#thought i escaped this shit after high school

[dollarbils]

I LITERALLY CANNOT

ive spent five fucking consecutive hours on this essay for my english lit course and i HATE ITTT

it’s fine deadline is friday but STILLLLL 😖

[thealexanderfiles]

just something fun that happened at school today

[itneverendshere]

you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (one)

requested here;

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader. word count: 8.9k

The North Carolina heat simmered under the August sun, but the sprawling campus of the university felt like a different world, far removed from the humid beaches of figure eight. This was a place where social lines blurred, where kooks and pogues no longer carried the same weight, they did back home.

Or at least, that’s what you had hoped.

Of course, Rafe Cameron, had to ruin that for you. When you found out, he’d gotten into the same school as you, you had begged your lucky stars and then some, that he’d stay the hell out of your way. It was one thing to put up with his bullshit back home, it was easy to avoid him since you attended very different high schools. Very different places and crowds.

He was an arrogant, entitled brat, always ready to throw his family’s money around to get what he wanted. But here, on campus, you hoped things would be different. You hoped that the prestige and maturity of university life would somehow keep him away. After all, wasn’t this a fresh start for everyone?

 But now his name was plastered in the same class as you. 

You had never thought you'd find yourself in the same academic sphere as him. As far as you were concerned, he didn’t give a shit about history, let alone the History of Empire, Colonialism and Post-colonialism. His major was…something to do with business, you were sure of it.  It had to be a mistake. Some sort of system error, of course.

The first day of classes, however, quickly ruined any hopes of a peaceful coexistence. As you entered the lecture hall for your course—you saw him. Rafe sat in the middle of the room, slouched back in his chair with that same self-assured stupid smirk that made you want to throw a table at this face. His presence was an unwanted reminder of everything you were trying to escape. 

Labels. Constant violence between clicks.

You took a seat as far from him as possible, near the front where you could focus on the lecture and block out any distractions. 

“Oh, if it isn’t my favorite pogue.”

Your heart sank at the sound of his voice, that familiar sneer cutting through the quiet anticipation that filled the lecture hall. You didn’t even need to turn around to know he was talking to you. But you did.

He leaned back in his chair; arms crossed with an air of superiority that had always grated on you. His voice was just loud enough to catch the attention of a few other students nearby, some of whom glanced your way with mild curiosity. It was the kind of attention you had hoped to avoid, but of course, Rafe had other plans.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d be interested in a class like this,” he continued, his tone dripping with condescension. “I figured you’d stick to something more…fitting.”

He was so infuriating. Didn’t even know the first thing about you or your major.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to let him get a rise out of you. He was baiting you, trying to get under your skin like he always did back home. The smirk on his face told you he was enjoying this far too much.

“It’s a required course, Cameron,” you replied coolly, turning back to face the front of the room. “Not that you’d know anything about what’s fitting for me.”

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and mocking. “Touchy, touchy. Come on, we’re not in high school anymore. We’re all adults here, right? Let’s play nice.”

“Why are you here?”

His smirk widened at your question as if he’d been waiting for you to ask. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who had just waltzed into a class that was clearly way out of his depth.

“Had a spare elective to fill,” he said with a shrug as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Thought this class would be easy enough—history and all that. Figured I’d coast through it.”

You couldn’t help it; you laughed. The sound burst out of you, catching Rafe off guard. His smirk faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or amused.

“Coast through it?” you repeated, shaking your head in disbelief. “You really have no idea what you’ve signed up for, do you?”

Rafe’s expression shifted, a flash of irritation crossing his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You turned in your seat to face him fully, a small, satisfied grin playing on your lips. For once, you had the upper hand, and you were going to enjoy it. 

“This isn’t some high school history class. We’re talking about the intricacies of empire-building, the impact of colonialism on societies, and the complexities of post-colonial power dynamics. It’s not exactly lightreading.”

He looked at you skeptically, “So what, it’s a bunch of essays and books? How hard can it be? You’re here.”

So charming it nearly killed you.

You raised an eyebrow at his last comment, letting the subtle insult roll off your back. “Good luck then.”

Rafe’s bravado faltered even more, but he quickly recovered, leaning back in his chair again, “Well, I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong then, won’t I little pogue?”

You shrugged, turning back to the front of the room as the professor started speaking, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. It was almost laughable—Rafe Cameron, who probably hadn’t read a book cover to cover since middle school, thinking he could breeze through a class that was known for being one of the toughest in the department. You almost felt sorry for him.

 Almost.

As the professor launched into a discussion about the British Empire and its influence on global trade, you kept half an ear on the lecture and half on Rafe, curious to see how he would react. At first, he seemed content to doodle in the margins of his notebook, barely paying attention. But as the lecture went on, you noticed him glancing up more often, his brow furrowing slightly as the professor delved into the complexities of colonial economics.

Oh, this was going to be so much fun. Maybe watching Rafe finally struggle at one little thing in life was exactly what you needed.

You couldn’t resist the urge to glance back at him when the professor mentioned the labor-intensive plantation economies in the Caribbean. Rafe was staring at the board now, his expression more… confused? Blue eyes moved along the words as if they didn’t make any sense to him. Maybe this class would be the humbling experience he desperately needed.

When the lecture ended, he was one of the first to stand, shoving his notebook into his bag with a little more force than necessary. You had to bite back a laugh, again.

You took your time gathering your things, waiting for him to make a move or say something, but he just walked out without another word. Ooops. Maybe Big Bad Rafe learned a new lesson. 

The semester rolled on, you and Rafe went back to avoiding each other in class. 

You watched with a certain amount of satisfaction as he struggled through lectures, occasionally catching him furiously scribbling notes or staring blankly at the professor as if the concepts were being explained in a foreign language. It was almost comical to see someone like him so out of his element. Every time he fumbled an answer during a class discussion or looked around for someone to give him a clue, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of vindication. 

Meanwhile, you kept your distance, focusing on your work and trying to understand the complexitiesof university life on your own terms. But as the days passed, it became harder to ignore a different reality setting in—one you hadn’t expected. 

Uni wasn’t so different from home, not to you at least. Despite your hopes, it seemed the lines between kooks and pogues hadn’t entirely disappeared. Sure, the university was supposed to be a place of new beginnings, but you found yourself struggling to fit in.

You weren't exactly the social butterfly, and you could count your friends on one hand. The cliques here were different—subtler than the ones back home, but just as impenetrable. Weekends were the hardest, with endless Instagram stories of parties you weren’t invited to, people forming bonds over experiences you didn’t share. It hurt more than you’d care to admit. 

Maybe you weren’t putting yourself out there enough, but could you really afford to? You were on a full scholarship, and parties were the last thing on your mind—you couldn’t afford to mess this up. Every penny went to essentials like food and books. Fashion and makeup weren’t even on the radar, but in another world, maybe they would’ve been. A girl could dream.

And then there was Nate. 

Dreamy, golden Nate—a junior with a smile that could light up a room. He was so…perfect. You’d been crushing on him since the first day you saw him in the hallway, before your social studies class, but he didn’t even know you existed. He asked you for a pen in class once, and you nearly freaked out. He’d been so polite. Your heart pounded so loud you were sure he could hear it. But after that brief moment, it was like you faded back into the background. He returned the pen with a cute thanks and moved on, like you were just another face in the crowd. It was silly to hold on to that tiny interaction, but you couldn’t help it. 

Boys like Nate never looked at you. You didn’t have the spark they searched for. 

Unfortunately, Rafe still did.

