#this is my second time making a stamp! the first one was quick and wasn’t really for aesthetics so making one just to be art was really fun

[every-eye-evermore]

Infinite murderbots!

[axeoverblade]

Classmate

PART ONE (CURRENT); PART TWO ; PART THREE

Earth 42! Miles Morales x fem! reader

Synopsis! For the life of you , you couldn’t understand why Miles had it out to get you so bad. If it wasn’t for the mid-year seat change, he wouldn’t have even acknowledged your existence.

MASTERLIST

Genre: light fluff, enemies to lovers like trope, light bully!Miles

Warnings: mentions of sa (nothing happens just mentioned), mentions of violence, maybe foul language but I think that’s it enjoy!

word count: 5k

Authors comment: I keep seeing School themed hcs and I had to say me sphewl(?), planned to be one shot but thinking about a part two. Sorry for any bad translations my Spanish is meh, please leave a like <3

Do not copy! All rights reserved to ©axeoverblade

It was known half way through the school year at Visions Academy the teachers changed the assigned seats. Being in your last hour, you were pretty much comfortable sitting next to almost anyone in the class.

Albeit, you did have a few in your mind you would rather not be sat with. Kids who didn’t like to do the group work, kids who talked too much, kids who always were trying to copy answers, etc.

The teacher went through the neatly organized desks column by column, starting on the left side closest to the door for the new seating chart. There were only four columns seeing as the wooden desks were double seated. You listened as she went through assigning kids to chairs, finally reaching the last column. There were about seven other kids along with you still waiting to be called to the four desks available. All the kids left were somewhat iffy options to be next to for the rest of the year.

…

Only you and three others were left. She called out to the second to last desk, “Amanda and John”. You sigh a breath of relief happy to not be sat next to John who had a crush on you, your thoughts replaying all the times he had tried to get with you. Feelings were not mutual. “ And Finally Y/n and Miles.”

You walked over to the seat from the front of the room, seeing the Miles kid already getting comfortable in his new seat closest to the wall.

You never had the chance to talk to Miles much. Actually, you don’t think you’ve ever talked to him. He was very reticent in the classroom. The moment he finished his work which was always relatively quick, he was out of the class leaving a few minutes to spare coming back before the bell rang.

There was a reason you never made an effort to talk to Miles. In fact, it was more like you endeavored to avoid him. His hedonistic friend group were known for being-, uncivil. They treated others horribly, always making someone do something that would make your stomach churn if you had to be the one to do it. And even though Miles was known to never actively participate in those things, anyone who hung around people who did those things were bound to start someday.

What confused you though, he was extremely smart unlike the jerks he was always with. You heard he was one of the highest scoring kids, every report card stamped with straight As. That wasn’t much at this school, almost everyone had straight As and high Bs, but all his grades averaged above 94.

There was also no denying he was very attractive. Surprisingly he was never seen with anyone romantically, unlike his friends who always had a girl or two under their arms. There were definitely people were lined up at his feet though, always trying to cling to him. He always just brushed them off, sometimes blunter than he needed to be.

You had seen it once, a girl you hadn’t really liked had gone up to him during passing period asking for his number only for him to look at her and walk right past her. All his friends and their shallow twats of girlfriends laughed at her, walking with Miles past her.

She cried in bathroom for forty minutes after.

You stood next to your seat, putting your bag down. “Hi I’m y/n” you said, formally introducing yourself to Miles for the first time. He looked up to you from his phone. You watched as he took his time studying you, making you slightly flustered as his eyes roamed your body. He looked back down at his phone, disregarding your presence. “I know.”

You blinked a few times processing the abrupt rudeness.

You rolled your eyes and whispered a few choice words to yourself about the interaction as you sat down, realizing you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year.

You pulled out your phone, texting your friend and roommate Mei, who was across the room, about how rude Miles was. She looked up, seeing you staring at her irritated. She giggled before texting back.

Mei: He so fine tho 😍 ask em if he needs a dog

You: Mei 💀

You: he’s so rude n for what? Like he could’ve just nodded or said his name. I know he got that whole “bad boy” thing goin but ain’t have to do allat

Mei: Ion know gl tho 💯

You: Ur no help 😭 Ima ask for a seat change

Mei: It's the first five minutes you have sat next to each other, maybe he is just nervous from ur emmense beauty 😩 I know I would be

Mei: PLUS u know Ms Reita does not b swappin seats. You know how many times I asked to be moved from Jessica only for her to say tuff luck and move on? Seventeen times. Just give it time n maybe it gets better you never know

You: 😐

You shook your head and put your phone down as the teacher started passing out the work. It was a normal worksheet due by the end of class. You went through, solving the easier problems before going back and finishing the ones you skipped.

You were on your last problem when Miles hand shot up lazily. Ms.Reita looked at him and sighed, knowing that he was going to leave for almost the rest of class period if she let him leave the room. “Is your worksheet finished?” “I wouldn’t be raisin’ my hand if it wasn’t.” “Watch it Morales, wouldn’t want to have to tell your Mom you have detention would you?” He sighed before mockingly smiling “sorry Ms.Reita, can I so humbly excuse myself?” He batted his eyelashes for extra effect, clearly tired of the interaction and ready to leave. She huffed as pointed to the door. You snickered to yourself watching the exchange. He looked at you, a glint of amusement washing over his eyes, but the look left as soon as it appeared. He looked away getting up and walking out.

_

You walked with Mei back to your shared dorm, talking about the nonsense that flooded your minds. Luckily for you, it was Friday and you could go home tonight, you just had to go grab your bag and you would be free from this hell hole.

…

“Alright Mei I’ll see you on Monday” you said, grabbing your suitcase and backpack, pulling it with you to leave. She smiled and waved, still packing. “Bye baby mama” you rolled your eyes playfully at what she said. She would constantly make jokes about how she could care for you and be your sugar momma, even though she was just as broke as you were.

You walked toward the lobby of the school, seeing the exit to the building so close. It felt like knowing air was near when you were drowning, finally being able to catch a break and breathe- “oh sorry baby girl, didn’t see you there.” You felt someone bump into you, too intentional for it to be accident. You cringed at the nickname and gathered yourself. Luckily you hadn’t fallen, just stumbled causing your bag to fall off you. “Don’t call me that John.” You said, picking up your bag and slinging it in on your shoulder. “You know you like it” he said, closer than he needed to be. Recoiling at the sound of him so close to your ear, you stuck your hand out and lightly pushed him further from you. “I really don’t, I already told you I want nothin’ to do with you.” You continued to walk to the exit, only for him to walk beside you. “Cmon baby I can show you the world, stop playing hard to get.” You looked at him, stopping in your tracks, “I’m not playing hard to get, this is me playing I don’t want you” “so you admit you're playing about not wanting me?” He said, smirking. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, just wanting to go home. “For the final time John, I am not interested.” You walked again, this time he didn’t follow because his friends were walking up to him. “I’ll see you on Monday baby!” He called out loudly, drawing attention to the both of you. You scowled and walked faster out the building, happy to not have to see John for a few days.

Unbeknownst to you, Miles was watching the interaction from the beginning, ignoring his friends talk about the girls that passed or the sexist comments they made. He noted how you reacted to John, how much disgust surged through your body language. He disliked John, but for separate reasons. John was one of those guys. Class A jock who didn’t know when to quit. Also didn’t know when to shut their mouths. Granted, those were the exact people he hung around. But at least he could tolerate their idiocy, and it was better than walking around the school alone all day. Only kid he hung around that wasn’t like that was his roommate Ganke.

He watched as you scowled and left the school. He shrugged minding his own business, zoning back into the conversation about who had the biggest boobs.

Monday rolled around quicker than you could’ve imagined. And it felt like a Monday, which never helped. You trudged into your last hour groggily, just wanting to be done with the day so you could go back to your dorm and sleep. Walking over to your seat, you looked at Mei across the room. She wiggled her eyebrows, mouthing for you to initiate conversation with Miles. You rolled your eyes, sitting down. Miles was sketching lightly on the worksheet already passed out on the desks. You tried to look at it, but the braid that draped over his shoulder covered your view. You didn’t want to seem invasive, so you just grabbed your sheet and began working.

Finishing the sheet quickly, you got on your phone, scrolling through your socials. You saw a news alert flash across the top of your screen, some message about “the prowler striking again” over the weekend. You swiped it away.

You didn’t hate the prowler in all honesty, but you would never admit that out loud. Whoever was under the mask did bad things, but usually only to bad people. Usually.

The police barely did anything anymore, making it hard to even go outside without getting mugged or groped or something bad. With the prowler being out and about, some idiots have been scared off the streets, enough to where you could at least walk to and from your family apartment to school. In your eyes, the vigilante kinda helped a little.

“Stop tapping, its annoyin” a voice rudely interrupted you from your thoughts. You looked over to see miles looking at you, semi-irritated. You hadn’t realized you were tapping the desk, something you did unconsciously when you were lost in your own mind. You pulled your hand back, putting it on your thigh, “my fault, ain need all that attitude though” you said looking at him. He rolled his eyes and started drawing again. “Whatcha’ sketching?” You asked, leaning towards him slightly. He looked at you with furrowed brows, blinking a couple of times, before going back to sketching ignoring your question. El tiene algunos nervios. Instead of just excusing his behavior like you did on Friday, you opted to invade his personal space; moving his braid, your head now hovering over his shoulder. He moved his body quickly, his reflexes faster than you could process. “Qué coño estás haciendo?” He said sternly, but you didn’t budge. “You didnt wanna respond” you said not looking at him, more focused on the drawing. “That ain’ answer my question” he said, you could feel the irritation laced in his voice, but instead of leaving him alone like he wanted, you grabbed the paper to get a better view. The drawing was a well portrayed mask of sorts, oddly similar to the prowlers, and a few weapons all sketched on the back of his paper. You raised your eyebrow at the drawing. He was actually really good at drawing, the detail for him to have started that less than twenty minutes ago impressed you. He snatched the paper back. You turned your head to him, seeing him looking at you with furrowed eyebrows, getting ready to say something. “Answer me next time and I won’t have to do that” you said before he could speak, a mocking smile laying on your lips. He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath before going back to sketching.

One word, Regret.

You really wish you hadn’t decided to let you imaginary balls get the best of you. Because now Miles how a personal vendetta against you. Damn your pride. Within the span of few weeks he somehow had broken into your locker and trashed you books, he made sure it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t fix easily though, just a few torn pages. He constantly would shove you, which he mude sure to do lightly to not actually hurt you, into the lockers when he passed you in the nearly empty halls when he was with his friends. He would say the most outlandish things to you whenever you passed him when the halls were too crowded and others could see what he did. He made sure his friends didn’t mess with you though, knowing they would take it way too far how they had with the other kids they harassed. And even though you tried to ignore him the first few weeks hoping he would stop, he never did. You swore you could feel yourself loosing your mind.

Miles had only originally planned on pestering you for a day or two to get the point across that you should’ve left him alone, but then he realized how fun it was to provoke you. You became his entertainment, or at least that was the reason that he told himself he went out of his way to annoy you. And now that he had gotten on your last nerve, you were like a ticking time bomb every time.

You made school easier for him, giving him something to look forward to. Your reactions were always so animated, almost comical, making messing with you so funny. He didn’t just mess with you in sense of picking on you., he would mess with you feelings too. He looked for you in the halls just to go behind you and pull you by your backpack into him. You would lose your balance then he would put his hands on you waist to stabilize you, whispering in your the cusp of your ear sternly to “watch where you’re going mami”, a nickname he now would often call you just to see how irritated and flustered you would get. You would always reply with a snarky remark, something along the lines of “he pulled you into him”, always stuttering through the sentence no matter the amount of times he had done this to you, siempre fue tan mono a él. Something that unintentionally brought his face to a smirk was how you never mentioned anything about the nicknames he gave you like you did with John.

His friends would constantly make comments about how Miles liked you and now you were off limits, but every time he shot the idea down with a quick annoyed face. But perish the thought one of his friends gets talks about you the wrong way. They had seen the way Miles looked at the guy who had walked up to and called you pretty. Didn’t ask for your number, didn’t do anything weird, just called you pretty. The problem wasn’t even the compliment, it was how genuinely big you smiled but it wasn’t because of him.

Miles wasn’t going to deny he found you attractive. He had seen you the first day he walked into Vision academy a year ago and couldn’t get you out of his head for week. Hell you were probably the prettiest girl in the school, but maldito eres molestosa. When laying on the bed in his dorm room the nights he wasn’t out doing his prowler work, he could hear your pesky voice ringing in his ears, también pudo ver tu cara hermosa. He hated it. He hated how sometimes your face would pop up in his brain during a mission, and it would make him falter for a moment. Something as simple as hesitating, even for a millisecond, could’ve had him killed mid fight.

He didn’t actually care for you, at least that’s what he told himself. So you can understand why it bothered him so much that he hated weekends now, knowing it was extra days where he couldn’t see you, feel you. Even if it was just a brush on the shoulder when doing partner work, or him shoving you lightly when walking past, glaring at you like you were the one that bumped into him.

It annoyed you to no end you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year. What annoyed you even more was how attracted you were to him. He was so dismissive toward you, and for some reason you would sit in your room giggling with Mei about how his laugh, even though the only reason you had heard it was because he was making fun of you, was the most attractive thing you have ever heard.

…

Luckily today was Friday so you could enjoy the weekend.

It had been a few months since you had been moved next to Miles, a few months since you decided to overstep a boundary you wish you hadn’t, a few months since you’ve been slowly loosing your sanity. Miles had taken it upon himself to mess with you in class, staying for almost the whole period now a days to do just that.

“If you would finish your work then we could be done already” you mumbled under your breath, looking at the shared work you had to do that Miles hadn’t even looked at, too engrossed in his phone. The two of you had been going back and forth since the start of class, now only roughly fifteen minutes left. He looked up to you, squinting from annoyance, “do you ever just, I don’t know, close your mouth?”. You rolled your eyes “If you, I don’t know, finish your half so I can go turn this in then yea maybe I would.” He scoffed, pulling the paper closer to him. A few minutes passed and he slid the paper over to you “don’t say anything else”. You looked at the paper, seeing he had completed his half of the work in record time, you must really annoy him. “Well if you just did that earlier” you said sarcastically, picking up the paper and walking over to the turn in bin, placing the paper in it.

As you walked back to your seat, John started to talk to you. You pursed your lips, walking past him heading to your seat behind him. That didn’t stop him, as all he did was turn his chair around to face you. “So the party is tonight, you can come-” he paused, putting emphasis on the word winking at you, hinting at something else. You looked at him disgusted. “And we can have a lot of fun, perfect chance for you to see how much you truly like me.” You blinked a few times, “yea no” was all you said before looking at your phone. You didn’t fail to hear the small, quiet breathy laugh that fell from Miles lips as he stared at his phone, overhearing the conversation. His laugh alone could make your knees buckle. You quickly brought yourself back to reality, not letting your mind flow with any positive thoughts about Miles. “Cmon’ baby, promise I’ll show you a good time.” “Ain’ I tell you not to call me that?” You said, annoyed that John just couldn’t leave you alone. “You know we locked in, you keep playin.” “John-” “aight hear me out, you come to the party, if you don’t have a nice time -which I can guarantee you will- I’ll leave you alone, how does that sound?” “You’ll leave me alone?” You said, intrigued by the offer. “If you come.” You sighed, “lemme ask my momma.” He smiled widely, happy to have finally convinced you. Miles secretly looked between the two of you with his eyebrows furrowed, thinking how pathetic John was.

A few minutes passed as John sat facing you, waiting for a response. You sighed, causing him to perk up. “I need to be home by 11, and you have to send me the address. My mom also needs your number and your mommas number, comprende?” He nodded quickly, typing all the information into your phone so you could send it to your mom. You sent the message, already regretting your decision.

Sure enough.

You sped walk home, the time nearing 10:45. Wiping the tear that trickled down your cheek, you scoffed. The party started off great, you and John had a great time, initially.

Then things got weird, he tried to take you to a bedroom upstairs, you declined, him being intoxicated, grabbed you forcefully to take you up. You were glad you were taught basic self defense. You kneed him in the bolas and grabbed your bag, quickly leaving. You wondered what would’ve happened if you had dranken something, where you wouldn’t have been fully aware of your surroundings. You hurrying to dismiss the thought, happy to be out the party

Normally you would be much more aware of the world around you, had you not been so lost in your thoughts. “Hey there pretty lady” you heard, you couldn’t catch a break tonight. You started walking quicker, almost jogging with your eyes focused ahead of you, as you just wanted to get home safely. “You ain’t hear us talkin to you?” Your eyes widened at the mention of us, realizing there was more than one. You searched for your switch blade that would usually be inside your pocket, but it was no where to be found. You figured it must’ve fallen out at the party, you silently cursed to yourself. Three men were now matching your speed, and suddenly were next to you.

“What’s a little momma like you doing out here all alone, don’t you know there’s bad guys out here?”

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll keep you safe”, they grabbed you forcefully covering your mouth so you wouldn’t alert anyone, not like anyone would help. They pulled you to the nearest alley. You bit the hand of whoever was covering your mouth, causing them to let go of your face. You took this as an opportunity to scream for dear life, only to be smacked into a state of drowsiness. You quickly shook yourself out of it, feeling the stinging sensation spread across your face. Your ear was ringing lightly, and you could’ve sworn this dude knocked your tooth loose. You spit at the guy across from you, seeing bloody saliva land on his face. The guy behind you who was holding you let go and moved to the side. Before you could react to the new found freedom, you were pushed roughly into the wall behind you. “Tonto puta, all you had to do was cooperate” the guy in front of you said, wiping the spit off his face.

Ready to accept whatever was going to happen, you closed your eyes and scrunched your face, only to hear screams of pain from the three men, followed by an uncanny silence.

You opened your eyes, seeing the prowler standing where the man in front of you once was with a bloody claw. The three men were laying on the ground, damn near lifeless. Your eyes widened, your mouth parting from the sight. The vigilante stared at you, you could see the eye like symbols displayed on the mask slightly widened at the sight of the hand-mark on your face before recomposing into a stoic, neutral setting. You were too shocked, and mostly scared to say anything.

The figure got closer, to which you could work out was a male. You took note of the two braids cascading down their neck behind the mask, as well as the oddly clean Jordan’s they sported. You didn’t have much time to take in their lanky appearance, as they took a final step towards you, making it so you had to look up at their mask. Their presence loomed over you eerily. You gaped at him, your pleading eyes filled with fear. You knew he wasn’t necessarily a villain per say, closer to the flip side if anything. He did just save you. But the thought of an individual being so much more powerful than you, knowing that at any moment he would always in control no matter what you did, threw your brain into a constant state of unease. Feeling your heart beating out your chest, you raised your hands lightly placing it on their chest to stop them from getting any closer, even though you knew they could easily overpower you no matter what you did. His heartbeat was slow, almost calming to feel. “Please” you whispered, voice barely leaving your larynx.

As quickly as he had come he left. You looked around, finally spotting him lurking on top of the building across from you, crouching along the ledge looking at you. You looked at the Prowler one last time, making eye contact with their mask silently mouthing a ‘thank you’. He flipped away to wherever else he goes, not acknowledging your gratitude. You nearly collapsed, sliding down the wall. Your hands aggressively wiped your face before meeting your hairline, resting there as you breathed ruggedly. The adrenaline you had was wearing off, and the bruises the men left you with became more prominent on your skin, as well as more painful. At least your opinion about the prowler was correct, he was a good guy after all, to you at least.

Returning to school on Monday was a catastrophe, news spread like wildfire about you being attacked by the three men, as well as your encounter with the Prowler. Random people were approaching you asking what is what like and other random questions revolving around your attack. No one however, was talking about what happened at the party. But you couldn’t blame them, not many people saw what had happened.

…

It was finally the last period. You wanted nothing more for this to blow over, and for you to be done with the day back in your dorm. You walked in, wavering slightly seeing John leaning on your desk. You noticed Miles sitting in his seat on his phone, eye bags deeper than usual.

You quickly sat down, trying your best to ignore John's attempts to talk to you.

“Y/n please it was an accident-”

You ignored him getting your pencil out of the top zipper of your bag.

“Y/n please just listen I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing you gotta believe me” he leaned toward to take your hand, causing you to flinch and pull back. You looked at him angrily “you think being drunk excuses anything?” Your voice was calm and almost at a whisper despite how you felt, trying your best to draw the least amount of attention. He sighed desperately, “No it doesn’t but you gotta see it from my perspective-” “what perspective John?!? The one where you tried to force yourself on me? Or the one where you tried to take me upstairs against my will? I swear if you come near me again, I won’t hesitate to cut your polla off, comprende?” Ms. Reita asked everyone to take their seats, causing John to look at you solemnly before scoffing and turning to his seat.

You huffed, putting your head between your crossed arms on the table. “What happened at the party?” You looked over to Miles surprised. You hadn’t expected him to ask you any questions, but if he did you figured it would be something about the prowler incident. “Nothin’.” You said dismissively. He looked at you skeptically. Before you could even react, he grabbed your phone off the desk and tucked it in his pocket. “You ain’ gettin’ it back til you tell me what happened.” “Why do you care so much?” “Your wrinkles n’ dark circles look worse than usual, wanna know why.” “Could say the same for you” he looked at you blankly. You sighed, “John got a lil’ too handsy is all, don’t worry ‘bout it. Can I have my phone back-“ “mami, how handsy?” His stern voice caught you off guard. He looked at John's direction for a split second, you could’ve sworn you’d seen Miles look at John with a look of determined death. He looked back at you eyebrows furrowed, “he tried to take me upstairs n’ I wasn’t feelin’ it, so he tried to make me” you uttered, a little quieter towards the end of your sentence. “Left before he could do anything” you finished, “can I get my phone back now?” You looked at him tiredly. He let out a simple huh and gave you your phone back, his full attention now on johns figure ahead in the seat diagonally ahead of him.

…

The class had been dismissed, luckily Miles had decided to leave you alone today, you were too tired to deal with his antics anyway. Walking over to Mei dismissing John's stare, you two began walking out of the class heading to the lobby so you head back to your dorm room. As you were walking back Mei stopped at a vending machine to get a couple snacks for the dorm so you two could have a movie night. You waited as she inserted her money, clicking which snacks you both liked to buy them. As she was stuffing the snacks in her bag zipping it up, a student screamed “FIGHT”. You looked over seeing a crowd forming and walked over to see what was happening. Bullying your way to the front you saw Miles on top of John, pounding John's blood stricken face damn near permanently into the floor. Your eyes enlarged at the sight. Miles was clearly irate, and from the looks of it, had no plans of stopping. A security guard quickly ran in and grabbed miles off John's limp body. Miles spit at John, yelling something at him in Spanish that you couldn’t hear over the commotion. You looked at John's body, seeing him look almost unconscious as he coughed violently and rested on his elbows, trying to catch his breath. You gaped at Miles, shock written all over your face. His chest rose and fell quickly as he looked around the room seeing all the people watching. His eyes stopped as they met yours, his gaze softening slightly before he looked away. A huff fell from his lips as he was dragged to the principal's office. He jerked his arm away, muttering something about how he knew how to walk.

John had to be sent to the hospital.

Miles was in the principal's office, sitting silently as John's parents screamed at the principal while Miles’s mother sat next to him upset. “My child is a great kid! And how is he supposed to feel safe in this school anymore knowing this can happen again, huh?” John's mom spewed mindlessly, ranting about how she was going to press charges. Miles scoffed, causing Rio to look at him with a look of “watch your mouth before I watch it for you.” He just looked down at his hands in his lap.

Miles walked out of the classroom to head back to his shared dorm. He couldn’t get out of his mind what John had done to you. As vague as your response was, he knew more had happened between you and John. He didn’t know why it bothered him so deeply, it wasn't even really his business. He knew the thought of someone being touched like that made him upset, but he felt pure outrage from this specifically, and he knew deep in his heart it was because it was because it was you who had gone through it.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he felt something different for you when he intervened the night the three men attacked you. He almost added three bodies to his belt, for you.

Usually, as bad as it sounds, he would mostly let people get robbed or thrown around in alleyways. He would help occasionally if it sounded gruesome or of dire need for assistance. But he had to save his city from the sinister six, and petty crimes that were bound to happened weren’t the ideal way to do that. But the voice screaming sounded familiar, kinda sounded like you. The thought of you being in danger offset his nerves, and he knew a you were going to a party that night so he went, just to check.

Sure enough.

He stalked you from above the rest of your walk home just to make sure nothing else happened.

He walked into the lobby consumed by his own thoughts, snapping back to reality as he overheard John talking to his friends about how “y/n finally let me hit, she was so tight-”. He paused in his tracks. Ain’ no way acaba de escuchar lo que pensó que hizo. He turned to the direction of John's voice, this was now his business. He walked over, becoming increasingly irate the more John talked about “how much you loved it”. John turned, hearing footsteps approaching alarming quickly. He saw Miles, John knew Miles had heard about what really happened at the party. John scoffed, somewhat anxious he had been caught in his lie and afraid Miles would try to embarrass him in front of his friends. He quickly spoke before Miles even had the chance to say a word,“You ain’ needed here Miles-” John was cut off by a fist colliding with his face, not what he was expecting at all. Johns friends gasped or yelled in shock, Miles didn’t stop though. Miles didn’t even say anything, small grunts of anger being the only thing leaving his lips as John hit the floor. Miles siguan latiendo la mierda fuera de él.

“What you won't even speak huh?” John's mom said, facing Miles. He furrowed his eyebrows at her. “You wanna send my baby boy to the hospital and have no reason why? Why are you picking on my kid huh? You-” “You think your kid is the best thing on Gods green earth”Miles scoffed, cutting her off. “Cause he is, my kid wouldn’t hurt a fly and you-”“your oh so wonderful kid tried to rape a girl then went around yappin’ bout’ how much she enjoyed it.” The room fell silent. The principal eyes went wide, “Uh-Uhm, how about we resume this tommorow-” “well hold on,” Rio spoke for the first time, “My son intervened and helped someone in danger because their son was making girls unsafe in the school? Why is he being punished?” “Well Mrs.Morales we didn’t know that happened-” “so you immediately assumed my son was the cause of this not even getting evidence before?” “Well he did start-” “uhn-uh, their child is making the school more unsafe than Miles ever did. Why aren’t they being scolded for this?”

The principal apologized, saying Miles would be suspended for the rest of the week for starting the fight, but no charges could be pressed to avoid anybody getting into serious trouble.

Miles sat in the passenger seat of his moms car, the leather caressing his skin as he looked out the window. A hushed silence had fallen over the two a while ago. Silence is always worse than actually being screamed at, the anticipation is always so suffocating. “So.. who’s the girl?” His mom said, looking at the road ahead. Miles glanced at her before looking back out the window, “classmate.” She nodded, humming. Rio knew her son, and she knew Miles wouldn’t damn near end a kids life just just for some classmate.

“Ella tiene un nombre?” He sighed lightly, “Y/n.” Rio nodded and hummed again, looking at miles through the corner of her eye. “At some point throughout the week, I expect her over for dinner.” “I don’t even have her number, how is she supposed to know” Rio clicked her teeth and smirked,

“Encontrarás una manera”.

