkle your nose in distaste at the black liquid. It looks like you’re staring into the pits of Hell. ‘What is that atrocity?’

He follows your gaze and laughs. ‘It’s coffee. Wanna try some?’ He maintains eye contact as he takes a sip and then offers it to you.

‘God, no. I have self-respect.’

He places it back down next to an intimidating set of controls, a hint of amusement in his eyes. ‘Also, I wanted to say thank you for the other week. For showing me around and stuff.’ He looks down shyly.

‘Oh, it’s, um, no problem. How have you been coping?’ You ask slightly awkwardly, not knowing what to do at his sudden personality flip-flop.

‘It’s a lot harder than I imagined it to be, honestly. I thought the worst that could happen would be screaming children and impatient parents.’ He admits.

You nod. ‘I thought the same when I first started last year. Little did I know the Karens were the least of my problems.’

He laughs breathily. ‘Tell me about it. I don’t know how you’ve managed to last so long.’

You shrug, embarrassed. ‘I just like making the kids’ day I guess.’

He coos and you push him lightly, smiling. ‘Why don’t we play a game?’ He asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You narrow your own eyes. ‘What kind of game?’

‘Hmm,’ He pretends to think, tapping his chin. ‘How about twenty-one questions?’

‘Okay,’ You say slowly. ‘What are our rules going to be?’

He smirks. ‘You only get one get-out-of-jail card. And if you use it, you have to do what the other person says.’

You sigh. ‘Fine. Then, follow-up questions to your answers don’t count.’

‘Deal. I’ll go first,’ At your mildly worried look, he says, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. What are you studying in uni?’

‘Business and management.’ You say instantly, and he looks intrigued. ‘It was either that or English lit, and my parents weren’t too keen on me studying that.’

He frowns. ‘Why not?’

You avoid eye contact as you answer. ‘They’re both doctors,’ You clear your throat. ‘Are you in uni?’ You love your parents with all your heart but sometimes you wish they would just be happy with you being happy.

He takes the hint and moves on. ‘Yeah, I’m actually doing photography.’ He says, scratching the back of his neck.

Your head perks up. ‘Really? That’s so cool. My roommate is studying photography, too. Is that what you want to do after you graduate?’

His face relaxes. ‘I’m not really sure, to be honest. I just know it’s something I’m passionate about, you know?’ At your nod of encouragement, he continues, ‘There’s just something so amazing about capturing a moment forever in a way that really brings out its true beauty.’

You give him a small smile. ‘That sounds really special.’

He shrugs, though you can tell he appreciates it. ‘Anyway, it’s your turn to answer. Do you have a boyfriend?’

If you were drinking something, you’re sure you would have choked. ‘I-no?’

He looks slightly put out. ‘Is it complicated?’

You shake your head, maybe a little too hard. ‘No, sorry, you just caught me off guard. No, I don’t have a boyfriend.’ He looks instantly brighter. ‘Why, are you asking me out?’ You tease.

He blushes. ‘I mean, uh, I, um-’

‘Oh my God,’ You laugh, though you feel disappointed. ‘It’s okay, I was only joking. Ouch.’ You’re almost glad you didn’t get a chance to ask him out and make things awkward between the two of you. Maybe not seeing him for two weeks was a sign from the universe not to fuck up.

‘I didn’t mean it like that, oh God, I’m sorry.’ He groans and buries his face in his hands.

You tap him playfully on the shoulder. ‘It’s fine,’ You can’t help but feel hurt. Why did he ask you if he doesn’t care whether you have one or not? Maybe you’re just reading too much into it. ‘My turn, anyway. What’s traumatized you the most since working here?’

‘Learning that when cast members say ‘have a Disney day’ they really mean ‘fuck you’.’

You throw your head back and laugh. ‘That’s my favorite. Although as far as things go, that’s pretty vanilla.’

‘Maybe I’m a vanilla guy.’ He teases, and you can’t help but let your mind wander to an image of him hovering over you, reaching up to intertwine your hands together as he moans sweetly in your ear and you feel your face heat up.

‘So you’re admitting you’re boring.’ You joke halfheartedly, almost off-beat.

He places his hand over his heart in mock hurt. ‘That was uncalled for. Alright then, little miss kinky, where’s the most daring place you’ve had sex?’

Your eyes widen comically. ‘I-’ You glance at the monitors and see two figures in the back row of the mostly deserted ride, one hunched over with their head in the lap of what you make out to be a guy judging by the other figure’s movements. ‘Oh my God, no!’ You cry and fumble for the microphone.

‘What? What is it?’ Jaemin asks, his eyes searching. You can tell the moment he sees what you’re seeing, because he instantly cracks up laughing.

‘It’s not funny,’ You whine, pressing the red button on the microphone and saying as firmly as you can as monotonous as you can, ‘This is a family-friendly ride. Please refrain from scarring’ - you hiss and the figure has the decency to bolt upright and you see that they’re a girl - ‘the camera operators and fellow riders. Thank you.’ The others on the ride look around in confusion, and you can see the girl turn to say something to the boy. Judging by the way she gestures, it’s safe to assume it’s something biting.

‘I thought you said this happens all the time.’ Jaemin says once he’s calmed down enough to make the words out.

‘It does,’ You keep your eye on the couple, the guy wearing a smug grin as he zips up his trousers and the girl looking meek and embarrassed. Good. Public indecency is no joke. ‘But that doesn’t make it any less gross. This is a kids’ park for goodness sake.’

‘But there aren’t any kids around.’

You give him an exasperated look. ‘Well, I would never be okay with doing it on a ride in public.’

He licks his lips and you follow the movement only slightly too closely. ‘So when I asked where the most risky place you’ve had sex is…’ He trails off, smirking.

‘You can cross a literal children’s park from the list of possibilities, and proudly so.’ You say stubbornly. ‘Please don’t tell me you have.’ You rush to say upon seeing his face.

‘I haven’t.’ He says slowly, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting back in his chair, spreading his legs. You wish they didn’t look so inviting. You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

‘But?’ You probe.

‘But nothing,’ He says simply. ‘So, are you gonna answer my question or are you gonna forfeit?’

You scowl at him. ‘What do you want if I do?’ You can feel your pulse racing in both excitement and fear but you keep your face blank.

His eyes shine as he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. ‘I don’t know yet.’

You swallow at his suggestive tone. ‘Fine, I’ll tell you,’ You concede, and he seems to not know whether to be pleased or disappointed. ‘My ex was a bit of an exhibitionist. He, um, you know, touched me when we went to see a movie.’

Jaemin raises an eyebrow, but you miss the glint in his gaze. ‘I thought you weren’t down for doing it in kids’ places.’

‘We were watching Paranormal Activity.’ You say flatly.

‘And?’

‘And it’s rated eighteen plus!’ You defend.

‘Is that the furthest you’ve gone in public? No compromising positions? No p in the-’

You cut him off hurriedly before he can go any further. ‘I’ve just never done it anywhere risky,’ You sigh dramatically. ‘I think I’m vanilla, too.’

He laughs loudly. ‘You don’t have to say it like it’s a bad thing. Anyway, I never said I was vanilla.’

You frown. ‘Earlier, you did.’

‘Did I? Maybe I was just saying it to tease you.’ He smiles a wide, boyish smile, completely contradicting what he’s implying with his words.

‘Oh?’ You say breathlessly. ‘Well, okay then.’

‘Don’t believe me?’

‘I-what? I never said-’

‘Would you rather I show you?’ He offers and your breath hitches as you meet his intense eyes. The warm brown seems darker and he glances at your chest as you breathe deeply. You can’t believe he said that. In the short time you’ve known him, you’re taken aback at how quickly he can switch between shyness and confidence.

When you merely stare back at him, not knowing what to say, he stands up and closes the short distance between the two of you so that his knee grazes your own as he stands above you. ‘____,’ He says, a slight rasp in his voice. ‘I need you to say it if you want this.’

You swallow and whisper, ‘Yes.’

He cups your face with his hand, his thumb softly stroking your cheek as he brings his lips down upon yours. You lift your own hand to hold his wrist which is currently beside your face and use the other one to grip onto the arm of the chair to ground yourself in the moment.

You let loose a small whimper as he glides his tongue across your bottom lip, and you part your lips to allow it in. He grips you tighter before he pulls away from your mouth to trail wet kisses across your jaw. ‘Guess you ended up tasting my coffee, anyway, hm?’ He whispers lowly into your ear before pecking it and you shudder, with both pleasure and laughter.

‘I guess so.’ You look into his eyes and see the pure hunger that makes you squeeze your thighs together.

Jaemin notices and pulls you up gently, pushing your hips into the desk with the monitors above it. Taking the hint, you spread your legs to give him room to stand between them, and he praises a quick, ‘Atta girl’, before leaning back down to reconnect your lips. You now take note of the slight hint of coffee on his tongue this time but you don’t care as you impatiently and desperately kiss him back and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. His hand ghosts up your thigh, making you shiver in his arms. He slowly moves to unbutton your bottoms, giving you time to stop him.

In response, however, you whine at what feels like his teasing and unbutton and unzip them yourself, causing him to chuckle as he pulls away. ‘Are you impatient, baby?’ You swoon internally at the pet name and nod, biting your lip.

‘Please,’ You manage. ‘Want you to touch me.’

He moans and slides his fingers into your underwear, not wanting to tease you over them after you asked so nicely. He grins as his fingers slide in your arousal and says, ‘You’re so wet already. Do you want me to make you come all over my fingers?’

‘Fuck, yes.’ You breathe.

His eyes drink in your rapidly rising chest and the utter desire written all over your face as he gently slides a finger inside you. ‘So tight and wet. How are you gonna take my cock if you’re this tight, hm?’ You whine and he eases a second finger in and starts thrusting at a pace that makes you arch your back. 

Your hand flies to his bicep, feeling the way it flexes under your fingertips as he scissors his fingers inside of you. His thumb finds your clit and rubs hard circles into it, the pressure being just enough to make your toes curl. You lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder, pressing a swift kiss to the juncture between it and his neck. You marvel at the way goosebumps rise upon your touch and the way your breaths feel huffing against his rapidly heating skin. You can smell the faint scent of earthiness and wood from his cologne, which you take a deep breath of and breathe in his aroma as your hand winds itself in his hair and tugs when a particular deep surge of his fingers hits a spot that makes your brain go fuzzy.

‘Jaemin.’ You moan and he all but growls.    

‘That’s it, baby, say my name. Are you close? Wanna see your face when I make you cum.’ His words weigh down your lower stomach like a ton of bricks, furthering you along in your chase to find your release. He nudges your clit deliciously, teasing you by rubbing around it every now and then, pulling you away only to bring you back with ten times the sensitivity and it’s enough to push you closer to the edge faster than when you touch yourself.

You feel the coil in your stomach tightening as you nod to answer his question and unbutton your top enough to fit your hand into your bra, your fingers finding your nipple and rolling it between them. You lift your face from his shoulder and stare into the seemingly pitless black of his eyes as they’re stuck to your face and the changes in your expression as he brings you to the edge. ‘Yes, don’t stop, please.’ You manage. His features are hard to make out in the dim lighting, but you notice the way his eyes zero in on your hand stuffed into your bra and it’s when he picks up the pace, fucking his fingers into you harder that you finally let go. Your eyes roll back and your grip on his arm tightens as you moan his name like a mantra.

He takes his fingers out after riding you through your high and makes eye contact as he sucks his fingers clean. ‘Mm, sweet.’ He teases.

You hide behind your hands in embarrassment and he laughs as he pries them away from your face. ‘You gonna let me bend you over this desk, now?’ He grins.

You nod meekly, your legs trembling as you stand up to your full height. Jaemin unbuttons your blouse as you return the gesture on him, pushing his shirt open to run your fingers down the ridges in his stomach. You teasingly flick your thumbs over his nipples and he gasps, to which you smirk and repeat the motion, causing him to moan and you bite your lip at the sound. ‘Sensitive, are you?’

He slaps your ass playfully in response, pulling your trousers and underwear down in one go. You reach behind you and unclip your bra as you step out of the pool of clothing at your feet, pulling it down your arms slowly. He opens his mouth to make a remark, but decides against it as your breasts come into view. He sucks in a breath and reaches up, tugging your left nipple that’s standing to attention. ‘You’re perfect.’ He says, taking in your figure.

You smile, hearing the sincerity in his voice. ‘I want to see you, too.’ You pout, pulling on his belt loops so that he’s even closer and then reaching down to undo them.

He helps you by unbuckling his belt and letting his trousers drop to the floor. You reach into his underwear and run your fingers down his length before wrapping your hand around it and moving it up and down. He throws his head back and you kiss down his neck, tasting the bittersweet salt of his sweat and the natural flavour of his skin. You pull him out of his underwear and begin to pick up the pace but all too soon he puts his hand over yours, halting you.

‘I want to come inside you.’ He phrases it like a question and you nod, turning around and bending over the desk. His hands smooth over the flesh of your ass as he says, ‘You look so good like this.’ Jaemin runs his length between your lips to lube himself and then situates himself so that he’s pressing against your entrance. ‘Ready?’

‘Yes. Please, Jaemin.’ You push your hips back so he gets the hint.

‘That never gets old,’ He pushes himself in steadily and you gasp at the stretch and how satisfying it feels. ‘Been wanting to hear you moan my name since the first day.’

You moan as he thrusts into you, hard and fast. His pace is almost bruising, the way he grips your hips assures you that you’ll feel a smattering of fingertip-shaped soreness tomorrow when you run your fingers over the area. ‘Me too.’ You say in between breaths. He reaches up to roll your bud between his fingers and you whine; your hand travels between your legs to rub your clit. It jumps a little from sensitivity but you keep at it until you just feel pure, white-hot pleasure.

‘Fuck!’ He shouts as you clench around him once he hits a spot that has you grasping his wrist. ‘You feel so fucking good,’ He praises, kissing up your back until he’s whispering in your ear, ‘So. Fucking. Good.’ In between thrusts. You shudder and turn your head, capturing his lips in yours. The kiss is messy but neither of you can bring yourselves to care, too lost in the feeling and taste of each other to pay it any mind. The sound of your hips connecting fills the small room, echoing as it bounces off the walls until your head is filled with his moans and his skin on yours and just Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin.