After another particularly grueling lecture, you were packing up your things when you heard that all-too-familiar nasal voice behind you. 

“Enjoying the view from the front of the class?”

You rolled your eyes, refusing to turn around. You’d been having a shit week, fed up with being alone. Your friends from back home had their own life’s now, so talking to them was almost impossible too. 

You were on the brink of an existential crisis.

“I’m surprised you’re still showing up. Thought you’d have dropped by now.”

Rafe didn’t respond immediately, and when he did, his voice had a sharper edge than usual. “Y'know, I might not be the smartest in this stupid class, but at least ‘m not alone all the time.”

That made you pause, your hands stilling over your notebook. You slowly turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He crossed his arms with that same infuriating lazy smirk, but there was something different about it this time—something colder.

“It means I’m having the time of my life watching you struggle, watching you be miserable while everyone else is out having fun. Not invited to any parties, huh? Must suck.”

The fake pity almost made you lose your temper. You hadn’t realized he’d been paying that much attention, hadn’t considered that he’d notice, but of course, he’d put in the work to make a pogue’s life even worse.

The truth in his words stung even more because it was exactly what you’d been feeling, what you’d been trying to ignore. But now, hearing it out loud, from him of all people, made it so much worse.

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your composure, “Not everyone has daddy’s money, some of us have to put in the work. You think I give a shit about stupid parties?”

His left eye twitched in irritation and for a second you thought you had hit it where it hurts, but instead, he chuckled through his nose, “Must be exhausting, trying to prove something to everyone.”

“I don’t know. Is it?” You snapped, unable to hold back any longer, “This isn’t Figure Eight. Leave me the hell alone.”

“Where’s the fun in that, hmm?”

Rafe's smirk widened; his eyes gleaming with that familiar arrogance. He thrived on getting under people's skin, especially someone like you. It was a sick game he played, always pushing, always testing, just to see how much it would take for someone to crack. He was sick.

“You know,” he continued, his tone mockingly thoughtful, “Maybe I should keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t drown in all this responsibility.”

His words were smooth, almost kind, but the condescension behind them was palpable.

You could feel your blood boiling, but you knew better than to give him the satisfaction of seeing you snap. Rafe was the kind of guy who fed on drama, who would twist any reaction into ammunition against you. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you asked, your voice cold as ice.

He chuckled, pushing off the desk and taking a step closer. “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy our little chats. I’m the only excitement you get around here.”

The nerve of him. The arrogance. What was he getting out of this?

“Sorry to disappoint,” you said, your voice laced with sarcasm, “but I’d rather shoot myself in the face than spend another minute talking to you. Goodbye.”

You left the classroom that day with your heart pounding. You pushed his words aside, focusing on what mattered: your studies, your goals, and making it through each day. 

Weeks passed, and slowly, life at university began to shift. You met two girls in your sociology class—Ava and Harper. They were the kind of girls who seemed to have everything together: effortlessly stylish, confident, and always surrounded by friends. You’d admired them from a distance, never thinking they’d notice someone like you. But one day, after an impromptu group discussion, they invited you to join them for coffee. That was a big day.

Ava was a whirlwind of energy, always laughing, always with a story to tell. Harper was more reserved, but her quiet confidence and sharp wit drew you in. She was hilarious.

To your surprise, they were kind, and over time, the three of you became inseparable. You weren’t alone anymore. For the first time in weeks, you started to feel like you belonged. They didn’t care that you were a pogue, not even knowing what that meant. They liked you for you, and that meant more than anything. 

One Tuesday night, Ava and Harper invited you to a party. It was the kind of party you’d only seen in movies—the fraternity house was practically a mansion, very different from the bonfire parties you were used to back home. You hesitated at first, thinking about your responsibilities. But they insisted, promising it would be fun, and you knew you could use a break. After all, it was just one night.

When you arrived, the music was pounding, lights flashing in time with the beat. People were dancing, and laughing, and the air was filled with the scent of perfume and alcohol. Ava and Harper pulled you into the crowd, introducing you to people you’d never have approached on your own. You were nervous, but they made it easier, always by your side, making sure you felt included.

After a while, you decided to grab a drink, needing a moment to yourself to take it all in. You found the kitchen, which was packed with people mixing drinks, talking loudly over the music. You were pouring yourself a soda when you felt a presence beside you—someone too close for comfort.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” a familiar voice drawled.

Rafe. Because of course, he’d be here, at the very party you’d finally decided to attend. You kept your eyes on your drink, not wanting to engage, but he wasn’t going to let you off that easy.

“What, no comeback?” he teased, leaning against the counter beside you. “That’s not like you.”

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself not to let him get to you. “I’m not in the mood, Cameron.”

He smirked, picking up a beer bottle and taking a swig. “Looks like you’ve upgraded your company. Ava and Harper, huh? Good for you. But I have to ask… how does it feel to be the DUFF?”

You blinked, finally looking up at him with confusion written all over your face. “What the fuck is a DUFF?”

 “Designated Ugly Fat Friend,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Y'know, the one who makes their hotter friends look even better by comparison.”

For a moment, you were stunned into silence, processing the insult. It wasn’t just a casual dig; it was calculated, meant to hit where it hurt most. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“That’s…wow.”

Rafe chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. “Don’t take it so personally. It’s just a fact of life. Every group has a DUFF. Just figured you’d want to know your role.”

You stared at him, disbelief mixing with anger. “You’re seriously messed up, you know that?”

He shrugged, still smiling like this was all a game to him. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Your hand tightened around the cup in your hand. Before you could second-guess yourself, you flung the contents right into his face. The soda splashed across his perfectly styled long hair and down his designer shirt, leaving him momentarily stunned. The smirk vanished, replaced by a look of pure shock as the cold liquid dripped off his chin. The entire kitchen seemed to go silent for a moment as people nearby turned to see what had just happened.

Rafe blinked, his expression shifting from shock to something darker—anger, maybe, or disbelief that you’d actually had the nerve to do that. His jaw clenched, and for a split second, you thought he might actually retaliate.

But before he could say or do anything, you stepped closer, “Go fuck yourself.”

That was your last interaction for weeks.

He kept his distance, barely acknowledging you in class or around campus. It was almost as if the drink you threw in his face had washed away his relentless need to torment you. You couldn’t say you missed his attention, but the silence was unnerving in its own way. Knowing him, he could be brewing something much worse to fuck with your head. 

One afternoon, after a particularly tough class, you were gathering your things when you noticed Rafe hovering near the door. His usual cocky demeanor was gone, replaced by something almost...nervous. He caught your eye and hesitated before approaching as if debating whether to say something or just walk away.

“Hey,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically low.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the lack of smugness in his tone.

“What do you want?”

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. “I, uh…I need your help.”

That was the last thing you expected to hear. You stopped packing your bag, staring at him in disbelief. “My help? With what?”

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, clearly out of his element. “The exam. The one we had last week. I just got my grade back, and…uh, I failed. Hard. I don’t know what happened, but I need to do well in this class, and I’m completely fucked if I don’t turn things around. You seem to know your stuff, so…c-can you help me? I’ll make it worth your while.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the irony of the situation not lost on you. 

“You must be out of your fucking mind,” you said, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. “I don’t want anything from you. Good luck failing.”

He looked almost panicked like he hadn’t expected you to turn him down so quickly. Surely, he knew you hated him with all your strength, right?

“Wait—Wait up! What about Nate Archibald?”

You froze, your mind racing. How the hell did he know about Nate? 

Your crush on the older guy was something you’d kept to yourself, shared only in passing with your girlfriends. But Rafe’s mention of it made your stomach drop.