©axeoverblade

[formulakatya]

MET YOU AT THE RIGHT TIME | MICK SCHUMACHER

"living in a movie i've watched and funny, cause you couldn't have called it, met you at the right time, this is what it feels like"

not my gif :)

part 1

summary: where your best friend is sick of you thinking your not deserving of love and so she introduces you to a certain someone

pairing: mick schumacher x professional golfer!reader

notes: hi! sorry for the long wait but part 2 of ‘this is what it feels like’ is finally out, thank you for your patience 😭🤍

warnings: a universe where mick is in ferrari and ferrari aren’t idiots

—

“amazing drive, mick!” you smiled, congratulating the german, “congrats on that win!”

“thank you, (y/n),” mick smiled shyly as both of you exited the paddock and walked down the streets of monaco, the sun setting as nighttime came. “so, uhm…how’s golf going? lily says you’re amazing at it.”

chuckling, you shook your head, “i hope she didn’t oversell me to you.” smiling as mick let out a laugh, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh of your own. “well, i just won my first major— the chevron championship— uhm, and i also managed to win the cognizant founders cup after that…before that i won the honda lpga tournament in thailand.”

“your kidding!” mick exclaimed, looking at you.

“oh no, did she oversell me? because if she did—“

“no, no! absolutely not,” mick smiled. “she talks about you a lot and before i met you i already had a good impression of you based off the things she said…and then i met you and you’re really just as much of an angel as she says you are,” he chuckled.

“really?”

“yeah,” he nodded, “and for the record, she never told me you were winning tournaments left and right…when’s your next one?”

“the lotte championship in hawaii,” you replied, “and why are we only talking about me? come on, lily says you have a dog!”

“she told you about angie?” he smiled as he scrolled through his camera roll quickly to find a picture, “she’s an australian shepherd.”

“stop, she’s so cute,” you shook your head, “i wish i had a dog…”

“i’ll let you meet angie one day.”

“please, that’ll be a dream come true.” laughing, you averted your gaze to the sunset as the both of you neared the restaurant.

mick smiled, admiring you for a split second. “am i allowed to say you’re pretty or is that too soon?”

—

you let out a deep breath as you took your driver from your caddy. spectators were crowded as they watched your group since you were the favourite to win. and you weren’t going to let the pressure get to you, absolutely not.

“approaching the tee, (y/n) (l/n)”

looking out into the fairway, you went through your pre shot routine before addressing the ball. drawing your club back, it wasn’t soon until the piercing sound of your metal club against the ball was heard as you looked where the ball went— twirling your club as you did so.

well done, good shot.

the other 2 players making their way to the fairway as soon as you picked up your tee and walked to your caddy, you gave a smile as you followed your fellow players to the fairway. whispering words of encouragement under your breath, you kept yourself calm as you found your ball in no time.

holding back a laugh upon seeing the small formula one car drawing stamped onto your ball, you looked at your caddy who gave you a thumbs up in encouragement before giving a glance into the crowd.

and you could’ve swore you saw someone you knew there.

gripping your club, you let a deep breath out as you repeated the same routine as before. swinging the golf club, the satisfying sound could be heard once again. squinting your eyes as your gaze watched the direction, you crossed your fingers together as it landed onto the green.

“not bad,” you chuckled, shrugging as you passed your club back to your caddy. “also is it just me or are my friends in the crowd?”

“it’s possible,” he shrugged, laughing as you two approached the green, your eyes glancing around the crowds before returning your focus back to the green as you did a quick analysis.

from where you were it would be a left to right, fast downhill putt. if you were able to find the right line and speed, you’d birdie the hole. and despite not knowing what your score was at the time, it was clear that it would be a putt that would decide your fate as a winner or the first of losers. marking your ball, you took another deep breath before stepping away, watching as your competitor run through her routine before making her putt.

the air grew tense as you wiped the sweat off your head, patiently waiting for your turn.

time seemed to slow down as you set up, your eyes focused on the ball as you concentrated on your putt. the soft sound of the metal hitting the ball could be heard as you watched the small golf ball roll down the green.

“go, go, go,” you mumbled under your breath, watching nervously as the ball slowed down as it approached the hole. “YES!”

smiling as you gave a hug to your caddy, thanking him for his congratulations as you quickly searched the bustling crowd with your, shaking hands with your competitors before you went on the search— confident that you’d find someone you knew in the crowd.

“(y/n)!” the familiar voice of lily could be heard as she squeezed her way to the front of the crowd, “that was amazing! oh my gosh! congratulations!”

“thank you so much, lily,” you smiled as you hugged her before pulling away only to see alex and a familiar blonde stood behind. “mick?”

“hi,” he smiled, giving a shy chuckle as he waved his hand. “lily said you’d be playing so i decided to come. congrats!”

“thanks, mick,” you smiled, a light blush forming on your cheeks as he pulled you into a tight hug, “it means a lot.”

“do you wanna go out to celebrate? dinner’s on me.”

“but you payed last time!” you exclaimed, “let me pay!”

“then take it as a date,” he shrugged. “and let me pay, my love.”

—

“i’m still mad you didn’t let me pay.”

“well…” he chuckled, “that prize money isn’t spending itself and i much rather spend it on a girl like you.”

“and no one else?” you asked playfully, resting your head on your palm as you looked outside the window.

“only a fool wouldn’t choose you,” he paused, “and based off my results in school, i count myself a genius.”

[discordantwritings]

If it's okay, I could write a picture with "5. I'm so angry right now that I could almost forget my love for you." with Buggy reader.

Warnings: afab gn!reader, oral sex (m receiving), inappropriate use of Buggy’s devil fruit powers

WC: 1.4K

Notes: I write a lot of sub Buggy so here’s Buggy being slightly less sub as you suck him off

Buggy was your captain. You had to follow his orders. Buggy was your captain. He knew best for you and the crew. Buggy was your captain.

He was just your captain.

Nothing more.

(No matter how much you wished it was different)

He was your captain. And he was pissing you off.

Of course he was always an obsessive, short tempered, attention seeking clown but most days you could look past that for the man you know he is. Some days, like today, it was impossible. You don’t mind following orders- that was your job- but when every single thing you did wasn’t good enough for reasons that weren’t even your fault. Well it wore you down.

“Can you do something right? I mean seriously all I ask is that you follow my directions! How hard is that!” Buggy is pacing his office, yelling at you after you told him that, no, the crew hadn’t found the map of the grand line in the past 24 hours.

“Captain-“ You start but are cut off again.

“Don’t fucking speak to me!” He’s yelled at you plenty of times before but something about this time just breaks you.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” You yell back, catching Buggy off guard.

“Excuse me?” Buggy whips around, finally stopping to stare at you.

“I said don’t talk to me like that. We are doing everything we can and all you do is chew us out! I just-“ You groan in frustration. “I’m so tired of being disrespected for things that aren’t my fault! I’m so close to just forgetting how much I love you!”

It takes Buggy’s eyebrows slightly for you to realize what you just said.

Shit.

“I mean- like we all love you. The crew. And how every one should! Buggy! The genius jester!” Your backpedaling was unconvincing, even to you.

Finally moving again Buggy slowly walked over to you and you couldn’t help but shrink away, stepping back as he stepped forward until your back met the wall with a soft thud. Your breath comes quick as your captain stares down at you, painted face revealing nothing.

“Say it again.” His voice is flat and you can feel his breath on your face.

“The genius jester-“

“No.” His hand comes up around your jaw, keeping your eyes locked with his. “You know what I meant.”

You take a deep breath, ready to be sliced to pieces and fed to the lion. “That I’m so mad I’m close to forgetting how much I love you.”

And then he’s kissing you. You don’t register it until a second after it’s happened but by the time your brain catches up you realize your body has already given into him, letting him press you further into the wall as his tongue slips past your lips. It’s sloppy and aggressive and it’s everything you’d imagined it to be. His body has compressed you against the wall and you can feel on your hip what this is doing to him.

When he finally pulls back both of you are gasping for air. Neither of you speak for a bit as you collect your thoughts. Buggy breaks the silence first.

“You really love me?” His voice is surprisingly quiet.

“Yeah, I think I do.” You admit with a small smile.

“Been wanting you for a while but didn’t- I mean I’m your captain-“ His confession makes your heart swell and turns the hostile energy in the room to something else.

“Captain,” Feeling bold and charged your hands grip Buggy’s waist. “Can I show you how much I love and respect you?”

Buggy’s eyes go wide but you see him quickly stamp the surprise down as he nods. You turn him so his back is against the wall as you sink to your knees and hear Buggy exhale a shaky breath. Staring up at him you undo his belt, seeing out of the corner of your vision his hands floundering. You take your time with his belt but by the time you start to unbutton his pants his patience officially wore out.

His hand comes to the back of your head, fingers in your hair as he pushes your face against his clothed cock. You shove his pants quickly down but don’t manage to get his boxers down but neither of you seem to mind. Looking up at him through lidded eyes you open your mouth wide and let your tongue out to lick up the clothed length. His hips jerk as you stop at his tip and you can taste his precum through the strained white fabric.

“Fuck- just-“ Buggy’s other hand hovers quickly shoves his boxer down and finally gives you a good view of his dick. It’s long and curved and leaking and you are desperate it have it in your mouth. It’s seems Buggy is that way too- the hand at the back of your head nudging you forward. You smile up at him.

“Yes Captain.” You waste no time and immediately take him into your mouth, flattening out your tongue and taking him down as far into your throat as you can. You hear Buggy curse above you as his grip on your hair tightens.

“Just like that- fuck you’re good-“ He babbles as he fights to keep his hips from bucking into your mouth.

The praise spurs you on as you bob your head up and down his length, lewd wet noises filling Buggy’s office. You bring one of your hands up to steady yourself on his thigh but can’t resist using the other to undo your own pants and touch yourself. There were many nights where you imagined scenarios like this and the hand holding the back of your head and the heavy weight against your tongue and throat made you more wet that you cared to admit. The sneaky movements didn’t get past Buggy though.

“Please tell me you’re touching yourself.” He breaths, eyes fixated on the movement of your hand. You hum a ‘yes’ and that sensation has him throwing his head back against the wall. “Fuck you’re so hot.”

So caught up in what you’re doing you don’t notice Buggy’s hand pop off his arm and float down until it’s pushing your pants further down and tugging your hand away.

“Lemme- shit you’re wet-“ His fingers are already inside you. “Get this wet just from sucking me off?”

You have to finally pull off of him, spit and tears dripping down your face as you rest your forehead on his hip while you adjust to Buggy’s dexterous fingers working you. “Yes. Just for you.”

That seems to spur something in him because his hand is yanking you back to look up at him. “I’m going to ruin you.”

He doesn’t have to push you back onto him because you dive forward, taking him into your throat and sliding in time with the pumping of his fingers. There’s less restraint now as his hips thrust up and you do your best to relax and let Buggy use your throat.

The hand inside you works faster, three fingers stretching you out as his thumb circles your clit. The overwhelming sensations have you moaning, which pushes Buggy even closer to his own end.

“I’m close- shit can I-“ He can’t finish his sentence because you’re taking him as far down as possible, your nose nudging against his pelvis. He cums with a loud groan, seed spilling down your throat and onto your tongue. Its taste is sharp but you take every last drop he gives you.

You slowly release his softening length and you look up at his blissed out face and smile. When he finally looks back down at you the hand from the back of your head moves to cup the side of your face. Finally in control of himself again his fingers start working you faster and you moan as you lean into his touch.

“You close? I want you to cum all over my fingers can you do that for your captain?” He says as he kneels down to you to whisper in your ear.

All you can do is nod and lean on him for stability as his words send you over the edge, gushing all over his fingers. You gasp for breath as his hand flies back to his arm.

“So.” He smiles. “Not so mad at me now, huh?”

[lavenderjewels]

JJK chapter 246 thoughts below

Because the official chapter’s translations last week were disappointing in a couple of ways, I read the fan translation. Keeping all my thoughts here until the official one drops!

I loved this chapter a lot! :’)

MEGUMI.

I have been SO confident that yuuji is trying to save megumi since he was taken over that I am unbelievably satisfied, especially after seeing way too many posts that megumi is 100% dead or has no chance. I’ve been slightly bitter at seeing so many theories about Gojo coming back that don’t make sense when it would be a crime if he came back but not Megumi (or Nobara). The only question is whether or not Yuuji will actually be able to save Megumi or if either will die in the process—for my own sake, I’m believing in the power of friendship. Also, I wish there were date/time stamps for the flashbacks, since it’s hard to remember when in the time skip it is.

And LOVE that Yuuji was the one that came up with that plan. Nothing will ever be easy and there’s no way this plan can go right without more death, but that little sliver of hope is fantastic. I can always rely on Yuuji being the “humanity” of the team. Thinking back to when Hana and him off-handedly wondered if Gojo forgot about Megumi during the fight. It’s nice having two people who are invested in saving Megumi when the situation is dire.

Did Choso getting punched x2 straight through the chest and stomach worry me? Yes, but he’s not dead and Yuuji didn’t look devastated, so I’m taking this as a positive that he’s out of the fight for now. If he wasn’t a half curse and it wasn’t so casual, I’d be concerned. Sukuna does NOT like either of the siblings since he’s met both. Very sweet that Yuuji caught him the second Sukuna threw him aside.

The color page (which looks incredible) is fueling my belief that Maki is with Yuuta as help with Kenjaku. That, or the current team is the first round of fighters and they’ll need her soul sword for something last-minute sukuna related, but I just wouldn’t be surprised if the jujutsu high second years stuck together.

Higuuuuuuuurumaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa <3

I love him. “Sukuna found himself completely enthralled—“ same

No really, I’ve adored his character since chapter 159 released and I’m so happy that one of my favorite characters is getting all this. I already have other posts lined up for when the official chapter drops, but I love him.

His conversation with Yuuji was dark, but I love these quiet moments of insight. Such a good chapter for all these tiny character moments with interesting implications.

Despite my disappointment at the trial ending so soon, I like this fight and I think Sukuna does too (for Higuruma). The end pages about Higuruma’s quick learning and adaption to sorcery is exactly what I wanted to see!

(Continuing) Higuruma is essentially a tired lawyer new to sorcery and is not nearly as overpoweringly strong as Gojo, yet the manga states he rivals Gojo in raw talent and adaptability. Realistically, he doesn’t and can’t have that overpowered strength to the degree of Gojo, but I love how that doesn’t diminish the skills he does have and shows how valuable these characters can be (and it’s not JUST talent, but how their mindset around life and sorcery too). They don’t have to be overpowered to have a profound impact and be smart in their fighting.

(Continuing) I remember seeing comments after Gojo died that there was no use because there can’t be a way for the protagonists to defeat Sukuna without a deus ex machina, plot armor, etc. But I hoped the story would lean into the characters’ strengths and have them work together to find a smart way with combined effort to take down Sukuna, rather than Gojo be the magical solution to killing Sukuna and Kenjaku. So this chapter worked in a lot of ways for me.

(Continuing) It’s the same reason why Yuuji turning his role put on him (by others and himself) as a cage/tool into something significant in this fight is very compelling. At a surface level, these characters are much weaker than Sukuna, but I think they genuinely have a chance. Plus, it’s more entertaining to have a team fight in jjk and, despite still heavily incorporating the power system, I find this fight to already be more emotional and investing than the Gojo Sukuna one. Not to be overly negative on that last fight (there’s good moments in it and the fighting itself is fun), but this is what I wanted from JJK!

More people will die at some point. Better not be Choso (Yuki died for him so that had better not go to waste immediately), but could honestly be anyone. I do think there’s going to be a moment where things do end up going right for the protagonist team, but that could be a long time from now. Kusakabe being surprised at himself for his willingness to die to protect Higuruma was??? Adorable??? A duo I never considered, but I need them to survive (unlikely) and interact more now that I’m thinking of how well they’d get along.

Another long review of a jjk chapter, but had a great time with this one! At this point, I mention it weekly, but Sukuna in his original form is beautiful every time I see him and im very happy to have him in that form for this fight.

[thenotsosecretdiaryofbiyu]

2024年8月5日-- Calligraphy at National University of Tainan, Archery at Ten Drums, Performance, and Night Market

Today was a big day– we moved to Tainan! Thankfully, it wasn’t too far away, only about an hour. So, it was no time until we began our first activity of the day– Calligraphy at the National University of Tainan! We were very fortunate to have had the wonderful opportunity to have Yeh Laoshi (different Yeh Laoshi, this one is a man) teach us how to do some calligraphy!!! He showed us the basics, and then let us practice some on our own on some practice paper, before letting us do some calligraphy on our own paper 團扇 (round fans)! Super funny thing though, is that he was going around complimenting everyone, but I didn't get a single compliment on mine LOL. At one point he even came over, showed me how to properly write the characters using the brush, and told me my technique was all wrong LOLOLOLOL. Mine definitely didn't turn out the greatest, but I did the best I could do, and that's okay. Everyone at the university was super welcoming, and we even got to meet another professor who worked in the calligraphy department, and the president of the university herself (who sat in to do calligraphy with us)!!!

Funny anecdote is that the classical Chinese radical for "heart/心" looks strikingly similar to certain types of doodles. A lot of people in the class were giggling when he drew it, and he stopped and explained that it was NOT that, while making an "x" with his arms. But even he noticed the resemblance, and started laughing when he demonstrated how to draw it again on the overheard XD. After we drew on the calligraphy (I chose the Chinese word for "eternity"), he helped us put traditional stamps onto our fans! Then after our fans were completed, the university provided us lunch! It was a tasty bento box and lightly sweetened black tea! There were three different kinds of meat for the omnivores and veggie bentos for us veggies! There was also a bit of a giveaway, where the first person to raise their hand and say the question correctly got to pick a hand-painted fan by Yeh Laoshi or the other professor with us (sorry, I don't remember her name)! I didn't win either of them though, Eli and Jasmine got them because of how fast they were smh. But Yeh Laoshi sent us home with beautiful hand-painted red magnets that he wrote on himself with the character "福" on it!

Scary tidbit is that the college walls had bullet holes from the Second World War. 

After we said our goodbyes, we got on the bus and went to a sugar cane museum (an old factory) named Ten Drums! We went to watch a performance, but before the show we had a few minutes, so I used the bathroom. By the time I got out, everyone else was gone except Yeh Laoshi and Chief, so I followed them over to the archer field! It was my first time ever using a bow, so I was super pathetic at it, but Chief explained how to use it and I got the hang of it and shot an 8 pointer! My beginner's luck lasted for a bit, but eventually I started missing the shots again lol. But it was also Yeh Laoshi's first time too, so she wasn't much better than me hehe. I think I actually ended up winning? But ehh, it doesn't really count imo.

After our quick round, we rejoined with the others to watch a performance by Cross Metal! They were really good, except omg they were a bit dramatic, to put it lightly LOL. So many times they made very dramatic faces and poses, it’s just hard to explain. They were definitely good though, and afterwards we were able to all take a picture with them! Andy tried to stir up trouble though and told them that "we" (as in only the girls) thought they were all attractive. I wanted to smack him so much (but I restrained myself).

Afterwards, Yeh Laoshi, Chief, Amy, and I went to go play some drums! We made a few mistakes, but the teacher was kind and didn’t acknowledge them, and there were only like six of us altogether in the lesson, so it was just a relaxed, good time! After the drums, Chief and Yeh Laoshi went on their own way, while Amy and I met up with some of the others to walk around a bit.

After leaving Ten Drums, we finally made our way over to our new hotel! It's really nice and fortunately (or unfortunately for my wallet), there's a stationery store right next door! I went in because I really wanted to get some letter paper and some calligraphy materials, and although I ended up getting the letter paper, I accidentally bought some useless stuff that ended up NOT being calligraphy stuff whatsoever (I bought a pen I thought was calligraphy, when it was more akin to a regular pen smhhhh and I bought a little book that ended up not being a book for calligraphy but just a regular notebook styled after calligraphy AHHHH).

I distracted myself from the pain of my mistakes by going to the night market to get some din-din (dinner) with my buddies! I got some roasted corn, two slabs of tofu, and a milk tea! All super tasty! I also got these mini pancake sandwiches (a chocolate, red bean, and butter one) and they were not that good… but that's okay. I got home and then I've been typing away ever since!

Academic Reflection

I had no idea whatsoever that the folded fan (折扇) was actually originally from Japan, and not China! Usually most things like this travel the other way around, with cultural aspects/literature/clothing styles originating in China before being spread to other places like Korea and Japan. This happened with the writing system, which was widely used in Korea and Japan. Korea however, had one of its rulers create a new alphabet for the country, but Japan still uses very many Chinese characters in its modern script (just sometimes with different meanings and of course different pronunciations, etc.). It is my understanding that Japanese traditional dress (i.e. the "Kimono") actually has origins in Chinese culture from the Wu Dynasty. Many other things are this way too, such as the Lunar New Year, which appears to have originated in China during the Shang Dynasty about 4000 years ago. This holiday is now celebrated in many different parts of East Asia.

Scary note is that when I was leaving, a jet soared close to the ground above the National University of Tainan. I was explaining to Amy that a certain government (that is very close by and has tense relationships with the country we are currently in) recently has been sending fighter jets to soar through Taiwan to scare the population, when one of the professors who escorted us out explained to us that the one we just saw was Taiwan's. She explained that Taiwan has been sending out jets of its own to fly around the island a few times each day, to help show that Taiwan wasn't scared of the threat.

#calligraphyiscoolbutthestationerystoreisgatekeepingmydreams

[orpheusredux]

Ride the Lightning

Summary: Eddie is hanging out in his girlfriend's bedroom when he discovers something... naughty and delightful.

Rating: NC17

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Reader. Established relationship

Warnings: Very, very smutty. No Minors! 18+ only. Canon compliant.

A/N: I have been writing this is fits and starts for weeks, but I just couldn't stop. I meant it to be a quick and dirty little drabble about a boy, and girl and her vibrator, but then I went and got feelings all over it and it turned out way longer than I intended too. Please consider reblogging, it really helps. Also, this way for my AO3 and my masterlists. 5433 wds

“Baby… what’s this?” 

You look up from where you’re lying on your tummy on your bed reading a trashy romance novel to see your boyfriend of six months holding…

“Oh my God, Eddie! Put that back!”

…Your vibrator. 

You met at a punk show in Indianapolis in the depths of Winter. Eddie was working the door, and when you walked up late to meet your pals who were already inside, he’d looked you up and down, given you a wrist stamp, and a wink, and ushered you in without asking for a dime.  

It was almost as if he’d known the way to your heart was free gigs. 

Later he’d “bumped into you” at the bar and bought you a drink. Then you bought him one. Then there were shots with the band. The next thing you knew the two of you were back at your apartment, sprawled across your ratty old sofa, his tongue in your mouth and your hand in his pants. You’d been dating ever since. 

Being with Eddie was both delightfully easy, and head-fuckingly bizarre at the same time. 

First of all, he was a metaller, and you’d only ever dated punks, stoners and on one less than stellar occasion, a party guy from California who wore pastel exclusively. You were not prepared for the level of energy Eddie brought to your relationship, the earnestness and often kind of confronting honesty. He told you he loved you three months in, and then proceeded to spend the next three months showing just how much. 

“I learned the hard way not to fuck around,” he told you once, when you’d pressed him on how he could tell someone he loved them so easily. “I know for a fact you don't always get that tomorrow you're putting things off till. You know?”

Which brings you to the second thing: Eddie was from Hawkins, that town down state that had caught fire and burned to the ground - like the whole town. They called it Indiana’s Centralia, now, after that town out East that’d been burning for 30 years? That was Hawkins. Everyone had been evacuated and there was still a danger zone three miles deep around the place.

Eddie talked about it sometimes, not a lot, but enough for you to know he wasn’t over what had happened to him there. All you knew was he’d seen some shit, been badly hurt and never wanted to go back. Except… as much as he hated the place, as much as it scared him and he never wanted to see it again, it was like he knew one day he’d have to. 

It was eerie, honestly.

He never took off his shirt, either. Not even in bed. You’d felt that the skin on his ribs and chest wasn’t entirely smooth, and once in bed he’d rolled over in his sleep and you’d glimpsed some shiny pink skin at his waist. You knew it had been bad, you knew there’d been fire, but those scars looked… well, they didn't look like burn scars. They almost looked like... well, it was silly what you'd thought. Besides, it had been dark and what the fuck did you know, anyway?

Glimpsing them hadn’t made you any less curious about him, but it did make you stop trying to get him to take his shirt off in bed.

You didn’t know how to tell him that he was safe with you, that he was the best boyfriend you’d ever had. Kind, considerate, thoughtful; that you thought it was quick, sure, but maybe you were falling in love with him. 

He’d introduced you to his only family, his uncle Wayne, who lived in Wyoming now, but came to visit him a lot, and the guys from his band - Gareth, Jeff and Dave - Corroded Coffin.

He shared a place with them in Speedway, you'd stayed there a few times. You loved the guys, really you did, but it was kind of a dump, so you spent a lot of time together at your studio on Canal Walk.

He wasn’t perfect - he could be impulsive, your dad worried about his “fiscal stability”, and for someone with so many secrets, he sure was nosey. 

Which was why he was currently standing in your bedroom holding your goddamned vibrator with a look on his face like he’d just won the sexual lottery. 

In his defense - not that he deserved any - you are the one who left the draw open, which was practically an invitation to pry as far as Mister Sticky Beak here was concerned. But still, a girl could keep some secrets, couldn’t she? 

You leap off the bed and make a grab for it - or try to - before he can push the little black button on the base of the thing. 

Eddie, being Eddie, holds it above his head, just out of your reach and says, “Now now, let's not be hasty,” as you try vainly to grab it.

“Eddie,” you whine and consider elbowing him in the ribs - but the other thing that glimpse of his scars has given you is a healthy respect for his body. You’d rather die than hurt him. You’ll have to resort to pouting and pleading instead. “Give it back. That’s private.” 

You give him a pointed look and hope he’ll pick up what you’re putting down. Naturally he doesn’t. 

“Is it though?” He leers at you, trying not to laugh right in your face. “I mean, I am sort of in charge of delivering the orgasms around here now, aren’t I?” 

You bark a laugh, despite yourself. “Oh, who are you, again? Cruise director of the love boat? My orgasms are my business, mister!” 

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” he says slyly, before putting on the worst - also the most annoyingly accurate - impersonation of you in the throes of passion, pitching his voice just below a falsetto squeak. “Oh Eddie! Oh Eddie, you’re gonna make me… I’m gonna… Oh, oh, oh!” 

Scars be damned, you poke him right in the armpit, and he drops the vibe with an “oof”. You grab it before it can hit the ground, and make to run away with it, but he grabs you - playfully -  around the waist and mock-wrestles you onto your bed. You land on top of him, both of you breathless and laughing by now, the vibe clutched tightly in your fist, up by his head. 

His hands slip down you back, over your hips and he grabs two good handfuls of your ass. In the six months since you started fooling round he has never missed an opportunity to show you how much he loves touching you, kneading your flesh, tracing all your curves. He likes it almost as much as he seems to like being touched by you. It’s one of the things you adore the most about him - he has a healthy respect and fulsome admiration for your big, bouncy body. 

“OK,” he says. “Let’s settle this like gentlemen. Let’s play a game…” 

You squint at him, not trusting him one inch - you trust him completely, but you also do. Not. Not one inch. 