You feel yourself hovering over the edge almost embarrassingly quick and you cry out, ‘I’m so close.’

‘Yeah? Gonna come all over my cock like a good girl?’ He says huskily and you bite your lip and nod. You never would’ve guessed the timid boy you met on the first day who looked so innocent as the new guy had such a dirty mouth. It makes you shiver all over, loving the way his words caress your skin and make your nipples stand to an impossible hardness.

‘Yeah. Wanna be good for you.’

He groans. ‘You are, baby, you’re so good for me.’ At his words, you feel yourself come undone and your legs shake from the effort of holding you up. Jaemin whines as you clench around him sporadically, your breaths coming out in ragged puffs. You swear the sound pushes you harder for longer, wanting to do everything you can to hear him make such a pretty noise again.

‘Wait,’ You say, and he stops immediately. ‘I’m too sensitive. I can’t-’ Your voice cracks.

‘Can’t what, ____? Do you want me to stop?’ You can hear the genuine concern laced in his words.

‘No, well, yes,’ You huff and turn around, letting him slide out of you and you internally cringe at the feeling of him brushing against your sensitive walls. ‘Come here.’ You reach for his hands and pull him back over to you, closing the distance he put between you after you turned around. He looks confused as you smile lazily and kiss him sloppily, your hand moving between his legs to grab him at the base and squeezing him.

He moans and breaks off the kiss. ‘____, if you want to stop-’ You shush him as you drop to your knees and his eyes light up as you lean in to kiss the tip of him lovingly.

You trail your tongue from base to tip and take him in your mouth, suckling the head.

He curses. ‘Please don’t tease, I’m so close already.’

You relent, opening your mouth as wide as you can and sinking down to fit as much of him as you can. What doesn’t fit, you stroke with your hand. You can just about fit your hand around his girth and you can taste yourself on him, something you never thought you’d like but in that moment nothing could be hotter. He fists his hands in your hair, tugging slightly to make you look up at him. When you do, you moan around him at the sight - teeth tugging on his lower lip as he lets out moans here and there when you pay extra attention to the tip and his head thrown back, baring the honey-colored skin of his neck to your hungry eyes. He finally looks down at you and you’re close enough to hear his breath hitch as he watches you take him in and out of your mouth in a trance. You twist and tug him in a way that has his thigh twitching next to your head and so you place your hands on them and take him into your throat.

It’s when you simultaneously fondle his balls that he lets out a quiet ‘fuck’, followed by an ‘I’m coming’ and thrusts shallowly, causing tears to spring in your eyes. He releases into your mouth and you swallow it down and clean him off, earning that whimper that makes your clit throb.

Jaemin pulls you to your feet and into a kiss that you both commit to; one that’s passionate and slow as you calm both of your racing hearts and come down from the high of intimacy. You know he can taste himself on you, but he doesn’t hesitate to give his all. When he breaks away, he leans his forehead against yours, leaving wet kisses all over your face and you giggle. He runs his hands up your arms and says, ‘So, can I take you on a date now?’

You look into his eyes and nod, feeling suddenly shy at his vulnerable stare. ‘Yeah, I’d like that.’

‘So,’ He says casually, pulling you in closer by wrapping his arms around your shoulders. ‘Is this officially the weirdest place you’ve had sex?’

You gasp and slap his chest lightly but he just cackles in return, pulling you back into him.

[jonsastan]

Jonsa: A Dream of Spring @jonsadreamofspring

Day 6:  Parallels / King and Queen / Memories Aka: Jonsa Homecoming King and Queen Au

If you looked up the term ‘golden child’ in the dictionary you would probably find a picture of Sansa Stark. She was a straight A student, she was considerate of others, she was responsible, she volunteered, and started the school’s composting initiative. She was clever and kind and beautiful. So it really didn’t surprise anyone when she was nominated for Homecoming Queen.

Jon Snow on the other hand wasn’t exactly your typical Homecoming King but he got nominated anyway. 

“It’s probably just some stupid underclassmen that think he has dreamy eyes.” Jeyne said as Sansa stood at her locker pulling out books for her next lesson. “He’s not going to win or anything.” Sansa made a non-committal sound. 

She didn’t really care who won Homecoming King. She didn’t really care if she won Homecoming Queen. It might look good on her applications to university, but it wasn’t like it was her only achievement at school. Jon was in some of her classes and was her brother’s best mate so they knew each other, but they weren’t really friends. Sansa seemed to be involved in every aspect of school life, volunteering, organising, studying, tutoring; but whenever she saw Jon he was either with Robb, Theon, or walking his dog. He wasn’t exactly typical Homecoming King stuff. 

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

“Did you see that you and Jon are in the lead for Homecoming King and Queen?” Robb asked, sitting on the bench next to where Sansa was cooking dinner. Both their parents were working tonight, so Sansa was on cooking duty and Robb on cleaning duty. Arya was on bedtime duty, which never ended well. She told scary stories and then Rickon couldn’t sleep unless he was curled up in Sansa’s bed. 

“Yeah I saw the poll.” She chopped carrots for a moment. “Did you nominate Jon?” She asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Nope, I think it was Theon.” Robb stole a carrot slice from the chopping board. “As a joke. You know Jon, he’s the most awkward introvert in the whole North, so Theon probably thought it would be a laugh to nominate him.”

“That’s kinda mean.”

“That’s Theon.” Robb shrugged and stole another carrot. “I don’t think he realised how much Jon helps people behind the scenes, didn’t realise how popular Jon was, in a quiet kind of way.” Sansa stopped chopping and looked at her twin brother. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, he tutors underclassmen pretty much every afternoon-”

“He’s not at the tuition program.” Sansa objected, her head tilted slightly. 

“He doesn’t like the program, says it’s too focused on ‘improving grades and not actual understanding of the subject’.” Robb made air quotes. “He also helps out at the vet, you know Davos’ vet?” Sansa nodded. “And the animal shelter. He’ll bring extra lunch to school because some kids don’t have any.” Robb shrugged. “And he’s got pretty okay grades.” 

“I didn’t know.” Sansa muttered. 

“Jon doesn’t brag about it.” Robb hopped off the bench and walked over to the fridge, opening it and perusing the contents. “How long ‘til dinner’s ready?” 

“About 20 minutes.” Sansa replied, finishing chopping the carrots. 

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

Sansa petted Lady as she waited in the small room of the vet. Lady needed her shots and Sansa had organised to walk her around alone so her mum and dad could watch Rickon’s lacrosse game. Of course being a lacrosse game for the under 7’s it mostly ended up in one kid hitting the other with the stick. 

Sansa heard the gentle tap at the door and held onto Lady’s leash as the vet nurse entered, even though Lady would never bolt for the door, or jump on someone. She did begin to wag her tail excessively and that’s when Sansa realised it was Jon Snow who seemed to be reading over Lady’s history.

“Hello Lady.” He said, kneeling down and ruffling the dog’s ears. “Hi Sansa.” She couldn’t help but smile slightly at Jon’s priorities. Dogs first, then people.  

“Hey Jon, how are you?” 

“Not bad. Working here a lot. How are you?” He asked, taking the lead from her hand and moving Lady to the fancy table that lowered to the floor then rose to be right height for the vet.

“I’m okay. Trying to get my dress sorted for Homecoming.” 

“Oh right. That’s soon, yeah?” 

“Two weeks.” There was an awkward pause as Jon examined Lady’s teeth and made notes for Davos, the vet. “You have a date?” She asked for want of something to ask. 

“Nope, flying solo. You?” He chuckled before lowering his pen. “Of course you have a date.” He shook his head and smiled slightly. 

“Actually, I don’t. I was thinking about just tagging along with Robb, but he’s got an actual date.” She said feeling a little annoyed at the way he’d said the last comment.

“Yeah, he told me.” 

“He didn’t tell me who!” Sansa exclaimed feeling slightly betrayed by her brother. Probably thought I’d tease him.

“Fryd.” 

“Football Fred or Lacrosse Fryd?” She asked. Jon turned to her. 

“Wynafryd Manderly.”  

“Lacrosse Fryd.” Sansa muttered, nodding her head. 

“She doesn’t play lacrosse.” 

“She’s Rickon’s coach. It’s why Robb has been attending the games with an almost religious fervor.” 

“What about football Fred?” 

“Robb’s been hanging out around the football team more often than usual and Fred Flint is fit.” 

“Makes sense.” Jon nodded and they lapsed into silence for a moment. “So do you maybe wanna go to Homecoming alone together?” He asked, running his hand through hair that was just long enough to tie into a half up style, avoiding looking at her. 

Sansa moved toward Jon and Lady, patting her dog. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.” She smiled at him. 

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

“What colour dress are you wearing to Homecoming?” Robb shouted making Sansa jump and her hand jerk causing a harsh black line across her, otherwise perfect, notes. 

“Pink!” She shouted back without much thought. It wasn’t until later, when she was getting ready for bed she wondered by Robb wanted to know. She crossed the hall and tapped on his door. 

“Oi! Why did you want to know what colour dress I’m wearing to Homecoming?” She lent against the doorframe, watching as Robb stuffed books into his school bag. 

“Theon, Jon, and I went to buy corsages and he asked me to stealthily find out your dress colour so he could match the corsage.”

“And shouting it at me is stealthy?” She raised a bemused eyebrow at him. He shrugged. 

“At least your corsage wont clash terribly with your dress.” She nodded in agreement before returning to her room. 

The was sweet of Jon.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sansa check the contents of her tiny clutch purse for the fourth time in the space of about 5 minutes. 

Phone? Check. Money, just in case? Check. Lipstick? Check. Keys? No! Wait, Jon is driving, you don’t need keys.

She let out a sigh and glanced at the clock. Jon should be arriving any moment. She lifted a leg and examined her sparkly pink shoe, smiling. She liked these shoes, they were bright, and girly, and thoroughly impractical. 

“You look lovely.” She turned and saw Jon standing in the doorway, an awed smile on his face. He wore an all black suit with a pink pocket square, the shade matching her dress exactly. She smiled. 

“Not too shabby yourself.” He reached out a hand to help her stand and she took it, enjoying the warmth of his palm. 

“My dad let me borrow his car for the night so we don’t have to ride in my shit box.” He said, walking her down to the fancy black car. She knew Jon’s dad was rich, he’d have to be to attend Winterfell Prep, but she also knew Jon wasn’t close to him. 

“That was kind.” She offered, not wanting to spark anything negative. 

He opened the passenger door for her. “It was nice.”

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

“Your Homecoming King, Jon Snow and your Homecoming Queen, Sansa Stark will now take the floor!”  The over excited MC announced. 

It was corny, and old fashioned, but a part of Sansa loved the fact that the King and Queen would have a dance as the rest of the class joined in. 

Jon lead her to the middle of the floor. He placed a hand gently on her waist and there was a moment of complete stillness and Sansa was sure Jon could hear the beating of her heart. Then the music began and Jon guided her around the dance floor. 

“You dance surprisingly well.” She commented after a while, noticing Fryd wince slightly as Robb trod on her toes. 

“Thanks.” He smiled gently at her. 

The song ended and was followed by energetic music, more suited to groups than couples. 

“Would you like some punch?” Jon said into her ear, his lips brushing her earlobe. She nodded. He took her hand and led her over to the punch stand, procured two glasses, and gestured to a quiet little alcove not far from them. 

“So how does it feel to be royalty?” She asked, sipping the overly sugary drink. Jon chuckled. “A privilege I neither sought nor wanted. What about you, your grace?” He said with a small bow. Sansa laughed. 

“It’ll look good when I apply for uni I suppose.”

“You didn’t want to be queen?” He asked looking surprised.

“No, it wasn’t exactly the ambition of my high school career.” She shrugged. “But my mother did say I have the perfect shaped head for a tiara.” Jon laughed at this before taking a sip of his own drink. She noticed a droplet of punch clinging to his lip and had an impulse to kiss it off. 

Jon was sweeter than she’d realised, kinder too. He thought of others first and was considerate of those around him. And he looked great in a suit. 

“So do you think people understand our whole ‘going alone together’ thing?” She asked as a means of distracting herself from Jon’s lips. He looked at his shoes before answering her. 

“I kinda think the whole matching corsage and pocket square might have suggested friends going together, at least.”

“At least?” She asked, taking a half a step toward him. 

“Some people, maybe some people who are here with a really clever and funny and beautiful girl, people who have trouble talking with other people, people who think said girl has a really cute dog and a nice brother but not as nice as her, might think that this was a date.” He suggested, staring at his shoes again. Sansa half smiled.

“Would these people also happen to have stupid plastic crowns on their heads?” He looked at her and smiled. 

“Yeah.” She moved closer again, reaching her free hand out to tangle her fingers with his. 

“I kinda think it’s a date too.” She whispered.

And then Jon was kissing her or maybe she was kissing Jon. Either way it was only a matter of moments before Theon wolf whistled loudly at them.

[shadowturtlesstuff]

>Falling<

Feysand fanfic

Might turn into a mini series. Maybe. Enjoy:

I hear the locker next to me open and I pull my head from my own locker and hide behind my hair whilst I dry my face with my sleeve.“Feyre, darling, wonderful morn-“ he stops before I have the chance to scowl and tell him to piss off. “Darling what’s wrong?” He spins me around to face him, hair flinging over my shoulder to show my red face. I stutter as I search his eyes for any sort of trick. I only see concern. His hands find there way onto my face, his cool hands stroking a tear that betrays me. “Nothing, Rhys.” I lie.

“Tell that to your tears darling.” He gives a small smile. A true smile, not his usual smirk. This is a trick. He’s obviously heard, the whole school has. Tamlin probably set his minions on me to try and trick me to be his again. Why would rhys help Tamlin though? I blink, breaking my trance from Rhys deep violet eyes. Shaking me head I force his hands from me and taking a step back.