“What about Archibald?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled you.

He seemed to sense he was onto something, his desperation shifting into a more calculated expression. “Look, I know you like him. It’s not exactly a fucking secret okay? Even if you think it is. He’s a good guy I guess, but he doesn’t know you exist. You help me out, and I’ll help you get his attention. I can introduce you, get you in with his crowd.”

“I don’t like Nate.”

He rolled his eyes, “You were doodling his name on your notebook two weeks ago.”

Your stomach dropped at his words.

Two weeks ago, you had been sitting in the back of the lecture hall, barely paying attention to the professor as your mind drifted to Nate. You’d doodled his name absentmindedly, never imagining someone would notice, let alone remember. You were bored and you’d seen him earlier, arriving to school in his truck. He’d looked so dreamy it was all you thought about. 

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“No?”

“Jesus. It’s a crush, relax.”

“You were spying on me?” you hissed, embarrassment creeping into your voice.

Rafe shook his head, his tone more exasperated than anything. “I wasn’t spying, all right? I just noticed.”

“You’re such a fucking creep.”

Your heart raced, both with anger and with the tiniest snippet of hope. The idea of Nate finally noticing you was tempting, but you hated that it was Rafe offering it to you, as if he could manipulate your feelings just like that. You knew better than to trust him. And yet, he seemed genuinely humbled—at least, as humbled as someone like him could be. He would’ve never asked you for help if the fear of failure wasn’t eating him alive. 

You narrowed your eyes, studying him closely. “Why should I believe you?”

He sighed, hands rubbing his face in frustration, “I just want to pass this stupid class, m’kay? I don’t give a fuck about Archibald, but if that’s what will get you to help me, I’ll do it.”

You hesitated, torn between wanting to tell him to go to hell and the small, persistent voice in your head that wondered if this could actually work in your favor. You’d worked so hard to keep your head down, to stay focused, but the idea of finally having a shot with someone like Nate was hard to ignore.

“You’re gonna make Nate notice a DUFF?”

Rafe's smirk returned, though it was less confident than usual, tinged with something almost vulnerable. “You’ve got potential.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, weighing your options. Part of you wanted to tell him to screw off, to take his offer and shove it up his ass. But the other part—the part that had spent sleepless nights wondering if you’d ever really fit in here, if you’d ever be more than just another face in the crowd—was tempted. Rafe was offering you a way in, a chance to break through the invisible barriers that had kept you on the outside looking in.

“Okay,” you said finally, the word slipping out before you could stop it. “I’ll help you, but don’t think for a second that I’m doing this shit for you. And if you screw me over, I swear, Rafe, I’ll kill you.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “Deal.”

You and Rafe met up in the library for your first "study session."

The awkwardness was palpable. He was slouched in his chair, trying to act indifferent, but you could see the tension in his jaw as he stared at the textbook in front of him. He was flipping through a history textbook with a blank expression, as if the words on the page were written in latin.

"Alright," you began, flipping open your notebook. "Let's start with the basics, because clearly, you’re lost."

Rafe rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. One day they were going to get stuck inside his brain from how much he did it. He grunted in acknowledgment, though his attention didn’t lift from the page. 

You sighed and leaned forward, tapping on the open textbook in front of him, “We’re focusing on the economic factors that contributed to the development of plantation societies. You get that, right?”

He blinked, clearly not getting it. A perfect himbo.

“Okay, fine. The plantations needed a lot of labor. So, what’s the most cost-effective way to get that labor?”

Rafe shrugged. “Slaves?”

“Right, but it’s more complex than that,” you continued, trying to be patient. “The demand for crops like sugar and tobacco skyrocketed in Europe, so they needed cheap labor to maximize profits. That’s where the transatlantic slave trade comes in. It wasn’t just about the labor, it was about the entire economic system that developed around it.”

He nodded slowly, jotting down notes. “So, it’s like… the whole economy was built on this?”

“Exactly,” you said, a bit surprised he was actually paying attention. “And you need to understand how that impacted the societies, both in the Caribbean and in Europe. It’s not just about memorizing facts; it’s about understanding the connections.”

“Okay, I get it,” he muttered, though you could tell he was still struggling. “This shit’s more complicated than I thought.”

“If you don’t understand something, just ask. I’m not going to bite your head off.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he smirked, but there was no malice in his tone this time.

“Anyway. This also reshaped societies on both sides of the Atlantic. The Caribbean, for instance, became a hub of sugar production, with plantations dominating the landscape. These plantations were brutal, with slaves working in horrific conditions. But they were also incredibly profitable, which is why they persisted for so long.”

He seemed to be processing this, his pen tapping rhythmically against the edge of his notebook. “And the people back in Europe…they were cool with this? Just letting it happen?”

His questions sounded like things children would ask but you answered, nonetheless. 

“It’s complicated,” you replied, flipping to a page in your textbook that showed a diagram of the triangular trade routes. “A lot of people in Europe didn’t really see the human cost. They were more concerned with the goods that were flooding their markets—sugar, tobacco, rum. These were luxury items that became everyday staples, and the average person didn’t really think about where they came from or who made them. But there were also abolitionists—people who fought against the slave trade and the conditions on the plantations. The system wasn’t unchallenged, but it was so entrenched in the economy that change was slow.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, it’s all connected. The economy, the trade, the people—it’s all one big mess.”

A big mess is one way to put it simply. But at least he understood something. 

You smiled slightly, glad to see the gears turning in his head. 

“Exactly. And that’s what you need to understand for the weekly quizzes. It’s not just about memorizing dates and names—it’s about understanding the connections between these different factors and how they shaped the world we live in today.”

He nodded slowly, jotting down a few more notes. “Okay, I think I’m starting to get it. But I’m gonna need more help with the specifics—the names, the dates, all that stuff.”

“We can go over that next,” you offered, flipping to another section of the textbook. “But remember, it’s the big picture that matters. If you can understand how all these pieces fit together, the rest will come easier.”

He started improving. He was still far from a stellar student, but he wasn’t failing anymore. In return, he hadn’t forgotten his end of the deal.

One Friday afternoon, after another study session, Rafe leaned back in his chair, watching you pack your bag. “So, there’s this party tomorrow night.”

You looked up, narrowing your eyes. “And?”

“And you’re coming with me,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You scoffed. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because you want Nate to notice you, right?” he said, crossing his arms. “Well, nothing makes a guy pay attention like seeing a girl with another guy. Especially one like me.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “You’re seriously suggesting we…what, pretend to be together?”

The thought almost made you gag. 

Rafe shrugged, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Not exactly. Just, you know, make it look like we’re close. Guys love a little competition. Trust me, it’ll work.”

You hesitated, unsure. The idea of pretending to be close to Rafe, even for show, made your skin crawl. But the idea of finally getting Nate to notice you…that was tempting.

“And what exactly do you get out of this?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Rafe’s grin widened. “The satisfaction of a job well done. And maybe a little fun. You know you need to loosen up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. But this better work.”

“It will,” Rafe said confidently. “Now, what are you planning on wearing?”

You frowned. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

Rafe stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Come on, then. We’re going shopping.”

You blinked, surprised. “What? No way. I can’t afford—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, already walking toward the door. “I’ve got it covered.”

You found yourself standing in a high-end boutique, completely out of your element. Rafe was rifling through racks of clothes, pulling out items and tossing them to you with a casual confidence that made you wonder just how often he did this.

“This,” he said, handing you a sleek black dress that was far more daring than anything you’d ever worn.