“Like gentlemen, old sport! What what,” you reply, in a mock English accent.

“Let’s play Quid, Pro, Quo.” 

Now, you’ve never played a game called Quid, Pro, Quo before, but he just took you to see Silence of the Lambs last week - you don’t care what anyone says about psychological thriller, that was a dang horror film in disguise - so you think you have a pretty good idea what it means. 

“Ew, Eddie, I am not role playing sexy serial killers with you,” you say, and put up a bit of a struggle to get off him. 

That really makes him laugh, but instead of letting you get away, he wraps his arms around you and gives you a squeeze. 

“Oh Jesus Christ, no. That does nothing for me, either,” he says with a theatrical shudder, that only serves to rub you forcefully all over his body, your soft squishy boobs against the hard, warm planes of his chest. It makes something delicious tingle deep in your core. How’s that for quid pro what-the-fuck-ever, you get plenty of pleasure and enjoyment out of his body, too. 

“No, in my version of the game, we take turns offering each other something we think the other might want, and if they do, they have to…” 

He lifts a hand off your derriere and waves it around suggestively. 

“What like, I offer you a BJ, and if you want one - “ 

“If!” Eddie snorts. 

“ - you have to offer me ‘something of equal or greater value’?” 

“Yeah,” he says with a grin. “Something like that. And then you can counter it with something of greater value again.”

“Like a sexy version of ‘chicken’?” 

“Well, I was trying to make it classy, but we can go with ‘Sexy Chicken’ if that works. My idea, so I start…”

“Nuh huh, Big Fella,” you say, tweaking his chin with the hand not currently holding a goddamned vibe. “Ladies first… OK, what will you give me to get the hell off you.” 

“Oh no,” Eddie replies, nose scrunched up. “I wouldn’t even give you a dime for that. You’ll have to stay exactly where you are.” He grabs your ass again, and kind of settles in with a sigh. 

“Ungh, OK,” you say, rolling your eyes. “What if I… take off my bra.” 

“Without getting off me?” 

“Without getting off you, you perv.” 

He laughs and then bites his lip considering. “OK, I will give you a foot rub. Both feet. On… Thursday, straight after your shift at the coffee shop.” 

You gasp. You work nights at the campus beanery and your feet are routinely absolutely battered by the end of the night. 

Once, early in your courting, Eddie had been waiting for you at your place when you came home from one of those shifts. He’d waited for you to kick off your shoes, and slump in your favorite chair, before kneeling down next to you, and starting to knead your instep, heels, calves and the pads of your toes. Without being asked.

No offence to the many wonderful orgasms you’d shared with each other since you met, but that massage had been better than sex. 

Now that he was working the door at the club more regularly, Eddie wasn’t around when you finish work much anymore, so this offer was kind of a big deal. 

You start reaching behind yourself to unclasp your bra without saying another word -  only to then realize you are still holding the Goddamned vibrator. You chuck it up the bed by the pillows, and he grins down at you cheekily. 

“I’m on a goddamned promise, Munson,” you say, from somewhere inside your tee shirt. 

“Yeah, yeah, you know I’m good for it.” 

His eyes slip over your shoulders and arms as you wriggle and twist, pulling your straps off under your tee shirt and pulling the bra out the sleeve. Through two layers of denim you feel his cock twitch when your unfettered boobs press against his torso. He bites his tongue and sweeps his hands up and down your arms. His gaze is just as warm and soft. 

“Ta dah!” you say, flinging the bra away. You’re immediately jostled a bit by his laughter. “My turn again?” 

“Your turn,” Eddie agrees. 

You take your time thinking, trying to remember some throw away snippet of kinkiness he’d hinted at, or a time when he’d wanted to try something, but  you hadn’t. Finally, you mind settles on a movie you’d watched together one rainy afternoon that had ended in a mind blowing fuck on the floor of your en suite bathroom. 

“I will let you do that - you know - that thing, from 9 1/2 Weeks.” 

Eddie goes very still. “OK, I need to be clear here, are you talking about the striptease?” 

“Nope… the other thing.” 

“With the - the ice and the -” 

“And the blindfold.”

“Holy fuck,” Eddie said, eyes like saucers.  

You cross your hands on top of his chest and rest your chin on the back of them. “I play to win, Munson,” you say, all cocky. 

He laughs at you. “Oh my God, what have I got that would match that?” 

“What indeed?”

He looks at you thoughtfully, reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear tenderly, and then in the smallest voice you’ve ever heard him use, he says, “The next time we fuck - I’ll take off my shirt. I’ll take it off. For you.” 

It’s so not what you were expecting, so not where you thought this teasing, titillating game was going, that for a second you’re too shocked to say anything. Your voice just deserts you, until finally…

“Baby, you don’t have to do that.” 

“No, I know,” he says with a sigh, his eyes slipping away from yours, to focus on a tendril of your hair he’s playing with. “But I also know it’s weird - ”

You do push away from him then, because you’ve suddenly got this horrible weight in the pit of your stomach. Did you give him that idea? Had you made him feel pressured? 

“It’s not weird,” you say. He sits up too, as if he’s going to argue the point. So you stop him, with a hand to his chest. 

“It’s not weird,” you say, firmly. “It’s private. It’s none of my business, it’s - you don’t have to tell me or show anything you don’t want to.” 

He covers your hand on his chest with one of his own. 

“But what - what if I want it to be your business,” he says. “God, that sounded way better in my head. I mean - “ 

You turn your hand, take hold of his and squeeze, nodding for him to go on. 

“I don’t want us to have secrets anymore. I feel like I’m keeping something from you every time we fuck, and I don’t want to any more.”

“Then I’m happy for you to tell me anything you want to tell me. But Eddie, you have to know -” 

His eyes are so big and limpid in the dim light of your room and you just - you don’t want any secrets any more either. 

“You must know I l-love you,” you say finally, tripping over the biggest four letter word in the language. 

He smiles, warmly, but you can’t help noticing there’s sadness there too as he scoots up the bed. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, reaching behind his head to pull the back of his shirt over his shoulders and off. “You really do play to win.”

The tee shirt sails off the side of the bed and then there’s just him, his arms out wide, head lowered so you can’t really see his face, just his mottled torso and the top of his dear, beloved head. 

You knew it was going to be bad, but it’s actually even worse than that. He’s not looking at you, so you have time to school your face into a placid, relaxed gaze, to not to show what you’re really feeling, because you know the shock and horror would hurt him, even if he pretended it didn’t. 

Now you understand exactly why he’d never shown you before; why it took him half a year to trust you with this. You’re honest enough with yourself to admit if you’d seen the ruin of his chest in the first few blushy weeks of your romance, you might have run for the hills. 

Low, on his right side, there are gouges - not burns - angry-looking welts of pinkish, reddish skin that bulge and buckle like an infection that’s healed badly. Dotted around this scar are little rosy contusions, like blood has burst under the surface and congealed there. Deep scores - healed, but puckered - rake across his hip. They look like they could pop open again at the slightest provocation. 

You can’t keep back the gasp that comes when you take in the extent of the damage to his right side, though. There’s almost nothing there but scar; no nipple, or curve of skin over fat, muscle and bone. Instead it’s just a horribly twisted rent in the flesh where those parts of his anatomy should be. 

Without thinking, you reach out - to what? Sooth? Map? Verify? You don’t know - only to pull back before you can touch him. He catches your hand, pulling it towards his ruined pec, flattening your fingers, gently, like he’s trying not to spook you, and pressing them to the skin. 

“It’s OK,“ he says. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s healed. It’s actually…I was going to try and say it’s not as bad as it looks. But, ah, it is - it was - exactly as fuckin’ bad as it looks.”

“Oh Eddie,” you whisper, because there’s really nothing else you can say. The skin under your fingertips is warm and hard, feels rubbery and artificial. You feel what’s left of his muscles flex a little under it.

He lets go of your hand and takes hold of your shoulders. 

“You can’t tell anyone,” he says, urgently, whispering your name rather than one of his many pet names for you, squeezing your shoulders for emphasis. “Everything they say about Hawkins, the - the fire, the chemical spills. It’s all bullshit. I’ll tell you all of it, one day, if you want. But, it’s a long story. Can we - another time?”

You nod as if you understand, but you don’t. You’re not sure you ever will, or even want to.

“Do they - can you feel me?” You ask, sliding your hands so gently over the scars, touching. mapping each one. 

“Yeah, I can feel you,” he says. “I always feel you.” 

With your hand still on his chest, you kneel up, straddling his thighs, press yourself closer to him, leaning in to kiss to his mouth, slowly and thoroughly, so he knows - so he can be certain - this knowledge changes nothing except to make things more real, more sure between you. 

“I'm so sorry this happened to you. And I am so glad you survived.” You hear your voice catch on that last bit, feel the tears choking up at the back of your throat. 

He makes a soothing sound and wraps his arms around you. 

“I was mad about it, for a long time,” he says, his voice muffled where his face is pressed into your neck. “But - this is going to sound fucking insane - everything that happened brought me here.” 

He leans back and looks up into your eyes. You cup his dear face in your hands. 

“I don’t think I’d change a fucking thing - not even losing my goddamned nipple - if it meant I didn’t get to have you.”  His voice is gentle, soothing, and so full of love he’ll never need to say the words if he just keeps talking to you like that.

You kiss him then, because you’re not sure what will happen if you try to speak. You don’t want to cry all over him. He’d only end up taking care of your messy feelings, when you’re pretty sure he’s got big enough feelings of his own to deal with. 

You lean back and smoothing your hands over his bare shoulders and back to his neck, you say, “so, I guess that makes it my turn again, huh?” 

He barks one of his big braying guffaws, wraps his arms around you and squeezes. 

“Oh, we’re still playing? OK, OK, sure, babycakes. Whaddaya got?“ 

Out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of that goddamn vibe sitting by your pillow. The idea pops into your head before you’ve really thought about the logistics, but once it’s there, you almost can’t get it out. Could you? Should you? Really? 

You pull yourself off his lap and crawl up the bed, collapsing onto your back, the pillows under your head. Eddie twists to watch, and his eyes go soft when you pick up the vibe and turn it over in your hands. 

“What if I… ride the lighting, right here, right now, while you watch?” 

You both stare at each other for a second, until Eddie cracks, snickering like a naughty school boy. 

“Ride the what now?” 

“Ride the - the lightning, baby,” you say, giggling and waving the vibe. “That’s what they call it right? ‘Cause it’s electrical? “ 

“Oh my God, seriously? What the hell have you been reading?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know? 

“I’m pretty damned sure I would,” Eddie says, bemused. He crawls up the bed after you to lie on his side looking down at the little pink vibe in your hands. 

He reaches out, and thumbs the little black button on the bottom. The little thing starts up with a buzz that makes the breath catch in both your chests. Eddie hmms, and runs the tips of his finger over the soft, curved edge. You know he’s picturing it, picturing you spread out for him, pleasuring yourself while he watches. 

“OK,” he says, lifting the vibe out of your hands, and gently rolling it over the curve of your breast. It feels so good, even through your tee shirt, you can’t help squirming a little at the sweet, tingling hum of it. “I see your offer of a wanton display of feminine lust, and I raise you… me fucking you with this - where does it - oh, I see where that goes - me fucking you with this, while we both watch.” 

“Mmmmhmmm.” 

Without saying a word, you start pushing your sweatpants down your legs and trying to wriggle out of your tee shirt at the same time, which ends up getting you all tangled, so Eddie has to put the vibe down and help you get the shirt off.  

“Leave your panties on,” he says, breathless as he lies on his back to thumb open the button on his own jeans and start kicking them off. 

“I think we messed up the game,” you say, as you scoot back on the bed, and watch Eddie pulling off his boxers and socks. “I think I got too many turns.” 

“Hmmm?” Eddie hums, thoroughly distracted by your breasts and thighs, and his eyes are fixed on the damp patch you can feel slowly spreading across the crotch of your white panties. He’s not thinking about the game or his scars, or Hawkins. Just you. The joy floods through you like sweet honey in your veins, warm and delicious. You get to have him, have this. Fuck, yes. Life, God, the Universe - whatever - may suck ass sometimes, but sometimes, it’s also this good. 

He guides you to lie back as he slides up next to you. His cock, half hard and leaking, is pressed against your hip as he leans over you to kiss your mouth. Then there’s a click, and a hum as the vibe starts again. Still kissing you he starts to roll it, so gently from your collarbone, over the swell of your breast, to your nipple. 

“Eddie,” you hiss, arching your back. He pulls away from you, to turn his head and look down the length of your torso to the stiff, pink peak of your tit. 

He hums again, almost to himself, like he’s considering where to go next. When it seems like he’s decided, he drags the vibe slowly across your sternum, to your other nipple, and rolls the buzzing silicone over your tender flesh. He looks down at your chest. 

“God, baby, look at these pretty little titties,” he says, biting his plush lower lip. 

You look down at yourself, but the sight of him holding the buzzing tip of the vibe to your quivering nipple is too much. You mewl, and grip the sheets beneath you in your fists, pushing yourself into the warmth the vibe is creating. 

“Do you - oh, God - do you like them, Eddie?” 

He leans down to suck the stiff peak of your other nipple into his soft, wet mouth and lets it go with an obscene pop. 

“Oh Princess, you know I do.” 

You’re just holding on as the buzzing against your tender flesh starts to verge on pain. But it’s the kind of pain that shoots right through your core to your aching cunt, makes it flutter and clench. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you whine, arching your back and rubbing your thighs together, before letting your legs fall open and tilting up your hips. 

“Hmmmm, so sensitive,” he says, his voice deep and rough. He tilts his face again to look down your body to your sex and his hair brushes across your cheek like a butterfly’s kiss. “Oh ho ho, what do we have here?“ 

“Please, baby," you whine, canting your hips again. “Please.”

“Needy girl,” he sing-songs, and starts dragging the vibe across your sternum and down, over your belly to the edge of your white cotton panties. “Oh no, you’ve made a bit of a mess here, Princess.”

You know that by “mess” he means the damp patch. You’ve been wet since he started this game, and now you’re practically flooding. Any other time you’d be embarrassed about that, and the noises you're making as he rolls the vibe across your pubic bone and your mons, but you just can’t summon an ounce of shame right now. All you want is that vibe where it belongs, buried in your pussy, or on your clit. You fucking want it. 

“Please, Eddie, don’t tease me,” you say, and your voice sounds so shaky, you’re shivering so hard your teeth are almost chattering. 

He slips the vibe over the thin cotton, to the damp patch. He rolls the vibe around pressing in. It almost makes you jerk, like he’s touched a live wire to your core. 

“Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” you start chanting, pressing your hips up into that hot buzz. “Fuck, yes. Right there, oh, oh Eddie.” 

Your head is thrown back, eyes clamped shut as you chase that feeling, fisting the sheets under you. You can feel it building so you chase it. If he keeps this up you’ll come just like this. 

“Hold on there, sweetheart,'' he says, not removing the vibe, but easing some of the pressure. “We’ll get you there, but not too soon, OK?” 

You can’t help the whine that follows. It sounds so needy and pathetic. Again, you’d be embarrassed, but it’s all you’re capable of right now. It makes Eddie chuckle, and worse, lift the vibe away from you altogether. 

“Edd-ie,” you pout. But he just taps your hip and starts to slowly peel your panties down. You lift your ass long enough for him to get them out from under your butt, and then he’s drawing them down your thighs, and calves, over your feet and off. And then, like the wild goddamned animal he is, he smooshes them against his nose and mouth and breathes deep.  

“Fu-uck, baby, you smell so good.” 

You respond to his teasing by spreading your legs wide and slipping your fingers between your wet folds. “Yeah? How does it look, Daddy?” You ask him, as his eyes fix on your cunt. 

He knows what a fucking buzz you get from him looking at your sex. You don’t know why, or what it means, but any time he looks at your pussy, you feel yourself get exponentially hotter, infinitely wetter. Part of you thinks you could just come from him watching you spreading while he tells you how good your little kitty looks, how much he wants it. Which is kind of what’s happening right now, God have mercy. 

He throws your panties over his shoulder, and leans down to nose your hand out of the way and suck your little rose bud into his mouth. It’s kind of an awkward angle, but that just makes it feel even better, unexpected and strange.

“Taste fucking good, too,” he says, pulling off your clit, breathless and a little dazed. His cock, hard and red, is jutting up from his lap, the tip wet with pre-come. You want to suck it, but before you can ask for it, he rolls the vibe over your mons, and presses it hard, against the left side of your clit. 

That really does make you jackknife up off the bed. You can feel the buzz everywhere, in everything, all at once. It’s humming in your cunt, your ass, even your nipples, it reverberates through your teeth and out the top of your head, where every single follicle is standing on end. There are thousand tiny bubble bursting under your skin, and you never want it to end. 

“Fuck yeah, baby,” you hear Eddie say, as if from a distance. “Fuck yeah, fucking ride it.” 

You realize there’s someone in the room wailing… it takes you a second to understand that that someone is you. You’ve got one hand fisted in the sheets, and the other is gripping Eddie’s knee. Your toes are curled into the blankets, and your eyes are clenched shut as the orgasm arcs through you like he’s just flicked the on switch and lit you up. 

It seems to go on forever, every muscle in your body going into spasm for long, hot seconds of pleasure, until it slowly starts to ebb away. 

You slap feebly at Eddie’s hand when it’s too much, when the intense pleasure has melded into a keen pain. He gently lifts the vibe away from you, thumbs the button and leans over to put it on your bedside table. 

For a couple of minutes, you can’t open your eyes or move a muscle. It’s like all your bones have turned to jelly. You lie there, spread eagle, panting, your hand still gripping his thigh.

“Fucking hell, Eddie,” you whisper, finally. “Fucking hell.” 

“Yeah?” 

You peel open one eyelid to look at him, leaning by your side. “Yeah,“ you breathe, only just able to nod your head. 

You attempt to sit up and turn to him. It’s a pretty pathetic attempt, all things considered and you end up sort of limply rolling towards him, the vision of that big, red, weeping cock of his is still fresh in your mind. “What about…” 

He’s got one arm across his lap, covering his groin. 

“Yeah, about that…” 

“Oh my God, did you just bust a nut from watching me come?” 

“You make sound so romantic,” he says wryly, reaching over the edge of the bed and snagging his Metallica shirt to cover his slowly deflating junk with. 

“Eddie,” you say, reaching for him. “Baby, that is the hottest fucking thing that has ever happened to me.” 

“Sure, sure,” he says, as he wipes up his lap and throws the tee shirt into the far corner of the room. But he lets you pull him on top of you, your loose, sweaty bodies sliding together a perfect fit. 

“You’re just too… God,” he says, snuffling into the crook of your neck and wrapping his arms and legs around you and under you in a sticky, sexy bear hug. “Too fucking sexy. I had to bust.” 

You both laugh, giddily. 

Eventually he rolls off you, and leans up on his elbow, his tousled head resting on his palm as he looks down at you. He’s so lovely, those chocolate eyes, and his plush, beautiful mouth, even the road map of pain on his chest that leads all the way back into his past, all the way to you two here, in this bed… even that has a kind of raw beauty. He’s a survivor, your man. 

“Eddie,” you say, reaching up to twine a lock of his hair around the finger. “I think I was wrong.”

He grunts a little as he leans over you to grab a pack of smokes from the bedside table. He pops two out and lights them both at the same time, like some Beatnik from the 60s, one for him and one for you.

He takes a lit smoke from between his lips and holds it out for you. You take it, wait for him to take his own out of his mouth and blow a plume of smoke over your heads, before you lean in and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.  

Leaning back again, you take a drag, blow a plume of smoke of your own, and smile. 

“Yeah,” you say, stretching languidly. “I think you are in charge of dispensing the orgasms ‘round here now.”

______

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[waitimcomingtoo]

Mackie

Pairing: Tom Holland x actress!reader

Synopsis: any chance he gets, Anthony teases you and Tom about your relationship

Masterlist

Anthony Mackie was onto you.

It all started when he realized you and Tom weren’t actually dating, like he thought you were.

“Which Avenger would you sleep with if given the chance?” The journalist asked you, Brie, and Scarlett during a junket.

“Tom Holland.” You answered immediately. “Oh, did you mean the character?”

The girls laughed at your answer as you shrunk down in your seat. Everyone else answered with Thor, making your answer stick out even more.

“Wait, did they ask the guys this?” You wondered. “And follow up, did Tom say me?”

“I can ask.” The journalist chuckled and pulled out her phone. “My friend Jack is interviewing them in the other room.”

“Oh My God.” Brie groaned. “Now I want to know.”

You held your breath in anticipation as you waited for Jack to text back. Finally, the journalist felt a buzz and checked her phone.

“Tom did in fact say your character.” She laughed as she showed you the text.

“He did?” Your eyes widened. “Oh my God. That’s it. We’re having sex tonight. I’m telling him right now.”

The cast laughed at your antics as you sent Tom and quick text and shut off your phone to pay attention to the rest of the interview. You knew it was a joke, but you forgot that Tom didn’t know the context of your text. So when he checked in phone in the room where the boys were being interviewed, he was quite confused.

“I just got a text from Y/n saying “we’re having sex tonight” in all caps.” He laughed in shock. “What is going on?”

“Damn.” Anthony stated. “She texts you in advance?”

“No.” Tom blushed. “We’re not even together.”

“What are you talking about?” Anthony asked. “I thought you were?”

“We’re not.” Tom insisted. He always hated when he was reminded of the fact that you and him were just friends and he didn’t want to stay on the topic.

Anthony, on the other hand, wasn’t as inclined to let it go. He leaned back in his chair and stared at Tom, always looking for new ways to bother his younger cast mate.

“Hm.” Anthony drawled. “Interesting.”

A few months later, Tom, Anthony, and Sebastian were invited to a comic con in Chicago. They were known as one of the more chaotic pairings of cast members, so the interview consisted of constant digs at one another. And of course, Anthony took any chance he got to tease you and Tom.

“You must spend a lot of time together when filming these movies.” The journalist said to the couch. “Do you guys hang out off set too? Are there any Avenger pool parties we don’t know about?”

“Look, Toms a little asshole.” Anthony began. “Him and his little girlfriend are absolute children on set. We can’t take them anywhere.”

“His girlfriend?” The journalist asked.

“I mean Y/n.” He corrected, making the audience cheer. “They say they’re not dating but we all know.”

“We’re not.” Tom whined into his mic. “Stop saying that. People are gonna start believing you.”

“Because it’s true!” Anthony insisted. “You should see the two of them on set. They’re always touching and hugging. And I’m pretty sure I caught them in the dressing room one time. I won’t say what they were doing, but I could hear the bed creaking.”

Tom turned bright red and covered his face. He knew Anthony was just teasing, but it still embarrassed him. He collected himself and held his microphone up again, ready to dish it back to Anthony.

“You’re just mad because she likes me more.” Tom said, eliciting cheers from the audience.

“Uh uh.” Anthony shook his head. “Shes loves me. All the ladies love me.”

“Not Y/n.” Tom shook his head. “She loves me.”

“I think we can all agree Y/n loves me the best.” Sebastian cut in smugly. “It’s fairly obvious.”

“Did someone say my name?” Your voice sounded from a microphone, making everyone scream. Tom, Anthony, and Sebastian looked at each other in confusion upon hearing your voice.

“Wait, what?” Anthony laughed into his microphone as he looked around. Suddenly, your characters theme song came on the speakers as you came out from backstage.

“Hi!” You came out onto the stage waving. The crowd stood up upon your arrival and became deafening. Tom turned around, caught sight of you, and bolted out of his seat.

“Y/n?” He asked as he ran towards you. He immediately scooped you up in a hug, lifting you off the ground to spin you around.

“Hi Tommy.” You mumbled in his ear as you squeezed him back. Tom set you down but continued hugging you, kissing the side of your face multiple times. The audience went wild at this display of affection, prompting you to kiss his cheek back. You walked back to the couch hand in hand, taking a seat next to each other.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” Tom said into his mic as he picked it back up.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” You laughed, earning more cheers. “I’m filming something in Toronto but I wouldn’t miss a convention for the world. And I wanted to see you.”

Tom pouted and pulled you into another long hug. It had been a few weeks since you’d seen him, so you pressed a long kiss to his cheek.

“Do we all get kisses or just Tom?” Anthony asked, interrupting the moment.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Sebastian spoke up.

“Seb can have one but I’m not coming near you.” You teased as you walked over to Sebastian. You bent down to kiss his cheek before sticking your tongue out at Anthony.

“You look so pretty, darling.” Tom said once you sat back down.

“Please.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m so jet lagged.”

“I don’t look nearly this beautiful when I’m jet lagged.” Tom complimented you.

“Oh, I beg to differ.” You complimented back.

“Kiss kiss kiss kiss.” Anthony chanted into his mic while pumping his fist. The crowd roared as you and Tom rolled your eyes.

“Don’t start, Anthony.” You told him. “He does this all the time.”

“So I’ve heard.” The journalist laughed. “How was your flight, Y/n?”

You settled into Tom’s side as you talked about your flight and other random things. When the attention was off you, Tom slipped his arm around you and let it rest on the back of the couch. He felt you shiver at one point and realized you were sitting right under the air conditioning.

“Are you cold?” He asked you, making the audience laugh.

“A little.” You said sheepishly. He immediately took off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, making the crowd go wild.

“Thanks, Tommy.” You chuckled as you slipped your arms into the sleeves. They were warm from his body heat and his cologne was lingering on the collar.

“Wow.” Anthony started up again. “You guys look like a couple.”

“A couple of besties.” You said quickly, making Tom shake his head.

“Uh huh.” Anthony said sarcastically. “If you guys aren’t dating, then why are you two always touching?”

“Because we love each other.” Tom snapped playfully. “You just don’t understand because girls don’t want to touch you.”

“Damn.” Anthony laughed. “Y/n, are you gonna let your boyfriend talk to me like that?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You replied. “We would make a terrible couple. I still haven’t forgiven him for the stamp act and I don’t see us getting past that.”

“Baby, it wasn’t me.” Tom played along. “It was my ancestors. I’d never tax your stamps.”

“Uh Uh.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s what they all say.”

“I’m gonna move on before I break you guys up.” The journalist teased, making you and Tom roll your eyes. “You guys have been playing these characters for a while so you must know them pretty well. What is something you have in common with your character?”

“That’s easy.” Anthony answered. “We’re both a cool black dude.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to say.” Tom joked, earning some laughs.

“Easy there, wonder bread.” Anthony laughed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“What about you, Y/n?” The journalist asked. “What do you have in common with your character?”

“Something my character and I have in common is that we both fuck this man.” You smiled as you clapped Tom on the back. Everyone on the couch’s jaw dropped as the crowd became deafening. Tom looked at you incredulously as you laughed.

“I’m just kidding.” You laughed into your microphone. “Um, I don’t know. We’re both pretty passionate about what we believe in. And we both wear a lot of black.”

“What?” Sebastian laughed. “You can’t just say that. That was a total 180.”

“I’m sorry.” You whined playfully. “It was a perfect opportunity and I had to take it.”

“I am literally speechless.” Tom said into his mic before breaking down into laughter. You leaned into each other as you laughed, not caring if no one else found it funny.