“No. Rhys just piss off.” I say, my hourse voice taking any confidence away. Rhys looks shocked and hurt. He splutters and apology as I pick up my bag from the ground. “I have to go.” Only a half lie, we have 5 minutes till the bell, a time in which I’ll stay in the bathroom.

I turn away from him but he grabs my arm more gentle than I expected, I gasp but don’t try and pull back. “Feyre. Who made you cry?” He asks stepping forward, his towering muscular body, one that intimidates most, does not make me shrink back. I force myself to stand higher and to meet his gaze.

“Why do you care? Rhys… I’m not your concern. I’m no ones. Now please,” more silent tears fall down my face, “please, leave me alone.”

It’s been an hour since Rhysand saw me. My lesson ended 10 minutes ago and I haven’t moved from the art room all lunch. I know if I do Tamlin or Lucien will track me down and I just can’t handle them right now. I can barley handle the teacher, let alone the cause of my current sadness. So i hid in the art room, content to stay there till the end of the day. I was working on a new project, something that I shouldn’t have been able to, and shouldn’t be able to picture it so vividly. The faces yes, the action no.

I’m painting Tamlin and Ianthe, for the fifth time now. Each time a new wave of anger or sadness rolls over me. Each time there is a new aspect, the first was just a sketch that led to the one I’m currently doing,having me in, staring in horror at what is happening.

I sit for another 20 minutes until the final bell. I made it half the day without being seen by them. Or anyone for that matter. I pack away my supplies and start heading out of the art room. I turn the last corner to leave the building when I walk into a wall. “Fuck.” I breath out as the paints fall from my hand and slam into the wall. As I bend down I hear another curse word, I look up to find the wall I bumped into was Rhysand. I curse again. Behind him are Cassain and Azriel. One a solid mass of no emotion and the other smirking at Rhys. I sigh and start to pick up my supplies. Why did I bring my acrylics today, if I brought my water colors I would’ve picked them all up by now and not have to deal with these people. Rhys bends down to help me, which I ignore even if he politely hands them back to me. When I’m done I stand, along with Rhys, and notice that Azriel and Cassain has gone. Not that it matters because I’m leaving Rhys right now too.

“Feyre, darling, are you okay?” Rhys stops me in my tracks.

“Yes. And stop calling me darling.”

“That’s not happening. Feyre, I’m sorry for what happened.”

“So the whole school knows now? Fan-fucking-tastic! Look Rhys I don’t want your pity I just want to go home and bury myself under brackets, eat ice cream, watch some shit romance film while I cry. Okay? Now please move out of my way so I can do that.” I explain as I try to step around him.

“No, you shouldn’t be alone, and Tamlin will go to your house and trick you back to dating him.”

“Trick?” I raise my brow at him. I knew Tamlin would but I knew I just wouldn’t open the door for him to try.

“Yes, I heard him in chemistry, making a plan how he would ‘take back what was his.’” He air quotes that stops me dead.

“I’m not a possession…”

Rhys grabs my chin gently and lifts it up so he can look into my brown eyes.

“Feyre darling, stay with someone for the time being. Tamlin isn’t safe.”

“Yes he is. He has never hurt me.” I defend him, it’s only partially true. Tamlin has hurt me, but not hard enough to mark or for me to care that it was abuse. “I’ll be fine, stop worrying about me Rhys.”

“Never. How about this feyre, stay with me for a bit, then go home.” He let’s go of my face and takes both arms in his hands, rubbing gently. He gives me a genuine smile. I don’t understand why he cares so much, and why I feel so safe with him. “Okay.” I whisper, not trusting my own voice. A tear drops down my face, a tear Rhys kisses away. I flinch at first but he pulls away from his lingering kiss, giving me another soft smile. “Let me put my stuff back in the room, and I’ll be ready.” I pull away from him and rush into the art room.

I place everything at the back near my painting and go to rush back out. But again I bump into a wall. I fall again, this time hitting my arm of a table and cursing as pain sweeps through. I panic thinking Tamlin finally came to the art room, but as I look up I find another well built football player in black clothes and a man bun. Cassain. He’s smirking as he stands watching me. I get up and hold my arm so I don’t make the pain worse. “What do you want Cass?”

He stays where he is, a shit eating smirk still on his face. “Feyre. I think you fell in love with the wrong person.

I give him a look. “Don’t worry. I’ve spent my whole life falling in love with people that didn’t love me back.” I sigh and move past Cassain with ease. I think about everyone who claimed to love me. My alcoholic father who doesn’t seem to love any of my sisters let alone me. Isaac, who also left me for someone else. And now Tamlin. A man I spent so long perfecting myself for. A man who claimed to love me, who never left me out of his sight. The only two people who love me are my sisters, and that’s a stretch considering Nesta is.. Is Nesta.

I find Rhys outside taking to Azriel, who also suddenly appeared. They are in a serious looking conversation so I walk down the hallway and text Elain I’m not coming home yet. Then I go back and find Rhys and Az in a hug, Rhys nodding and as saying something to him. Then they let go and Azriel walls off, I assume to find Cassain, leaving me with Rhys.

“Feyre darling. Let’s go.” He offers his arms out and I scoff. Tamlin use to take my hand in his as we walked, he never offered his arm. I take it and we walk in silence out of school.

“We are going to a dinner, one that I guarantee you haven’t been to, and one you’ll love.”

“Rhys there are so many places I haven’t been to. I don’t really go out anyway.”

“Did Tamlin never take you out for dinner?”

“Only the one his parents own, and where he works. Normally when it’s his shift I have to have dinner there and wait for him to finish.” I don’t know why I’m explaining everything to Rhys, I never explained it to anyone, including Lucien (Tamlin’s best friend) I just keep my answers small so they don’t ask me anything else.

“Where you allowed to do anything?” Rhys stops us and spins me to face him, his brows are beamy in confusion and his lips a grin line.

“What do you mean?”

“Did Tamlin leave you to do what you wished to do?”

I think about this. Normally I would say yes, even if I know it isn’t true. But I don’t need to defend him anymore. And for some strange reason I trust Rhysand. A person Tamlin said I couldn’t talk to ever because they hated each other. However the time I’ve spent with Rhys shows me that he is a good man. A person I somehow trust more than Tamlin.

“Not really.” I admit. For the first time to anyone. I feel lighter, like the confession what weighing me down. I feel like crying again, but I don’t, I don’t think I have many tears left. And I don’t want Rhys kissing my face again.

“Oh darling. You spent two years with him. He made you into this submissive skeleton,” we both look down. And for the first time I see how much weight I’ve lost in two years, “feyre that isn’t fair on you. I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, but, we’ll Tamlin hates me, and I didn’t want to face him after everything he’s done.”

“What did he do?” I whisper, unsure if I want the answer. He hesitates before answering me.

“He, he, drove home from a party late, and crashed into my mother’s car, killing her and my sister. To this day he has never said sorry, only that it wasn’t his fault and he doesn’t care they are dead.” It’s Rhys turn to look away as he fights back tears. I gasp, unsure how I fell in love with that monster. I pull him into a tight hug, my arms settling around his shoulders and his around my back. We stand there comforting each other for quite sometime, both of us not wanting to let go. Rhys finally does, he pulls back and rest his forehead on mine. His purple eyes stare into mine, both transfixed with the emotions swimming around in the. We both made ourselves vulnerable and neither regret it.

“What do you want to do darling?”

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian fic - “A Dalton Boy Hotter than Hot” (Rated NC17)

Summary:

While in the steam room at his father’s country club, Sebastian encounters an intriguing man who’s not shy about taking what he wants. (3655 words)

Read on AO3.

“Hey, Sebastian!”

“Hey, Ms. Melanie!”

“Haven’t seen you here in a while!”

“Sorry. Been busy.” Sebastian reaches out a hand for a locker key. “School, lacrosse, getting ready for graduation, you know how it is.”

“Absolutely!” Her smile grows as she hands him a towel from the warming cabinet beside her desk. “My Mark’s going through the same. I barely see him poke his head out of his room on the weekends with all the homework school gives the seniors.”

“Yeah. You think they’d let up a bit considering we’re leaving.”

“Not a chance! For the money we spend to send you kids to Dalton, they’d better stuff you full of knowledge right up to the very end!”

“Trust me, they’ve been doing that all year. It would be nice if they let us relax.”

“You can relax when you’re dead!” Melanie laughs at her own joke, and Sebastian laughs with her. Usually he wouldn’t. He’d roll his eyes and walk away. He wouldn’t be polite about it either, so he’s sure Melanie has noticed over the years. And yet, here she is, as sweet and kind as ever, teasing him as if he were an old friend.

What an ass he’s been, treating her like she’s beneath him because she worked at his father’s country club handing out towels and her son went to Dalton on scholarship! He didn’t do it intentionally. It was always more of a subconscious reaction than a consciously decided action – the unforeseen side-effect of quote/unquote good breeding and constant exposure to the right people.

But he still did it.

He has no problem standing up for himself when sacks of shit like Hunter think they’re his betters, but when is the last time he stood up for someone else? Someone who couldn’t give him anything in return?

Maybe this is what growing up is – realizing your shit stinks more than you think it does and doing your best to keep it downwind. He’d like to say he came to that realization on his own, but it’s more than likely a symptom of the company he’s been keeping.

Company that’s humbled him both figuratively and literally.

He waves goodbye to Melanie and heads for the locker room, making a mental note to find Mark the next time he’s on campus and invite him to the commons for coffee.

He peels off his uniform and tosses it in his locker, rolling his shoulder after every article he removes. He took a few hard hits on the field today. Normally, it wouldn’t be so bad, but Hunter seemed to have it out for him. Probably because Sebastian was named MVP of yesterday’s game.

Plus, he got some ass last night to boot. That had to irk Hunter, who hasn’t gotten his dick wet in God knows when.

Sebastian wraps the towel around his waist before he slips out of his underwear. He’s not self-conscious about his body by any means. At Dalton, he has no qualms about tossing off all his clothes in the locker room after practice and strutting to the shower naked.

But this place isn’t like the locker room at school.

The boys at Dalton keep their eyes to themselves. They respect one another’s boundaries. Even if that’s simply a consequence of Dalton’s zero tolerance bullying policy, it makes for a safe and pleasant environment.

Not here.

Coming here alone after school has opened Sebastian’s eyes to a lot of things about the so-called real world - realizations that are cartoonish in their absurdity.

One of them being that married men think about sex … a lot.

Not necessarily with their partners.

And even though straight adult men around his father’s age might turn up their noses at sex with another adult male, that doesn’t mean teenaged boys are off the table. Maybe it’s because they’re attracted to youth and youth can be considered androgynous. Smooth skin and a tight ass doesn’t need to belong to a specific gender to make it appealing.

It could also be ego – the alpha inside them eager to dominate a perceived up-and-coming alpha to prove they’ve still got it. They may never act on it, not in a million years. They may even deny it.

But their eyes tell a different story.

Sebastian enters the thick cloud of steam and walks to the far end of the room, finds an empty space and sits. Finding an unoccupied bench isn’t as easy as it sounds. It’s seven in the evening and fairly crowded for a weeknight.

It always is.

Sebastian judges heavily the men gathered here who should be at home having dinner with their families. It grosses him out how many of these old farts stare at him while he sits on his bench, trying to ignore their slimy existences. He knows a handful of them – not well, not by name. But he’s seen them around the club, old money and new money alike, in the main dining hall, out on the links when he golfs with his dad, over by the pool, a lot of them with their wives and kids.

That makes it worse.

Away from their significant others, they look him over like he’s a meal, licking their lips behind the veil of steam, some with their eyes glued to his brand as if they know what it represents. And that makes him wonder …

Do they want to own him, or be him?

The question makes his skin crawl but he doesn’t leave. Sebastian came here because he needed to get away from school, from people who barge into his room uninvited and talk his ear off endlessly without taking a breath, as if they don’t see him eight hours out of the God dammed day.

But from Hunter especially.

Sebastian had a feeling Hunter would stop by his room after his shower, and he wasn’t in the mood for his crap. It filled him head to toe with tension that he didn’t need, felt it accumulate in his sore shoulder – the same shoulder as his brand.

The brand Hunter hated with a passion.

So Sebastian chose getting ogled over by pathetic old men in exchange for peace and quiet.

Seems like a reasonable exchange.

He rolls his head back on his neck and closes his eyes, and the second he does, he becomes the center of attention. He doesn’t need to see the men looking at him. He knows. He feels eyes on him, eyes that shamelessly stare, and out of pure, morbid curiosity, he opens his again to check.

To silently call them out, shame those of them who have some shame left.

A handful of men do look away. Most of the others can’t be bothered, going so far as to rub their erections through their towels as if in invitation.

Make Sebastian reconsider his seat.

But amidst the sea of flabby bellies and greying hair, Sebastian spots a man he swears he’s never seen before. He doesn’t fit in with the other fogies, which is a mark in his favor. He’s not flabby in the slightest, not a grey hair to be seen. He’s an older man, but not a dad.

More like a Daddy if Sebastian ever saw one.

From his toned arms and chest to his striking blue eyes, he cuts quite the picture. Sebastian wonders if the pudgy masses haven’t been sizing him up, too. Maybe once or twice, but not the way they do with Sebastian. They wouldn’t dare. This man gives off some serious apex predator vibes.

And right now, he has his sights set on Sebastian.

This man is gorgeous, which is not a word Sebastian tosses around lightly. He can only recall using it one other time - to describe his Porsche.

Fitting since this man is another thing he’s dying to ride.

That thought must manifest on his face because the man smirks and raises a questioning brow. Sebastian nods. He swallows hard. He inclines his head slightly toward the door, attempting to extend a subtle invitation. Sebastian knows nothing of ‘steam room etiquette’ except what he’s seen in a few cheesy ass pornos. He doesn’t even know if anything like that goes on here. He’d only started coming here on his own recently and it’s definitely not a place he’d choose to look for sex.

But there are exceptions to every rule, and this man is one fine exception.

Is Sebastian actually going to do this? Here? After having judged everyone else around him so harshly for thinking the same thing this man’s probably thinking?