You looked at it skeptically. “I’m not sure that’s…me.”

“It’s not supposed to be you,” Rafe said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re shorts and tank tops. This is supposed to be the girl Nate notices. Now go try it on.”

Reluctantly, you took the dress and headed to the dressing room. When you stepped out, Rafe’s eyes swept over you, and for the first time, you saw something almost like approval in his gaze.

“That’ll do,” he said, nodding. “But you need heels. And maybe some jewelry.”

This was so fucking weird it gave you chills. 

You stared at him, bewildered. “Since when are you an expert in women’s fashion?”

Rafe smirked. “I have two sisters. You pick things up.”

The next thing you knew, you were trying on shoes, adding accessories, and letting Rafe play stylist until he was satisfied. When you finally looked in the mirror, you hardly recognized yourself. The girl staring back at you was confident, poised, and yes, attractive. It was a version of yourself you’d never seen before.

“See?” Rafe said, appearing behind you in the mirror. “Told you I’d make this work.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“You know what I meant.”

The party was in full swing when you arrived with Rafe. The music was loud, the lights dim, and the air filled with the buzz of chatter and laughter. You felt so nervous you felt like throwing up, clutching the small purse you’d brought with you like it was a lifeline. You could feel eyes on you, who were undoubtedly curious about the new girl in Rafe’s orbit.

Rafe, on the other hand, looked completely at ease, immediately falling into his element, greeting people with confidence and casual charm. He guided you through the crowd with a hand on the small of your back, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “You look good, okay? All you have to do is enjoy yourself.”

You must’ve hit your head. Rafe Cameron was complimenting you. 

You took a deep breath, trying to follow his advice. You spotted Ava and Harper across the room, waving you over, but he stopped you before you could head their way. 

“Not yet,” he said, nodding toward the bar where Nate was standing with a group of friends. “Go talk to him.”

“Rafe—“

“Don’t whine.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “What do I even say?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rafe replied smoothly. “Just be yourself. Well actually, maybe not.”

“Ouch.”

“Don’t forget—he needs to see that you’re with me. Let him come to you.”

You nodded, nerves jangling as you made your way toward the bar. Nate glanced up as you approached, and for a split second, his eyes widened in recognition. Does he remember you? Oh wow. You’d spoken to him twice by now, this being your third. 

“Hey,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Mind if I grab a drink?”

“Sure,” Nate said, smiling as he moved aside. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Last minute thing,” you replied, reaching for a cup. “Rafe dragged me along.”

Nate’s smile faltered slightly at the mention of Rafe, his eyes flicking over to where Rafe was leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a casual, almost possessive air.

“Rafe, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “He’s not so bad, once you get to know him.”

Nate looked at you, really looked at you, for what felt like the first time. “You look…different tonight. In a good way.”

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth flooding your cheeks. “Thanks.”

Before the conversation could continue, to your dismay, Rafe appeared at your side, draping an arm around your shoulders, “Everything okay here?”

Nate’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded. “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Cool,” Rafe said, giving Nate a pointed look. “Come on, let’s dance.”

Without waiting for a response, he led you away, leaving Nate watching after you, a contemplative expression on his face.

“What the hell?” you hissed, trying to pull away from his grip, but he held you firm, guiding you toward the makeshift dance floor.

“Relax,” he said, his voice low and smooth, as he spun you around to face him, “Trust me, it’s working. Did you see the way he was looking at you?”

You glared at him, your irritation simmering just beneath the surface.

“You didn’t have to drag me away like that.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Had to keep him on his toes. Assholes like Archibald need to feel a little competition to make them realize what they could lose.”

“He’s not an asshole.”

“Sure.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your lips as the music shifted to a slower beat, and his hand slid down to the small of your back, pulling you closer. You stiffened, but he kept his grip light, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Relax,” he repeated, his voice softer this time, almost…gentle. “Just go with it. You’re doing great.”

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanor. You hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to be…well, not a complete asshole. 

“Watch the hands.”

He only dropped them lower.

“Or what?”

Your pulse quickened as Rafe's hands settled lower on your back, grazing the curve of your hips. His smirk was infuriating, but there was something beneath it—a challenge, a spark that dared you to react.

“Or I’ll step on your foot,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, as if he found your threat amusing. “You’d really ruin those expensive heels I bought you?”

You glanced down at the sleek stilettos, a reluctant grin tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You deserve it.”

“I probably do,” Rafe admitted, his voice taking on a more serious tone. His gaze locked onto yours again, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room faded away. 

The music, the people, even Nate—everything melted into the background until it was just the two of you. It felt weird. The way he looked at you was unsettling, like he was peeling back the layers you’d so carefully put up, seeing parts of you that you hadn’t intended to show him—or anyone.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your body was reacting to his proximity, to the warmth of his hands against your skin. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were here for Nate.

But Rafe wasn’t making it easy. He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Ass face is looking.”

His lips were so close to you that you could feel the warmth of his lips. The scent of his cologne, a heady mix of cedar and something uniquely him, enveloped you, making it hard to focus.

"Stop calling him that," you whispered back, attempting to inject some irritation into your tone, but it came out softer than intended.

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Just calling it like I see it," he retorted, his fingers pressing lightly against the small of your back, guiding you even closer.

Well, fuck. 

"Is this really part of the plan?" you managed to ask, your voice barely audible over the music.

He smirked, his eyes never wavering. "Absolutely. Just giving the audience a good show."

"Audience?" You arched an eyebrow, momentarily confused.

He tilted his head subtly in Nate's direction. You followed his gaze to find Archibald staring. It was a look you'd never seen directed at you before.

"See? It's working," Rafe whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear again. He had to be doing that shit on purpose, to get a rise out of you—it all felt too real, too intimate.

"You're enjoying this," you accused.

He grinned, unabashed. "Maybe a little. Aren't you?"

You were about to fire back a sharp retort, something to cut through the tension that had been building between you and Rafe, when you heard someone call your name. You turned your head, your heart still racing from how close Rafe was, only to see Ava and Harper pushing through the crowd toward you.

"Hey! We've been looking everywhere for you!" Ava exclaimed, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe, curiosity sparking in her. You never told them about him.

Harper raised an eyebrow, a sly expression spreading across her face. "And what do we have here? You two look cozy."

You stepped back quickly, putting some space between you and Rafe, feeling suddenly exposed. "Just... dancing," you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rafe, of course, didn’t miss a beat. He slipped his hands into his pockets, the picture of casual confidence. "Yeah, just giving her a little dance lesson. She’s a fast learner."

Ava glanced at you, suspicion plastered across her pretty face, “Uh-huh. Well, you ready to go? We were thinking of hitting up another party across town."

You hesitated, glancing at Rafe, who gave you a small nod, as if to say it was up to you. The moment between the two of you had been so intense, so confusing, that you almost forgot the entire reason you were there. Nate. You were supposed to be getting his attention, not getting caught up in whatever strange thing was happening with Rafe.

But now that your friends were here, the spell was broken. You felt more like yourself again, more grounded. "Yeah, let’s go," you said, finally pulling your eyes away from Rafe, “You’re not coming?”

“Nah. Have fun, I’ll see you on Monday, little pogue.”

As you walked away with Ava and Harper, you could feel his eyes on your back, and it took everything in you not to turn around. You weren’t sure what to make of it, or if you even wanted to. It was like you’d glimpsed a different side of him, one that wasn’t entirely awful. One that was strangely attractive. Maybe his ridiculous plan was working. But whether that was a good thing or not, you weren’t sure.