“I’m sorry.” You giggled. “Can we move on? Next question, please.”

“All right. Let’s talk about this kiss between your character and Loki.” The journalist began.

“Uh oh.” Anthony stirred the pot again. “Toms not gonna like this.”

“I don’t care.” Tom shrugged, but it was obvious that he was lying. You rested your hand on his shoulder to reassure him as you turned to answer the question.

“I actually had a lot of qualms before filming that scene.” You replied.

“Qualms?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I’m good friends with Taylor Swift so the first time I met Hiddleston, it was as her boyfriend. So the whole thing gave me serious qualms. I felt like I was breaking girl code.”

“That’s surprising since you improvised one of the kisses.” Sebastian, also looking for drama, cut in. “I remember you were only supposed to kiss once and you went in for second.”

“Well that was after a few takes and my qualms had dispersed.” You shot back.

“You hear that?” Anthony smirked. “She had no qualms.”

“I still felt so bad but those thoughts were soon replaced by “oh my God, I’m kissing Tom Hiddleston.” My qualms didn’t stand a chance to him in that wig.” You chuckled. You felt Tom tense up under your hand so you squeezed his shoulder.

“I know.” The journalist agreed. “He’s very dreamy.”

“Exactly. We were three takes in and my pussy starts screaming, “get help! Get help!”” ,You mimicked Thor’s voice, “so I knew my qualms were gone.”

You once again had all the jaws dropped with your words. Tom buried his face in your neck as he laughed, his whole body shaking.

“That’s one way to put it.” The journalist said as he wiped tears. “I have to ask. Which Tom did you like kissing more?”

“I liked kissing Tom H the best.” You said cheekily.

“Ooo.” Anthony started again. “Are we about to witness a couples quarrel?”

“I think so.” Tom played along. He pretended to look annoyed with you so you cupped his face.

“I’m kidding.” You assured him. “It was so you.”

“It better be.” He insisted. “Remember you kissed me after we shot the swinging scene and we weren’t even filming?”

“Yeah.” You chuckled. “I was in love with you that day.”

“What happened?” The journalist wondered.

“Well, I grew up loving Spiderman.” You explained. “So spending the day swinging around in Toms arms while he was in the suit meant so much to me. The second Tom took his mask off, I just kissed him.”

“Is that when you started dating?” Sebastian asked.

“No. It is not.” Tom shoved him playfully.

The rest of the convention went by in a similar fashion, with Anthony taking every opportunity to tease you. Once you said your goodbyes to the crowd, you and Tom walked back to your dressing room with your arms around each other.

“I can’t believe Mackie still thinks we’re dating.” Tom sighed as he shut the door behind him.

“I know.” You chuckled before an idea came to you. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we actually started dating and didn’t tell him? Like, as a joke?”

“That would be hilarious.” Tom nodded too many times. “Like, I could ask you out right now and he’d have no idea. We could go on dates and make out and stuff and just not tell him. That’ll show him.”

“We should totally do that. As a joke.” You quickly followed.

“We should.” Tom nodded. “Imagine his face when he finds out we started dating and didn’t tell him? It’ll be priceless.”

“Ugh, I can’t wait.” You sighed happily. “He would lose his mind if he found out we finally started dating.”

“Did you say finally?” Tom asked with a coy smile. Your face fell when you realized you had said a little too much.

“I did.” You said softly. “Because it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while.”

“So have I. In that case,” Tom smiled shyly, “Y/n would you like to go on a d-“

“Yes.” You cut him off before he could even finish. “I would.”

2 years later

On a rare day off, you and Tom attended a barbecue in Anthony’s backyard with a few of the other cast members. You were sat on Tom’s lap, full off food and contently listening to the ongoing conversation.

“These burgers are great.” Chris said as he patted Anthony’s back. “Thanks for barbecuing.”

“I got you, man.” Anthony nodded. “I actually got the recipe for the blend from one of the caterers on set. Remember that place that catered lunch with the really good cornbread and burgers?”

“I do remember.” Scarlett smiled to herself. “The filming schedule worked out so all got to eat together that day. That was so nice.”

“It was nice.” Anthony agreed. “Just sitting in the sun in our costumes and bibs. We had some fun conversations going on. I’m pretty sure that was the day Tom and Y/n started dating.”

“No.” Tom rolled his eyes. “We started dating after that one convention. Remember the one where Y/n surprised us on stage? We started dating that night.”

“Wait, you guys are actually dating?” Anthony sat up in his seat. “I was just playing with you.”

“We know. So we played with you right back.” You shrugged smugly. “We started dating to get back at you for all the jokes.”

The rest of the cast exchanged confused looks as you and Tom relished in your victory.

“But....” Anthony blinked in confusion, “you didn’t tell me until two years later.”

“Yeah. Because we were committed to the joke.” Tom said like it was obvious.

“Duh.” You added.

“Let me get this straight.” Antony rubbed his temples. “You started dating as a way to get back at me for teasing you?”

“Yep.”

“But you didn’t tell him you started dating.” Scarlett continued.

“Nope.”

“So you’ve been dating in secret for two years without him knowing.” Don went on.

“Yep.

“But....you see this as revenge on me?” Anthony asked with a tilted head.

“Yep.” You laughed. “In your face.”

“In my face?” Anthony raised his eyebrows. “How so?”

“Because we totally got you.” You bragged. “Look at your face right now. You had no idea we were actually together.”

“What an idiot.” Tom shook his head. “This guy, am I right?”

The cast exchanged another look as you and Tom continued not to understand why dating in private didn’t exactly count as revenge against Anthony.

“Okay.” Anthony said skeptically. “So let me ask you this. Now that I know about the joke, will you stop dating?”

You and Tom quieted down as Anthony brought up something you hadn’t thought of.

“Well, no.” Tom began as he looked at you. “We like dating each other.”

“So essentially, this had nothing to do with me.” Anthony concluded. “You two just wanted to date each other but used me as an excuse.”

You and Tom opened your mouths to defend yourselves, but shut them when you realized he was right. You looked at each other sheepishly before shrinking down in your seats from embarrassment.

Anthony Mackie may have gotten the better of you.

Tag List 🏷

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[archiepudding]

The Neighbour

Pairing: Iwaizumi x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: 18+, swearing, implied sexual content

Summary: You try to leave your apartment for work, but it seems your neighbour has other ideas.

Word count: 750

“6am!” You yelled to the other end of the phone. “6. A. M. Who the hell gets up at that time?” 

“Erm,” Your friend finally added to the conversation. “...We do?”

“Willingly, Sara.” You peeked round from behind the drape. If it wasn’t jogging, then your neighbour, Hajime Iwaizumi, would still be up at the crack of dawn standing on your shared balcony, a cup of steaming tea in his hand to accompany his corresponding physique.

To add to your pleasured dismay, his robe would alway be left open, revealing a well-defined body that complimented his legs which seemed to only grow outward from his teen years. You knew you didn’t get that shape from just coaching the olympic volleyball team. No, there was no doubt he played the game in the past… or possibly still did. 

“What does it matter to you if he gets up at 6, 8, or even mid-day?” 

“Because he purposely stamps his feet like a fucking elephant everytime he goes up and down the stairs.”

Part of you wondered why you even bothered with an alarm clock anymore.

Sara laughed down the phone. “You think he’s doing it on purpose?”

“You don’t?”

“Y/n. If I had legs his size, I’d probably stomp about. Muscle is heavy and he certainly isn’t lacking.”

You clenched your hand around the phone, fighting the urge to throw it out the window, but then you gave the traitor a chance to make an alliance with your noisy neighbour. There was something about Iwaizumi that you couldn’t quite make out. When you first met he was kind, helpful… sweet. Now, sweet was the last word that came to mind when you saw him.

“Maybe we should ask him to come do a class at our school,” Sara suggested, “Might get more than just the blood flowing if you know what I mean.”

“I’m leaving now.” You deadpanned, adding your last comment before hanging up. “Oh and I’m going to pour coffee over you for even suggesting being anything other than Iwaizumi’s murderer.”

Once you scorched your throat with another cup of coffee and grabbed your stuff, you closed your apartment door and took off down the stairs. Though before you could escape, the inevitable ran into you, or more you, it. Hard. Large hands stabilised your shoulders and before you saw him, you smelt him. 

A damp, pleasant musk poured into your nostrils and a small part of you didn’t want to move, a larger part though–

You stepped back.

“Do I smell?” Iwaizumi said, after a moment of awkward silence. 

You didn’t reply, only stared up at his olive eyes as though they were a delicacy on a martini. 

He lifted his arm and took a whiff of himself.

“No!” You blurted and then cleared your throat. “No, you. Sorry.”

With the bow of your head you made a quick dash for your car while Iwaizumi kept pace behind you.

“Are you ok?”

You nodded.

“Y/n.” he said impatiently. “Wait.”

He was gaining on you. Although your bag felt like you were dragging another body with you, everything inside you screamed to hurry up. For a second you even risked dropping the thing but it would only give Iwaizumi an incentive to come to your place of work, and given your conversation with Sara this morning, that was not an option. 

Comfort mixed with desperation flooded you as your car came into sight, but as quick as it did, your body was whipped around.

“Y/n. Why are you avoiding me?” 

You scowled at him, but your displeasure didn’t deter him from pursuing his question.

“I’m not–”

“Don’t say you aren’t because it’s clear that you are. I’m not an idiot.”

Just an asshole then?

“I’m late for work.” You said.

“You don’t start until 8.”

“For fuck sake, are you stalking me now?” You shouted. “I’m not avoiding you. We slept together for one night and now you think you can act like my boyfriend?” You wiggled out his grasp.

“I wouldn’t know because you haven’t spoken to me since then.”

You didn’t care to listen, turning back towards your car as you felt the fury of that night return with a vengeance. 

“Trust me, you’ve said plenty.” You said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

If you could have been sure you’d never see him again, you would have released everything you’d felt with one healthy slap across the face, but for now, ignoring him would have to suffice.

[Like and let me know if you want a part 2 ;) ]

Reblogs appreciated 🙏

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE SIXTEEN || KYOTO SISTER SCHOOL EXCHANGE EVENT - GROUP BATTLE 2

↳ featuring : basically everyone at this point from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of explosions + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 29 march

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.2k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : kyoto sister school exchange event - group battle 1

↳ next episode : kyoto sister school exchange event - group battle 3

↳ barista’s notes : it’s been a while huh? ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ BUT! my exams and easter hoilday is nearly here, so i will be able to update more than i have been this month, so thank you all so much for being so patient with me ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ my heart can’t take all the kindness ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ other than that, i hope you all enjoy today’s episode since fushiugro doesn’t pop up until like episode eighteen...so hope you love all the made up scenarios that i have constructed ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better...

no cursed spells used this episode..

but the little sword swing is inspired by this : here

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“What’s with the smiley look on your face?” you asked as you lifted your eyebrow in curiosity since the man in front of you had a somewhat goofy grin plastered on him while adding a ridiculous amount of sugar cubes into his coffee cup causing you to shiver since you couldn’t imagine how sweet the caffeinated drink would be now if you tried it right now.

“Oh, nothing~ I’m just glad that I got to spend time with my daughter since we both have been so busy lately,” Gojo answered you brightly before grabbing the small metal spoon that was placed on the white saucer below his cup to stir the dark drink to quicken the process of the sugar dissolving.

Right now in the afternoon, you and Gojo were at a random luxury dessert place in the middle of Tokyo, where he had unexpectedly dragged you out of training that you had with the first and second years - much to their complete dismay - to have some ‘father and daughter’ bonding time together, leaving them to prepare today’s training by themselves since their plans were ruined with you now gone out of the scenario.

“Please don’t call me that,” you muttered as you processed to swirl your iced orange and mango juice with your straw before taking a quick sip of the cold beverage causing the tropical flavour to enlighten a light feeling of happiness within your stomach.

“So~ how is training for the exchange event going on?” Gojo asked as he took a sip of his cup causing you to look up at him before moving your lips away from the plastic straw. “It’s going well, Fushiguro and Kugisaki are improving bit by bit as well as the second years, it’s progress,” you replied back as your head began to nod slowly as you began to process everything in your head.

“Ah~ I knew I could count on you,” Gojo mentioned with a proud smile present on his face before looking over to the side to find the waiter coming to your table with the desserts that you both had ordered.

‘Well...isn’t it really your job as a teacher to train them?’

“Thank you so much,” you said to the waiter as they placed down your plates before giving you a nod as they processed to look after the other customers that were also in the cafe right now, leading Gojo to look at the treats in such delight before handing you one of the plates since he was the one that ordered everything - which was a complete surprise since you didn’t think he would remember you liking orange juice at all.

“Here you are! Tiramisu with fresh strawberries on top,” Gojo expressed with an excited tone causing you to look at him with a perplexed expression before slowly peering down at the small white plate that was placed in front of you to only find the mentioned dessert with a small fork right beside it.

“Did...you know I like tiramisu?” you asked bewilderedly since you had never mentioned anything about your favourite treats to Gojo since he was so keen on ordering as quickly as possible the second you both got here, to get the beautiful desserts as early as possible leaving you no room to add what you wanted.

“You were looking at it on the display when we got here, so I thought you wanted to give it a try,” Gojo informed you, leading you to look at him once again in surprise before steadily taking the fork in hand to dig into the treat you were gifted with.

“Thank you,” you mentioned with gratitude before you slowly began to tuck into the meal leaving Gojo to look at you with a smile before changing his gaze towards the sweet treats that were displayed at you both right now before gleefully taking the strawberry shortcake as his first choice.

“Y/N...when the exchange event comes...don’t use your curse technique at all,” Gojo said in a serious tone leading you to look up at your teacher in confusion due to the unexpected change in atmosphere, before sighing since you thought it was common knowledge by now and there was no need for him to remind you.

“You don’t need to tell me that, I can tell that the Kyoto Principal is coming to be watching, right?” you rhetorically asked as you slightly tilted your head to the side, “you don’t have to worry about anything, I ain’t that stupid, besides...the Kyoto students from what I’ve seen are real drags,”

                                              ꕥ

‘I swear I feel like using a curse spell right now’

At this current moment in time, you were in a somewhat difficult situation as you were rapidly zooming past the forest trees that were surrounding you while continuously avoided the arrows that were coming towards your way as some flew right past you while others struck the tree trucks that were somewhat protecting you from them, leaving you with the job to find an escape route since you were still trying to find clues of the mole that Gojo mentioned to you before the Exchange Event started as well as the second-grade curse that was needed to be exorcised to end the first day of the two-day event.

Shifting your eyes to the side, you noticed Fushiguro running in the same direction as you as he needed to keep up with you to make sure that you were safe and there was a way to help you avoid attacking your opponent right now since that was a new rule implemented to keep the game fair. However, with the abandonment of the use of your curse technique, Fushiguro needed to make sure he could defend you and have your back right now.

Quickly, you turned your head back to face forwards to ensure that you didn’t bump into anything or tripped up anywhere since you still had no idea where you were heading right now. From what you could recall, the area that was mapped out to the event’s arena was quite vast and it was getting somewhat difficult for you to sense everyone’s cursed energy since they were all now scattered in different directions with different distances leading your sense on them to become disorganised around you causing some difficulty to sense the curse you needed to locate for.

During this train of thought, Fushiguro couldn’t help but notice a few odd but small objects flowing through the air in front of both of you and him, causing the erratic-haired sorcerer to slightly tense up since he wasn’t sure what they were but also knew he couldn’t act too careless right now since it could be a trap that was set by the Kyoto side. However, as you both continued to sprint forward, those same small objects gilded right past between both of you and Fushiguro causing him to able to identify what they were.

‘Flower petals?’ Fushiguro thought before noticing how a few more pink petals would flow between you and him causing the shikigami user to look at you in confusion (since it was summer meaning there was no way they were just in bloom) as a few more of them gracefully fluttered past you which lead Fushiguro to slowly remember something, yet it was blurry in his mind right now. However, before his mind could even process anything to clear up the blurry image, you swiftly raised your arm to unexpectedly grab a few of the pink petals causing him to snap out of his daze before you left him more perplexed about what you were planning.

“Gojo, what are you going to do?” Fushiguro questioned, as he slyly noticed how your grip on the petals began to tighten before a small smile graced itself upon your face.

“Right now, let’s just say I ain’t planning to follow the rules if he keeps attacking me!” you answered back in a loud tone causing the grade-two sorcerer to glance at you with widened eyes as he wanted to halt you from what you were organising to do. Although, it seemed like it was too late since your hand opened slowly to release the pink flower petals back into the air before you took hold of his sleeve to pull him further so you both can take a long distance away from the same petals right now.

Suddenly, another arrow appeared from the trees as it was making its way towards you both leading you to smirk slightly as you let out of your classmate’s sleeve to take a hold of your katana that was still within its wooden sheathe as you needed to prepare for what was about to commence. 

As the arrow drew closer and closer to you and Fushiguro, it couldn’t help but slightly grazed its sharp metal tip on one of the rosy coloured petals causing a sudden large explosion to commence right above you and Fushiguro while the other petals began to follow due to the first explosion’s residue hitting them as well leading to a row of large explosions to employ to which caused Fushiguro to look at the scene in complete shock before noticing how you were beginning to casually unsheathe your katana from its metal hold.

“You see, if I follow the rules, there is no way of telling them to stay the hell away from me,” you muttered, as you spun around to face the opposite direction before fully swinging your sword sideways leading to a crescent wave of cursed energy to speedily manifest as it flew across the whole woods while somewhat clearing the fiery explosion that was already enough to keep Kamo in place for some time leading Fushiguro to inspect the destructive site in complete surprise since he had no idea that you were able to carry out such an attack. However, it seemed like there was no more time to admire your work as you gripped onto his school jacket’s sleeve, once again, as you had already turned back around to continue running to god knows where.

‘Maybe I went a little overboard…’

                                              ꕥ

“What was that?” Nishimiya asked in slight fear, as she peered in the direction on where the unexpected explosions had occurred while noticing how some of the trees were suddenly on fire while others just seemed to be missing leading Kugisaki, Panda and Mechamaru (who were down below on the ground) to look towards the direction where they hear the destruction.

“Woah,” Kugisaki muttered in awe since she had a slight feeling that it was you, who caused the mass destruction just seconds ago.

“Well, it seems like we don’t have to worry about Gojo,” Panda mentioned to his lower classmate before he swiftly got back up on his feet to attack Mechamaru by launching a punch into the robot’s face causing Kugisaki to turn to him in shock since she thought he was still unconscious.

‘Yeah, I don’t have to ever worry about her’ Kugisaki thought confidently before turning towards her opponent with an annoyed look on her face.

                                            ꕥ

“She can do that with flower petals?!” Utahime screamed in shock as she peered at the screen that was now just a pure full screen of static leading her to nearly drop her cup of tea, while Gojo looked at the same screen in slight surprise before he began to giggle while processing to remove his hands that were resting behind his head in amusement of what he had just witnessed from you.

“Awhhh so pretty~” Gojo commented as he clapped his hands like he was applauding you, leading Utahime to turn her gaze towards him in an irritated manner.

‘You love to keep surprising me, don’t you Y/N?’

“And that’s one bird down! Mei-san, is it possible to get another?” Gojo questioned as he peered back to his colleague causing her to giggle slightly as she opened her eyes again.

“Just who did you take in Gojo? You have a good eye if you decided to take her as your daughter, how much did you pay for her?” Mei replied, only for Gojo to look at her with a cheeky smile.

“Nothing, absolutely zero yen! I got her by pure chance, don’t tell me you’re planning to take her away from me, Mei-san?” Gojo jokingly commented back, before turning his sights on the Kyoto Principal, who seemed to be somewhat shocked at the current events that were transpiring on, but managed to maintain his composure leading to the strongest sorcerer to turn back to the other multitude of screens that were in front of him right now, like he was at the cinema watching an action movie.

‘The Kyoto student from what I’ve seen are real drags’

“That’s a bit harsh and violent from those said ‘drags’, don’t you think Y/N?” Gojo muttered under his breath as he waited for another crow to replace the one you had destroyed earlier.

‘At this rate, she won’t be able to track down the mole if Kamo is going to keep attacking her...oh well~ she’s a smart person, she’ll figure it out without even facing them’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[ghstandpucks]

Teacher Appreciation Part 3 ~ Nathan MacKinnon (4+1)

Here it is! Part 3 (and last) of Teacher Appreciation! I'm so thankful for all the comments and love, thank you to everyone who has read it! Let me know what you think of this part! Shout out to @cozynightscandle for asking about a part 3 and providing some inspo, as well as @avsfans95 for always letting me bounce ideas off of her!

Also, sixth grade is still considered elementary in my district, so I kept it that way for purposes of the story!

Summary: The four times Nate surprised your class, and the one time your class and Nate surprised you.

Warning: mentions of the pandemic (not the main focus, just touching on how teaching was during that time as I spent the beginning of my teaching career pretty much online)

Word Count: 4,634

Master List

Your first year of teaching sixth grade was actually more successful than you would have thought. It was a different type of bond you were able to build with your students. Instead of having to tie shoes and clean boo-boos, you became someone that your students would come talk to if they were too stressed. They told you their dreams and aspirations; all the while still relying on you to calm their fears when math became overwhelming. Long story short, you absolutely loved it. Yes, some were taller than you, and on more than one occasion Nate would lose you among your kiddos when he would come to help in your classroom. Still, you built connections that you didn’t think were possible after always working with the younger kids. Nate loved seeing how excited you were, and loved when you would come home and tell him all about what your kids did that day.

And yes, home was now with Nate. During a bad snow one evening, you were panicking about having to get back home so you could change just in case school wasn’t cancelled for the next day. Nate, off-handedly, suggested that it would be easier for you to just move in, since you were over all the time anyways; his office half taken over with craft supplies already. You agreed with a sarcastic laugh, thinking he was joking, but woke up to him clearing out space in his closet. During winter break, you officially moved in. Now it was your second year in sixth grade, and a handful of your kiddos from third grade when you first met Nate were back in your class. And if you thought third graders were intrusive, they just got worse, especially when they already knew you.

1

“Miss Y/L/N, could you not give us homework tonight? I have practice,” Steven asked right after the morning bell rang and you were checking over last nights homework.

“Steven, I already don’t give you much homework and you have time to usually start it in class. Use your time wisely kiddo,” you said, stamping his paper as he groaned.

“But Miss Y/L/N…”

“But nothing, do your work,” you responded, making a face at him that caused the young boy to huff out a laugh. You had only been in school for a month now, but have been having a great time with your kids. Today, the Avs would be on campus talking with the fifth graders as they do every year about the presidential fitness test. Last week when your students caught word that the hockey team would be there, half of them pleaded with you to get the team into your classroom. Little did they know that you had a different surprise planned for them. During recess, Nate ran into your classroom as you gathered your PE supplies. “Do they know yet?” he asked, giving you a quick kiss and taking the kickball from your hands.

“Not a clue,” you giggled as he retreated to his teammates and you went to get your kids from line. Leading your students into the gym as you had PE after recess, they all started to shout and jump around when they saw who was joining them. You waved as Nate came into view, accompanied by the entire Avs’ line up.

“Hi Teacher Dad!” Alexa squealed over the commotion, and you swore your face was beat red. She hadn’t used that term yet this year and to be frank, you had forgotten about it.

“Alexa,” you started as the guys laughed.

“Hi Alexa,” Nate called out, smiling at you with a look that told you not to get upset. Looking back at the girl, she sent you a sweet smile and you just shook your head with a laugh.

“You know better,” you said and she giggled. “Alright, ladies and gentleman gather around please! Today we will be continuing our game of….”

“Kickball basketball!” your kids yelled, running off to their teams and taking their positions. “Wait wait wait. Before we get started, would someone kindly explain the rules of kickball basketball to our newcomers,” you gestured towards the Avs who looked completely confused at your fusion of the two ballgames.

“So one team pitches the ball like in kickball and the other team has to kick it. Then they skip around the perimeter of the basketball court and have to make it back home before the other team can get the ball and shoot it through the hoop,” Justin explained.

“There are also no bases so you can’t stop. You aren’t safe anywhere unless you make it back home,” Kalel added.

“This is really a game now?” Andre asked you and you nodded.

“And it is our favorite. So I have my kids playing odds vs evens based on their class numbers. I think you all can split up that way too,” you said, gesturing for the guys to join their respective teams. Nate watched as you settled the argument about who the pitcher would be between three of your boys, not handing the ball over till they figured it out diplomatically.

“She wasn’t joking when she said her students were taller than her, was she?” Andre laughed from beside Nate as he chuckled along. You stood on the sideline, cheering and calling out foul balls for the duration of the game. The Avs took it easy with your kids, just laughing and having fun. Your kids were ecstatic, being able to call some of the guys their teammates; getting high fives and being cheered on by the pro athletes. You PE time was about to end within another five minutes as the teams switched sides after the evens got three outs on the odds. You saw Isaac hand Nate the ball to make him pitcher, smiling as Nate gently rolled the ball to Kiely. After she kicked it and almost made it around, Steven was up.

“Miss Y/L/N, will you kick?” he called out to you, and your class started to cheer. It was no secret that you played PE games with your kids from time to time. A chant of your name was started as you laughed and put your keys and walkie talkie off to the side.

“Teacher Mom vs Teacher Dad, yaaaasss,” Alexa cheered and you shook your head.

“Alexa,” you called and she smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry!” Nate laughed and turned his attention back to you. He rolled the ball slower than you knew he could, but that didn’t stop you from kicking it with all your might. Your kids (and the Avs) on your side were cheering loudly as you skipped around the perimeter laughing, coming back to home a second before Tyson got the ball in the net.

“Evens win!” you called out, then made your two teams shake hands with each other and collect the equipment as it was time to head back to class. As your class was saying goodbye to the Avs, Nate walked over and bumped his arm into you.

“You know I went easy on you right?” he asked, ever the competitor. You laughed and smiled sweetly at him.

“You know you shouldn’t have, right?” you shot back, laughing as he rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you back home. Love you,” you whispered.

“Love you,” he whispered back. You gathered your class and ushered them out of the gym and back to your classroom. The rest of the day went well as your class was floating on cloud nine from their interaction with the Avs.

2

One Thursday afternoon before Winter break, you came home with several bags of potatoes in hand. Opening your apartment door, you walked in on Mikko and Andre watching a basketball game with Nate; your boyfriend automatically getting up and taking a few bags from you. “What’s with all the potatoes?” Mikko asked.

“We’re mummifying them tomorrow in class,” you answered casually, walking off into the kitchen as Nate sat back down on the couch while Mikko and Andre looked entirely confused.

“Did what she just said not phase you at all?” Andre asked Nate and the center shrugged.

“I’ve been hearing about this project for like 3 months now,” he said casually. You walked back into the room and sat on the edge of the couch near Nate.

“Mummifying potatoes?” Mikko asked, looking slightly horrified.

“Yeah, we’re learning about ancient Egypt. We’re going to wrap the potatoes in foil and decorate them with plastic jewels like they were death masks,” you explained in an excited tone.

“How?” Andre asked, now completely more interested in what you were talking about than the game.