Yes. Yes, he is.

He doesn’t know this man from Adam, but he’s different from the rest if for no other reason than, if he is married, he has the decency not to wear his ring.

So if he’s down to fuck, why not?

With eyes locked on those intoxicating steely blues, Sebastian rises from his bench and makes his way out of the steam room, heading for one of the more private rooms down the hall.

Ones with locks on the doors.

A skeevy guy Sebastian swears once asked his dad for stock advice a while back reaches for his towel as he passes, and Sebastian responds the same way his father had: “Not fucking likely.”

Sebastian doesn’t turn his head to see if he’s being followed – unwise considering the wrong man may have picked up on his invitation and Mr. Sexy AF may have stayed behind. But the mere chance that that man is behind him, following him down this hall, has Sebastian aroused eight ways till Sunday, the extreme tenting of his towel leading him like some obscene beacon. He goes to the farthest room and peeks in.

It’s empty.

Perfect.

If the man follows him in, it will prove they’re on the same page.

That he wants him.

Sebastian walks inside.

He leaves the door open.

It’s not a large room – roughly the size of his Dalton dorm room, maybe a few feet bigger, with benches along the wall to seat about five people. There’s another bench near the center, mounted in front of a square pedestal that comes up to Sebastian’s stomach. The top of the pedestal is recessed to hold rocks and heated underneath. Pouring water on the rocks produces steam. The more water added, the more steam produced. It billows up and over the rocks, down the column of the pedestal, and fills the room from corner to corner.

In a room this size, it’s effective at keeping things hot.

Sebastian heads for the rocks and begins ladling water over them.

Behind him, he hears the door close … and lock.

Sebastian stops ladling.

He still doesn’t know if the person behind him is the man he wants, and even though it’s going to cause one hell of a headache if it’s not him, these last moments of uncertainty provide their own erotic thrill.

The man doesn’t insult Sebastian’s intelligence, doesn’t employ any pretense, doesn’t sit down on one of the benches to make it seem like he’s there for any other reason than to pursue his prize. He puts a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, palm pressing into his brand, and spins him around.

And there he is – sculpted cheekbones, toned chest, blue eyes and all. He stares pointedly into Sebastian’s face and says, “Tell me to leave.”

Sebastian grins. “Why would I do that? I led you here.”

The man puts a bold hand on Sebastian’s ass and pulls him close. Sebastian feels every inch of the man against him – unforgiving planes and muscles, including his cock, resting against his own. “If we do this,” he whispers, “am I going to be your first?”

“Does that matter?”

“Not if it doesn’t matter to you. I just wanted to make sure you’re not the wine and roses type.”

“Actually, I think I’m the fast and hard in a steam room type.”

The man grins. “You jewel.” He grabs Sebastian by the back of the neck and kisses him, reaching for their towels and tugging them away, tossing them on the bench behind. Salty sweat on skin mix, dripping down Sebastian’s upper lip till he can taste it on his tongue. The man reaches for their cocks and strokes them together. Sebastian’s stomach spasms. He doesn’t know how to react, where to put his hands, how to participate. This is happening so fast, it makes Sebastian’s head spin. This man isn’t like the boys Sebastian has made out with, fondled, felt up, jerked off. This man knows what he’s doing, knows what he wants. He pushes Sebastian down onto the towel-covered bench with no hesitation, gets on his knees, and sucks Sebastian off, holding on to his hips a little too hard.

But Sebastian likes it.

“Jesus Christ!” he groans, hands locking onto the bench beneath him and holding tight. He’d always considered himself well-endowed, but this man has no trouble with him, taking him all the way down his throat without gagging an inch. The man goes at him hard. Sebastian tries to back up, to slow him down, but the man won’t have it, squeezing his hips harder, digging his thumbs into pressure points until Sebastian submits. And submit he does, lying back like a lion in surrender, arms and legs draped over the sides, his abs tense but his mind giving up control, allowing only for the uttering of one weak word: “Yes … yes … yes …” Muscles in his thighs and biceps twitch as he fights not to cum, but there’s little he can do to combat this man’s voracious mouth and his exceptionally talented tongue.

Sebastian cums.

The man’s mouth disappears, and the air around Sebastian’s cock cools even though the room is sweltering.

“Oh, God,” he moans, nearly rolling off the bench in his attempt to stand.

“Nu-uh.” The man puts a hand to his branded shoulder and pushes him down. “I’m not done with you yet. Not by a long shot.”

“Good,” Sebastian growls. He may be out of his league, but that doesn’t mean he’s not enjoying it. “But I’m not too sure I can get hard again right away after that.”

“Let me worry about that. Besides, I don’t need you hard. I need you open.”

“Then open me up.” Sebastian realizes that’s a dangerous thing to say to a stranger in a locked room, but it’s hot in here, and he’s still riding high off that orgasm. Between steam and lust, he’s feeling woozy.

“So, you like being used?” The man grabs Sebastian’s ass cheeks and pulls them apart, spending a long time just looking without touching.

“As long as you’re doing the using.”

The man chuckles. “You don’t even know me.”

“Do I have to?”

“That depends …” The man spits onto his fingers and wipes them over Sebastian’s asshole in a crude attempt at lubrication “… you’re not going to get attached to me or anything, are you? I’m not sure I need you following me around like a puppy dog.”

“Hey, you followed me, remember?” Sebastian grits his teeth when he feels one finger, slick with spit and sweat, make its way inside his body. It doesn’t hurt. Sebastian’s too relaxed for it to hurt.

“But you led me in here. You said so yourself.”

Another finger joins the first, and despite Sebastian’s mellow exhaustion, he starts bucking back.

“A-ha. I led you in here so you could fuck me, not talk about it. So why don’t you get on with it?”

The flat of a hand smacks his ass as a third finger forces its way inside. It stings like all get out, but when Sebastian clenches, he and the man behind him moan.

“God!” the man growls, fingers disappearing. The head of his cock replaces them at Sebastian’s entrance, becoming his sole focus. “I’ve gotta be in you! Now!”

“What? No condom?” Sebastian teases. He doesn’t have enough blood left in his brain to recognize that this is one of those moments they warn you about in sex-ed. He’s so far gone for this man, so ready to be fucked, he couldn’t care less about the consequences.

“Nah. I need to feel you.” The man’s voice shakes as he eases inside Sebastian’s body, snapping his hips and fucking him before he’s even all the way inside. But the first long thrust that slams Sebastian’s prostate brings his face straight to the bench.

“Fuck!” Sebastian grips the bench with knuckles white to keep from sliding off on his sweaty knees.

“Your wish is my command,” the man jokes, going back to what he seems to do best – fucking and fucking hard, spreading Sebastian’s cheeks wider and driving into him so deep, Sebastian swears he can feel the head of his cock hit the back of his throat. He’s tempted to ask this man if fucking is his day job, but he doesn’t because what if it is? What if that’s the reason he’s here? What if he’s a professional, making a few extra bucks trolling a den of pitiful rich old fucks stepping out on their wives?

If that’s the case, this man has earned so much of Sebastian’s respect.

If Sebastian has to fork over a few thou after this encounter, it’ll be well worth it to support him doing God’s work.

“Here …” the man switches positions, sitting on the bench and pulling Sebastian down on him “… sit on my lap. Help me out. Arms up. Hands behind your head.”

The posing makes it difficult for Sebastian to move, but a moment later, he realizes the need. The man’s arms wrap around him, his hands roaming his body from clavicle to cock, massaging muscles and toying with his nipples before they settle between his legs. The man fondles him – balls with one hand, shaft with the other – and Sebastian’s flaccid cock springs back with a vengeance.

So much for not being able to get hard right after. He just needed to find a man who knew his was around his body.

“Fuck … fuck … fuck … fuck …” Sebastian grunts, doing his best to keep going when what he wants to do is sit on this man’s cock and let him stroke him to completion.

“My, my, my, what a mouth you have. We really need to find some way to shut you up. Maybe with my dick next time. Whaddya think?”

“Yes,” Sebastian moans.

“I want you full of me,” the man grumbles, pushing down on Sebastian’s thighs with his forearms to make him go faster. “I wanna tie you down and take turns fucking you and having you suck me off. Whaddya think about that?”

“Ye—” Sebastian mutters, finding it impossible to speak the closer he gets to cumming, bobbing on this man’s cock becoming sheer but exquisite torture.

“Here …” The man holds Sebastian steady in a crouch position inches above his lap “… stay like that. Don’t move.” He leans back, starts driving his hips up, and Sebastian’s legs begin to shake. “You’re an athletic young man. You should be able to stay like that till I’m through with you.”

Sebastian’s tongue slips. He says something he had no intention of saying, no intention of calling anyone. “Yes … Sir …”

“Sir …” The man purrs. “I like the sound of that. I like the sound of that … very … much …” The man pulls Sebastian down into his lap and holds him there, bucking inside him with small, deliberate thrusts until his entire body devolves into seizure-like shakes, his cock pulsing inside him as he cums, trapped in Sebastian’s incredible heat.

And there’s so much of it – heat enveloping his cock, heat clinging to his skin, heat pouring down his hand as he wrings Sebastian’s cock dry, heat drying out his mouth and throat, making it difficult to breathe. With Sebastian pressing on his stomach, he feels like he might suffocate.

But all in all, this wouldn’t be too bad a way to go.

“Scene … scene …” Kurt mutters, unable to get the word over out of his mouth as he pants for air, comfortably crushed beneath Sebastian’s body in the irrepressible heat.

Sebastian gasps, bending at the waist, fighting to find cool air beneath the oppressive blanket of hot “So … what … did you think … of that … Master?”

“I think you have one hell of a dirty mind on you, preppy. Shit!” Kurt laughs, wrapping an arm around Sebastian’s midsection, laying kisses over his spine. “I’m so glad I made you pick this time! I didn’t know this was one of those steam rooms! Your folks are really getting their money’s worth!”

“I—it’s … it’s not, Master,” Sebastian says, reluctant to reveal the truth with his Dom up his ass, kissing his back.

The kisses stop, and despite the world around them being somewhere in the vista of 110 degrees, Sebastian’s entire body freezes solid.

“It’s not?”

“Uh, no.”

“So, what you’re saying is …”

“We may want to jet before they call my dad.”

Sebastian can’t see Kurt’s reaction to this new information, and the longer he has to wait, the sicker he begins to feel. He expects to get yelled at, feel nails rake down his sides, maybe even get shoved to the floor.

Kurt snickering into his skin relaxes him a hair.

His full out guffawing lets Sebastian know everything’s going to be okay – between them, at least.

“Holy shit!” Kurt snorts, pushing Sebastian off his lap, but gently. “You really have issues with symbols of societal standing, don’t you?”

“I … guess? Is that bad, Master?”

“Not at all.” Kurt throws Sebastian a towel and ties his own around his waist. “I think I’m beginning to see why the fuck it is you and I get along so well.”

*** Notes:I personally feel that in a sexual relationship like Kurt and Sebastian’s, roleplaying is a really good way for us as the audience to get into the minds of the characters. You see the things that they don’t necessarily express in dialogue, even in inner monologue, including how they see themselves interacting with the world around them - how they feel despite what they say.

[rami-writes-blog]

Highschool Sweethearts- Chapter 1 (Reader x Rami Malek)

~ it has been a while. But here I am with another story. For all the people reading ‘Someone like... Me?’. The story is as per yesterday finished with in total 19 chapters. It’s in full on Wattpad: @Rami-Writes. Let me know what your thoughs are about my stories. love to hear them <3′

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A/N: Please be advised that this is not a true story and is purely fictional. The pictures, quotes and GIF's used - are not mine.  Warnings: 18+, (self)harming, drugs, alcohol.

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'’Ugh. Today will be a long day''. I whine and sigh out loud as Mel and I walk into school together. It's already super crowded and I immediately regret that I got out of bed for this this morning.

''You know I'll be to the dentist in 1,5 hours.. Right Lo?''  Fuck, I completely forgot that it was today. That means it'll just me for lunch today. Damn, I really hate sitting alone with lunch. I always feel so watched by other people. So awkward. ''Yea I know'' I pretend that I remember. She gives me a kiss on my cheek and walks away. '''I have class. See you later!'' she waves at me. Quickly put in my earbuds and listen to some music.

After I grabbing my stuff out of my locker, I walk off to class. I have English for two hours. It's a good thing that the teacher usually lets us work for ourselves so at least I won't have to engage with other people.

When I walk into the classroom, I'm happy to see that the desk way in the back, is still free. I always sit there since nobody really pays attention to anyone back there. I put my English book upright on my desk, hide behind it and grab my notebook and pen. I've had writers block for days now and I sure hope today will be the day I'll be putting some words on paper again.

I love writing lyrics. Well since I actually never sing, unless I'm alone in my room, I'm guessing 'poems' is a better word. I'm lost deep in my thoughts and music, when suddenly I get this feeling  that I'm being watched. When I peek over the book, I can see the teacher looking at me. Just as the rest of the class is. All my blood rushes towards my cheeks immediately. Fuck. I quickly put down the book and remove the earbuds from my ear. ''I- I'm sorry'' I apologize as I clear my throat. I'm too ashamed to look at anyone now so in stead I just look at my desk and nervously draw circles on it with my finger.

''Alright. Now that Mrs. Taylor has finally decided to join us again''.. Mr. Wilde clears his throat, stops for a second and looks at me again .. Thanks a lot, shithead. I think to myself.  Now everyone will be talking about me for the rest of the day. Or maybe even the entire week. Fuck... My life.

Ashamed I'm slouching in my chair. Luckily he goes on pretty quickly after that. ''Class. As of today we have a new student in our middle, to graduate with the rest of you'' Hmm.. A new student? When I finally dare to look around from underneath my lashes to find out  that all the attention has been drawn from me, I dare to look up again.

My eyes immediately fall on the tallish, handsome boy next to him ''Hi, I'm Rami'', he says with a deep and sensual voice. Rami... What a beautiful name. He puts up his hands to kind of make this wave-gesture and I can tell he's kind of uncomfortable. As he smiles friendly, he exposes his white teeth a bit and the way he smiles makes my knees kind of tremble.