Sure enough, another study session came around. The old tension between you two had settled into a strange kind of truce. It was more of a mutual agreement to tolerate each other for the sake of passing the course. Plus, despite everything, he was strangely good company when he wasn't being a complete ass.

Tonight was one of those rare moments when he wasn’t trying to get under your skin. The conversation had started out innocent enough—debating historical facts, making fun of the professor’s monotone voice—but then, somehow, it drifted towards relationships. Or more accurately, Nate.

“So, you gonna ask him out or what?” Rafe’s tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp as they flicked over to you.

You glanced at him, trying to gauge if he was genuinely interested or just trying to pry into your personal life for another round of teasing.

“Ask who out?”

“Nate. Mr. Perfect.” His smirk was playful, but there was an edge to it.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not asking anyone out.”

“Why not?” He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, clearly settling in for this conversation. “He’s obviously into you. You’re into him. What’s the problem?”

You looked away, focusing on the textbook in front of you, but the words blurred as your mind wandered. The truth was, you didn’t know how to answer that. You’d never been good with boys, especially not ones like Nate. Ones that seemed so far out of your league. 

“Just…not my thing,” you mumbled, hoping that would be enough to drop the subject.

But Rafe wasn’t one to let things go. “Not your thing? Or…you’ve never actually done it before?”

The casual tone of his question made your stomach flip. You looked at him sharply, searching his face for any sign that he was joking.

“Done what?”

“Kissed someone.” The words were out of his mouth before you could even process them, and your heart skipped a beat. 

You knew you should deny it, brush it off with a joke, but the way he was looking at you, so intently, made it impossible to lie. Silence stretched between you, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head as realization dawned. 

“No way. You’ve never…?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding through you. “It’s not a big deal, okay? Can we drop it?”

But he was looking at you like you’d just told him the earth was flat.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” He sounded incredulous, like he couldn’t believe it was even possible.

“Seriously, shut up,” you snapped, but it only made him smile harder.

He shook his head, still looking at you like you were some kind of anomaly. “How the hell did you get through high school without—”

“Rafe!”

“Okay, okay, m'sorry!” He held up his hands in mock surrender, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that made you nervous. “But seriously, you’ve never kissed anyone? Not even a peck?”

“No,” you admitted, crossing your arms defensively. “And I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you could feel his gaze on you, intense and considering. Finally, he leaned forward, his expression more serious than you’d ever seen it. “Alright then. I’ll teach you.”

Your jaw dropped, and you stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“What?”

“I’ll teach you,” he repeated, like it was the most logical thing in the world. “Better to learn from someone who knows what they’re doing, right?”

You blinked, trying to wrap your head around what he was suggesting. “Are you out of your fucking mind? There’s no way I’m letting you—”

“Why not?” He was leaning in closer now, that stupid cocky smirk back on his face. “I promise I won’t bite.”

You could feel your pulse quicken, nerves fluttering in your stomach. This was Rafe Cameron, the guy who had made your life hell for years, and now he was offering to…what? Teach you how to kiss? It was absurd. Ridiculous. And yet, there was something in his eyes, something that almost made you say yes.

“No,” you finally said, shaking your head. “This is insane.”

He shrugged, leaning back again, but you could tell he wasn’t giving up. “Just think about it. No pressure.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was crazy, but the truth was, part of you was curious. Curious about what it would be like. Curious about why he was offering in the first place. But that was a thought for another time. For now, you needed to focus on getting through this study session without letting him distract you any further.

Easier said than done.

You tried to shake off the bizarre turn the conversation had taken, focusing back on the textbook in front of you, but the words on the page refused to stick. You could feel his stupid blue eyes on you, his presence more distracting than ever.

“Come on, don’t make it weird,” he said after a moment, his tone light but his gaze still fixed on you. “I was just fucking with you.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, relieved that he was backing off. “Good. Because that was the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Weird, maybe. But not the worst idea.”

“Rafe,” you warned, but there was no real bite in your voice. He had a way of disarming you, breaking through your defenses in a way that no one else could. It was annoying.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” he said, holding up his hands again. But there was still a playful glint in his eyes, like he was enjoying this far too much.

You tried to focus on the study guide, pointing out a key term that you both needed to memorize, but your mind kept drifting back to what he’d said. The idea of him teaching you how to kiss was ridiculous—completely absurd—but there was a tiny, traitorous part of you that wondered what it would be like.

“You’re thinking about it,” Rafe said suddenly, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“No, I’m not!” You replied a little too quickly, your cheeks burning. He grinned, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“Yes, you are. I can see it on your face.”

You glared at him, hoping to shut him up with a look, but he just laughed, the sound low and teasing. “You know, if you’re curious, there’s no harm in trying it.”

You shook your head, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m not curious, and I’m definitely not going to let you—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he leaned in, closing the distance between you in a way that made your breath catch. He didn’t kiss you, but he was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, the intensity of his eyes making your heart race.

“You sure about that?” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with a challenge.

You swallowed hard, your mind screaming at you to push him away, but your body refused to move. There was something magnetic about him, something that made it impossible to look away, to even think about anything else.

“I…” you started, but the words died in your throat as he leaned in just a fraction closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Just one lesson,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above yours. “Then we can pretend it never happened.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind, but none of them made sense. All you could think about was how close he was, how badly you wanted to know what it would feel like to close that final distance.

But then, as if a switch flipped in your brain, reality crashed down on you. This was Rafe Cameron. The guy who had tormented you, who was probably doing this just to mess with you. You couldn’t let yourself fall into his trap.

“No,” you said, finally finding your voice and pushing him back gently. “This is crazy.”

He didn’t move at first, his eyes searching yours for a moment longer before he finally leaned back, giving you space to breathe again. “Fair enough,” he said, his tone still light, but there was something in his expression that you couldn’t quite read. “But if you change your mind…”

“I won’t,” you said quickly, needing to put some distance between you and the tension that was still thick in the air. “Let’s just get back to studying.”

He gave you a long look, like he was deciding whether to push the issue, but then he just shrugged and turned back to his notes. 

“Whatever you say.”

You nodded, trying to focus on the study guide in front of you, but your mind was still reeling. You couldn’t believe what had just happened, couldn’t believe that you had actually considered letting Rafe teach you how to kiss. It was insane. 

Completely and utterly insane.

The rest of the study session passed in a blur, the usual banter between you and Rafe feeling a bit more strained, a bit more loaded than before. You were hyper-aware of every move he made, every glance he threw your way, but thankfully, he seemed to have dropped the subject for now.

But as you packed up your things to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you. You couldn’t tell if it was for better or worse, but one thing was certain—you were never going to look at Rafe Cameron the same way again.

The following days were a strange dance of avoidance and unspoken tension. Lots of it. You and Rafe still studied together, but there was an unspoken agreement not to mention what had happened. It was as if you were both trying to pretend that nothing had changed, even though you both knew it had.

It didn’t help that every time you were around him, you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment—the way he’d leaned in, the way his breath had felt against your lips. How soft they looked. It was infuriating, the way your mind kept circling back to it, refusing to let it go. You were better than this. 

“Hey,” he greeted, sitting down next to you without his usual swagger. “You okay?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated before answering. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged, looking out at the entrance of the classroom for a moment before turning back to you. “I don’t know. You’ve just been kind of…quiet lately.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any hint of teasing, but he seemed genuine. “Just had a lot on my mind.”

Rafe nodded, as if he understood, and for a moment, the two of you sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence. It was strange, this version of him—so different from the one who had taunted you about kissing just days ago.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Y’know, I wasn’t trying to mess with you the other day. I mean, I was, but not…not in a bad way.”