“I’m going to cut large slices of potatoes so ever student gets a handful. Then we’re going to pour baking soda and salt on them to dry it out like the Ancient Egyptians would dry a body. Then we are going to wrap it in tin foil like a sarcophagus and decorate. When we get back from winter break, we’ll ‘excavate’ them by unwrapping the potatoes and see how we did with drying it out, documenting changes and what we see like archaeologists,” you explained. Nate smiled up at you as Mikko and Andre tried to figure out if the project seemed cool or crazy. They settled on cool.

“Can we help?” Mikko asked and you laughed.

“Nate’s coming in tomorrow to help. The two of you can come with him if you want,” you said and the guys nodded.

The following day, Alexa answered the door when there was a knock as you were starting to explain to your class what they were going to do with their potatoes. “Teacher Dad! You’re here!” She said quietly as to not get in trouble by you. Nate chuckled, nodding as Mikko and Andre planned on chirping him later for how comfortable your class was with him if they were calling him teacher dad like it was no big deal. It was one thing when they were younger, but took on a different comfort level as they were older.

The guys helped you pass out the materials and made their own sarcophagi as you circled the classroom making sure your students were staying on task and not just goofy around. A few of your sports obsessed boys clung to the hockey players and copied their every move, decorating their sarcophagi to look similar. You laughed, passing by Nate’s and adding an extra jewel because you wanted to make it more sparkly. He narrowed his eyes at you, but let you keep adding jewels until you were content and circled the class again to see how your kids were coming along. Mikko and Andre snickered; only you would be allowed to touch anything of Nate’s and not have him explode on you.

“Mr. MacKinnon?” two of your girls came up to Nate with little giggles. He looked at them confused, but answered.

“Yes?”

“You and Miss Y/L/N are dating right? Like you’re here all the time. Ever since third grade,” Audrey asked in a hushed tone while Cierra continued to giggle. Nate flushed, not sure how to answer them.

“You must really like her. Like, marry her like her,” Cierra added as Nate cleared his throat and his teammates started to laugh. Before Nate could formulate a sentence though, you were calling for your class’s attention, letting them know it was time to put their ‘sarcophagi’ on the back counter and clean up for the day. As you circled the room again, you noticed Nate looking a bit red with the two forwards trying to hold in their laughter.

“You okay?” you asked him quietly.

“Fine,” he shot you a smile, and though you were skeptical, you returned to your class.

“Yeah Teacher Dad Mackinnon. When are you going to make her Teacher Mom MacKinnon?” Andre chirped quietly, muttering a sorry when you shot him a look having heard his voice, but not what he said. Truth be told, Nate had already thought about it and had plans for an off-season proposal.

3

Campus was quiet on a Thursday after school. You had made copies and stapled a few packets together, graded math tests, and prepared a social studies test for Friday. One task led to another and you kept walking around your room hanging up new student work. Sitting down, you started working on going through your students work from the week to check for understanding and participation. As you were stamping and writing comments, you heard your door being unlocked. Figuring it was the custodian, you kept on plugging away. “Hi Ms. Kay,” you said cheerfully, before looking up and jumping in shock. “What are you doing here?” Nate looked at you incredulously.

“Why are you still here? Y/N I thought something happened to you,” he walked over to you and pulled you up and into a hug. Was he worried about you?

“No, I was just getting some things done. How did you get in?” you asked as he let go of you.

“Ms. Kay gave me your room key when I ran into her in the parking lot. Why the hell are you still here? I tried to call you like ten times,” Nate said, obviously worried, but you still weren’t sure why.

“I have bad reception in my room, I’m sorry babe,” you said, grabbing his hand. “Why are you so worried. Is everything okay?”

“You don’t know what time it is, do you?” Nate asked you, laughing humorlessly.

“It’s only like 4:30,” you said, looking at him confused.

“Hun, no,” he said, showing you his watch. “It’s 7:30.”

“Oh my gosh Nate. I am so sorry! One thing led to another and I wasn’t paying attention and…” you rambled.

“Hey it’s okay,” Nate tilted your chin up with his forefinger. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, realizing you had worried him. Nate smiled softly at you, giving you a quick kiss before grabbing your backpack and keys.

“Let’s go home,” he tugged on your hand but looked back when you didn’t budge.

“Nate I have so much to do. I don’t know how I got behind this week but I need to get all their work together and sent home in their Friday folders,” you rushed out, starting to feel overwhelmed that you didn’t have all the time you thought you had.

“Then they can get them on Monday. You need to come home and get some rest,” Nate tried to reason patiently with you.

“Nate, they’re called Friday folders for a reason,” you said.

“And I’m sure if they get them late one week no one will riot,” he responded.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know your class adores you as their teacher. Now let’s go home and you can finish them tomorrow if you’re going to stress over it,” Nate started to pull you along.

“But…”

“Leave it.”

The next day you were running on pure caffeine and more thankful than usual that it was Friday. The unfortunate part, your schedule had no room for you to work on your Friday folders. Figuring you would skip lunch to get it done, you went about your day as usual. You were helping Noah with dividing fractions when there was a knock at your door. As you continued to help your student, Justin got up and answered. “Mr. MacKinnon!” he yelled and your head shot up.

“Justin, that is not an appropriate classroom tone,” you said as your class was all trying to get a better look at Nate. “Get back to work you guys. I’ll be right back Noah. Try number 12 by yourself,” you suggested, getting up and walking over to Nate. “Everything okay?”

“What do you want me to file?” he asked.

“What?” you asked, confused by his question.

“You were stressed yesterday about your Friday folders and they still look empty,” Nate gestured toward your hanging files on the wall with all the student’s folders in them. “I figured I would stop by to see if you needed help.”

“Are you my room mom for the day?” you laughed quietly and Nate nodded. Checking the time, you shook your head.

“You just got out of practice. I appreciate the help, but I’m sure your tired. Go home and rest,” you said, feeling guilty that you had worried him yesterday.

“I’m good. Where should I start?” he smiled.

“Please let him stay Miss Y/L/N. I love making my brother mad that Nathan MacKinnon spends time in our class instead of his,” Isaac said from behind you. Turning around, you laughed looking up at the tall sixth grader.

“Why are you up?” you asked.

“Oh! I need help on number 15,” he showed you his messy paper.

“We’ll go over everything right now. But did you flip the second fraction and then simplify?”

“No….”

“Ohhh, I would start there,” you smiled.

“Yes ma’am,” Isaac saluted you and went back to his desk. You laughed softly, shaking your head and turning back to Nate. “If you’re sure you want to stay, their work is all ready to be filed and it’s sitting on my desk. Thank you.” You smiled at Nate with a sigh of relief. He squeezed your arm reassuringly for a moment, then walked over to your desk to grab the stack he needed. “Alright my crazies, let’s go over our keep, change, flip.”

4

This wasn’t actually happening, was it? There’s no way this is real. These thoughts swirled in your head on a Friday in March. The school was closing for an extended spring break due to an outbreak. COVID-19 was closing your school. Nate’s season was just postponed, and now school. You went home in tears that day, not knowing what was going to happen next.

Over the next two weeks, you prepared Google Classrooms and work to do digitally as your school year was called. A month in a half online, then summer. Nate was getting agitated, not knowing what to expect with hockey and also worried for the both of you in the city. “I’m getting us a flight to Coal Harbor before they close the borders,” he mentioned one night during dinner.

“Nate, I can’t leave. What if I need to get back into my class? What if my kids need me?” you asked, your anxiety heightening.

“Then I’ll find a way to get you back here as quickly as possible. I just think we would be safer at home with more space, not an apartment in the middle of Denver,” he explained.

“I don’t have anything to teach there. At least here I have a white board, I can’t take that on a plane,” you rambled. Nate reached across the table and grabbed your hand.

“I already ordered you one for there. It’s being delivered tomorrow. You can turn one of the spare rooms into your classroom, or you can take my office and I can do things somewhere else. I just want to go back home, and I’m not comfortable leaving you here,” he said, wiping a tear off your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You weren’t sure if you were stress crying or worried crying at this point. He did have a point though, and you were online for the remainder of the school year. You nodded.

“Okay.”

~ ~ ~

Three weeks later you were laughing at a story one of your kids was telling you over Google Meet. You had to give it to your class, they were very resilient and working hard to finish the year off. Deciding that you wanted to do something fun for PE, you roped Nate into a low-key training session. You told your kids to come to class that morning in their favorite sports gear and be ready to move. Opening your meet, you appeared in your MacKinnon jersey. “Of course you have a MacKinnon jersey Miss Y/L/N,” Cierra said laughing. You looked at her shocked.

“Who else should I have?” you laughed with her.

“Crosby,” Kiely unmuted herself quickly.

“I heard that Kiely!” Nate yelled from somewhere in the hallway. Your kids started laughing and you smiled at them, thankful to have them all healthy and safe in front of you, even if it was through a screen.

“Okie dokie kiddies. I have something fun planned for us today. Are you all ready to meet our special guests?”

“We know Mr. MacKinnon is there Miss Y/L/N,” Steven unmuted himself and laughed.

“I said guests as in plural Steven. But if you don’t want to meet him, I guess I can just send him back home,” you shrugged, starting to turn around in your chair.

“No no no! Steven stop talking. Miss Y/L/N, who is it?” Noah called, practically bouncing out of his seat.

“Hey, be nice Noah. Alright ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. I would like you to meet your PE coaches for the day. Mr. MacKinnon you already know, but say hi!” your kids all unmuted themselves to say hello to Nate as he walked into the room. “Okay now, drumroll please! Your other PE coach, Mr. Crosby!” The screams of your kids had you pressing ‘mute all’ really quick. If only there was a mute all in real life. Sidney waved at your kids while Nate laughed as Kalel fell out of his chair in excitement. You saw parents running into the rooms of your students, all waving and excited themselves once they saw there was no danger.

After a 30 minute workout with Nate and Sid demonstrating and counting for the kids, you let them have time to talk with your class. They had been working so hard, you figured some time missed from learning to enjoy themselves in this hectic experience was needed. Friday was half day for you online, so after a math review and reading time, you said goodbye to your kids as they all started to log off. Waving till the last one left, you sunk back into your chair as you ended the call. Nate came into the room and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Thank you for doing that today,” you said, smiling at your boyfriend.

“Of course. I would do anything for you, you know that,” he said simply and you smiled. “I am mad at Kiely though. Why should you have a Crosby jersey?” Nate made a face and you giggled.

“She just wants what’s best for her teacher,” you teased him, leaning forward to give him a quick kiss and then standing up to head to the kitchen for a snack.

“Yeah sure,” Nate said, then comprehended what you just said. “Hey!” he ran after you, circling his arms around your waist while you laughed and tried to get away from him.

+1

It was the last day of school for the year, and you were watching a movie with your kids on Google Meet. After the meet you talked about the summer and what they hoped to do if they could. You had them also talk about what their favorite part of the year was and what they look forward to in Junior High. “You guys know that I will always be here for you. I know you will all be awesome seventh graders and I can’t wait to run into you all at the grocery store one day and have you all tell me about it,” you said, starting to get choked up with having to say goodbye to them after such an insane year.

“I’m gonna miss you Teacher Mom,” Alexa unmuted herself and you almost broke. Even though you would get after her when she would call Nate Teacher Dad, you loved being her Teacher Mom.

“You’re going to make me cry,” you said, tearing up and laughing as your kids all started to unmute themselves to tell you not to cry.

“Miss Y/L/N, can you call Mr. MacKinnon into the room please?” Kiely asked softly and you nodded, figuring she wanted to say goodbye to him too. You called for Nate, laughing at a joke one of your boys told you while he walked into the room. Seeing him through the camera, you turned around in shock.

“What’s all of this?” you said to all the little presents and cards Nate was holding and placing down on the desk beside your laptop.

“We all wanted to get you something, so my mom emailed Mr. MacKinnon to plan how to get it to you!” Isaac shouted.

“Email?” you asked Nate, not knowing they had his email.

“Instagram,” he whispered. Your actual room mom DMed Nate.

“You guys! This is too much! Thank you,” you gushed, looking at the outpour of love from your class. “You’re all the best and I love you guys,” you said, not helping the tears that came to your eyes.

“Love you Miss Y/L/N!” a few of your girls shouted while your boys just laughed.

“There is also one more thing,” Nate muttered to you, rubbing the back of his neck. “You guys ready?” he asked your class, and you could hear the nerves in his voice. Why was he nervous? Your kids all nodded, big smiles on most of their faces. “Okay, hold them up.” You watched the screen as your kids held up colorful posters with different sayings on them. Confused, you started to read them.

“Teacher Mom + Teacher Dad”

“Congratulations!”

“Mrs. MacKinnon’s Class!”

“Say yes!” … Kiely’s had a picture of a ring on it. Your jaw dropped as your heartbeat sped up.

“Turn around!” Alexa yelled through the speakers. Spinning in your chair, you came face to face with Nate kneeling in front of you, a beautiful ring in his hands.

“I had a whole speech planned out, but I’m forgetting it now,” he chuckled and you giggled with him, more tears filling your eyes. “I know this time has been crazy, and I didn’t plan on purposing to you during a pandemic, but I didn’t want to wait any longer. I love you Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. I’m thankful everyday that those kids brought you to the rink that day three years ago. I love having crafts all over my desk because you need more space, and I love being Teacher Dad; more than I thought I would. But most of all, I love the peace and steadiness you bring to my life, even if you’re running in circles yourself. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Say yes!” shouts came from behind you on the computer screen. You smiled, nodding your head.

“Yes, of course,” you said, tears falling. Nate smiled at you and slipped the ring on your finger, standing up and bringing you into a hug. He wanted to kiss you, but knew you would get mad that it was in front of your class. Cheers erupted from the meet, and you turned to see not only your students but their parents also. Laughing, you showed your class your ring quickly.

“Yay Teacher Mom and Teacher Dad!” Alexa shouted and you couldn’t get mad at her this time. After they all calmed down and you said your final goodbyes, you ended the meet and found Nate laying on the couch. You lowered yourself on top of him and kissed him.

“How did you get them to do that?” you asked, referring to the signs.

“When Isaac’s mom messaged me, I brought it up. She coordinated it all with the other parents,” he said and you laughed.

“I love you,” you said, kissing him again, Nate wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“I love you too, future Mrs. MacKinnon.”

Tagged: @avsfans95 @capsvsducks @justjosty @tysojost @natxpat @evphemia @stlbluesbrat21 @fallinallincurls @joeyisourranger @kyratallent @drewseph93 @ayohockeycheck @tkbarzal @stormingroses @dreamandrow @handwrittenheros @brandonbagel @bakerclaire123 @miranda0102 @cherrylita @musiclove-12 @reallyawkwardbandlover

[thornedrose44]

Prompt: Lena accidentally creates something that makes everyone attracted to her except kara (she is immune) basically jealous!kara 😬

Read on AO3 (Prompt from @urjustwaiting)

“My dearest Lena,” Brainy began, brown eyes bright and earnest as he cradled Lena’s hand in both of his like it was something precious and fragile, “I have always considered you to be my intellectual equal and a friend of the highest order. Recently, however, I have found my feelings of friendship for you have shifted - grown into something unexpected and wondrous.”

Brainy inhaled sharply, gathering his courage as Lena’s eyes widened with abject shock and horror at what was occurring.

“Lena Luthor, I have fallen irrevocably in love with you”, Briany declared confident and unfalteringly certain, “and I was wondering if I could spend time conversing with you over a sizeable meal?”

To say Lena’s day had started strangely would be the understatement of the century. She had arrived at the DEO following the news that there had been an attempted break-in last night at the secret facility that had been successfully fended off by Kara, Brainy, Nia and Andrea (the newest superhero to join the club).

Alex, who had taken her first night off since becoming director, had rushed onsite as soon as she was alerted to what had happened; her first order had been to bring Lena in to evaluate the building’s defenses and put in suitable improvements for any weaknesses identified. It was a sign of how much trust Lena had earned amongst the Superfriends, and more specifically Alex, that no one hesitated to call her in for help with something as sensitive as security flaws.

Lena had fought hard to earn back the trust she had nearly lost, rebuild the bridges both sides had burnt and therefore she didn’t balk at the ridiculously early wake-up call and did not even consider saying no to Alex’s request.

The second she arrived at the DEO, she knew something was off.

People were staring at her, which shouldn’t have been odd for a Luthor in the slightest but Lena was used to being ignored at the DEO. The agents milling the corridors would give fleeting glances and welcoming nods but nothing more - many of them owed their life to a last minute scientific breakthrough courtesy of Lena’s intellect and as such they respected her enough to treat her like she was one of them - like she belonged here - because of it. Walking into the DEO to find herself the subject of many furtive gazes and unsubtle wandering eyes was therefore worrisome to say the least.

Lena’s concern merely increased as she made her way further into the DEO where she couldn’t go more than a metre without being approached by agents trying out a cheesy pick-up line or inviting her to coffee/dinner. Two rather charming agents actually dropped down on one knee at the same time to propose to her there and then - Lena was saved from answering as her wannabe future spouses got into a fist fight. The worst one, by far, was Pam from HR who shouted that she was enthusiastically willing to bear all of Lena’s future children - Lena promptly sprinted into the command centre and had been momentarily relieved to see Brainy there waiting for her.

The relief was obviously dashed a minute later when Brainy grabbed her hand and sweetly announced his love for her.

“Brainy, what the hell!?”

Those were the exact words Lena had wanted to shout but had been unable to find her voice to do so, thankfully (or not so as the case may be), Nia had voiced them for her and was striding into the room with a furious expression on her face.

“Nia, it’s not what it looks like-” Lena rushed to reassure as Nia pushed her boyfriend away from the youngest Luthor.

“How could you?!” Nia demanded, rounding on the Coulan.

“Nia, I think there’s something wrong-” Lena began to interrupt, knowing how much Brainy loved Nia and her alarm bells from the agents earlier ringing loudly in her head when....

“I wanted to ask her out.” Nia exclaimed stamping her foot childishly before turning to face Lena with fluttering eyelashes and a seductive pout. “Lena, please my love is far more real than Brainy’s. Don’t go out with him.” Nia pleaded as Briany scoffed derisively behind her.

“Lena is smart enough to see through your fraudulent affection. She was on the precipice of accepting my offer of a date.” Briany cut in with a superior raise of his chin.

“No, she wasn’t!” Nia rebuked, turning back to Brainy with clenched fists.

“Yes, she was!” Brainy returned, chest puffing out as they both stepped forward as if to engage in battle when a sudden red and blue blur appeared between them as a physical barrier.

“What on Earth is going on?” Kara questioned, brow creased in confusion as she looked between the couple that seemed to be seconds away from trading blows.

“I LOVE LENA MORE!” They both shouted in answer whilst they simultaneously lunged towards one another.

“What?!” Kara gasped as she hurriedly tried to keep the two apart. “Lena?” Kara asked, wide-eyed and gobsmacked, clearly looking for an explanation.

“I don’t know!” Lena responded quick and panicked. “I came in and everyone’s been…”

“Everyone’s been what?” Kara prompted as she ducked a wild swing from a feisty Nia.

“Like this.” Lena gestured to Briany and Nia who were futilely trying to dodge around the kryptonian superhero.

Kara blinked rapidly at this information but reacted quickly, super speeding Brainy and Nia away from the command centre as carefully as she could. Kara was back less than a minute later, appearing harried and uncomfortable but she wasn’t looking at Lena any differently to normal. Soft blue eyes watched her the exact same way and as soon as she was back, she gently encouraged Lena into their standard hug with a light touch to her elbow.

Lena folded happy and willing into Kara’s arms burying her face into the kyrptonian’s shoulder as Kara gently stroked her back.

“So… interesting morning so far?” Kara teased managing to pull forth a relieved chuckle from the CEO.

“You could say that.” Lena sighed, letting her eyes slip closed for a fleeting second as she quickly inhaled Kara’s familiar airy scent before pulling away and putting her armour back on. “I seem to have suddenly become irresistible to everyone here.” Lena explained, nearly convincing herself that she saw a flash of a sad pout on her best friend’s face when she ended their hug. “Except for you, of course.” Lena clarified.

“Well… uh… I…” Kara stammered, face blushing a bright red as she self-consciously rubbed the back of her neck.

“Don’t worry, Kara, I’m not offended.” Lena reassured, giving Kara an out even as it caused her heart to painfully twinge with a familiar loss and yearning that always accompanied the realisation that Kara would never see her the same way.

“Lena-” Kara began, lips pressed tight together as she took a tentative step forward.

“Lena, there you are!”

Kara and Lena’s heads turned immediately to see Andrea striding into the room, dressed to impress in a tight black dress and red soled heels that drew attention to her long, sinful legs.

“Oh, dear…” Lena murmured, swallowing thickly, as Andrea approached with a dark predatory gaze that promised to fulfill all of Lena’s long forgotten teenage fantasies.

Lena was so fixated on the sight of her first crush looking like she was about to devour her right there in the DEO command centre that she didn’t see the heavy frown form on Kara’s face, nor the way blue eyes flickered red for a flash.

The sound of a rumbling growl was the only thing that broke through Lena’s stupor and pre-empted a red-blue blur sweeping Andrea out of the room, presumably to deposit her in the same place as Brainy and Nia.

“Was that your stomach?” Lena asked when Kara reappeared a few moments later.

“Was what my stomach?”

“That growling noise?” Lena inquired with a tilt of her head.

“Uhhhh….” Kara’s mouth opened and closed, the tips of her ears turning red before she nodded her head in jerky agreement. “Yep, stomach, super hungry, no breakfast.”

“You must be, you’re dropping verbs.” Lena joked.

“Uh huh.” Kara muttered, shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot as she intermittently shot discouraging glares to any agents that looked like they were even considering coming up to Lena. “Do you have any idea what’s causing this?” Kara questioned, placing her hands on her hips and trying to ease into her Supergirl persona.

“No.” Lena answered honestly.

“Were you exposed to anything? Or working with anything that might have caused something like this?” There was no accusation within the questions, just genuine curiosity and a desire to work through the possible causes. Lena didn’t doubt Kara’s trust in her, not after everything they had been through.

“No.” Lena replied after thinking carefully.

“You were here yesterday and everyone was fine.” Kara rationalised, “So it must have happened since you left.”

“Kara, I didn’t do anything after I left. I went home, watched a documentary, had a bath and went to bed as I promised you.”

Lena’s work hours since re-taking L-Corp as her own had exploded and her rare free time was regularly being utilised to support the Superfriends. Lena had spent yesterday tweaking Kara’s supersuit to improve its diagnostic capabilities to provide Kara an edge when flying into an unknown situation. It had taken Kara forcibly frog marching her out of the building and using her puppy dog eyes to get Lena to promise that she would finally go home and relax.

“Good girl.” Kara said, softening immediately at Lena’s answer, blue eyes twinkling with pride.

Lena internally screamed at herself to keep her praise kink under tight control.

“Then maybe something happened overnight? Or whilst you were on your way in?” Kara continued to theorise allowing Lena much needed time to regain her cool.

“Unlikely,” Lena replied thoughtfully, “I stopped for coffee on my way in and no one there acted oddly. It wasn’t until I got to the DEO that things changed.”

“Then-”

“SOMETHING WEIRD IS GOING ON!” Alex announced as she strode in, practically snarling at the agents that were working at their consoles, all of whom had looked a second away from getting to their feet and rushing eagerly towards the older Danvers as soon as she appeared.

Kara, meanwhile, instantly moved to be slightly in front of Lena like a personal shield ready to jump forward but careful not to overstep and diminish the CEO’s autonomy - Lena couldn’t help how her heart fluttered at Kara’s mindful concern.

“Are you in love with Lena too?” Kara challenged, narrowing her gaze at her sister.

Alex came to a sharp and sudden stop, jaw dropping open as she looked between Kara and Lena, “Too?” Alex echoed, and Lena watched in confusion as a slow and incredibly bright grin appeared to light up the Director’s face. “Did you finally-”

“BrianyandNiaareinlovewithLena!” Kara yelled, panicked and fast paced, hands flapping wildly at her sides.

The smile vanished alongside whatever Alex had been about to say. “I’m sorry, did you say Brainy and Nia are in love with Lena?”

“Yep.” Kara popped as she let out an unusually large sigh of relief that made Lena think she may have missed something important in the sister’s aborted interaction. “As well as nearly all the DEO agents, but no one from the coffee shop so we think it's localised to here which is weird because we can’t seem to find a potential cause that would explain that.” Kara rambled, clearly intent on brushing over whatever had just happened. “Therefore I asked if you were in love with Lena like Briany, Nia and Andrea.” Kara explained placing unnecessary emphasis on their friends' names.

Alex glanced from Kara to Lena, frowning heavily, “Sorry Lena but I’m quite happily taken.”

“Shame.” Lena tsked, earning her an affectionate eye roll from the redhead, before being struck by a sudden realisation. “Wait, then why were you coming in yelling that something weird is going on if you didn’t know about me?”

Alex shot a look over her shoulder before moving closer to the other two and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “People are being… ‘overly friendly’ to me.”

Kara and Lena shared a look.

“Hey!” Alex snapped, bringing guilty green and blue eyes back to her. “I’m being serious here!”

“So by ‘overly friendly’ you mean…” Lena prompted.

“People keep trying to hug me and ask me how my day is going. And they keep… complimenting me.” Alex whispered like she was sharing some heinous crimes.

Both Kara and Lena’s eye muscles twitched with the desire to share another look but they managed to resist - just.

“It’s weird.” Alex defended haughtily. “Yesterday, they were too scared to look me in the eye for longer than a second and now they can’t go ten seconds without giving me a motivational speech about how good a job I’m doing.”

“It could be worse.” Lena said trying to be comforting,

“How?” Alex huffed.

“Well, Pam from HR told me she wanted to bear my children.” Lena said with a shrug that was immediately followed by a loud CRUNCHING noise.

Lena turned to find the source of the ear-splitting sound only to discover that the round titanium table Kara had been leaning against was now heavily crumpled around two tightly clenched kryptonian fists.

“Kara?” Lena squeaked whilst Alex merely face-palmed.

***

“It doesn’t make sense.” Lena mused, unknowingly posed like ‘The Thinking Man’ on the stool as Alex and Kara paced the space.

They had made the wise decision to move to what was considered Lena’s lab at the DEO to free themselves of the foot traffic of the command centre that had both Danvers sisters glowering at any agents that dared to approach (though for vastly different reasons).

“What are you thinking Luthor?” Alex asked, plopping herself down heavily on the stool by the CEO.

“Disparate pieces that don’t logically fit together.” Lena murmured quietly more to herself than to the other two before she lifted her head and tried to slowly talk through what her mind was attempting to process. “Whatever happened, clearly happened in the last,” Lena glanced at her watch, grimacing at the time as her head pounded with lack of sleep, “eight hours. I left here at six yesterday and no one was acting any differently to normal. Whatever has happened changes people’s behaviour towards us.” Lena gestured between herself and Alex, “but only us. And whatever is doing it is localised to the DEO.”

Lena paused, giving the sisters a chance to disagree with her assertion of facts, both Danvers nodded in agreement and encouragement to continue.

“Therefore, we have two options:” Lena continued, laying out the two theories she was working with, “either something happened at the DEO that is causing this and we are merely triggers for it. Or something happened specifically to us and being here is triggering it.”

Alex pursed her lips, thinking carefully through Lena’s logic, “Which do you think is more likely?”