''And since he's new here. Please be nice to him. Or I WILL find out. And you WILL be in trouble.'' Mr. Wilde warns with holding his index finger up, before he lets Rami take a seat. He's is such an uptight douchebag.

In the middle of the room, one of the popular and also prettiest girls, Jacky, pushes away her friend next to her to clear the seat.. Clearly hoping Rami will go and sit there. She's just making eyes at him, throwing her hair flirtatious over her shoulder. She's so dumb, I roll my eyes at her.

Suddenly I see he's looking my way. Shit, the seat next to me and Jacky are the only ones that are free. I nervously sit up straight again, pretending to being busy with my book. PLEASE. Come sit here, I think to myself.. I try not to be too obvious, because that's lame. Besides, I know beforehand he'll choose Jacky. They always do.

''Now – please continue working on your assignment. IN PEACE.'' The tacher adds strictly. He's gesturing Rami to take a seat. I actually don't dare to look at him, but I need to take a quick peek. To my amazement Rami's gaze continues to linger on me and the seat next to me, not even giving Jacky any attention. She's definitely not happy with that. Fuck. Fuck Fuck.. What am I gonna say? He comes walking towards me. Act cool Lo. ACT. COOL.

''Hey'' he says with a friendly smile, as he sits down at the desk next to mine. ''uh no problem'' I immediately blur out. NO! What was that? For so far the ''act cool''.. I actually facepalm myself and he laughs at that. I was actually expecting him to ask if he could sit next to me. I clear my throat silently and shift lightly in my seat.

I take a deep breath. ''Ok. I'm going to do that again. Hey. I'm Loren'' I laugh nervously as I turn to him and stick out my hand for him to shake it. ''But people call me Lo''. I see some girls giggling at me so my cheeks turn even more red. Why me, God? Why me? He takes my hand softly. ''Well my name you know already'' he says sweetly. Holding my hand just a second longer than actually neccesary. Setting my skin on fire.

I put one earbud again to avoid being awkward and turn back to my 'work'. Secretly I try to steal another glance of him, from underneath my laches. My cheeks turn red when I see he's looking at me. I feel like a kid that's been caught stealing cookies from a cookie jar. He smiles at me and moves a few inches closer, moving with his entire desk my way. ''So...'' he says in a low volume. With his desk now shoved against mine he's dangerously close to me.. And as if that's not enough he even bends a bit towards me.

With only a few inches between my ear and his mouth he whispers ''what are you listening to?''. His voice so deep and his warm breath caressing my skin, giving me goosebumps all over. ''Uhm..'' When I turn my head a bit to face him, his big green eyes are still watching my every move, waiting for my response. ''Uhm. Just my playlist from Spotify?''. I eventually respond in a kind of questioning tone.

He looks at me with an expecting look in his eyes. There's something about him. He smiles brightly and is sweet. He acts outgoing but something tells me he's really insecure.. I don't know, it's something in his eyes. Or maybe it's just a vibe he sends.. Something tells me he puts up walls, a mask.. a happy face. To anyone around him. Who's the sweet and funny guy who'll do anything for anyone, anytime. Who looks so carefree. But as soon as he comes home and takes of he's just the lonely one.. just like me.

''You want to listen?'' I ask him politely as I offer him the other earbud. He nods and gratefully accepts the earbud. ''Just hit next if you don't like the song'' I let him know as I lay my phone in between us.

My heart races like crazy at this moment and I feel quite nervous. Both in a good way and a not-so-good way. I pick up my pen and paper again and start to write. I feel kind of.. guilty? But also so good too. In matter of seconds he made happen what I couldn't for days, give me inspiration. I mean how is it that this guy, who's a complete stranger to me, makes me feel things that I've never even felt with Ty? In literally, only MINUTES.

I can tell Rami is glancing my way every once in a while. When I secretly peek his way, I notice he's also busy with a notebook in front of him. Every now and then our eyes lock for a second and we smile politely or make some small talk and before I know it the two hours fly by really fast. As the bel rings loudly, I quickly put everything in my backpack and swing it over my shoulder. I give Rami a polite smile as a flush strikes my cheeks once again and walk past him.

[wematch]

You Heard Me

This is how Neil discovers his soulmate.

Soulmate’s AU based on the idea that you have a quote written on your body that is important to your relationship.

You can also read it on [AO3]

As always a huge thank you to @velvetnoodle for being an amazing beta <3<3

Neil follows Andrew and the others inside the stadium. As they get closer he can hear everyone in the locker room already chatting; they enter the room and take their usual seats while they wait for Wymack to arrive and start practice.

A few moments pass, and he hears Nicky call Allison to get her attention. He sees her look up from her phone and Nicky stretching his arm to show her something on his own phone, Allison snorts and nudges Renee at her side to look at it too.

“Did you buy it?” Renee asks him after she glances at the phone.

Nicky smirks before he answers. “Of course, I couldn’t leave that beauty at the store.”

Dan looks over Renee’s shoulder to see what they’re talking about and then adds, “I like it, Nicky.”

“Thanks Cap,” Nicky answers with a bright smile, clearly satisfied with their approval.

Neil, having been at the store with Nicky, already knows what picture he’s showing the others, so he lets his eyes trail off to follow Dan’s movement as she begins to lean against Matt. As she gets settled, he sees the fond look they share for a moment and then he sees Matt bring Dan’s hand to his mouth and kiss it; Neil immediately looks away, feeling like he’s intruding. Matt and Dan had figured out they're soulmates before Neil even joined the team, he's happy that they found each other but every time he sees them together he thinks about the quote written on his chest that indicates that he has a soulmate out there too.

Neil’s soulmate mark had appeared when he was about nine. Back then, he didn't understand the quote ingrained on his skin; he knew what it represented, but he couldn’t understand the meaning behind the words. He remembers waiting for his father to leave the house before showing it to his mother. He remembers questioning her about it’s meaning only to have his shirt immediately pulled down to cover it. Growing up, Neil quickly learned to always hide his soulmate mark; in his house it represented a weakness waiting to be exploited. A means to an end.

He had spent countless nights thinking about what the words written on his body could mean, and he still isn't sure what him or his soulmate could be referring to: was it about his family, or was it about something that had happened to his soulmate?

Up until he ran away with his mother, he used to imagine meeting his soulmate and all the ways that could change his life, but by that time he figured out that whoever his soulmate was, that person was far better off without him in their life.

So, he tried to stop thinking about his soulmate. Because finding his soulmate meant a life on the run and a death sentence extended to that person as well, and Neil couldn't bear the thought of that.

After practice, Neil's quiet in the drive back to the dorm, and once there he quietly follows Andrew to the roof. Andrew takes a long hard look at him before he passes him a cigarette, he doesn’t say a word so they sit down and stare at campus beneath them.

All this thinking about soulmates makes Neil feel like a mess. He can’t help but remember the warmth on his skin when his mark first appeared; just thinking about it gives him the sudden urge to scratch his chest where it is, but he clenches his fist and doesn’t do it. What he needs to do is to stop thinking about it, so Neil closes his eyes, counts to ten in three different languages, and tries to breathe in the smell of smoke in the air to calm down.

It’s only when Andrew finally turns to his side and kisses him hard that Neil stops thinking about his soulmate, he can only think about Andrew’s lips demanding his attention.

This thing with Andrew had started only a few weeks ago. And it surprised Neil to realize he wanted it, because he had never been interested in people this way before. But there was something about Andrew, something that drew Neil to him. And he thought that maybe it was just fine to experiment with whatever this was. And it was okay if Andrew hated him.

It was easier that way.

***

Weeks pass in a blur. And one night, Neil suddenly wakes up from a nightmare. He opens his eyes and scans the room to see where he is. Once he realizes that he’s in the Fox Tower, that it had been just another nightmare, he tries to calm down his breathing.

He reminds himself that the countdown on his phone has ended and he’s somehow still alive and Riko is not. That Nathaniel had died in Baltimore with his father and his real name now is Neil Abram Josten. He repeats it in his head over and over again until his breathing eventually calms down.

Neil can feel Andrew staring down at him, but he only looks in Andrew’s direction when the other starts to climb down his bunk bed. He watches as Andrew grabs a hoodie and then exits the bedroom leaving the door slightly ajar. Neil takes a deep breath, sits up, and runs a hand over his tousled hair before he gets up to follow Andrew into the living room, closing the door behind himself so that the light doesn’t disturb the others.

Andrew looks barely awake as he slowly walks around, puts on his shoes, and grabs a jacket on his way out. Neil does the same and follows Andrew outside. They climb the stairs to the rooftop and sit side by side in silence for hours like they’ve done countless times before.

Eventually, Neil begins to talk about nothing in particular to take his mind off things and when the sun starts to rise and he begins to feel the faintest warmth reaching him, he justs looks to the side to study Andrew. He doesn’t know how long he stays there, just watching Andrew staring ahead with his eyes barely open, but at some point Andrew slowly turns his head to the side to face him. They stare at each other for a moment, and then Andrew brings his hand to Neil’s chin and pulls him closer.

“Yes or no, Neil?”

Neil inches closer until he can feel Andrew’s warm breath on his face. “Yes,” he answers and closes the distance between them.

Neil loses track of time, it seems that time doesn’t move the same way whenever he’s with Andrew. He doesn’t know how long they’ve stayed there kissing, all he knows is that he can’t get enough of it. But next thing he knows, he’s lying down on the floor with Andrew on top of him and Andrew stills and shoves Neil’s hand away from the grip he had on his hair. “What--" Neil starts, unsure of what just happened as Andrew sits up.

For a brief second he sees a dark expression in Andrew's face that he can't quite understand, but then he goes back to a blank face just as fast. “I won't do this when you're like that,” Andrew tells him.

Neil sits up, and leaves a few inches separating them. “I was just thinking about--"

“I don't care,” Andrew interrupts him, “I need to hear your consent or I'm done.”

Fuck. Andrew had asked something and he was too lost in his head thinking about Andrew that he didn’t even register it. “I know--"

“We're done here,” Andrew declares and begins to walk away.

“Wait, Andrew--"

“I don’t want to hear it,” Andrew interrupts him again and turns around to face him. He clenches his fists and spits, “I-- I won't be like them. I won't let you let me be.”

And they both freeze. At that moment Neil feels like the world has just tilted. Had Andrew really just said this? He stares at the surprised expression on Andrew’s face that he knows it must be a mirror of his own. He opens his mouth but he doesn’t know what to say so he closes it and tries again, “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” Andrew states and takes a step closer. “Let me see it.”

Neil freezes, staring at Andrew as he comes to a stop mere inches away from him. Could this be really happening? Had Andrew truly said the sentence that Neil has written on his chest, the sentence he knows by heart, and obsessed and analyzed for countless years? He hears his name being called and focuses back  on Andrew’s eyes searching his own. “Let me see it,” Andrew repeats, and Neil understands that he needs this reassurance, that they both need proof this is actually happening.

He takes a deep breath and pulls his hoodie up enough to show his chest. Neil feels exposed like this showing all his scars. Andrew had already seen and touched some of them before, but Neil has been careful not to let him, or anyone see most of his scars - especially his mark. But he puts those thoughts aside when he sees Andrew moving his hand up in the direction of the letters carved into his skin, pausing with a finger over it as if what he’s seeing could not be real.

“You can touch it, if you want," Neil tells him, and Andrew glances for a brief second to his face and then he returns his attention to the soulmate mark in front of him. Andrew runs a finger through it, following the words written above Neil's heart, the light touch leaving goosebumps on Neil's skin and making his heart beat a mile a minute that he's sure that Andrew can feel.

He studies Andrew's expression while he traces the letters on his skin but he can’t understand what is going on on his head at the moment. When Andrew’s hand slowly drops to his side, Neil lets his hoodie down. He can still feel the ghost of Andrew’s finger on his skin so he takes a deep breath to focus. “Where's yours?” Neil asks quietly.

Andrew takes his eyes away from Neil’s chest to his face and for a moment they stare at each other. Then Andrew begins to pull off one of his armbands. And there it is, with the scars all around it, the exact same quote Neil has written on his chest on Andrew's arm, I won't be like them. I won't let you let me be. He's seeing it but it's still hard to believe that this is actually happening. But then he thinks about Andrew. He thinks about the keys, the trust, and the kisses. And he can’t help when a tentative smile begins to form.

Andrew is his soulmate, and everything is starting to make sense now.

[sunlitblue]

Sigh Not So

this was not requested, but i missed my boy race, so here’s a (long) fic based on my favourite scene from much ado about nothing, which is my favourite shakespeare play. it’s also heavily inspired by a modern re-imagining of the play, which i am in love with, called nothing much to do. 10/10 would recommend watching, even if you’re not an english lit nerd like me. enjoy! <3 (PS if u can spot the quote from the original that i squeezed in near the end, then you’re legally required to marry me, sorry i don’t make the rules) (also the title is a ref to a quote from the play, i’m a nerd sorry)

It felt a bit melodramatic to call Race Higgins your enemy, but it was near enough to the truth. The truth was that you had liked him, once, maybe even more-than-liked him, but, as you grew older, the qualities you had once liked in him became obnoxious. It used to loosen you up when he made stupid jokes about whatever was happening, but now he was little more than a class clown who couldn’t take anything seriously. As you grew up, friendly roasts began to sound a little more serious, and, by the end of high school, he was the nearest thing you had to a sworn enemy.

You managed to fight with him about anything, from the correct translation of your Latin homework to the DC and Marvel cinematic universes. It was fun, sometimes, but mostly just exhausting. Sometimes, you wondered if it wouldn’t just be easier to get along, for your friends’ sake, if not for your own, but then he would make some ridiculous comment about how Parks and Rec was better than The Office and you would remember that he was the worst.  

He was annoying at track practices, when his hair was impossibly curly, and his eyes glittered with happiness, and he insisted that his team needed half of your soccer pitch to practice for field events. He was annoying in class, when he argued with the teacher about the underlying racism in Anthony and Cleopatra and, sure, he may have been right, but who cared about correctness when you went about an argument in the completely wrong way.