You raised an eyebrow, not sure where he was going with this. “Rafe, I know you like to mess with people. It’s kind of your thing.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I guess I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to make fun of you or anything. I just thought…you deserved better.”

That caught you completely off guard. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, looking uncharacteristically serious. “I mean, you deserve to experience that stuff with someone who actually gives a shit about you. Not with some random guy at a party or something. I guess I didn’t like the idea of you feeling…left out.”

Was he…implying that you two were friends now? That he cared?

You stared at him, not sure what to say. This was a side of Rafe you’d never seen before—vulnerable, even a little protective. It was jarring, but not in a bad way.

“Thanks,” you said softly, not quite sure how to respond. “That's weirdly nice of you to say.”

He smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it didn’t have that usual hint of arrogance. “Don’t get used to it,” he teased lightly, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Just then, the rest of your classmates showed up, breaking the moment. 

Rafe stood up, his usual confident demeanor slipping back into place as he greeted his friends. But as you watched him joke around with the others, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d just seen a glimpse of the real Rafe—someone who cared, even if he didn’t always show it.

And you found yourself liking this version of him. 

A lot.

More than you should.

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC Prompt: The New Teacher

(So, I've seen a lot of prompts that have Danny go to Gotham and be a teacher but I don't remember seeing any with it in this direction, so on the chance that this is an original idea here we go!)

Jason was given a choice, or multiple choices. Babysit the Replacement on a mission that could last a week, go to Bludhaven and have some 'brother bonding time' with Dick who needed backup on a big case, or take a temp solo-gig in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere called Amity Park.

Well, considering he was still a bit hurt about the fact that B replaced him all those years ago and the pit loved to grab hold of that bit of frustrations towards his younger brother, that didn't seem like a smart idea. Dick wasn't an option either because he knew that would lead to 'talking about feelings' and other shit that he didn't want to do.

So he took the solo-gig.

It was supposed to be easy, at least that's what had been implied by the others he'd spoken to about the case. It seemed like most of the Justice League thought this situation was being 'exaggerated' because most of the time when somebody checked out what was going on there was nothing happening. No big take over, or kidnapping, or 'end of the world' situation, but there had been too many calls to put Bruce's mind at ease. The frequent calls mixed with the fact that the Government apparently had the area under a 'black out' made Bruce even more nervous.

Hell, if it hadn't been for the fact that Bruce was famous and that Scarecrow, Penguin and Riddler had all escaped from Arkham he would have been doing the case himself.

Which is how Jason ended up in a restraunt named 'Nasty Burger' looking at the news papers he had managed to get from a stand down the street while taking notes of things he had already seen. It wasn't just that the Government had cut them off, all of the tech in the city was easily 20 years outdated compared to the rest of the world.

Nokia phones, chunky computers, hell he'd even seen a kid with a PDA of all things. Thankfully, it looked like his tech still worked other than running slower than it should have, but thanks to modifications made by Barbara and Tim things were running better than he expected. But, they did struggle to have access to anything, specifically the news.

Hence the paper.

Ghost Boy: Friend or Fiend. A new vote cast by the city has found that the Ghost Boy - Danny Phantom - has had an astounding rise in support after the events over the Christmas Holiday. The new polls suggest that 43% of Citizens support Danny Phantom, with the majority of his support coming from the students at Casper High who insist that Phantom is a hero who has saved them countless times over the past few months. 49% of people still agree, however, that Phantom appears to be at the center of the majority of the attacks with many still claiming that he is the sole cause of the attacks. However, 8% of the population remain undecided, including many teachers, police and hospital staff. Upon seeing the new results of the pole Mayor Montez had this to say; "While I will admit that Phantom appears to favor the younger generation and frequently seems to come to their aid, we cannot forget what it has done in the past. Taken hostages, injured innocents, and caused millions in property damage. Phantom may not be a 'villain' in the typical sense of the word, but we shouldn't blindly trust him just because of a few good deeds."

So there was a... hero? Half hero - potentially villain - in Amity Park? That might have explained some of the calls they'd gotten from Amity park over the past few months. Still, he was concerned by some parts of the report.

Students at a high school were frequently coming under attack? So much that this potential-villain kept saving them? Just what was the cause? What could cause so many issues?

Jason looked up as he saw that same PDA kid talking with a girl with short black hair in a half-ponytail who was wearing a black crop-top. The girl seemed annoyed while the boy seemed worried about something.

"But it's Vlad, Sam... what if he does something?" He heard the boy whisper, "We should go back him up..."

"He doesn't need our help, besides Jazz ran away from home, remember? She got herself into this mess it's her problem to get out of it. Something that Danny should have learned a long time ago."

Jason frowned, pretending not to hear them as he hesitated then got up and walked over to the two younger teens. "Hey, excuse me."

The girl looked annoyed and suspicious while the boy looked confused.

"Uh, yeah?" Tucker asked.

"Hey, sorry to bug you both. But could you guys tell me about this... 'Danny Phantom' person?" He asked, holding the newspaper out.

The girl looked even more suspicious, "And... who are you?"

"And how haven't you heard of Phantom?" Asked the boy.

"I just moved to town." Jason admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, I'm just trying to catch up on all the town drama."

"You moved to Amity Park... willingly? Psh, what do you have, a deathwish?" The girl grumbled.

"Come on, I just moved from Gotham, which is worse?"

The girl blinked as the boy laughed.

"Furries vs Ghosts, who will win~" He said as the girl elbowed him. "Ow! What?!"

"Danny Phantom is a hero." The girl explained, "He showed up in April and has been protecting the town since."

"A hero, huh? Could always use more of those in the world, but the mayor seems to have it out for him."

Tucker sighed, "No kidding, man. Somebody framed Phantom for something really bad and no matter what he does to try to fix it the city just see's that incident as the only thing he's ever done. It was the first big 'public thing' outside of the high school so it was huge but it wasn't his fault."

The girl reached for her phone suddenly, looking at it before she answered. "Hey, Danny. What's up?" She was quiet for a moment, "Yeah, we're at Nasty Burger, wanna join us? Lunch on me?"

A quiet mumble came through the speaker before she smirked.

"I'll order for you then. Double or triple?"

More mumbles.

"Triple it is. See you soon." She said, then hung up. "Come on, Tuck, Danny is on his way for lunch."

"Hell yeah, see you later, dude." The boy said, then jogged off with the girl.

"A teacher? Yeah, it looks like there's some openings but why would you want to have your cover as a teacher?" Oracle asked as Jason sat in his hotel room, looking through the paper again.

"Most of the incidents seem to surround the High School, I want to see what's going on."

Oracle hummed, typing for a moment. "Alright, well as luck will have it, it looks like teachers are sparse at Amity High, at least from what I'm able to get using your connection... which is infuriatingly slow, by the way, are you sure you did it right?"

"I've done it a million times, of course I did it right."

Oracle grumbled, "Stupid Amity black-out. Okay, so you have options. Most of the teachers have fucked off so all of the teachers in Freshmen year switch around to cover lessons or do mixed lessons. For example the English teacher also teaches Math and the normal Math teacher also teaches Science. So it looks like you could have any position you want and the school would just shuffle around the teachers."

"You said English is taken, right?"

"Yep, the teacher is named William Lancer and he- oh... wait, he's on a leave of absence due to injuries he suffered over Christmas Break. Concussion, broken arm, and bruised ribs, he'll be out for a few weeks."

Jason smirked, "Perfect. Sign me up."