“Something happening at the DEO.” Lena answered with a shrug, “One target, one location, rather than two is more straightforward.”

“Agreed.” Alex sighed, “And we know something did happen after we both left last night.”

“The attempted break in.” Lena concurred.

Alex nodded, shifting to face the kryptonian who had been listening intently to the conversation, “Kara, give us a rundown of what happened.”

Kara frowned, hands moving to rest on her hips in classic Supergirl pose, “It was just dumb thugs looking to make a quick buck. They’d stumbled upon some alien tech that they knew fetched a good price on the black market. Rather than sell it quickly and get away with it, they got greedy. They knew more tech was held here and figured they could double their profits if they used the tech they already had to pull off a heist.”

“I want it noted that the DEO is the worst kept secret in this city,” Lena snarked, with a roll of her eyes, “and that’s saying something considering Supergirl's disguise is a pair of glasses.”

“Noted,” Alex grunted, shooting the youngest Luthor a smug smirk, “which is why making it your job to fix that for us.”

Lena chuckled darkly, “You couldn’t afford my consultation fees.”

Alex’s smugness increased tenfold at that, her chin lifting defiantly as she laid down her ace, “That’s why I’m making Kara be the one to ask you.”

Lena gasped, utterly outraged, “You underhanded-“

“Guys, focus!” Kara bellowed, clapping her hands loudly together to break the two of them out of their regular snarky banter that could go on for a good hour if not interrupted quickly (it was how they showed their affection for one another).

“Right.”

“Sorry.”

Alex and Lena murmured apologetically, gazes dropping to the floor as Kara shook her head in amusement at their familiar antics.

“What tech did they use?” Alex questioned, bringing them back on track.

“Stupid gas.”

Lena’s brow furrowed at the response and Alex’s aggrieved grunt that followed it, “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s a bio weapon that makes-“

“People stupid?” Lena guessed.

“Hyper emotional, but… yeah.” Alex clarified, “Like when I was exposed to it, I just laughed for like an hour straight.”

Lena hummed thoughtfully, brain whirring away to make connections with this new information, “Are kryptonians immune?”

“No.” Alex laughed, earning her a pout from the Super that made Lena take a mental note to beg Kara for the obvious story behind it another time.

“Then why isn’t Kara affected by all of this?” Lena questioned, throwing in the other variable they hadn’t considered.

“Now that you mention it, the stupid gas didn’t work on me last night.”

Alex’s face scrunched up in confusion, “It did last time.”

Kara shrugged, seemingly unconcerned, “I think Lena’s upgraded suit protected me.”

“My upgraded…” Lena began slowly, her eyes suddenly going wide as she recognised the suit Kara was currently wearing to be the one she had been tinkering with all day yesterday, “Kara, I told you not to wear that yet. I hadn’t finished tweaking it!”

Kara winced at the sharp tone, hands flying up in supplication and surrender, as she whined defensively, “It worked perfectly Lena.”

“That’s not the point-“ Lena rebuked, crossing her arms aggressively causing the superpowered alien to shrink under her green-eyed glare.

“Kara’s not affected...” Alex murmured, though her voice was quiet there was something sharp to her tone that cut through the room - it was the tone that preceded a ‘Eureka’.

“Alex?” Kara and Lena both prompted.

“I have an idea.” Alex announced jumping to her feet, and snatching up her jacket, “I need to test something out.”

“Okay, what are you thinking?” Kara called out as Alex rushed out of the lab.

“I’m thinking that I’m grateful I memorised the number of that twenty four hour Chinese takeaway.”

***

Lena and Alex stood back and watched in complete horror as the DEO agents ravaged the table loaded up with potstickers, stuffing their mouths with ten at a time and throwing punches over the last handfuls. They had to forcibly pull Kara away from the scene who twitched with the obvious desire to throw herself into the mix to get a share for herself.

“I don’t understand.” Kara wailed, stamping her foot pathetically, once they had returned to the lab.

“Oh my god.” Lena muttered, snatching up the tablet she had been using yesterday and scrolling through everything she had done to Kara’s suit, leaving the explanation task to the older Danvers.

“They’re feeling what you feel.” Alex announced, “Lena and I aren’t the catalyst. You are.”

Kara’s crinkle appeared and deepened.

“It’s why everyone has been so friendly to Alex.” Lena mumbled, taking over the explanation absentmindedly as she distractedly ran through data, looking between the suit upgrades and the specification of ‘Stupid Gas’. “They feel your sisterly love for her and are treating her like you would but to an extreme degree. It must be because of their exposure to the gas mixed with some upgrade I put into your suit.” Lena frowned, mind running a mile a minute, “I fitted in further diagnostic capabilities that might be able to identify biological toxins and alert you, but-“ Lena froze, head snapping upwards to stare dumbly at her best friend, her entire brain grinding to a dead halt.

“Lena?” Kara inquired, blue eyes instantly glowing with concern at Lena’s absolute stillness and dead-eyed stare.

Alex nudged Kara’s side and whispered helpfully, “I think she’s just realised.”

“Realised what?”

Alex directed a soft and understanding smile at her sister, “How people have been acting towards her and what that means…”

“Oh…” Kara squeaked, paling considerably and breath held tight as she waited for Lena to finally react.

“You want to bear my children?!” Lena yelled incredulously, shattering the awkward silence with that explosive revelation.

Kara’s entire body flushed crimson, as she spluttered out (unable to stop herself), “Ummm… I mean… Preferably after a few dates…”

“Annnnnnd that’s my cue…” Alex announced, turning on her heel sharply and marching out of the room.

Lena blinked repeatedly, still not fully rebooted from this turn of events and everything it could potential - hopefully - entail.

“Lena… I…” Kara began, voice thick with emotion as she took timid, shaky steps towards her best friend, “I don’t know what to say…”

“You love me?” Lena asked, the bluntness of the question softened by the tremble to her voice that highlighted the vulnerability and hope of the question.

It was the hopefulness in Lena’s voice and the way green eyes were dark with poorly hidden want that gave Kara the courage to lift her chin, puff out her chest and declare sincerely, “More than anything.”

Lena let out a shaky breath, throwing her tablet down on the bench and demanding sternly, “Take off the suit.”

“Really?” Kara’s eyes bulged at the request, the flush from earlier deepening to a boiled crimson, “I mean I’m not saying no but I was kind of hoping we could go out on a date first. Maybe? If you’re interested?”

“Kara,” Lena said stepping forward into Kara’s personal space which effectively stopped Kara’s ramble, “you’re still wearing the upgraded suit which is feedbacking to everyone in the DEO your emotions. If you take it off everyone goes back to normal.”

“Oh,” Kara breathed, shaking her head with embarrassment, “I thought-“

Lena reached out, threading her fingers through Kara’s golden hair affectionately before seeking out the nape of her neck to gently tug Kara down the couple of inches between them so that she could press their lips hotly together. Kara’s hands instantly sought out Lena’s hips even as her mouth slipped open granting access to Lena’s insistent tongue.

Lena’s free hand traced the emblem on the supersuit whilst she teased her nails against Kara’s neck earning her an appreciative groan that served as the only warning before Kara effortlessly hoisted Lena up onto the lab bench pressing eagerly forward into the space between Lena’s legs.

Lena nipped at Kara’s bottom lip before breaking away, panting heavily to regain her breath. Kara, meanwhile, didn’t even hesitate to track kisses down Lena’s jaw and neck, sucking at her pulse-point until Lena’s legs wrapped tightly around Kara’s body desperately trying to earn some relief.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?” Lena gasped.

“Oh, I do.” Kara murmured earnestly, leaning back to fully appreciate how wrecked Lena looked.

Lena lightly shoved Kara back with a playful laugh, fingers tapping against the edges of Kara’s supersuit emblem as she quirked a mischievous eyebrow. “The sooner you take this off, the sooner the problem is fixed and we can go on that date.”

Kara’s entire expression lit up at that and in flash she had disappeared only to return less than a second later dressed in the DEO sweatsuit that Lena adored.

“Shall we?” Kara checked, bouncing up and down so excitedly that Lena couldn’t resist pulling her back in for another deep kiss.

[bestiesenpai]

Recess - Nanami Kento

Don’t mind if i do~ femme reader no content warnings, it’s just a little fluff :) 2.1k words

"Papa, do you like Miss (Y/N)?" The young voice of Kento's son sounded next to him as he walked the young boy to his second grade class.

"What do you mean?" A blush tinged Kento's ears; it was embarrassing his son could figure it out so easily.

"Well I always catch you lookin' at her when you drop me off...and you talk to her a lot sometimes..." The child didn't really have a lot to go off of and he squeezed his fathers hand as they came to an intersection.

"I like her a normal amount, Yuji." Just a few more blocks and Kento would be free from this.

"What's that mean?"

"We're just acquaintances." Kento picked up his pace just a little, eager to drop him off and staunchly avoid eye contact with you.

"What's that mean?" Yuji echoed again, looking up at Kento curiously.

"I don't like Miss (Y/N) like how you say I do.” Finally they were at the school and Kento could ease up the hold he had on his son's hand. There was a swarm of other kids all in their little uniforms, matching tops and shorts for the upcoming summer weather.

“Miss (Y/N)!” Letting go of his hand, Yuji ran to you, latching onto the fabric of your sundress as you stood outside the school and made sure the kids were going to the right places.

“Hello!” Rubbing the back of Yuji’s head, you smiled down at him. “Are you ready for school today?”

“Yeah!” Today was a special day, after lunch they got to watch a movie about dinosaurs. Opening his mouth to speak again, Yuji saw something else that caught his eye. “Megumi! Nobara!” And off he ran to say hello to his friends.

Kento stood awkwardly where Yuji had left him, clenching and unclenching his fists. Should he talk to you? It wasn’t like Yuji dictated what he could and couldn’t do, but he didn’t want the kid to get any more impressions. Or would not talking to you make it even more obvious?

“Have a good day at work, Nanami.” You called out to him, waving and smiling at him with such ease it made his heart swell.

“Y-you too.” Clearing his throat, Kento waved back and scanned the crowd to see where Yuji was one last time. Spotting his son walking into the building with his friends, Kento nodded toward you and started to walk away. “See you after school.”

“Bye!” Waving again, you turned your attention to another student, and Kento went about his way.

Except he didn’t see you after school, he saw you much earlier than that. Yuji had forgotten his lunch despite swearing up and down that he’d packed it all by himself, so Kento was tasked with delivering it.

Going into the school and walking past brightly decorated classrooms, he quickly found the class Yuji was in. Peeking in through the window to see them all still sitting down, Kento leaned against the wall until the bell rang and they were let out.

“Yuji.” The rich timbre of Kento’s voice cut through the shrill sounds of children, easily reaching the intended recipient.

“Papa, you came!” Setting his sights on the lunch box in Kento’s hands, the little seven year old leapt to grab it. “Sorry I forgot my lunch!”

“It’s okay, I’m just glad I caught it in time.”

“Thanks papa!” Once he got his hands on it, Yuji gave Kento a quick hug and scampered down the hall.

“Hello again, Nanami.” Turning his head, Kento saw you leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed as children filtered out of the classroom.

“Yuji forgot his lunch.” Kento felt a little silly already trying to justify why he was there. You’d probably seen the whole interaction take place and knew exactly what transpired.

“Mhmm, he mentioned that at the start of class today.” Nodding to yourself, you flicked your head behind you. “He told me not to call you, said he ‘for sure’ had a feeling you would come and bring it.” You grinned and pushed yourself away from the door, slyly giving Kento a once over in his business attire. Despite working from home most days, he still chose to get dressed up like this.

Kento could only nod in agreement as he watched you walk back into the room and to your desk in the corner of the room. Letting his eyes roam over the room, Kento could see clearly where his son was sitting, in the middle of the room with a bunch of stickers on his desk.

“Ah, Nanami?” Your shy voice cut through the internal dilemma Kento was having about how to smoothly exit the room.

“Yes?” Taking a slow step into the room, Kento could see you were looking at your computer screen in apprehension.

“Are you good with technology?” A sheepish laugh accompanied your question and Kento thought it was cute you were embarrassed. “I can’t seem to get any video playing on the projector and we’re supposed to watch a movie today.” Gesturing to the device on the ceiling, you worried your lip and looked at him.

“I know a thing or two, I can try.” Committing to coming into the room, Kento walked briskly over to your desk. There weren’t a lot of things that Kento couldn’t do and fixing a computer was surely not one of them.

“Thank you so much! I tried some stuff but it was no use!” Pushing your chair away from the desk and to the side, you let Kento take up the space you were previously in.

Grabbing the mice and beginning to click through applications, Kento wasn’t sure he could fix your problem. Not because he didn’t know what was wrong, he knew exactly what was wrong, but this was the first time he was alone with you and this close. He could smell the light perfume you put on and feel the heat radiating from your body. It was harder to focus than he thought it was.

“I clicked that one before and it didn’t work.” Your arm shot out to point at a few icons, making sure Kento didn’t waste his time on them.

“Really?” He mumbled, clicking on it anyway and chuckling when you grunted in mock annoyance.

“Yes really.” Sticking your tongue out at him, you watched him work intently, eager to know how to fix the problem should it ever come up again.

“Miss (Y/N), I think your computer is opening the wrong application to play the video.” You’d told him before to just call you (Y/N) when no kids were around, but Kento couldn’t bear to drop the formality; he didn’t want to get too comfortable with saying your name like that, it would only spur on the daydreams he had of you.

Mumbling something about how simple the fix was, you stood up and grabbed a remote off the desk, turning the projector on and watching as the opening credits to the movie played on the classroom wall.

“Thank you so much, Nanami!” Clapping your hands together excitedly, you turned to him. Your back was to the large windows, warming you up and casting the sun all around you.

“Happy to help.” Kento nodded, fighting to remain his stoic self and not take notice of how easy it would be to push you against said windows and kiss you. Your class was on the first floor of the building, anyone could walk by and see it if he did it, and that kind of risk had Kento’s heart beating a little faster.

“Yuji is so lucky to have a dad like you, I bet you’re great around the house!” Setting the remote down, you pat Kento on the arm. He really had no choice in the matter, his wife running off shortly after Yuji was born and leaving him with sole custody. Feeling the touch of your hand reminded him how long it had been since he’d had any physical contact with a member of the opposite sex.

“Mi- (Y/N).” Turning sharply to you, Kento took a deep breath through his nose, nostrils flaring as he drank in your form. Summer really suited you, breezy clothes and longer days, the warmth in the air meshing well with the warmth in your personality.

“Yes?” Blinking owlishly at him, you shuffled just the tiniest bit back out of surprise.

“I want to show you how good I am around the house.” The line, coming out stilted and spoken with uncertainty, had your brows coming together a little.

“W-what do you mean?” Your breathing was coming out shorter now, nerves beginning to prickle your skin the longer you and Kento stood looking at each other.

“I want…” Licking his lips nervously, Kento knew this could be a reach. He could be ruining the good relationship the two of you had, the professional relationship you had. He could make you uncomfortable, and while that was the last thing he wanted to do, he couldn’t stop himself from taking a step forward and making you back up into the windows.

“I want to take you out. On a date.” Saying the words all in one big rush, Kento watched your face closely. Your lower lip trembled and your fingers curled into your dress as you thought of a response.

“I’d like that.” Your cheeks were burning intensely and turning your head to look at the wall beside you was the only saving grace you had. The silly little crush you had on Kento, the one you tried to stamp out and ignore, was finally allowed to take shape.

“Really?” Smiling loosely like an idiot, Kento put his hand on the window panes, leaning forward and almost touching you as he exhaled in relief. “I’m glad.” Peeking at you through his lashes, Kento tried to ignore the fact he could see right down your dress and to your breasts.

The longer he looked at you though, the more he realised how close he actually was to you. Your breath reached his face, if he wanted to Kento could drop his arm and easily envelop you in a hug, or perhaps-

“May I…?” He started to ask as he leaned in to kiss you. Hovering over your lips, he brushed the tip of your nose with his as he waited for you to squeak out a yes and nod before proceeding.

Touching your lips gently, Kento forced himself to go slow. There wasn’t any need to rush, he told himself, but the excitement of finally getting to kiss you was threatening to steamroll the control he had over himself.

Reaching a hand out, you rest it on his shoulder, your fingers slowly curling into his collar and holding it tightly. Tilting your head and deepening the kiss slightly, you breathed a little harder through your nose as Kento shuffled closer.

“I knew it!” The overjoyed shriek of Yuji surprised both of you, enough so that you pushed Kento as hard as you could away from you in shock. He was standing at the door to the classroom, his fellow classmates behind him staring in awe and confusion.

“Damn, lunchtime is over already?” Running past Kento’s dazed form, you wiped your lips off furiously as you collected the kids and ushered them into the room.

“I was right, papa! I was right! I was right! You do like Miss (Y/N)! You don’t like her a normal amount, you like her a lot! You were kiss-” Yuji was shouting at the top of his lungs, silenced only by Kento sliding a hand over his mouth.

“Be quiet, don’t yell like that inside the classroom.” Kento groaned, already feeling a headache form at having to explain himself to Yuji later. When he asked you out, he already had a vague plan in the back of his head on how he was going to hide it from the young boy, but that was completely out the window now. “Go sit down, we’ll talk later.” Nudging him toward his desk, Kento tried to ignore the whispers from the other students about what they’d seen.

“Yuji, is Miss (Y/N) your new mom?” Nobara whispered loudly, looking obviously between you and Kento.

“Not yet, they have to get married first.” Megumi whispered back, pointing at his ring finger.

“Married?! I wanna come!”

“I think it’s best I leave.” Straightening his tie, Kento nodded curtly at you before giving Yuji a lingering look. “Don’t make any trouble.”

“Yeah, okay.” Yuji was definitely going to save all the questions he had, saving them for the most opportune time. “Bye papa.”

“See you after school.” He was talking to you just as much as he was talking to Yuji, taking a sneaky glance at you before turning on his heel and walking out of the classroom.

“Miss (Y/N), are you going to live with us now?”

Dinner time was going to be pretty awkward tonight.

[flysafepapi]

siren song 4/?

masterlist

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Warnings: Mentions of death, fire.

Summary: He remembers the scent of her perfume, something that smelled strongly of rose, as she carefully closed the small window in the bedroom and crossed herself, whispering words under her breath that were too soft and quick for him to hear. His mother had turned and smiled at him, and even at that age he could see that she was trying to hide something behind it. Her voice had been shaky, whether with fear or anger he still doesn’t know, when she told him that he was going to be safe. The thought of asking what he was safe from hadn’t occurred to him at the time but he thinks he knows, now.

Tagging: @the-makingsofgreatness​ @zablife​ @lyarr24​ (just let me know if you want to be added on or taken off)

(A flashback of sorts happens after the first ~~~)

The last thing he expects to see when he steps out of the office is Tobias standing outside, just out of reach from the steady drizzle of rain, waiting with an umbrella in one hand and a bottle in the other. For a second, Tommy debates just going back inside and closing the door, especially when Ada leaves the house at the same moment that Tobias steps towards him. A blind man would’ve been able to see the amused and borderline smug look she sends his way. By the slight curve of Tobias’ smile, he’s seen Ada as well.

“Evening, Mr Shelby. I wasn’t sure if I caught you before you went home for the night.”

“Shouldn’t you be at the Garrison by now?”

“Normally I would, but I thought we could talk more about this job you have for me.”

“Does this mean you’re going to take the offer?”

“Perhaps. That depends on you.”

There’s a long, tense moment where the two of them just stare at each other. Thankfully, there’s enough distance between them so that he doesn’t need to look up, unlike the last time. Tommy looks down at the bottle in the other man’s hand, studying the label, then back up at his face. The wine he’s holding is expensive, in the hundreds if the date stamped into the paper label is true, not something cheap he’s picked up on the way. 

“What do you want?”

There are a million things Tobias could say to that question. He wants a lot of things: to see his father and brothers again just one last time, whole and alive and unharmed, to feel the warmth of the sun on his skin without the risk of death, to be able to relive the pleasure of eating his mother’s cooking again. He doesn’t give a voice to any of them. 

“A drink with you would be a good start.”

The offices are dark, and he’s walked through the space a thousand times before, but it feels different with Tobias behind him, as if the shadows have grown darker than they were five minutes ago when Tommy left. It leaves him feeling slightly unsettled, even after he turns on enough lights to completely illuminate the entire room. The lightbulbs seem duller than they usually would be, and the light they give off is dim, but it’s more than enough to see by. 

“Glasses?”

“In my office.”

“Lead the way.”

In the silence, he can practically hear the way Tommy’s heart speeds up slightly, but he’s not sure if it’s from the fact that the two of them are alone or from the fear that he can’t quite explain lingering on the edges of his mind. Maybe both. The sound makes him remember the night in the tunnels, after the supports had given in. Taking any blood hadn’t been in the plan, the entire reason he was there had been because they were. It hadn’t been an accident, that Tobias was the one that the older Arthur Shelby had owed money to. Feeding had been an impulsive decision, and one that could’ve backfired on him spectacularly, but fortunately it hadn’t. He can practically taste it with every pump of the man’s heart. 

“-talk about?”

“Sorry?”

“What did you want to talk about?”

There’s a moment, just a second, where Tommy can see the way Tobias’ hands tighten around the bottle of obscenely expensive wine, and the movement draws his attention to the minute difference in texture there that he hadn’t noticed before. It wouldn’t have been noticeable if it wasn’t for the way the skin seemed to shine slightly in the light thrown by the lamps. Tobias follows his line of sight and grimaces for a second when he sees what Tommy’s looking at.

“I’ve tried everything I can to get rid of them. Nothing ever works.”

“What are they?”

“Reminders of the past. Some scars never fade, do they?”

Tommy turns away, changing the conversation away from the memories of the war into something that feels less like he’s walking precariously across a minefield, and Tobias doesn’t call him out on it even though he could. He pours them both a drink instead and raises his own glass in a toast.

“To all the people we lost.”

~~~

Almost as soon as he closes his eyes, securely in the space he’d created beneath the bed for himself though it’s not particularly comfortable, the memories come rushing back like they tended to do around this time of year. He doesn’t dream so much as he relives all the old memories, and though he could list a dozen downsides to eternal life, remembering everything with near perfect clarity has to be at the top of the list. It feels like he’s back there. 

The room was small, far too small to comfortably fit them all, and the only noise in the dark were the soft sounds of crying from his brothers and the soothing noises coming from their father, trying to calm them down. At twenty, he’d been the oldest of six, all boys. Before her passing, she often joked that the lord had done her the favour of sparing her from the ordeal of making her daughter’s wedding dress. She hadn’t made it more than a few days past the birth of the twins and while he’d been sitting in the small room, Tobias had been thankful for it. His mother would never have to be subjected to this horror.

His youngest two brothers, the twins, had just celebrated their seventh birthdays. Though the payments he received for doing small jobs around the village had been few and hadn’t amounted to much, he’d been saving since their birthday the year before to get them that horse they’d been wanting for years. Just the week before, he’d given the money to the farmer on the farm next to theirs and arranged to have the animal delivered the morning of their birthday. 

“How long are they going to keep us here, father?”

“I’m scared.”

“Shh. Let's not speak of it. Dry your eyes, Ferenc, Tamás, neither I nor your brother will let anything happen to you.”

He had no idea how he was supposed to do that when he wasn’t even sure where the men had taken Miklós, György, or Emeric. They’d been separated not long after the men had dragged them from their home, accused of all manner of foul things he knew none of them would ever have done. 

The memory shifts, then, to the part he dreads the most. Even without these nights where it seemed like he was projected right back to the worst time of his considerably long life, he would remember what that night had been like. The smell of the freshly cut pine mixed with something thick and pungent that his frazzled mind hadn’t realised was the smell of tar. 

“Please. We haven’t done anything wrong,” he pulled against the ropes binding his wrists behind his back, futilely, they’d been tied far too tight for the movement to make any difference. Even when the rough weave had rubbed his wrists raw and soaked through with blood, he had pleaded for their captors to stop this and let them go. “They’re just boys, they’re innocents!”

“None of you are innocents. Don’t lie to me.”

Later, killing the man that spits down at his feet now will be the first human life Tobias takes, but in the memories the cruel man just laughs at him and walks along the row, down towards his father. 

“We deserve to know what our charges are. If this is what you call a trial, then it’s a poor one.”

His father had looked at him, warning him to keep quiet, but he had ignored it. He made eye contact with Emeric and saw the same bruises on his own face reflected back at him, proof that his headstrong brother hadn’t given their captors whatever it was that they wanted. Foolishly, he’d felt proud of that. 

By the time the so-called charges had been read out, utterly ridiculous things that they either hadn’t done or things that had been taken out of context, a sizable crowd had grown. People Tobias had known all his life, people that he’d trusted. The joke he’d pulled on the preacher’s son had been harmless, just a few frogs tipped in through the boy’s open window, it was only supposed to startle him for a few moments. Alright he could’ve been nicer to the boy, that much is true, but he doesn’t see how any of that led to this.

“No! Please, I did it, I’ll do whatever you want! Let them go!”

“Don’t listen to him, the devil comes in all forms, if you let him tempt you for a second then he will own you for life. Do it.”

The pitch caught like a spark on dry grass, he remembers that the clearest, and the rope had held through his renewed struggles to get away, digging further into the soft skin of his wrists. The pain from the friction had been sharp and cutting, but hearing the screams of his brothers had been far worse. Some sort of flammable material had been tied around their legs, most likely to speed up the burning, and it did its job effectively. By the time Louise had arrived, he’d already listened as, one by one, his father and his brothers took their last breaths, each of them making sounds of pain until the last. 

It’s at that time that Tobias always wakes, gasping in the small space, the thick smell of smoke and burning flesh almost enough to choke him. Every year, it played out the same way, forcing him to remember that it was his foolish actions that had gotten his family killed. Taking his revenge in blood from the ones that had done the accusing, and the ones that had lit the fires, had been satisfying at the time but it was never going to bring them back to him.

“I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.”

~~~

“Tommy!”

“What?”

Already there’s a headache starting in his temples, and Ada shouting up the stairs to him doesn’t do a thing to alleviate the throbbing pain. He’d slept a little more last night but not much more than usual, and he’s already exhausted and done by the day.

“Delivery for you!” Ada sounds amused, which is never a good sign. “You should probably get down here!”

With a sigh, Tommy closes the drawer beside the bed and stands up, already dressed though he hadn’t left his bedroom yet. A glance at his watch tells him it’s just past 8 in the morning. 

The last thing he’s expecting to see when he gets down to the kitchen is a bouquet of flowers sitting on the table. Dark red roses and orchids, all held together by a ribbon of green and sitting in a clear crystal vase.

“I thought you said this was a delivery for me.”

“It is.”

“If this is a joke-”

“They were addressed to you, just like I told you. As if anyone could send me flowers without the three of you finding them and putting the fear into them. Plus, no one I know could afford anything like this. Look, there’s even a card for you.”

Ada rolls her eyes, something she's been doing more and more of lately, and waves a small card around in the air in front of his face. For a second she tightens her grip on it like she’s reluctant to let it go without reading what’s on it herself, but then the moment passes and she drops her hand with a sigh. The seal on the card breaks easily under his thumbnail and he backs up a step and opens it carefully.