(“You,” Katherine would say every time that you brought this up. “You care about correctness, especially when it’s opposing Shakespeare.”

You ignored her. What mattered was that it was Race arguing with the teacher, and he was always wrong, even when he was right.)

He was especially annoying at parties, when he’d flirt with anyone who breathed – except you, of course. The way he nonchalantly joked with everyone else, and pretty much ignored your existence, except to tease you about your hair or something you had said, made your blood positively boil.

(And, Davey was wrong: you weren’t jealous of anyone, not even a little bit.)

He annoyed you at parties, but his absence from Jack Kelly’s annual Halloween party left a gaping hole. You were dressed as Jim Kirk, from Star Trek, and you had expected him to tease you as soon as you got to the party, insist that you had yourself pegged wrong and that you were definitely more of an expendable red shirt, than a royal yellow. You would respond in kind, with a snarky comment about how he had less personality than a Vulcan commander and all would be right in the world.

But, he didn’t show. Or, if he did, he managed to keep quiet the entire night which, considering who you were dealing with, just made the former more likely. Towards the end of the night, you found yourself leaning against a wall in the living room, talking to a girl that you kind of knew, dressed as Wednesday Addams, and a boy that you didn’t recognise, in a full Batman costume, face-covering cowl, and everything. Maybe, you had had a little too much of the definitely not kid-friendly punch that Romeo had whipped up, or maybe you were just tired, but, when the conversation lulled, Race popped into your mind.

“Hey, you haven’t seen Higgins around tonight, have you?”

“No,” the boy answered, clearing his throat. “I mean, no, I haven’t. Why?”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but you were almost certain that his voice was pitched a little lower than it had been earlier in the conversation. You frowned, it was probably the alcohol.

“No reason, I just feel like everyone’s here and he’s, like, not. It’s weird. And, it’s so uncharacteristic of him to let a night go by where he’s not the centre of attention.”

You winced a little at the harshness in your tone, and the boy must have picked up on it, too.

“You’re being kind of hard on him, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes.

“No, I’m giving him the same treatment he gives me, all the time. And, besides, it’s not like I haven’t tried to get to know him – it’s not my fault he’s the biggest douche canoe this side of Canada.”

You couldn’t see the boy’s face in his costume, but you thought that he might have been frowning.

“What do you mean ‘tried to get to know him’? From what I’ve heard he’s a pretty dope guy.”

You scoffed. Did people still say dope?

“Dude, I think I would know. We used to be really good friends, like, maybe even best friends when we were in middle school, and then I guess he just lost interest, like he always does. He’s got the attention span of a studious gold fish, I swear.”

“Well, did you ever talk to him about it? Maybe, it was just a miscommunication kind of thing.”

“Ugh, as if. If he stopped talking to me, it isn’t my job to figure out what his issue is. I just,” you huffed in frustration. “We’re all here, having a good time and making fools of ourselves and he’s just missing in action. Although, I bet if he did come to this party, he’d be dressed as Peter Pan, the boy who never fucking grows up.”

The boy flinched, and you wondered for a second if you had gone too far.

“That’s harsh. You should try to give him a chance, maybe he actually wants to try to get to know you, again,” he said, before drifting off like some mysterious faerie. You weren’t sure when during the conversation the girl had left, but, soon, you were standing alone. You stood there for a moment longer, wondering idly about who that guy thought he was, anyway. You finished the drink in your cup and sauntered off to find some more of that magic punch, not giving the boy in the Batman costume a second thought.

The conversation only drifted through your mind again the next morning, when you woke up, groggy and confused, on Jack’s couch. Maybe you were a little harsh, but you had given Race the benefit of the doubt, once upon a time. He had been one of your closest friends, once upon a time.

You still remembered the last proper conversation that you had had with him. You were twelve, sitting in your bedroom and playing video games, when he paused the screen and turned to you with an oddly determined look on his face. He asked if you had heard the rumour that someone was spreading around school, that you and he were dating. You said you had, still a little confused,  and he gave you this intense, unforgettable look, before asking what you thought of it all. You laughed at the idea, telling him, perhaps a little dishonestly, that it was super gross. He was like your brother, you said. You didn’t think much of it, at all. Why would he care, anyway? He had that pretty girl, Zoey. Finch had said that he had seen them holding hands at Sarah J’s party, so you didn’t want to ruin anything for him by admitting that you sometimes wished that the rumours were true. You pressed play and kicked his ass in Tekken. 

The next Monday, at school, he acted like nothing was wrong, but, after that, the pair of you started to drift apart. You stopped playing video games together, playful barbs became antagonism and, by the time you reached high school, you had nothing left of the friendship that you had once shared. It was sad, sure, but you weren’t a chaser. If Race didn’t want to be your friend, then so be it.

You didn’t think again about the conversation with Batman boy, or what you might have done wrong to get Race to hate you, until a few nights later, when you were sitting at home alone. You were trying to convince yourself to get up and get something done, maybe cook dinner or do your homework, for once, but, instead you were scrolling through your unexciting Instagram feed. You idly double tapped on a few photos, exhaled out of your nose in lieu of laughter at some stupid memes, and then you reached a picture that Albert had posted, from the weekend’s party. It was him and a couple of other boys grinning at the camera and you were about to scroll past, when you saw a familiar costume. It was yellow and black, with the tell-tale Batman logo on the front, but, this time, the wearer had the hood off. Shit. Shitshitshit. There, in the Batman costume was Anthony Higgins. You had accidentally complained about him to him. Sure, you and Race weren’t the best of friends, but you didn’t want him to think you were an asshole.

You fumbled to your contacts app and called Katherine. She’d know what to do, you were sure of it. After she had got done laughing at you, she offered you a solution: Talk to Race and apologise for what you had said. You knew, logically, that that was your only option, but you really wished that the world would end before you had to apologise to Race Higgins. You couldn’t stomach texting him and figured that you could just grab him after school the next day.

The day went by a little too fast, and, before you knew it, the bell had rung to signal the end of your last lesson. You resigned yourself to your fate and made you way to Race’s locker, which was just a few doors down from yours. He was alone, thankfully, and looked more than a little surprised to see you heading his way.

“Hey,” you tried to smile when you reached him, but you were sure it came across as more of a grimace.

“Hi,” he answered, barely looking at you as he moved books from his locker to his bag.

“Race,” you tried again, putting a hand on his forearm to stop his fairly violent rifling. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” He glanced down at where your hand touched his arm and sighed, turning to you, looking a little deflated.

“Fine. What’s up?”

You took a deep breath.

“Look, I didn’t know it was you that I was saying that shit to at Jack’s. And, I know it was shitty of me to be saying that to anyone, but I didn’t mean most of it. You’re on my nerves half the time, and making fun of me the other half, but that was mean. I’m sorry.”

He looked shocked, and a little pensive.

“It’s, um. It’s okay, Y/N. It just made me kind of sad that we aren’t friends anymore. I mean, we were good together.”

He met your eyes, and you were struck by how much you had missed the way they shined when he was being sincere.

“Yeah, uh, me too. We made a good team. I miss that.”

He looked like he was going to say something else, when Albert came up behind him and put two hands on his shoulders.

“Race and Y/N? Having a civil conversation? I’m entering the lottery on the way home, because today is a day for miracles.”

Race rolled his eyes at you and you laughed.

“Fuck off, DaSilva, you’re not even old enough to get a ticket,” he said jerking the boy’s hands off his shoulders.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “And you waste enough money buying coffee to flirt with Elmer at Jacobi’s.”

“Nice,” Race laughed high-fiving you, and Albert stuck his tongue out at you, before stalking off because he didn’t have a good comeback to dispute the truth.

There was a beat of silence, and before it started to get awkward, Race spoke again.

“Uh, if you’re serious about being friends again, we should hang out some time, maybe go to the arcade?”

You smiled at him, brightly.

“You sure that’s a good idea, Higgins? I’ll smoke you in ice hockey, like I always used to.”

“Uh, you wish. I’m the ice hockey king, baby.”

You punched him in the shoulder and made plans for that weekend. That had gone better than you had expected.

It wouldn’t have been true to say that you had changed your mind about Race right away. You had fun with him, from that first day at the arcade, onwards. It was still a little awkward and there was always a little tension in the room, but you worked through it. You were seniors, you could be mature, if you tried.

(Although maturity certainly seemed to be in short supply when you and Race giggled, together, at the matching sixty-nines that you got on your history pop quizzes, or when he whispered “that’s what she said” in your ear at almost every sentence that came out of Mr Bunsen’s mouth in bio.)

You didn’t hate him, not that you ever really had. You hated that, now, his stupid jokes made you laugh, because you were included in them. You hated the warmth you felt in your chest when you said something that made him laugh, and you especially hated that crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he smiled at you, sincere and earnest.

You, realised, gradually, that you and Race had never been enemies – you just responded to what you thought was his hate in kind. It was easier to keep roasting one another, when neither one of you broke the cycle. That conversation at the party had been a turning point, for both of you.

Although, you still seemed unable to talk about the elephant in the room. You and Race never discussed how the animosity had begun between the two of you. Bringing it up would force you both to admit how stupid you had been, and neither of you were very skilled at admitting fault. It was easier to ignore it, to dance around it, than it was to deal with it. It was on your mind more often, now.

You wondered what had really happened, because something had to have happened, right? The more you thought about it, the more it made sense. People don’t just stop being friends and turn to enemies, like flicking a switch, especially not two fiercely loyal people, like you and Race. You didn’t mention it, though, for fear that you would slip back into old habits.

You liked Race, you realised, even if the two of you were incapable of having a conversation about emotions. You grinned at one another in private moments of understanding, warm with that feeling you get when you spend time with someone who has the exact same sense of humour as you. It was really good to be his friend again, until it wasn’t.

The argument had started by accident. Race was coming over on a Thursday, after school to work on a project for history. You were determined to get better than a sixty-nine for this one, even if that was the golden number. When Race had rung the doorbell, your mum had welcomed him in, pleasantly surprised to see him. You always had a feeling that she was sadder about your losing Race than you were. She was convinced that the two of you were soulmates, even when you were kids in the playground. She called it a mum’s intuition. You called it heteronormativity, but, anyway.

She chatted his ear off as she waited for you to come downstairs, talking about how much she had missed having a boy around, and how glad she was that the two of you had patched everything up. You caught the tail end of the conversation as you made your way down the stairs.

“What ever happened between you two, anyway?” your mum had asked, innocently enough.

Race laughed uncomfortably.

“Oh, I guess she just got too busy for me. I’m glad we’re friends again, now, though.”

Your mum agreed, and you fumed. Almost as soon as you had pulled your bedroom shut behind you, you gave him A Look. He was alarmed.

“What?” he asked.

“What do you mean ‘what’? Do you seriously think it’s my fault that we stopped being friends?”

He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Oh, about what I said to your mom? I mean, yeah, it kind of was. You stopped inviting me over or replying to my texts, so I just figured you were busy,” he sounded unsure of himself.

“You stopped talking to me, Race. Was I supposed to be super nice to you when you always acted like you’d rather be anywhere else when I was in the same room as you?”

He scoffed.

“Are you being for real? We were fine, we were doing great, and then you started hanging out with Katherine or Davey instead of me, which is fine, but it was so not my fault.”

“You pretty much begged for space that day when you asked me about the stupid rumours about us dating, or whatever!”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“I cannot believe we’re talking about this. We were twelve, we were stupid!”

“And, now, you’re deflecting,” you replied. “We were best friends, Race. I just wanna know what happened between us.”

He sighed and flopped on your bed like a petulant child. His blue eyes were stormy, and they looked familiarly intense.

“Fine, it was kind of my fault, I guess.”

You kept yourself from fist pumping.

“It’s just, I felt so stupid!” he continued.

“What do you mean?” you asked, gently, this time, sitting at his feet on the bed.

“So, that day? When I asked you about the stupid middle school rumours?”

You nodded, motioning for him to go on.

“I had the biggest crush on you, and I figured that that was your way of letting me down easy. I was like your brother, right? It sucked. And, whenever we hung out, after that, I just felt so frustrated. I was mad at me, for being stupid and catching feelings and making everything weird between us, but I guess it was easier to just lash out at you. It was dumb, but I don’t think I like anything in the world as much as I like you, you were the first person that I ever felt any anything for. It sucked.”

He scrunched his eyes shut and looked ready to disappear.

“Wait,” you said, still processing his words. “’Like’, as in, present tense?”

He sat up straight.

“I – what?”

“You said like, like present tense like, like currently like.”

He cleared his throat and his eyes scanned the room, as he searched the walls for something.

“Uh, slip of the tongue, whatever. You said like way too many times just then.”

You waved your hand. Semantics.

“Do you, um, like me, as in like-like me, present tense like me, Race?”

He sputtered for a moment, and then swallowed drily.

“I guess, it’s stupid. It kind of never went away, if you can believe it.”

You could believe it. It wasn’t hard to believe, since you could relate. He was waiting, nervously, for you to say something, but your words didn’t seem to be working. Instead of speaking, you moved across the bed, so that you were sitting next to him, both of your heads leaning against the wall.

“I, um,” you took a deep breath. “Uh, same.”

His head snapped to yours and he searched your eyes for humour. He sighed, shakily, and then let out a soft laugh.

“’Same?’ I practically confess my love to you and all you’ve got is ‘same’?”

His eyes twinkled with mirth.

“Well, what else do you want me to say?” you protested. “That I don’t hate you? That I never wanted to hate you? I just figured that you didn’t want to be my friend, anymore.”

“God. We are idiots.”

“Yep,” you agreed.

You sat in silence for a moment, letting the realisation of what you had just admitted wash over you. Race suddenly turned to you.

“So, what happens now?”

You shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. You weren’t sure what you were nervous about now, but the tumble of feelings in your stomach insisted that looking at Race’s eyes would ruin you, so you stared at the white wall in front you.

“Because,” he said, putting a hand on your knee like he was bracing himself. “I kinda wanna make out with you, like, romantically?”