". . . Jason, the English and Math teacher... never thought I'd see the day. Alright, I'll type up your application, send it in and casually push it to the front of the line. You'll be official by the time Winter Break ends in a few days. So get studying."

"Sounds like a plan, but I'll be fine, I mean our family is crazy and i deal with criminals on a nightly basis. How hard could this assignment really be?"

He would regret asking that question by the end of his first day as an Amity High School teacher.

[waitforyrlove]

alexa play . . . hands on me by Ariana Grande .ᐟ.ᐟ

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ summary: You and Matthew, never liked each other, principally after an incident at a party, and when you found out your childhood bestfriend was kissing the person you hated the most, making intrusive thoughts take care of your body.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ warnings: Smut, rough sex, fem!receiving, degradation kink, spitting, enemies trope!! || ⸝⸝ author’s note: this is for @fawnchives !

The dazzling LED lights dominate your sight, enveloping your vision as you walk thru the party your best friend has just kicked off.

several couples getting drunk and making out in the corners, girls getting loose on the dance floor by the song “Hands on me” by Ariana Grande, why not join on the dance floor?

Making your way to the dance floor, excusing yourself to pass thru multiple people, the party was definitely crowded.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you get closer to the destination, put everything good in your mind disappears when you bump in the person you wanted to see the least.

Matthew Sturniolo.

You and him never liked each other, and had a big rivalry since high school, well firstly he was always a bitch to you, secondly you couldn’t stand seeing his attractive face structure everywhere.

The red cup filled with beer, spilled on his shirt, well lucky him it was a black shirt, if it was a white one it would be worse.

Im met with the pair of his blue eyes staring at me deadly, it scared you at the same time, but why be scared at a two faced loser?

“You never watch where you walk don’t you?” His gaze meet your body, taking a long up and down look, observing every detail of the outfit you had picked.

“Why are you such a asshole?” You comment, your gaze meeting his a light chuckle leaving his mouth.

“You owe me a new shirt, y’know?”

“Too bad, in your dreams maybe it happens.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes staring to walk away, he watches your figure disappearing into the crowded dance floor.

03:46AM

Multiple songs you liked were on and that made the party enjoyable, you smile with your friend Lizzie as you walk to a couch together refilling both of your cups, sounds of giggles escaping your lips as you two were enveloped in talking shit about people you didn’t like.

“Y’know, I hate Matth-“ you cut off yourself as you look to a corner right in your front, but still a bit far away, your eyes met the tall figure of Matthew as he basically as sucking the neck of your childhood bestfriend, Mila.

A strong grip on the cup is planted by the strength your hands make, Mila knew you hated him but she didn’t help it and offer herself to the guy you despised.

“That two faced cunt.” You mumble, Lizzie looking at you confused, you land your cup on the nearest table, beginning to walk outside for some fresh air.

Sitting on the crosswalk, as the wind hits your face you look to the street cars passing by, but one car calls out your attention.

Matthew’s Lamborghini Urus, parked the closest to you, a wicked grin forms in your face as your mind forms, why not ruin his car?

There was a lot of possibilities to ruin it, but the easiest was keying his car.

You suddenly remember you have needle in your shirt, after a problem had happened with your pink jersey, removing carefully the sharp object, standing up and walking up close to the driver’s passenger part, kneeling down, you started keying his car, damaging the shiny black painting, a white long line in his passenger door.

You smile to yourself, nothing better that knowing how man act when their precious car is ruined, and Matt’s car being ruined made you happy, he had what he deserved.

As you stand up once again, planting the clothe needle again in your jersey turning around, you meet face to face with Matthew.

Oh fuck.

In your mind you thought this would work because if you damaged and you disappeared after, he wouldn’t know it was you, maybe he could have an idea, but still.

His gaze turns to a anger look as he looks at you, he had been watching you all the time, and this wasn’t good, he crossed his arms against his chest, his muscles flexing as his voice starts echoing thru your ears, shivers being sent down your spine.

“You think you’re that clever don’t you?” He says, before you could reply, he shuts you off immediately by speaking again.

“Not only you bump into me with your clumsiness, spilling your beer on my shirt that now, you had to ruin my fucking car.” Every word that he spit out of his mouth he got even closer to you.

“Well maybe I have my reasons to key your car.”

“Are you mad that Mila was kissing me?” The anger in his voice was still visible, but he couldn’t help it and let a chuckle escape his mouth as a smirk is on his lips.

“Yeah, maybe I am because she was my bestfriend, and she knows damn well that I hate you!” You exclaim, you cross your arms just like he had, as you interlock eyes with him.

“That doesn’t give you any stupid fucking reason to key my car.” You open your mouth to comment, but before, a hand creeps up on your waist turning you around forcedly guiding you to the passengers side.

“Let me go!” You utter, as you try to remove his hand off you, but his grip was too strong.

“Why don’t you shut up that dirty fucking mouth of yours, hm?” He whispers in your ear as you can feel the smirk he has on his face, opening the door for you, you enter on the car, sitting and remaining silent for the rest of the ride, wherever he was taking you.

The whole car ride was silent, after he drove it to a luxury neighborhood, you knew he was driving to his house, his jaw was clenched most of the time and he was going 305 km/h, it was too fast to your liking.

As he parked his car, opening the electronic garage, he quickly left his side, going the other way to open yours, he grabbed you by the wrist making you gasp at the sudden act.

“You’re too mad just for a little damage in your car, I was having fun at the party.” You lie thru gritted teeth, for a moment it was but the second Matt was there, it had ruin everything.

“You’re a damn brat, maybe we can put you in your place isn’t it?” He states, his jaw still hardly clenched, his side profile being heavenly, like a sorta of Greek God had structured it.

You roll your eye as he guides you thru the big mansion he owned, every part of the place with different paintings and different furniture.

As you both go upstairs, he leads you to his room, the same time you step your feet inside, he is locking the door and pinning you against the wall, your faces being inches close.

“Now tell me hm? You wanted to be Mila didn’t you.” His strong cologne filled your nostrils, the same way your sweet scent filled his.

His hands creep up to your inner thigh, a sudden gasp leaving your mouth as you remain silent.

“What, cat got your tongue?” Matt utters, his soft lips attacking your neck, leaving wet kisses and marks, as his right hand kept going even more up arriving close to your pink laced panties.

His hand went fast to your core, how fast it was taken of there, as he picks you up in bridal style, positioning myself in his bed, as he tops me.

He pulls away my pink jersey throwing somewhere across his room, if someone ever told me i would be getting naked with the guy I hated, i would probably slapped me across the face.

His large hands find way to my denim skirt yanking it off, now i’m only left in my match bra and panties, how nice.

“You don’t need to lie, you’ve always wanted this as much as I did.” He commented ripping off my bra, my mouth wide how easily he had the strength to rip off the fabric.

“You owe me a new bra, idiot.”

He chuckles, as he pushes you close to him, his face leaning close to your stomach as he plants kisses along the way.

He gets each time closer to your core, making you clench around nothing, he pulls your panties to the side, with no warning, his tongue is deep down in my pussy, as a long moan leaves my lips.

I can feel the stupid smirk as he eats me out, his hands gripping my thighs to not let me move, he pulls leans up again, getting close to my face once again, smashing his lips against mine in a heavy roughy kiss, making me taste my juices in his tongue.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart.” The nickname made me wetter more then I was, i obey, sticking my tongue out, as he yanks his two fingers into, and i instinctively suck on them, dripping them with my saliva.

A wicked grin is planted on his face as the two digits are on my core, rubbing my puffy clit, as my mouth is open, soft moans leaving it which was music to his ears.