“Well? What does it say? Who are they from?”

“Shouldn’t you be helping Polly?”

He leaves the room before she can answer and walks back up the stairs, leaving the flowers sitting where they were on the table, determined to ignore them completely. In his hand, the hard edges of the card dig into his fingers, and he glances back down at the surprisingly clear loops and swirls of the handwriting in black ink.

‘To the ones we found along the way.’

[baekberrie]

Kiss me more

Pairing: Jongin x Reader

Genre: pure fluff!!

Words: 1.1k

Your lips were curled into a permanent smile as you took a deep inhale, closing your eyes and letting the current sensation of your heart swelling sink in. Could your body really feel all these things at once? Happiness, shyness, tingles- was it healthy for your heart to skip so many beats in that short amount of time? Maybe it was the beautiful sky looking like a canvas, gently stroked with delicate colors of pink and yellow, sometimes even violet, that made you feel extremely giddy. Perhaps it was Jongin’s sweater making you feel like he was hugging you. Teeth drilled into your lip at the extremely silly thought. It wasn’t cold, not at all. In fact, despite it being evening, the setting sun still radiated warm and comforting rays that would pleasantly burn on the surface of your skin. But a little white lie had escaped your lips before you could’ve even thought it through, telling the clueless Jongin that you were starting to feel a little cold. And now, you were happily floating on the clouds, basking in the sweet musky scent trapped within Jongin’s hoodie.

The white noise of the amusement park was loud but cheerful, happy. The kind of noise that would elate your mood all the way to the stars beyond the sky, sending excited buzzes in every nerve of your body, making your mind rush and it made you want to do all sorts of things that you also had to control yourself from. Like when you and Jongin had been strolling through the different food stalls in the amusement park, talking about the most insignificant thing. His shy index finger had gently nudged your own, asking for permission to lace his fingers with yours, and your heart had been raging so wildly against your ribcage that all your infatuated mind wanted you to do was to grab his face and stamp your lips together before you would die from abstinence...Although you hadn’t kissed yet, although you were still very shy towards each other, there were so many things you wanted to do. You were frankly, almost a bit scared of your own self. These were emotions you had never felt before, and yet, they were so strong, physically pulling you to act into them.

“Sorry! The line was a bit long,” Your heart nearly jumped into your throat when Jongin’s cheerful voice interrupted your train of thought. Turning around, the first thing your eyes met was his starry gaze that immediately lightened up at the sight of you. The smile on his rosy lips was sweeter than pure honey as he stepped even closer, giving you the cotton candy he had bought for you. It was shaped like a rose and the gesture made a gentle, pink hue travel on your cheeks. But he was no different, embarrassedly scratching the back of his neck because he knew that he had made a special order to get it to be like that. He was troubled, wanting to look away because his emotions were too overwhelming, however, drinking in your reaction felt even more tempting.

Your breath was stolen away from your lungs when you finally met his gaze again, only to find him looking like a literal angel. You had no idea how this date had turned into the most romantic movie, but the sunset was making Jongin glow, his gooey skin seemed to resemble sweet caramel underneath the warm colors of the sun. His hair a bit all over the place because of the many rides the two of you had attended, but even so, he was perfect. The way his eyes seemed to hold every star in the universe whenever he would look at you made you feel so loved. The staring session had gotten a bit too intense, you had barely noticed when the two had fallen into a trance. A giggle was bubbling in your throat, but you quickly bit down on your lip to stop it from happening. The innocent action drew Jongin’s eyes towards your mouth as if magnets, but you didn’t notice.

It seemed like Jongin’s favorite thing was to take you by surprise. Because from one moment to the other, his face was extremely close to yours as he leaned in suddenly and took a bite from the cotton candy in your hand. Cold sweat broke on your skin at the whiff of his perfume touching you like a caress on the cheek. Your jaw dropped, not knowing how to react.

“Jongin!” You whined, “I didn’t even taste it yet-” What did breathing even mean? It was as if the action never existed in his dictionary when Jongin placed his slightly agape mouth on yours, letting you feel the sensation of sugar melting on your lips, the cotton candy slowly disappearing and letting your lips connect into the sweetest kiss. It felt like forever at the moment, but when he leaned away you realized how it had only been a few seconds. He was unfair, so unfair as he slowly leaned a bit back. His eyes droopy and telling you that he wanted nothing but to do it again. You wanted it too, a certain sleepiness washing over you.

“I’m sorry,” He then murmured, voice husky and barely audible, sending chills down your spine. “I should’ve asked for permission.” Jongin sounded a little defeated, but you were quick to shake your head and grab the hem of his shirt in reassurance...and also in a silent request.

“Can I do it again?” 

“Please.”

That was all he needed to gently take the cotton candy from your hand and slide his other arm around your waist so that he could be closer. So that your chests could be flushed against one another. Your heartbeats melted into one as he parted your lips gently with his, placing them between yours into a slow, sticky lip lock. He tasted like sugar and popcorn as his hand sneakily, yet hesitantly wandered a bit lower, tentatively resting on your hip and drawing lazy circles on your body. You were fully clothed but it felt like his touch burned right through every fabric.

He was the only one. 

You knew it from the shy smile of his curling against your teeth as you kissed, from the way he never wanted to let you go of your hand. From the way he wasn’t afraid to let out his hysterical laughter when with you.

From the way he asked you to text him before going to bed so that he would know you were okay. 

The things he did to make sure you knew he was yours.

-----------------------------------------------------

AHH who would’ve thought the next thing i’d post would be a jongin scenario???!! It’s honestly all thanks to my new bestie @sooibian for tagging me in her little ask game and giving me the sweetest ideas and inspiration >//< so this one is for you nia!! and all my fellow erigoms❤❤❤ 

Have a nice day sweethearts, mwuah!

[writefightandflightclub]

Somebody to love (PART 1/2): Richard Alonso Munoz x fem!reader

Summary: Whilst your neighbour, Richard, is in love with love, you are a little more commitment averse. When he performs a small act of kindness though, your feelings start to unravel, and you wonder if you may have found somebody to love - right next-door all along.

Richard is a sweet, gentle man, and so I hoped to create a sweet, gentle story. I hope you enjoy spending some time in it!

I HAVE POSTED THIS IN TWO PARTS, ONLY BECAUSE OF LENGTH. WHILST YOU COULD PROBABLY(?) READ EITHER PART AS A STANDLONE THEY ARE MEANT TO WORK TOGETHER.

Genre / tropes: pining, friends to lovers (sort of - neighbours to lovers), getting together, domesticity, fluff, smut, nothing bad happens, ends happily, quite a slow burn for a one-shot, I guess?

Author’s note: This is part of my friends to lovers event, prompt requested by @foxilayde who I adore and you should too. Prompt was: he does something utterly mundane which shows how well he knows you, and your feelings hit you. I took some liberties with the prompt, and there is zero pressure to read this - IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BLURB! :P More of these requests in pinned post!

Warnings/ Ratings:

PART ONE (Mature, 18+ ONLY): swearing; sexual themes (erotic poetry, thirsty internal monologue, sexual tension); food themes inc. mentions/consumption; family mentions - reader has nieces but they need not be biological; brief mentions of the prison system - Richard is a Corrections Officer; exceedingly brief mention of the Holocaust in context of a non-fiction book Richard is reading (I believe this is a canon read but may be wrong); loneliness (theme, not too angsty); self-esteem issues if you squint.

PART TWO: (Explicit, 18+ ONLY): swearing; explicit sex, including - oral m + f receiving; unprotected vaginal sex; creampie; f squirting (first time doing so); well-endowed man, ahem.

Word count: 10k for part 1, 9k for part 2.

You had been thinking about the small gesture all day. You had been distracted all the way through your shift, and then all through dinner with a friend.

Richard -your neighbour to the right- had turned-up at your door that morning, before setting off on his way to work. His visit had been unexpected, and you had opened the door in a fluster, seeing him greet you with a characteristically soft smile - just visible from beneath the thick brush of his bold, impressive moustache.

He had held them out to you - in between his index and middle finger. A small book of postage stamps.

You had simply looked at him in confusion for a moment.

“For your letters,” he had stated, in his soft-spoken voice. “You said last night you didn’t have any stamps, and I found these in my drawer, so...”

It was true. You had said that. Had forgotten you’d said it. Had barely registered running into him, since it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Your routine overlapped minimally with Richard’s -though more so since his new role in the letter room had him working days exclusively- but sometimes, you would meet serendipitously, as neighbours tend to do. Last night, in the liminal space between your work day ending and your home life beginning, you had stopped to chat with him, and -you remembered now- had made some offhand comment about needing some stamps.

The topic of letters had come up; naturally, given his new position. It caused you to mention having written some letters to your nieces -packaged up with little illustrated portraits you’d gotten commissioned for their new bedrooms. Letters which you hadn’t gotten around to posting.

And so, here Richard was. On your doorstep. With stamps.

It was a little thing. So little, it didn’t even register at the time. In fact, you had bundled him off your porch with a quick, cursory “Thanks, Richard!”, prioritising finishing your morning scramble and making it out of the door on time.

It didn’t register in the moment, no; but you were noticing it now, alright.

“-so, this morning,” you explain to your friend opposite you in the pizza parlour, as she absent-mindedly dips her crusts in some hot sauce, “there he is on my doorstep, and he’d brought me some stamps.”

Your friend, Jaz, dips her chin and slowly raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows, her glossed lips curling in an amused, incredulous smile. “So, let me get this straight. He brought you some... stamps, which he already had, from his house next door,” she recaps, her smile inching wider by the second, “and now you want to fuck him?!”. Her eyebrows knit together in faux concern and she clamps a hand over yours where it rests on the table. “Sweetie, we need to talk. How low is your bar these days? Exactly how dick-starved are you?”

Ordinarily you’d be more than game for the light fun she pokes at you. Would even have a smart riposte ready. This time, though, you simply huff, your jaw twitching in minor irritation at how flippant she is being. So, shaking your head gently, you pull your hand away from hers, folding your jacket around yourself, suddenly feeling exceedingly self-conscious.

“Never mind. I’m obviously not telling it right. And, wait - hold up- who in the hell said I wanted to...” you look around the parlour, voice dropping to an indignant whisper as if anyone around you would hear or care about your hypothetical sexploits “...fuck him?” Your tone is defensive, and you shift to take a masking nibble on your straw, slurping the dregs of your soda and bouncing your leg nervously under the table.

Your friend merely raises an eyebrow, with a healthy -and not entirely unfounded- scepticism, and so, you try to rein your protestations in, lest you get slammed with a “methinks you doth protest too much”.

“Okay, okay,” Jaz concedes, holding up her hands and leaning back in her chair. “All I’m saying is, it seems like you have a hard-on for him all of a sudden. You’ve lived by him for years and you’ve never noticed the guy! It’s just stamps, baby cakes. It’s just your paunchy, kindly neighbour, who gets milkshake stuck in his moustache.”

At least he’s not afraid to make a mess of himself when he’s slurping, you think idly, your eyebrow ticking up - the thought leading you in a very particular direction and sending a sudden scorching heat to your cheeks. Also - paunchy? I like a beautiful soft tummy to rest my head on, thank you very much.

Yeesh. You are not okay. Still, before you go full feral, you shrug your shoulders in partial concession, widening your eyes in innocence. “Uh huh. Sure. Yeah.” 

“Seriously?” Jaz continues, shaking her head in good-natured disbelief - blatantly seeing right through you. “Are stamps your love language now, or what the fuck?”

She’s not wrong. It is very… sudden. You’ve never felt that way about Richard before. But is it so preposterous to think you might begin to?

“Jeez! Who said anything about love?!” You swirl your straw in your cup, concentrating on puncturing the remaining bubbles and ignoring your friend’s peals of bemused laughter. “Look, okay? I guess you’re right, Jaz. Maybe I’m just dick-starved,” you suggest, a smile finally claiming your lips. “It has been… a little while. And the last encounter was not very... inspiring.” You wiggle your eyebrows at her and your shared laughter mingles in the space between you. Still, you’re more than a little keen to deflect, and you bounce your foot more furiously under the table in your haste to change the subject. “I just thought it was sweet of him, that’s all, but… forget it, okay? Tell me everything about your hot date with Jackson.”

As soon as the invitation is given, Jaz jumps on it. And, as you listen to her spill the tea on her latest hook-ups with her fancy man, you try really hard to focus - but you can’t help that your thoughts keep wandering time and again to a certain man. A man with the kindest, most soulful cola-coloured eyes. Your neighbour to the right.  

You’re unsure why, but you feel a little bent out of shape - a little annoyed, even- that Jaz was so quick to dismiss Richard. Particularly that she had seemed to miss the whole meaning behind his small gesture. He was listening to you. He was thinking about you. And, as you dwell further on it, you realise that maybe -just maybe- you want the kind of guy who brings you stamps, goddammit.

Shit - maybe Jaz wasn’t too far off when she said stamps were your love language after all.

And, true, maybe you hadn’t paid the faintest bit of romantic attention to Richard -for the most part- in the years you’d lived side-by-side with him... but maybe it was time to start. Maybe, in fact, it was well overdue.

***

Granted, it hadn’t struck you right away how sweet Richard’s gesture was, but as soon as it had, you started to notice everything. To remember everything.

You remembered how he pushed a flyer through your door one evening, just in case you might be interested in the latest art exhibit going on at the local rec centre. You recalled how he had duct-taped the handle of your garbage can back together after it spectacularly broke one morning, causing your trash to spill over the sidewalk. It hadn’t seemed like a huge thing at the time, but now, as you imagine him painstakingly unfurling the roll and passing it around and around the broken piece, entirely on his own steam, it takes on a new meaning.

You have begun to notice - really notice- how he always smiles and stops to chat to you, his face lighting up as if he is genuinely pleased to see you. You have begun to notice everything he has done for you, over the years, a deluge of kindness flooding your heart. Details -little things- which seemed insignificant at the time, but which weigh heavier than gold now that you reflect on them.

And, most of all, you have noticed him.

Richard.

You have noticed his positivity. That bounce he gets in his step when he’s enthusiastic about something (which is always). The way his expressive, long-lashed eyes reveal everything he’s feeling whenever he talks or listens - his emotions and his compassionate heart pinned firmly on his sleeve, as prominent as his Corrections Officer badge. You notice how handsome he is; a fact which has inexplicably passed you by for the longest time. Perhaps, because of how understated he is? Not cocky and assured and alpha like the guys you’re usually drawn to.

Tonight, though, most of all, you are noticing that he’s not home, as you sit on your front porch steps, entirely locked out of your own house. You know for a fact that a couple of neighbours have spotted you there - you’ve observed pairs of curtains twitching- and yet no-one has come to your aid so far, mean bastards. You know, in contrast, that Richard would help anyone who needed it, without hesitation. And, it’s fair to say that sitting here, waiting for him to return and help you out, is certainly providing you plenty of opportunity to dwell on thoughts of him. In fact, you can’t wait for him to get home; not only because you wish for relief from the elements, no. But because the thought of seeing him actually excites you. You are looking forward to it.

Finally, thankfully, after the evening chill has long begun to bite at your extremities, you see Richard approaching. He whistles a jaunty tune as he comes up his drive, happy as usual. From his silhouette, you note that he’s dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and his usual ill-fitting jeans, his keys already jangling in his hand, and he stops abruptly when he sees you sat out front as though his feet are glued to the floor.

You can just about make out the smile which tugs at his lips, moments before his words do. He always seems happy to see you, and, on this occasion, you echo that feeling too, more so than ever. “Locked out?” he calls, and at the sound of his voice you stand, hopefully, clasping your purse on your shoulder, your own feet glued to the floor too.

“Yeah,” you call, throwing your voice over to him. “Waiting for the locksmith.”

You grip the strap of your purse a little tighter, as Richard takes a few steps closer, a polite but cautious smile lighting his face. “Want to wait inside?”

“Hell yes,” you gush with a relieved exhale of breath, gratefully trotting around to meet him on his porch where the security light bathes him in a halo of orange. “You’re a babe. Thank you, Richard.” You allow your eyes to gently rove over him as you approach. He’s wearing a turquoise bowling shirt, you realise. A bowling shirt with “Alonso Muñoz” stitched in an adorable flourish of red embroidery above the left shirt pocket. What’s more, he looks cute as all hell in it too. You seem to recall he’s in a casual league with some buddies.

“It’s no trouble,” he says with a warm, disarming smile, deep, pleasing creases radiating from around his eyes – and, even though you aren’t usually one to be lost for words, it is all you can do to smile back at him vacantly, clutching your purse strap tight enough that your knuckles strain.

Richard pauses too, seemingly taking a moment to remember the keys bunched and readied in his hand - as though your presence has pushed all other thoughts out of his head. “You must be cold. Let’s get you warmed up,” he says finally, snapping himself out of his stupor.

Yes please.

And so, with a bashful flutter of his long lashes as you shuffle even closer to him, Richard opens the door and guides you inside, hover-handing his palm at the small of your back.

He smiles widely as he is welcomed by his little fur ball, Lady, the white dog yipping and wagging and jumping up at his shins. Richard stoops to bundle her into his arms, the animal rasping its tongue over his shapely jaw, which he raises as he squirms away from the wet, eager kisses.

“Aw, you’re so precious, Lady,” you baby-talk, reaching out to apply fond scritches to the mop of her head. “I forget how cute you are, little bean!”

Richard chuckles with mirth, seemingly warmed by your sweet interaction with his pupper, and only when Lady gets restless in his arms does he set about plopping her down and refilling her food bowl.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Richard offers, before he briefly excuses himself, dipping away into another room and signalling he’ll be right back.

With Richard gone and Lady chowing down on her dried food, you take the opportunity to glance around the place, surprised by how at home you do feel, already, even though you’ve never set foot in here before. You’ve been in his yard before; for example, when he’s hosted block barbeques, or, when the summer sun has withered from your yard, you’ve sometimes shimmied your deck chair to be side by side with his as you languished together in the remaining patch of sun. But you’ve never been inside his home. Now that you are, you drink in the details of him, eager for any new information you can glean, and scanning over the books and paintings and photographs with particular interest. You smile as your eyes fall upon Lady’s bed, filled with a procession of carefully arranged stuffed animals and chew toys.  You are warmed by the painting of a beachy, mountain-edged, palm-fronded sunset, propped against the ‘sill.

You note that his place is homely and well-tended, and you also can’t help but notice that the place signals a rather solitary existence. One plate and one fork drying on the dish rack. A perfectly placed easy chair -for one- in front of the TV, the small couch to its side covered with stacks of books and papers, as if it has been a while since he entertained a guest. In fact, you would take a seat -make yourself at home- but you don’t want to intrude on His Seat, and nor do you wish to disturb his personal papers to clear the couch.

As you ponder this, Richard re-enters, extending a soft, flannel shirt towards you. “Here. In case you’re cold.”

You smile your thanks to him (grinning like a dumbass, actually) and you gratefully slip the garment over your shoulders, feeling instantly warmed. As you wrap it around yourself, you get a waft of fresh-scented detergent. You would never have guessed that you’d be able to recognise any particular Richard-y scent, but as the shirt’s pleasant odour engulfs you, you realise it is infinitely familiar. That it is wildly comforting.

You watch, a brief moment of awkwardness as Richard self-consciously combs his fingers through his thick moustache; sweeps a hand over his already immaculate, plastered-down curls. He looks so... neat. Controlled. Restrained. It crosses your mind that you’d like to mess him up a bit, see him come undone - of course, if he wanted.

Then, noticing your seating predicament, Richard surges over to gather up the strewn piles of mess, shifting them on to the coffee table instead. “Here, take a seat,” he indicates. “Sorry for the mess- I emptied the bureau looking for the stamps. Please. Every time I think to put it back I get distracted.”

His comment is nonchalant, but for the second time since he arrived home, you are at a loss for words, and you can only stare at him as you sink your ass down, gratefully, on to the now emptied couch. He’d gone to that effort for you? And now he’s apologising right to your face for the mess of it?

“That was kind of you, Richard,” you state, finding words again, and he shuffles nervously from shoe to shoe in response. You note that his brown skin grows increasingly flushed, with a deepening undertone of crimson as his eyes skim cautiously over you. “And thank you for letting me hang here. Promise I’ll be out of your hair soon. The locksmith should only be...” You suck in air through your teeth as you un-pocket your cell and glance at the time. “Yikes. Another hour. I’m so sorry to get in the way.”

His moustache twitches with a shy smile, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you from beneath his lashes, his eyes all big and pretty. He certainly doesn’t look put-out, at least. “Not at all - it’s… really nice to have you here,” Richard insists, polite and sincere as ever. You are the one to feel bashful now, and you tug his shirt more firmly around your shoulders for comfort, the act serving to further fluster you and entrance him, it seems. He seems frozen to the spot again, and meanwhile, you’re now feeling overly warmed.

He looks a little lost, for a moment, as though it’s been so long since he had a visitor that he doesn’t quite know what to do with you. In the next second though, his practiced hospitality kicks in, his warm and affable nature shining through as he determines a course of action. “Have you eaten? I could fix you some dinner.”

You are hungry, you think, your tongue darting out along your bottom lip at the thought of food. Well, if he’s going to feed you, you’re not letting him do all the work -you decide- so you tentatively rise from your seat, clapping your palms together, signifying action. “Only if I can help you?”

“O- okay. Yeah. Thank you,” he nods; then, he comes to stand with his hands on his hips, thumbs to the front, causing his soft, rounded belly to protrude exaggeratedly from under his shirt. You’re not sure why that sends a very subtle flare of heat down between your legs, but it does all the same.

Meanwhile, oblivious to your thirsty inner monologue, Richard looks at you reservedly, until you smile and cross together to the humble kitchen, where, with another bashful flutter of his lashes he begins grabbing out utensils and ingredients. All the while, he moves seamlessly around you, so careful never to touch or to invade your personal space. The pronounced and careful lack of contact makes you realise, however -as he skims his body so close yet so far from yours in the compact space- that maybe you desperately want him to touch you. That you wouldn’t mind if his hand brushed your back, or lower. That maybe having him envelop his arms around you would feel as warm and comforting as his shirt – or even more so. That even, perhaps, if he pressed you from behind into the counter, his soft stomach leading, followed by his wide hips pinning you in place, his moustache grazing up the column of your neck, that you wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, the thought of his touch, and even the mere potential of it, fills you with an excited buzz deep in your belly. A thrill that you haven’t felt for a long time – at least, not quite like this.

Right now, though, you set these thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand. You move around each other a little awkwardly, but thankfully, the conversation flows far more easily than your bodies. Richard’s shy and gentle, but he’s friendly. Inquisitive and interesting, and he keeps you chatting. And, so, you converse and cook together, until the resulting, homely odours waft into your nose, keeping your mind firmly on your much more literal hunger; at least, for the most part.

When the steaming food is plated up, Richard invites you to take a seat on the couch and you oblige, watching him fondly and with interest as he produces various condiments, a bottle of Mr. Chimi’s Churri sauce taking pride of place on the surface in front of you. You add a healthy dollop.

“Mmm, this is so good, thank you,” you say approvingly when he invites you to dig in, eagerly wolfing down forkfuls.

As soon as Richard has plonked himself down in his chair and balanced his own plate on his lap, he flicks on the TV – likely, more out of habit than anything. A vibrant telenovela sparks to life in the background, a particularly melodramatic scene in full swing. You smile to yourself. You recognise the show - you’ve heard him talk about it too. Even get the impression he watches religiously.

Richard’s eyes fix on the screen for a moment, and he is visibly suckered-in by the unfolding plot, his food disappearing at an impressive rate as he scoops it up to his mouth while he watches. Still, he doesn’t forget you’re there. Quite the contrary.

“It’s so sad,” he explains for your benefit, between his mouthfuls of dinner, his eyes overflowing with warmth as he turns to you. “Carlos and Adela are so in love, but they can’t be together. She’s engaged to Luis. She has to stay with him to save the family home because she already signed some papers.”

You smile, Richard’s heartfelt summary filling you with warmth. He cares about people. It’s what he does. Apparently, he’s even invested in the fictional ones. You try hard to supress your good-natured amusement at quite how invested he is; however, when his gaze meets yours once again, flicking back and forth between you and the screen, he must catch a hint of it in your expression. “Sorry,” he flusters. “I can turn this off, if you like?” he offers gently, eyes apologetic.

“Are you kidding?” you respond, with a warm smile. You’re no stranger to becoming over-invested in fiction, you suppose, and besides - you like the prospect of sharing this with him. “Catch me up some more,” you encourage. “So, we’re rooting for Carlos?”

Richard smiles gratefully, nodding vigorously in response. You like seeing him like this. In his own element, his own environment, doing things he typically enjoys. It’s nice to see him living his best life, thriving on the drama of the trope-laden plot. “I hope Carlos crashes the wedding. Luis doesn’t deserve her.”

“Yikes. You’re brutal, Alonso Muñoz,” you tease, a musical laugh lilting out of you.

You chat back and forth, an amused smile twitching at the corner of your mouth for the duration, and although Richard seems somewhat entranced by the developing storyline, he seems even more invested in you. He makes sure to listen to you, even when you’re sure you must be talking over an important detail. He ensures he fills you in on any prior plot point you may need for context.

And, while his eyes do intermittently flick back toward the screen, your eyes, however, remain firmly fixed on him. On the singular swoop of his meticulously parted, grizzled curls. On his long lashes blinking, his deep eyes shining beneath them, glinting in tandem with the light from the screen. His warm, brown skin and the lines etched in it when he smiles cast with a bluish hue, flickering light and shadow ghosting over the contours of his strong nose and chin and his heavy brow. The soft, inviting rolls of his stomach as he relaxes into his chair, and the way his belly shakes when he laughs. Of course, his glorious moustache, positively flourishing on his upper lip. Last but not least, what most gets you though, are his eyes. Eyes as kind and expressive and open as this sweet man’s heart is.

You laugh alongside him, hoping he is enjoying the company as much as you are. You could get used to this, you think; used to him. Indeed, you have no idea how you have managed to overlook this man, beautiful inside and out, until now. You resolve though, that you won’t make that same mistake again.

Eventually, the credits roll, and you thank Richard once more for the food. He carries your plate over to the sink, insisting -when you offer- that the dishes can languish there for one night. And so, instead of rising, you pat the couch cushion beside you invitingly. His throat bobs around a hard swallow as he stands before you, his feet momentarily glued to the floor; yet again. When Richard finally musters movement and takes a seat next to you, he places himself as far away from you as he possibly can on the small two-seater; out of respect rather than repulsion, you are more than sure. However, the compact space affords him little chance to keep his distance, and his clothed thigh presses warm against your own. He doesn’t make any attempt to move away though, and, equally, nor do you.

“Thank you, Richard,” you say, your voice softer and far more breathy than you intended, now that he is so close to you.

He clears his throat self-consciously, before his eyes crease with a sincere smile. “It’s no trouble. Anytime.” He sounds like he means it too.

You lean back, settling yourself deeper into the worn and slightly lumpy couch cushions. His posture, meanwhile, is still alarmingly stiff beside you, his torso upright and his hands folded formally in his lap. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d say that, perhaps, you made him nervous.

“Richard, I don’t bite,” you soothe. “Sit back. Relax. It’s your home.”