A laugh bubbled out of you and you turned to him, finally. You had been wrong, before, about the consequences of meeting his eyes. They weren’t storm-blue anymore. They were blue like the sky on a sunny a day. They were blue like the ocean, when you’ve spent months away from the sea. They were a sight to behold.

You turned your whole body to face him and gently slipped a hand to the back of his neck, playing with the blonde curls there. You leaned into him, and just before your lips met his, you muttered a word, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Same.”

You leaned in and kissed him, with years’ worth of hidden feelings, and he smiled against your lips. You pulled away after a bit and looked at his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, but they were as blue as ever. You wondered how you had ever pretended to dislike eyes as beautiful as his.

 TAGLIST: @bencookisagod @broadwayandbookblog @theygivesyawhateveryouwant @crazymecjc

[evotter]

jan, march, sept + one of your choice, love. have a great day, u icon

thank u kyra i adore u

january: what was the first fic you posted this year?

the first fic i posted this year TECHNICALLY was the epilogue of a different path. the first standalone was chewbacca (aka my introduction to the jily world once again and i have such a soft spot for it)

march: do you listen to music whilst writing? 

yes! pretty much always; if it’s not music, it’s a TV show.

september: share a comment or review which still warms your heart?

quite literally anything you’ve left on any of my fics BUT there are a few that i hold dear to my heart. i’ll post them under the cut cause they are LONG :’)

ancient: the first fic you ever posted online?

hahahaaaaaaa. it was my own version of rick riordan’s the son of neptune before the actual book was published. it was on ff.net, and the first chapter got 7 reviews, and i felt so good about myself after that lmfao. who knew i’d still be writing 8 years later?

ask me questions!

OKAY so i have 3 top favorites:

from a different path:

okay so i had seen this in someone else’s bookmarks the other day, thought it was an interesting concept—especially since i too love slytherin!percy and strongly subscribe to ofswordsandpens’ headcanons about it—but didn’t give it another thought until i was listening to a video about the cursed child and went: wait, there’s a percabeth hogwarts au that i saw somewhere. and immediately i hunted this down and i’m just in awe? i tore through it. belatedly, i realized that i made a mistake: i didn’t write down my thoughts as i was reading, which is definitely a disservice to you. however, here are a generalized list of things that i loved.

first of all, with hogwarts au’s, there are three main aspects that i look for: plot, characterization, and quality of writing. normally, fics of this size lack one or more of these key factors, but i was astonished to find that the plot is tremendously tight and intriguing (my lip bled from biting it so much because i’ve been stressed to the max), you write these characters with such distinct voices i can easily picture them saying everything—except, of course, now in a little british accent—and your writing flows so well, it feels almost like i’m reading an actual harry potter book, just with percy and co. you also do a masterful job of weaving together aspects of the pjo universe with the established canon of hp.

and there are so many specific things that i love. primarily, the way you write the relationships in this story; not just concerning percabeth (though i will get to that in a minute), but also with each of the interactions between all of the characters. i applaud you for how you handled luke/annabeth and rachel/percy, and the friendship among them all is just incredibly well done. i especially love how well you wrote connor and zoë and just, a lot of characters that i don’t often think about when i think of pjo. grover and percy’s friendship especially is heartbreaking, i just. he’s so protective because he loves his friends and holy fuck i also love how you wrote grover in this. but i just adored how you wrote annabeth/percy—the love between them, both platonic in its early stages and the romantic all throughout, was doubly apparent. i ached when they kissed each other’s cheeks, and i inwardly cheered when she kissed him in the locker room. there was just such a natural progression, to me, of their relationship. and man did i dig it. i’m excited (and maybe a little scared) to see where you take their relationship in the future.

boy, this is getting long. sorry. but some more just little quick things: loved the b99 reference, with both of their competitive natures playing out in a similar way to jake and amy’s. i kind of want to go back and see if i can find any other references that i missed because i was just too engaged in the story to catch them. also, zoë’s death killed me all over again, thanks for that. i like how you’re working the kronos plot in, and i can’t wait to see how the Final Battle plays out. what else? oh! professor hestia? beautiful. eventual maybe professor percy? outstanding. percy kissing the top of annabeth’s head? breathtaking. rachel being a quidditch commentator? earth shattering. (truly i cackled when i saw that.) mrs. o’leary being a cat? incredible. how you incorporated percy’s water powers? stunning.

ooh, this exchange was beautiful and had me cackling it was so in-character:

“None of us are dying.” Connor clarifies. “Not you, not me, not Annie, not the rest of us.”

“I might have to dispute that.” Annabeth says, from Percy’s other side. “Call me ‘Annie’ one more time, Stoll, and I’ll kill you myself.”

Connor only grins at her. “Sorry, love. No more ‘Annie’. Can I call you Beth?”

“No.”

“Anna?”

“No.”

okay, so i just finished chapter nine and i am blown away. sorry for how long this comment was, but a fic of this magnitude truly warrants it. i can’t wait to see what happens next.

i leave you with just two words: “holy shit.”

from a different path: 

god, oh my god, am i the only dumb bitch who didn’t get what the prophecy was??

anyway, i stumbled on this fic last year, patiently waiting for its completion, and now that i’ve rediscovered it, i’m so glad i finished it all in one go! i couldn’t imagine the tension of waiting for the next chapter, especially since the tension is so well-crafted!! i hardly noticed the tonal shift even as the story got darker and darker as it led up to the war, and in that way i was reminded of how extremely similar it felt to reading the hp books for the first time! you nailed percy very well i might say, and the awkward-yet-caring relationship he has with his dad. i daresay you gave connor and zoe more characterization than rick riordan himself, and the percabeth you wrote is perfect to the nth degree. i appreciate that you didnt bother with all the love triangle and unrequited feelings nonsense as well.

but i have to say, even as i cried at sally and paul’s wedding, or at dionysus’ quiet mourning for castor, what really struck with me most was the way you handled silena. for that, i have no words. that was a job extremely well done. thank you so much for blessing us with this fic.

from chewbacca (a comment from u!): 

A girl in a bright yellow hooded raincoat stumbles into the cafe on one of the slowest nights James has ever seen. Her coat is dripping all over the floor he’d just cleaned (but it’s fine) and when he leans over the counter he sees that her boots match the coat.

First of all!!! Thats the best opening line in the world and nobody can convince me otherwise. I want to become a publisher just so that if you ever write a book, I’d be able to publish it. ( like omg, what an honor??? )

She looks like sunshine, standing there with the amount of yellow in her wardrobe. Briefly, James wonders if that’s her favorite color. It’s got to be.

Im going to quote this whole fic but I really love these lines? Like, you have this distinct style of writiting that I aim to acheive and you’re literally such a rolemodel!!! These are my favorite kind of fics to read. Funny story but I was going through a ‘no thanks Jily’ mood (  a horror, i know !! ) but your fics are just,,,,exceptions? You could write about trash and I’d love it and ask for you to sign me up.

 “Say it again, but convincingly this time.”

ooof this dialogue??? let me breathe

This is the longest he’s stood still since he started working. It’s actually a miracle.

and the funniest person award goes to YOU. also, the most talented and cutest but thats neither here nor there.

james taking care of fleamont, switching off the lights gives me just a nice and realistic vibe? its so simple but i love how you added it.

honestly at this point, ive been sucked again by the fanfic. it feels less like a fic and more like a masterpiece that belongs in a museum but anyway.

“James is supposed to be helping.

James is on his phone.”

ugh i love ur mind. im rereading and its so nice and lovely. even if its like 1am and im exhausted, this fic is sustaining me.

“Do it off the clock, would you?”

PEAK HUMOR

have i mentioned how much i love that scene with euphemia? she seems like such a lovely mom. i love ur euphemia the most. and ahh, both of them just rushing to the hospital ? another 100% good scene.

“Euphemia smiles too, but looks at Fleamont rather than at her son. “Yes,” she says. “It really does.””

fic? or shakspeare? HMMM

A girl in a bright yellow hooded raincoat stumbles into the cafe on one of the slowest nights James has ever seen // “Get fucked.”

the fic!! has made a circle!!! i love how it begins and ends along the same lines. I really want to know how??? are you so talented im in love.

i just really love this fic, okay? i love how james is just the kindest, lily is allowed to have feelings, its just so soft and warm. and it makes someone feel loved, want love anyway.

the dynamic between the characters are just so real and great and im astounded, in short.

your sirius is everything. so many fics potray him as a dick??? which is first of all #rude and also, not at all true. you made me love these characters even more so i sincerely hope you never stop writing.

you’re such a beautiful writer and the way you string words together is just poetic and gorgeous and all the other good adjectives you can think of. i read your spiderman x reader too and i was a goner for you. EVERYTHING YOU WRITE IS SO GOOD. i read it so long ago but i can vividly remember peter whipping the mask off and she just going wtf stop on the window ledge. what im trying to say is that you leave this lasting impression on people that make them remember random scenes and words / prose long after they’ve read it which is a remarkable feat, i believe.

and im so sorry im not on tumblr rn bc i cannot keep recing this fic but i have told my friends about your writing and they loved it too. you’ve got like a million fans. when i do get back from my hiatus, im going to keep recing your fics and people will cry because their universe will shift thanks to the newfound joy of your presence in their life.

lastly, im more of a dog person and that, more than anything, should tell you how much i love this fic. i love u. and basee on your writing, i want to hug you, be your best friend and make you cookies bc again

WOW

[the-lupine-sojourner]

Love Conquers Amnesia [Amnesiac!Eijiro/Takara(OC)]

Hiya! I saw This video and couldn’t help thinking about KiriKara (my name for the ship. I can’t think of a better one, so if you can, leave it in a comment below!), and this is the result!  Anyway, in writing it and trying to think of a realistic way for Kiri to lose his memory, I kinda veered from the video when I meant to practically quote it, but I also like this version, so here we are! Also, if you want more domestic KiriKara, send an Ask or message me and I’ll totally write it (as long as it’s not smut. Sorry!)!!

Real quick before I begin, @dailyojiromashirao is pretty much on my permanent MHA writing taglist, cus they’re always so sweet and supportive! Love you! And maybe @elite-guard-hardygal would enjoy this, too?? IDK. Feel free to ignore, lovey! 

Now that that’s done, I will only this before we begin; I hope you all enjoy! 

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

(P.S: This guy is my headcanon/faceclaim for Adult!Eijiro, btw. I haven’t seen Bleach, but I know he’s a character in that show. This is the face Kiri makes when he sees his waifu but doesn’t remember her yet. She startles him with her beauty! XD)

Statistically, it was probably more shocking that it took so long for this to happen, given our profession.

But, it was still very shocking to get a call in the middle of a daytime patrol. “Are you Mrs. Takara Kirishima?” The person on the other end asks. I gulp.

“Yes, this is she. Who’s calling?” I ask as politely as I can.

“The receptionist at Sanno Hospital. I’m calling to report your husband’s admittance.” Instantly, my heart plummets into my toes, and the temperature seems to drop below freezing.

“O-oh...I...Is he..?”

“He’s in surgery. We’re still unsure precisely what happened, but more details are emerging the longer we have him. The doctors are very hopeful, however.” I can’t help but not feel comforted by those words. Something could always happen. It only took one wrong move, one instant, for everything to change.

“O-okay. I’ll be there in around thirty minutes. Thank you.” I say, then hang up. I race back to my agency. The one Kiri and I shared, like everything else. I rip off my headgear and toss it into the locker along with my belt, all while calling out the situation, before sprinting for my- -our- -car. We were supposed to drive home together and have a family movie night with our five-year-old son, Senshi.

This wasn’t supposed to happen! Kiri had an amazingly defensive Quirk. How could someone have hospitalized him?!

=#=#=#=#=

“The story we’ve pieced together from the data we’ve collected is this;” the doctor explains when I arrive. “your husband was fighting an unknown villain, and somehow suffered trauma to the head, resulting in the loss of the fight, and…”

“What?” I press urgently. I needed to know!

“Well, with brain injuries...memories are the easiest to lose, we’ve found. It appears your body automatically purges memories first instead of the knowledge of how to breathe, for example. I’m sorry, Mrs. Kirishima, but there is a strong possibility that your husband won’t remember much when he wakes up.” I thank him for telling me absently, eyes peeking into the room, to Kiri laying still on the bed. “And we’re not sure when he’ll wake up. We hardly had to use anesthesia on him for the surgery; he was unconscious when he was admitted, but without any real indication that we could find as to why. I’m sorry.” I nod.

“Thanks for doing what you could, doc.” I murmur, walking slowly into the room. The man smiles sadly at me and leaves me to sit beside Kiri. His hair had to be combed down and messed around so they could run tests to see why he was still out cold, and the black hospital gown looked incredibly odd on him. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. It seemed to lull me into a doze, one I tried to fight without much luck.

=#=#=#=#=

It’s only a few hours later that I wake up, and Kiri still isn’t awake. I hold in a groan and stand, stretching out my back and arms that were sore from sleeping in the chair.

I wasn’t planning on leaving til Kiri woke up and I could ascertain for myself his condition, so I watch him. His chest goes up and down and the heart rate monitor beeps incessantly as time creeps by. It was unknown how long I sat there before I started to fall asleep again. I shook myself. I wouldn’t fall asleep again until I saw Kiri awake.

So I stood again, deciding to leave briefly to get a cup of coffee and call people. Mainly Ma, Pa (what I call Mr. and Mrs. Kirishima) and Katsuki. They deserved to know what had happened.

It went about as well as expected. They were upset (Katsuki vowing to roast Kiri for being so sloppy as to let that villain get a hit on him), but promised to get here soon.

I then got my coffee and headed back to Kiri’s room, only to find him standing and gazing at the sunrise out of his window, his IV pole clutched beside him. 

I gulp. Time to see what was what with him. I grin and walk over. “Beautiful, huh?” I ask, sipping the coffee. He flinches, jerking his head to look at me.

“Yea- -uh...did...did the doctors send you?” He asks, stunned, cheeks red. I blanch. Of course. Memory loss was a high probability, the doctor had said.