He nods in concession, exhaling his tensely held breath. “Yes, Ma’am,” he sounds obediently. You don’t think you’ve ever had anyone call you Ma’am before; but you note that you don’t entirely mind it, out of Richard’s mouth. You maybe even… like it?

Anyway, outside of your increasingly feral internal monologue, Richard reaches over to flick on the soft, ambient lamp to his side -the room having grown thick with shadows- and then he is sinking back, resting his head against the couch cushions alongside you.

You turn your head and tilt your torso a little towards him. When Richard does the same, it evokes a sense of intimacy that you weren’t all the way prepared for; the rest of the room seems to disappear as you are both held in a close circle of oranged light, the TV nothing but a lulling, background hum now. “I mean it... I... I wanted to thank you properly. For the stamps.”

“It’s no trouble,” he repeats, his voice deep and resonant and close now, catching you off-guard. No trouble? Sure. Despite the fact he’d clearly emptied-out everything in his living room to find them. “Did you send your letters?” he enquires softly, his eyebrows jumping up a little.

You can’t supress the bittersweet smile which inches over your face as you respond. “I did, and I got the cutest video call from my nieces when their mail arrived.” That wouldn’t have happened. Not without him being so thoughtful. You’d have put it off and put it off. The letters would still be sat on your dresser.  

Richard’s eyes light, and he looks genuinely pleased for you, his face glowing. “I’m glad.” He smiles, revealing a flash of his cute, ever so slightly imperfect (and therefore entirely perfect) teeth. Finally beginning to relax again, his hands rest flat astride his sturdy thighs and his head lolls towards you. With his next words, his voice becomes even softer. “I can tell you miss them since they moved away. Portland, right? I, uh. I really hoped you would send those letters. I know how much they can mean to people.”

“Portland. Yeah. Wow, you remember that?” You have to admit that you are a little shocked. Richard listened to you. Really listened to you. And, not only that, but he clearly read between the lines, connecting the dots between each one of your ad hoc interactions in a way which you -apparently- had failed to do thus far.

Jaz would scoff at you right now, you know it, if she could see you becoming all shy and flustered for him.

And now you want to fuck him?

But it wasn’t only that he brought you the stamps, okay? It was why he did it. He did it, because he knew what it might mean for you. Because, evidently, not only did he notice that you were sad -about something you barely let yourself acknowledge, by the way- but he also cared enough to try to make you happy instead.

The realisation that he cares is an emotional thing, causing a slight lump to rise in your throat. It should probably make you happy, but in fact, it saddens you. It saddens you because -you realise now- you have taken for granted all this time how easy Richard is to talk to. Have taken for granted the way he has been privy to so many candid details about your life.

Richard has often been the first person you’ve spoken to when you arrived home -sometimes the only person- and you have never hesitated to share your good news and triumphs with him. Nor have you hesitated to vent, sharing the more difficult details of your bad days. You’ve taken for granted just how much of yourself you’ve cumulatively shared with him; in a way you don’t often share with anyone else. Richard has been an important part of your life all these years, without you truly realising it. Perhaps because your interactions with him have tended to exist in such a liminal, peculiar space in your day. Perhaps because you were too close to see the big picture, instead of this collection of valuable, little things.

You hug your arms around yourself. You can merely repeat it again. “Thank you. For real.”

“It’s just a little thing,” he dismisses, modestly, and you are very suddenly tired of him dismissing himself. You want him to know how appreciated he is. Embodying this, your hand darts out to grip his where it rests on his thigh, and Richard looks down at this small spectacle in mild shock; and yet, he doesn’t pull away from your touch.

“It’s not. It’s a lot of things, Richard. I want you to know I appreciate everything you do. It has... It has been a long time since anyone was so sweet to me.”

Feeling self-conscious suddenly, following your outburst of affection, you inch your hand away from his; retreating, and reining yourself back in. For a moment, Richard’s fingers twitch up from his pant leg as though they might chase yours; but then, his hand stills, settled on his thigh just as before.

Then, a crease appears at his brow. “None of your Adonises are sweet to you?”

Your nose crinkles in confusion. “My... Adonises?”

“The... your... gentlemen visitors.”

Your brow creases, as you try to detect whether there is any judgement or malice in his observation, but, knowing him, you are not inclined to think there is. Still, you feel there is more to uncover. He’s noticed your dates coming and going then? He thinks they’re… Adonises? He’s surprised they aren’t sweet to you?

Still, as soon as the words are out of his mouth, perhaps realising how they might be misinterpreted, that crimson undertone to his skin flares again, this time reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. He looks like he wants the couch to swallow him up, and you can’t help but feel for him. “I just meant...”

“-It’s okay,” you say, swooping in to rescue him before he can start helplessly blabbering. He keenly takes the invitation to stop, his mouth suddenly clamping shut, ready to listen. And you? You are ready to talk. The words seem to come so easily around him. “I guess... you’re right. I’ve been on some dates but they...” you sigh, furrowing your brow as you try to find the words. “That’s all fine. Most of the time it’s really fun. Or it was. But... lately...”

“Lately?” Richard encourages, when you don’t go on, his voice barely above a whisper as he hangs on your every word.

“Lately, I think… That maybe it would be nice to have somebody who doesn’t just come and go. To have… somebody to love, I guess?”

“Somebody to love,” Richard ponders, his expression becoming wistful. His head begins moving up and down ever so slowly, gradually building to a more adamant nod. He smiles, but his eyes don’t crease at the corners this time. “That really does sound nice.”

It shocks you, but seeing him even a little sad, like that, has your hands fisting in the material of your skirt, as you resist the urge to reach out for him and offer comfort. You want to cup his face in your hand and kiss him senseless, until his eyes glow once more, imbued with his characteristic positivity. You want to care for him and protect him and make him laugh and spend time with him and…

Fuck.

You want to love him, you realise, and the thought scares you down to your bones. It scares you enough that you sit forwards, breaking this most peculiar tension. Changing the topic. And, abrupt as it may be, at least it works.

“What are you reading?” you ask, shrugging his shirt from your shoulders as a hot, cloying flush creeps along your skin and up your neck, prickly enough that it feels like fingertips. As you imagine Richard’s fingers dancing the same path over your bare shoulder blade, slipping beneath the spaghetti strap of your top, peeling it down, you hurriedly pick up the first book you can put your hands on, turning it in your palms without taking in a word written on it.

Poor Richard. You must be giving the sweet man whiplash.

Still, he leans forward in his seat too, sombrely taking the book from your hands and gazing down at the cover.

“Ah. It’s a bleak topic,” he warns. A deep crease appears in his brow. “It’s Night, by Elie Wiesel – a survivor’s account of his experiences during the Holocaust.”

Your expression turns grave and pinched and you nod, listening carefully as Richard recounts some of the key details. Then, together, you continue to pore through the pile, tackling each book in turn. You listen intently to Richard recount the various synopses, passionate and precise and sensitive in his summaries. It seems he reads a lot of non-fiction. Heavy reading, with many titles about the prison system, and atrocities - often both. But, you understand why it’s important to him. You are grateful to understand how his empathetic nature begets yet more empathy, as he seeks to expand his knowledge of experiences and histories different to his own. 

At first sight, you think it’s seemingly at odds that such a positive man seeks out such dark accounts, but it makes sense to you, in a strange way. After all, he wants to understand how things can be better. He believes they can be. You don’t know anything more Richard-y than that.

Reaching for the next title, you find it is a little different to the rest. You are reluctant to segue too abruptly from such heavy topics, keen to give them the merit they deserve, but at the same time you are grateful for a little lightness as you pick-up what appears to be a slightly trashy romance novel. You smile fondly, connecting the dots between this and the telenovela plotlines that seem to grab his attention; the way he seems so in love with love. Again, you consider how the two sides of him -the more serious and seemingly more trivial - may seem at odds, but that actually, they each reveal what is at the core of him. He is interested in people. He’s invested.

“And this book?” you ask tentatively, not even trying to stifle your smile as your eyes wander over the cover, two half-dressed people locked in an erotic, sordid embrace. You are especially keen to hear what he has to say about this one too.

“Well… Like you said. Somebody to love - right? Don’t we all need those kinds of stories?”

Your eyes glow with admiration. Whilst he’s not cocky or overly assured, no, you are coming to admire Richard’s quiet confidence in who he is and what he cares about. His integrity and his lack of embarrassment in the things he chooses to value. His delight and lack of shame in the things that he enjoys. He’s not afraid to be who he is. You think that’s wonderful.

Next, your eyes flick back to the final book on the pile, partly for completeness but also out of curiosity. You feel with each title you pick-up, you are learning something about him; and, frankly, you want to know everything there is to find out. You look at it with a start however, when you realise what the final book in the pile is.

It’s your book. It’s the anthology of poetry you’d self-published around a year ago, and sold at your local readings. You reach for it instantly, almost cradling it in your hands like a precious object. Not because it’s yours - not exactly- but because it’s his. His copy looks eminently different to the spares you still have boxed-up in your house, all fresh and crisp, spines unbroken. This one looks a little worn around the edges - well-thumbed, spine broken-in. Some of the pages are dog-eared, and various makeshift bookmarks are sticking out of it. You’ve never seen one of your publications looking so… beautiful. So treasured.

“You actually read this?” you ask, a little overwhelmed, your heart hammering, and tears spiking in your eyes.

“I read it often. I told you, I really like it!”

You stroke the cover with your palm. “Honestly? I thought you were just being polite.”

When you’d mentioned to him for the first time that you wrote poetry -specifically erotic poetry- and had invited him to the reading, Richard had looked, at first, as though he was ready to die of embarrassment. Regardless, he’d still come along - your only neighbour to have done so. You vaguely remember having spoken to him the day afterward about it, but when you think of the show itself, you can’t picture him there. Now, you desperately wrack your memory of the event, searching for him. Wishing you could recall him showing-up for you in such an important way. 

It had been such a blur, though. You’d had a lot of friends there. You’d had a date there, who, at the time, you’d thought was the be all and end all. Now, however, you curse yourself for overlooking Richard. You wish you could go back and root through the crowd for him. You wish you could bring him into the spotlight. Bring him into your arms. And yet, while you ponder all of this, Richard reaches for the book and gently lifts it from your hands, with a gentle hum. It practically falls open on one particular page.

“This one is my favourite,” he admits bashfully. “Salted Peach. I must have it almost memorised by now.” You turn to him, studying his face. His expressive eyes are full of a heat gentler and more nuanced than your words could ever hope to be, you think, as he pores over the page. Over your words.

“No way. Prove it, Alonso Muñoz,” you challenge, exhaling a laugh that is surprised and disbelieving and utterly delighted all at once.

You don’t expect him to take you up on it, but the man sets his face, both more determined and more playful than you think you have seen him so far, as he hands the book back to you. “Okay,” he smiles, softly. “I’ll give it a go.”

You hold your breath as his eyes flutter closed -so that you know he has zero chance of cheating- his long lashes fanning-out beautifully over his cheek. You take the chance to look over his handsome features, while he can’t interrupt your surreptitious study.

Then, he begins. His voice is hushed and unsure, yet the richness of it washes over you, right from the first line.

“Like salt kept on the lips,

To resist is to rust,” he begins, and your breath catches in your chest.

“Let me be an oiled thing under you, all fluid and opening smoothly

With keen, slick hinges.”

First, you are struck that he really does know it. That he really does remember it, almost word perfect. You exhale a breath in disbelief, your chest filling with butterflies.

“A ruined peach

Spilling nectar over your thumb,” he continues, and desire knots deep in your belly.

It’s not that the words are explicit – they aren’t. But something about the way he recites them -recounts your desire- makes them feel positively sinful, his voice quietly confident and subtly erotic as he recites your words. You don’t only hear the words, but you feel them, almost as if his thumb really has punctured you.

You are becoming slick already, feeling like a ruined, grateful fruit. You want to be his fruit, you think. His salted peach.

“You can be my stiffness

My joints

My... (my stone heart? Is that right?)” he interjects.

“It’s perfect,” you encourage, your voice trembling slightly, even as his grows ever more robust, and, as you bolster him, he sits a little taller in his seat, his posture proud and the new confidence reflected in his voice as he proceeds. As he grows, stiffer, taller, you become liquid, and you writhe your heat subtly against your seat. You press your thighs closer together.

Enraptured, you watch his lips and tongue move seamlessly around the words. The micro-expressions on his face, revealing how tenderly he wishes to portray them, every word imbued with care. With expression, and feeling.  

“(Got it...) My stone heart

And I, boneless;

Bodiless flesh.”

As he continues, you close your eyes too. You stop checking the words against the book and you let yourself feel them. You let them wash over you. You let his voice wash over you; to sink and curl into the pit of you. You squirm in place, and yet this shifting makes you all too aware of your stillness – this fixed position and distance from him, when surely you should be moving and surging and undulating on him? Surely you should be leaning in and hearing the deep yet gentle timbre of his words waft into the shell of your ear, or fanning over your skin?

Surely, he should be touching you?

Your heart is racing.

“Salt me, then.

Lick your lips and taste me; sweetly.”

You want to taste him. Be tasted.

“Only on your tongue, do I exist.

Only in your hand, do I perish.”

You want to exist and perish on his hand.  

“Do not keep me on your lips.

Oil me with your writhing”

You want to be swallowed by him. Oiled by him. Made slick.

“Or else I rust.”

You are rapt. His words -no, your words, spoken by him- melting you.

His voice. So rich, and so sensual, and you could swear, as you listen to him, that your words have never sounded so erotic. That you have never felt them as deeply as you do now, hearing them fall from his tongue and his lips. Hearing them flow from his heart, as he recites them in a way you’ve never heard them; an interpretation entirely unique to him.

In fact, listening to him, like this, lights a flame in the pit of you, a heat suffusing through you, warming everywhere. He warms you, even from this distance, and you can feel how much heat he has to give. And, on boy. You want to lap it up. Every. Last. Drop.

“I... I forgot the next part,” he adds, shyly, his confidence wavering, and you open your eyes, beginning to recite the rest for him.

“Oh, love,

I long to be a fluid thing;

Under you.”

It sounds… true. It feels right. It feels so right to say those words to him. So right that it knocks the air from out of you.

At the sound of your voice, you watch a soft, unfiltered smile appear on Richard’s face, his still-closed eyes creasing deliciously at the corners, his moustache animating with it.

“And yet you resist me; rust me,” you continue, voice full of fissures, and Richard’s eyes slowly peel open, pooling with heat. This time, unlike the other times his eyes have met yours, he holds your gaze - doesn’t drop his eyes from yours in a flurry of bashfulness and fluttered lashes. He holds your gaze and he holds you, in this moment. In this little circle of intimacy, his eyes glowing, all for you. Pooling with that heat, so nuanced and gentle, but every bit as hot as anything you’ve ever touched.

Your voice and your smile and your heart crack wide open as you continue.

“You are salt kept on my lips;”

You complete the last lines at the same time, eyes locked. 

“Always tempting.

I seize up.”

Of all the swimming emotions rising at that moment, gratitude balls in your heart most intensely, and yet again, it is all you can do to thrust it towards him, your humble offering.

“Thank you,” you say, for the nth time that evening, a smile of the purest joy still splitting your face. “That was really beautiful.”  

It’s hard to comprehend how moved you are by what just happened. You are shocked. Flattered. That someone appreciates your words, that they resonate at all, makes you feel so seen. That the person is Richard is more of a treasure than you can fathom, and it causes a flood of raw, reckless emotion, joyful tears brimming in your eyes.

In return, Richard’s eyes shine as he regards you, with an admiration so deep and yet prominent that you almost shrink back from it. “They’re your words,” he impresses, aiming, as ever, to shrink himself instead.

You shake your head. You won’t have that. “No, Richard - it’s the way you recited them. I swear you should do my next reading for me. You’re so…” You search desperately for the right words, and you can’t find ones any more fitting. “…So fucking beautiful.”

And you call yourself a poet?

Your eyes well up.

You feel entirely caught off guard and just a little silly that you are getting yourself upset in front of him, and yet Richard’s eyes narrow kindly as you try to scrub a stray tear away from your cheek. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soothing, and in the next breath he reaches out to touch you, his hand settling over the top of yours. The gesture is a little awkward, unsure, but only until his hand is in place. After that it simply feels... right. Perfect, in fact.

He strokes you, his thumb ghosting slowly, minutely over your pulse point, sending a delicious shiver along your spine. His eyes search yours, and you become thoroughly lost in the intensity of them. Lost in a way that you don’t ever wish to find yourself again. Lost in a way that turns everything on its head - has you finally feeling found.

“I loved hearing you read. It was so wonderful. You should definitely do another event,” Richard gushes. “I’m sure I could listen to you read from this all night.” With that, and the scenario it conjures, perhaps, he looks down at his hand on yours. Maybe growing self-conscious, or worried that he is overstepping; that he has lingered there too long. Suddenly, though, you don’t think any length of time could be too long for him to be touching you.

When your gaze drops to his lips, however, his moustache bristles, and he quickly snatches his hand back to his lap. “Have you written anything lately?” he asks hurriedly, scooping up the book again, his topic change giving off the same energy as yours did previously.

You wonder if he is imagining your fingers trailing over his bare flesh now too. You hope so. Oh how you hope.

At his question, though, you exhale a small laugh, pumping your eyebrows once as your face splits in a smile. You shake your head gently. “I haven’t been... it’s a while since I was, let’s say, properly inspired by an encounter,” you explain, looking down at your hands in your lap, missing his contact already. “I’m just... Hmmph. I don’t know. It’s just... missing something. Guess they don’t make Adonises like they used to,” you add flippantly, poking light fun, partly at yourself.

Contrary to your flippancy, Richard becomes more serious. A gulp trails down his throat, and he seems suddenly frozen in place; seized up. As if he needs you to oil him so that he doesn’t rust. “W-What are you missing?” he asks, his voice lower than you’ve heard it, slightly more grit to it. His chest visibly rising, breaths slightly quickened; just like yours.

You look into his deep, cola-coloured eyes.

You?

What are you missing? You’re not sure, but somehow you feel that whatever it is, Richard could give it to you in moments.

Still, you don’t answer. You can’t. Instead, you ask him a question in return. You ask him a question feeling that, somehow, in a roundabout way, both of your questions may arrive at precisely the same answer.

“Why that poem?” you question, softly, lifting your eyes to him. “Why is that one your favourite?”

“I... I think...” he swallows again, then he whets his plush lips with a flick of his pink tongue. “It’s about longing, isn’t it? About being... lonely? About... wanting... someone in particular.” He fixes his expressive eyes on a point on the table, unable to look at you, it seems, in that moment. Still, his words are telling enough alone, you think, even without you seeing that same sentiment mirrored in his eyes too.

Now, you have another question. “Do you ever... get lonely? Are you? Lonely?”

It’s not even an assumption about him, you vaguely realise. It’s a projection. A projection of how you feel, and how you never realised you felt. It’s a desperate plea for affinity. For that longing to be understood, finally.

You are the one who is rusted. Seized up.

However, as soon as the question is out of your mouth you wish you could retract it. Loneliness is a solitary thing, after all, and you have no business, you suppose, wading into anyone else’s.

“I’m so sorry, please don’t answer that,” you mutter quickly, your fingers darting out to ghost along his forearm in apology, your naturally tactile nature coming through.

He drops his gaze towards your fingers there, watching them skimming his warm skin and the soft, dark hairs on his arms. He doesn’t inch away. Instead, he lifts his eyes to you, and you know the answer before he says it aloud. You know the answer as his emotions are written clearly in his eyes. Worn on his sleeve, like his badge.

The weight of his loneliness crushes you as if it was your own.

“Me too,” you admit, nodding softly, and his mouth curls briefly into a small, sad smile as your fingers continue their slow inch across his skin.

He sits in that sadness for a moment, and then, tentatively, as a thought flashes across his eyes, he brightens, just a little – looking mildly more hopeful. “Well,” he suggests, bravely. “Maybe we can… keep each other company?”

That really does sound nice.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Richard reaches out to fumble away the single tear ever so suddenly coursing down your face, swiping a line on your cheek with the pad of his thumb, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything so tender as his touch in that moment. It is yet another little thing; like the graze of a match head along its box. A little act, charged, with all this dangerous potential for a much larger, blazing thing to ignite.

You nod, the corners of your mouth trembling. “I would like that.” You would like that a lot.

Richard searches your eyes, and, ever so slowly - always slowly- as if you don’t wish to scare him away, you dare to hook your arm into his at the elbow, and you lower your head until it is resting on top of his shoulder.

“Is – Is this okay, Richard?” you ask in a small voice, pleading inwardly with the universe that he will say yes. That it is.

“This is... perfect,” he responds, even as he remains stiff against you, and, given his affirmation, you curl and scooch your body, shuffling a little closer to him. Bolstered too, with seeming new-found confidence, Richard raises him arm over you, and he nestles you safely against him where you can better feel his warmth. Where, with your knees drawing up on to his lap and your ear coming to rest on his chest, you can feel and hear the quickened thud of his racing heart as he holds you. His beautiful, kind, open heart.

Your mouth extends in a watery smile as you are held by him. He’s right. It’s a little thing, but it is perfect, isn’t it?

Still, again, although you should feel light, you feel heavy. With emotion. With longing. And so, you reach for another topic change. You reach for lightness. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an incredibly impressive moustache?” you enquire into his shirt, another solitary tear slipping over the bridge of your nose and wetting the flourish of red stitching.

Giving yourself whiplash now, you smile, as Richard’s chest shakes beneath you with gentle, easy laughter.

“Well, not everybody is a fan.”

“Who would actually dare?” you exclaim, as if thoroughly scandalised. “Fuck them, Richard. I like it. I like it a lot.”

His fingers trace shapes on your back. “Thank you.”

You are pleased to feel him gradually relax against you, his form melding with yours, his body becoming less stiff. Less rusted; more of a fluid thing.

“Do you… do you have a little moustache comb?”

Another chuckle. “I do,” he confirms, and you don’t know why on earth that detail settles it, but you think that he must certainly be the most perfect man on earth.

You go silent for a moment, but Richard prompts you gently - “No more questions for me?”- as if he was enjoying your mood-lightening segue. You are more than happy to oblige the sweet man by continuing, and you chew on your lip as you come up with something.

“Are you on Tinder?” A cheeky smile claims your mouth again - you’d kill to see his profile.

You’d think about the fact he’d probably never send unsolicited dick pics, but… then you’d be thinking about dick pics, and that’s one dangerous road towards Feral Town.

While you ponder this, Richard laughs again, but it’s a little self-deprecating this time. “No... I... I was for a while, but I...”

“What?”

He inhales and sighs his whole breath out again - a sad sound. His tone when he speaks is equally morose. “I’m… not sure people are looking for someone like me.”

At that, you abruptly sit up, narrowing your eyes and fixing a determined, earnest stare on him. You reach up, gingerly, moved to cup his cheek with your palm, his groomed sideburn and the plume of his moustache pleasantly rough under your fingers. You make sure he is looking you in the eyes. “Richard,” you contest, with every scrap of sincerity you can muster; and then some. “I think everybody must be looking for somebody like you.” 

His eyes are pierced by a peculiar emotion you haven’t seen there yet. At first it looks like pain, but then it levels off until his eyes are shining, with something resembling pride or gratitude. When a smile finally twitches his moustache, your gaze drops to his lips again, and you are no longer surprised by how easy it is to think about kissing him, desire unfurling in your belly at an alarming rate. A palpable, mutual longing eddies in the space between you.

You surprise yourself though, by dipping to press a sweet, chaste kiss into his cheek, rather than sinking towards his lips as you so wish to do. When you perform this gesture, his eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a soft, involuntary hum, the sound gathering in your very bones and setting up camp there. As you dip back from him, the edge of his moustache grazes your cheek, and you have to admit it’s sort of electrifying. You imagine how it would tickle if you were kissed by him. How it would tickle wherever you were kissed.

The lines of poetry, so to speak, are writing themselves in your mind, already. You haven’t felt this inspired in a long time, and yet, on this occasion, you want to wait. You don’t want to rush it - even though you’ve never felt the need to quell your desires on many occasions before. Life is short, after all – too short to waste. However, something tells you that Richard is the type of man you should savour. Something tells you, that you may have found somebody to love, and, you may not love often; but when you do, you love slow.

So, you pull away from Richard, and you note that his eyes have fluttered closed. When he opens them again, you know that this kiss on the cheek was the right thing to do. You see subtle tears shining in his eyes. Again, he looks pained -with first appearances- but these tears, on second examination you think, are joyful. His heart joyful yet heavy, exactly like yours. After all, when you are overwhelmed with joy all at once, with a flood of little, happy things, it can weigh you down, at first, if the measure of joy is not one which you are quite accustomed to. If you are not practised at carrying it.

At that point, contemplating joy, you are ripped cruelly from the moment, as, with the worst and best possible timing, your phone buzzes to life, vibrating against your hip until you reach to fish out the insistent device.

“The locksmith is here, Richard. I have to go.”

“Y- yeah. Okay,” he nods, despite the fact everything about him is conveying the opposite sentiment.

I don’t want to go.

“Thank you so much.” 

He nods again, and, wanting to leave him with a parting thought (or, not wanting to leave him at all, but needs must), you have the bright idea to pick up your book from the table, thumbing through it quickly to find the page you want. A poem called The Flood.

“Recommended bedtime reading,” you wink, thrusting the book towards his chest and standing, grabbing your purse and making your way towards the door. “I can give you back your shirt tomorrow, right?” you say cheekily. “Maybe after dinner?” 

Richard stands too, following you towards the door like he’s magnetised to you, Lady trotting along too, inquisitively, her little black nose snuffling at the air.

“A-after dinner?” he enquires, confused, as you sweep out in a little bit of a whirlwind.

“Yeah, Richard,” you smile coyly from beneath your lashes, injecting some flirtation into your tone. “I owe you dinner. To make it up to you.”

“You don’t need to make it up to...”

You arch an eyebrow at him, looking at him pointedly and smoothing your hand over his upper arm until he gets the gist. When your meaning dawns on him, he gets that adorable, excited little spring in his step. You revel in his bright toothy smile, striking and pearly from beneath the thick brush of his moustache. “I know a nice little pasta place. And there’s a great documentary playing at the Coolidge if you want to catch it?”

“Sure,” you agree, dipping forward to plant another lingering kiss on his cheek in the doorway, relishing the feel of that moustache all over again. “It’s a date.” 

Evidently flustered, and in no bad way, Richard fumbles for words and finds none, omitting a mere collection of stunted syllables and unfinished sounds in response.

You wink at him, and before swooping off, you add one final thing. “Feel free to consider the bedtime reading a preview, okay? If you’d like.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up in disbelief. You get the feeling he already knows exactly what that particular poem is about. “Yes, ma’am.” he nods, looking sweetly and longingly and adoringly after you as you sashay away.

“Goodnight, neighbour to the right.”

“Goodnight, neighbour to the left.”

You allow yourself one last long look at him before you retreat, an unstoppable smile splitting your face, and, seeing him stood in the doorway, smiling after you, only cements everything you have come to learn this evening.

From now on, neither of you will be lonely anymore. There will be no more longing. Instead, there will be a flood, you think.

THE END

PART TWO IS HERE