“N-no.” I murmur, gulping the coffee to avoid talking. How was I supposed to deal with this?! How long would this last?!

“Wow…” He breathes, taking me in and smiling. “You must be the prettiest woman in the whole world.” It’s almost like he wasn’t aware he was talking out loud. I blush. Even without memories of our marriage, he was attracted to me. 

“Thanks.” I reply, chuckling. It then drops. “...Do you know my name?” I ask tentatively. Eijiro frowns, scanning me again.

“...I’m sorry, but no...should I?” I sigh. Of course he wouldn’t remember...

“Takara.” I reply. “It’s Takara Kirishima.” There. I’d kinda told him. He’d have to piece it together now. His eyes narrow in thought, then go wide.

“Are you my sister?” He asks. I snort.

“No. No, I’m not.”

“Cousin?” I smile.

“Not a cousin, either.”

“...Then...what?” He asks shyly. I roll my eyes.

“I’m your wife, dummy.” I chuckle, ruffling his hair. He blinks several times, then grabs my left hand. I slip the glove I hadn’t taken off and he stares at the simple sterling silver band around my ring finger.

“...We’re married?” He exclaims, staring at my face now. I grin proudly and nod.

“Yeah. For almost six years now.”

“Whoa, really?! How do I not remember that?! Man, I hit the jackpot!” I chuckle, scratching the back of my head, cheeks scarlet. Wow...

“The doctors aren’t really sure. You were admitted to the ER unconscious and had to go into a brief surgery to try and determine what happened. They still don’t know, but my guess is a Quirk’s to blame.” Kiri nods.

“I have one, too, right? A Quirk?” I nod.

“Yup. You can harden your body using your body’s carbon. Downside is you can’t do it forever.” He frowns, then grins happily.

“I think...I think I remember that!” He cries. “I use it to fight, don’t I?”

“Yup. You’re a hero. You help a lot of people at our agency.”

“Our agency?” Eijiro asks, head tilted. I grin.

“Yeah!” Just then, I hear the door open behind us. I glance over and see Katsuki glaring from the doorway, only halfway out of his costume, as well.

“Hey! Shitty Hair! Remember me?!” Kiri turns.

“...You know me?” He asks. Katsuki does a double-take, then scoffs.

“Right. Forgot. You let a villain hit you with some dumb memory loss Quirk. Your wife called me. I was closer than your parents are, but they’ll be here.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Kiri murmurs, looking at Katsuki’s outfit. “...Are you a hero, too?” Katsuki flinches in irritation, then deflates.

“Yeah. So’s your wife, dumbass.”

“Katsuki, thanks for coming, but don’t be mean.” I warn. I knew, however, that this was just Katsuki being Katsuki. He didn’t really mean it.

“Ground Zero, right? That’s...that’s your hero name?” Kiri suddenly asks, eyes lighting happily. Katsuki smirks.

“Finally, you remember something!” I roll my eyes.

“He remembered his Quirk and that he was a hero before you got here.” I point out.

“I don’t remember my hero name, though. Or yours, Takara. Sorry.” I wave that aside.

“No worries! You wanted to model your hero image after Crimson Riot, so you chose Red Riot as your hero name as an homage.” Eijiro’s eyes light up.

“Oh, right! He’s so manly and hardcore! What’s yours?” I chuckle and rub the back of my neck awkwardly. It always sounded weird when I explained it out loud.

“Well, I’ve always liked foxes and wolves, so I chose Kitsune as my hero name.”

“That’s awesome!” I laugh.

“You had that reaction the day we chose our hero names, too.” I reminisce fondly.

“Yeah, back when you two made dopey heart-eyes at each other in class and we all pretended we didn’t see and wanna puke.” Katsuki adds, scoffing and crossing his arms. His smirk betrays his happiness, though.

“Really?” Eijiro asks, eyeing me.

“We-well, it was more like I made the heart-eyes and then, ah- -do you recall something called the USJ incident? It happened almost nine years ago…” Eijiro frowns.

“I...I think so. We were in some huge building, right? Combat training?” I shake my head.

“No.” I grimace. Even now, the memory was painful, my ribs recalling that day easily. “We were supposed to be doing rescue training.” I murmur. “Then villains attacked. My mom nearly died. She was our teacher.” Eijiro frowns.

“Oh. Right. I was the one who found you, right? Against a fountain with a nearly collapsed ribcage?” I nod.

“Yeah. That was a tough week.” He nods.

“Ah, you babies got over it.” Katsuki muses. “If you ask me, that’s when you two nerds started liking each other and making everyone around you nauseous with your mushy attitude.” Eijiro then blushes and tilts his head, scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh...Takara, I’ve been meaning to ask...do we have kids?” I smile, pulling my phone out. I pull up a picture of Senshi at his fifth birthday (just a few weeks ago), sharp teeth on display as he grins at the camera.

“Yeah; a son, Senshi.” My hand goes to my stomach subtly. I’d planned to tell him the revelation I’d had this morning, the one still waiting on our bathroom sink. But not now. I’d wait til he had more memories to tell him, though. Eijiro stares at the picture for a long minute or two, gently taking my phone.

“He’s just like me…” He murmurs. I nod.

“Yeah.” His black hair came from his father, but the large brown eyes were from my side. It was adorable, and an instant recipe for success on his end when he gave me the infamous ‘puppy eyes’. “He’s a good kid.”

“Yeah, that brat’s alright.” Katsuki admits, scoffing a little. Surprisingly, Katsuki handled Senshi well. He wasn’t usually too forceful and angry with the kid. He’d really come a long way since our high school days, when he’d terrified any child that dared look at him wrong.

“I can’t believe we’re married and have a kid..” Eijiro murmurs thickly, and I notice tears on his cheeks. “How could I have forgotten you? I’m sorry, Takara...I’m so sorry…” I hug him, tears forming in my eyes.

“Eiji, it’s okay.” I murmur, rubbing his back as he clutches me. “It’s not your fault.”

“If I’d just taken care of that villain, none of this would’ve happened.” Eijiro sobs. I blink.

“So...you remember?” I ask, drawing back just enough to look him in the eye.

“Bits and pieces. The more we talked, the more I remembered. The picture of Senshi was like the final key.” He says. “That guy’s Quirk wasn’t affected by my Hardening, and it only took a touch for it to work.” 

“Great, you remember, now stop dancing around each other and kiss already.” Katsuki grumbles before I can react. I laugh and hug Eijiro again. He’s blushing as we part a few moments later.

“...Can we?” He asks. “Can we kiss?” It was exactly what he’d said, the morning he’d confessed. We’d gone sunrise hiking and he’d asked that as we watched the dawn unfold. I smile and play with his hair, just like I had that morning.

“Of course you can.” I reply, continuing the reenactment, and he all but tackles me in elation, kissing me so eagerly, I’m pretty sure my lips are swollen and bruised.

“Oi! I know i told you to kiss, but come on! Knock it off!” Katsuki growls. I smile into the kiss and deepen it, knowing it would piss Katsuki off. Sure enough, he growls and is stalking over when Eiji pulls back to stick his tongue at Katsuki.

“Oh, lay off!” He replies. “You’re just jealous cus you’re still single.” Katsuki growls and grabs the front of Eiji’s hospital gown.

“What did you say?!” Katsuki growls.

“Oh, good; I see we were worried for nothing.” Comes the voice of my mother-in-law. I look behind Katsuki and wave.

“Hi, Ma!” I call. I generally call Mrs. Kirishima ‘Ma’ or ‘Mama’, and Mom...well, ‘mom’. “Turns out, Eiji got hit by a Quirk that knocks you out and gives you amnesia, but it’s nullified by showing the victim photos or talking about the missing memories, evidently. He remembers.” 

Ma nods. “Thank goodness.” Eijiro hugs his parents.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hello, Eijiro.” Ma replies. Pa smiles and ruffles his son’s hair.

“Gave us quite a scare there, son.” He says. “But, of course, you pulled through!” Eijiro nods.

“Cus Kirishima men always win!” He says proudly, fist-pumping his dad. I roll my eyes. That was part of the reason Kiri was so upset in Middle School; his father encouraged bravery and manliness in his son and when Eijiro failed to act in that attack, it whacked his self-esteem.

But, over time, he’d become every inch a brave, manly hero. And an even better man to be married to. I side-hug him and squeeze his side reassuringly. “And the Kirishima women will always support their man.” I add, chuckling as Ma nods.

“Agreed. Knew I liked you when I met you, Kara.” I grin.

This was what we’d always have; a family to fall back on, no matter how bad or weird things get. Family is priority. Always.

Crappy ending is crappy, but hope you liked the rest! XD

[running-on-fanfiction]

John Stones - Take my picture..

Hi for the John stones imagine could you do maybe you work at the club he works at and yous fall in love and there’s a kiss ty so so much xxx

A/N: Okay, don’t hate me, I know very little about this sport. I keep meaning to start watching but I never know when it’s in season. So if this sucks, I really am sorry. 

The first day of anything was the worse. But, add on being in a new job, in a whole different country, and with a whole different sport and you got you, a big ball of nerves. 

You followed what you were told and went right to the main building and asked for Paul. 

“Ah Miss Y/N Welcome to Manchester City.” Paul greeted. 

Paul, was a semi bald guy who body seemed to tall for his head. He had a really nice smile thought and he was kind to you. 

“Thank you.” You smiled softly, feeling a little better.  You began to follow Paul down a long hallway, before going outside to the next building over.

“I saw your stuff you did for the NFL and NHL. I have to say missy you have a skill I haven’t seen in years.” He gave you a wink and a comforting smile. 

“Thank you.” 

“Have you always done sports photography?” 

“Kind of. I started in school, with the sports. It was a pass time, but it wasn’t until high school when a teacher told me I should go forward with it. She made me take pictures of everything, but sports just seemed to be the one thing I really want to do.” 

“Well, I’m sure glad she made you do it. I’ve been around these clubs for a while now, and I’ve never seen such breathtaking photo’s of sweaty guys before.” Paul laughed as he held the door open for you. You thanked him once again, before seeing the field come into view. 

There was something about the field that made you pick up your camera that sat upon your neck. Paul smiled as he watched you. He really hoped you stay for a while. 

“Mr. Guardiola.” Paul hummed as he walked up to a tanned man who looked less than thrilled, but once he saw Paul a smile appeared. 

“Ahh Mr. Goose.”

“This is Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul smiled as he gestured towards you. You stood up straight and extended your hand out. 

“Pep Guardiola, you can call me Pep or coach whatever you please.” Pep smiled as he shook your hand. “Wow nice handshake, better than most of my guys.” He laughed.

“I was told you must have a firm handshake if you want to be notice.” You quoted one of your good friends who you met in the NHL. 

“Wise friend.” He smiled as he looked over at the guys on the field. 

Paul waved goodbye to you both and made sure to tell you that if you needed anything to come find him. 

“So, I’m sure you know what your job is but I am required to repeat it all.” Pep rolled his eyes in a playful manner as he took a seat. You took a seat next to him and took a photo of the players. Pep smiled as he watched you. 

Everyone seemed to agree that when you took pictures, you were in a whole new world. Half of the time you didn’t even realize you were taking pictures, until you got home and looked through them. 

“So basically, you are here every game, and practice. You’ll also be at event’s and away games. The club pays for your room and everything. Your days off on when the guys have one, and time from time you will be one on one with certain players, for certain task but I’ll tell you when. Any questions?” 

*Snap*

“No, I think am good.” You smiled, before getting off your seat and closer to the field. 

You knew your limits on where you could stand so Pep just watched you from his seat, while every once in a while yelling at one of the players. 

You were so lost in taking pictures that you almost didn’t heard coach yell for the boys to get clean up. As the players went back to the locker room, you took the time to look through the photos. 

“Once, the boys are done, I want you to met them.” Pep said as he left to enter the locker room. 

You shook your head even thought he couldn’t see. You felt the nerves come back. Pulling out your phone you texted the one person you knew who could calm you. Luke Witkowski. 

“I’m about to meet the team and I think am going to either puke or shit myself.” You texted.

“Haha, well that would be a nice meeting.” Luke typed back.

“Yeah, not helping.” 

“Relax. Think of them as the guys, but with a ball instead of a hockey puck.” 

“Okay..”

“And just remember they are going to love you anyways because you’re now part of their family. Breath. And if they don’t love you, just remember we know how to kick butt. :D” 

You laughed, as you slipped your phone back into your pocket. 

“Y/N, I’d like you to meet the team. Guys this is Y/N, you’re new photographer. Please be nice.” 

“Coach, were always nice.” One of them yelled making the rest of them giggle.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go home and get some sleep lads.” Pep laughed. “Oh John could you do me a favor and show Y/N around first.” 

“Course.” A smiling Blonde said as he stood back. You had to admit he wasn’t bad on the eyes at all. 

“I’m John Stone, the best looking lad on the team.” He joked as he began walking you around the arena.  

“I feel like your teammates would fight you on that.” You laughed.

“Yeah, probably right on that.” He laughed. Ugh, he even had a really good laugh, you thought as he guide you around. 

Maybe that’s why you did what you did. You really weren’t thinking, and he knew that but he still found it cute. 

“So, I think that’s really it, but I’ll give you mine number and you can give me yours then I can show you around the town.” He giggled as he handed you his phone. You handed him yours as well. 

“Okay, well I’ll text you later maybe we could get some dinner or something.” He smiled. 

“Sounds good. Thank you. Bye.” You said before placing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

It didn’t hit you right away, but when it did you wanted to die. 

“Oh I didn’t mean that. I just, I, Yeah am going to go die in a hole or something.” You rambled as you tried to walk away, but John grabbed you.

“You’re cute.” He smiled before looking around to make sure no one was around, before giving you an actual kiss. 

You were shocked when he pulled away. 

“Dinner, tonight. I’ll call you.” He smiled as you walked towards your car in a daze. 

It wasn’t until you hit the car that you realized that this couldn’t happen. You couldn’t date a player. You could get fired.

-Julianne