“Feels good getting pleasure by your enemy doesn’t it.” He expresses as his hands keep rubbing your clit faster.

“i still fucking hate you.” You spit it out, a loud moan leaving your mouth right after.

“The way your hips buck for more, it says otherwise doll.”

The please accumulated in your body leaves as he takes off the two fingers that were in your clit to his mouth, you watch him suck on it, tasting yourself once again.

Suddenly, his hands are removing his belt and his baggy jeans, seeing him in his Calvin Klein boxers, his hard cock wanting to be more than released.

Pulling his underwear down his dick hitting his stomach, you never had an idea he was that long, you can be a little thing but you like that long.

He leans down to your core, a full spit landing on it making you wince, your juices and his spit now combined.

He strokes himself a few times before slamming into you, a groan leaving his mouth as you moan in synchronization with him.

My head is thrown back, as he doesn’t give me time to adjust fully starting to thrust in and out of me, he wasn’t just some couple of inches, he had enough inches to bruise my cervix and leave me hanging for more.

“You liked being fuck like a slut don’t you?” He chuckles, keeping thrusting, my mind couldn’t even form words, my back arching for more, his dick had the perfect size to hit my g-sport.

“I asked you a question.”

“Yes, fuck.. I love it.” You moan our, your head throw back in his pillows, his hands finding way to smack your ass, the real meaning of pain and pleasure.

He smirks, as he gets closer to my face pulling me in a rough kiss, my moans being muffled by it, his thrusts were each time more rough then the before, he wasn’t like other guy that would fuck a girl just to cum inside her and leave, oh he was for sure waiting to see your face knowing he was the one giving you all the pleasure.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna.” Before you could finish your sentence you cum all around his dick making a mess in the sheets below.

“Making a mess on my dick like the fucking slut you are.”

He pulls out, stroking his dick a few times before painting your lower and upper body with his cum, before collapsing on top of you.

Sweaty beads were formed during the act, your panty and heavy breaths in sync together, as you catch your breath all you could hear was his deep voice echoing thru your ears.

“Y’know, instead of watching me suck your best friends neck, if you ever need my hands on you, don’t be scared to ask, it is better then keying my car for that attention.”

[luveline]

Hi I have a request for zombie Steve! I’d love to hear the story of how they met 🫶🏻

zombie!au —You rescue Steve at the start of the end of the world. fem, 2.4k

The sound of them makes your throat close up. Fear like a knife held too tight in unwilling hands, the heat. It’s the hottest summer Hawkins’ has had for years, and you’re overdressed. You couldn’t fit your favourite hoodie in your bag so you wore it but it doesn’t matter, you lost your bag somewhere in the school gymnasium. You’re lucky you didn’t lose your leg when that thing grabbed you. What were they calling them on the radio? Something starting with G.

Those… things, they can kill people. You saw it just ten minutes ago, your algebra teacher turned to a creature, Maisie Lewinsky from your homeroom stained with gore under her hands.

You press the back of your hand to your mouth to stifle a hot gasp. What are you supposed to do now? The Hawkins station said everyone would be waiting here, a repeat radio message, but by the time you heard it the sun was going down and there was nobody left. No cars, no promised convoy, nobody.

You’re the last living girl left in Hawkins.

You’re gonna die in here.

Terrified of breathing to loud but spooked that staying will seal your fate, you lift yourself up from the floor of the science lab to peer over a high table. There’s no signs of life. No signs of the dead, either. You’d thought this might be a good place to hide, the thick fire door unbreakable, but you can’t stay here. It’ll be dark soon.

You wish you had your stuff. They’ve for sure taken anything worth eating from the cafeteria kitchens and Bradley’s has been empty for days. You aren’t sure where your next meal is coming from. Fuck, you’re already dead—

“Fuck!” a voice echoes, boyish and terrified from somewhere outside of the door. “Fuck! Get the fuck away from me, holy shit!”

He sounds scared but firm at the same time. Your own fear is like the insufferable heat, riding the back of your neck as you creep toward the door. There’s gotta be more of them outside. That must be why whoever it is that’s shouting sounds so depeserate. But fuck, there’s relief too. There’s someone still here.

“Fuck! Jesus, help me!”

“Okay,” you say unsurely.

You wedge open the door to the science lab and poke your head out cautiously. There’s a dull thudding sound somewhere to the left, metallic screeching further down, but the panicked shouting (and now panicked yelping) is coming from outside.

You look around for a weapon. There’s nothing to take.

“Holy fuck I do not wanna die!”

Me neither, you think, sniffling back your worried tears. You don’t wanna die, you just want your bed. You want to be home, and safe, but there’s no one to look after you anymore, and you can’t just let people die ‘cos you’re scared. You run from the science lab to the fire escape door full pelt, arm in sudden hot pain at the collision, but the door gives and swings hard into the adjourning wall. You look around frantically for the source of the shouting as it bounces off of the exterior walls of the school and the stone floor of the courtyard, heart suddenly afloat in your chest.

“Hello?” you shout. “I’m here, I’m–”

“What the fuck!”

It’s said with such horrified anger that you give pause, even as your hands shake, cold sweat wetting your lip and colder in the rare afternoon breeze. You dart toward the shouting a moment later, and maybe you’re too late, you can’t save anybody, your shoes pinch as you race down the few concrete steps that lead to the parking lot.

Snarling curdles the air. Your neck snaps left, away from the cars and open territory and toward the subject of your nightmares these last few days. You’ve seen glimpses of these things, always too scared to stay and help, always too stupid, too weak, and seeing them now cements it.

A group of geeks grab at a boy where he hangs from the bars of a metal staircase leading up to the roof of the building. You run toward it on instinct but stop before they hear you, eyes wide. His hands are white-knuckled, his hair falling down into his face, but you know who it is now you’re close enough to see him. You could recognise Steve Harrington a thousand feet away.

“Hey!” you shout. “Hey! Over here!”

Why did you say that? Why are you yelling? The geeks turn their heads to easier pray and you’re done for —they start to run. You stumble back in terror.

“My bag! Get my bag, get the knife!” Steve shouts.

You swing yourself around in a huge circle. There, further into the lot, lies a bag. Further past it lies a wooden baseball bat spiked with fifty silver nails.

You sprint past the bag to the bat and try to grab it while you’re still running, knees grazing hot white fire on the tarmac and hands like acid as you force yourself up again, running further, putting space between you and the too fast footsteps that follow. When you’re sure you’ll have room you swing to see them, their maws dripping gore over white buttoned shirts and once prim blouses. There must be ten of them at least. Only two stay to snap their jaws at Steve Harrington where he attempts to climb up the stairs from the bottom, his foot dangerously close to bloodied teeth.

You pull the bat back as the first of the creatures reaches you. With a grunt more terror than exertion, you force the bat forward, wood arcing through the air, shiny nails catching the light of the setting sun and slamming downward into flesh.

Your eyes flare as wide as they’ve ever been. The geek stops cold and drops, your strangling grip on the bat forcing it up out of the mash of his brains. Another geek leaps over him as you scramble back.

“Run!” Steve yells from the stairs, stress stretching his voice thin and high. “Run away!”

You drop the bat and sprint for your life. Down into the parking lot, past a handful of locked cars and suitcases discarded. This must’ve been where everybody was before they left. There couldn’t have been room. Boxes and trophies, books, magazines and toys, all manner of possessions string like a breadcrumb trail down the road that you have to avoid. You run until your calves are burning over the road that will lead toward Hawkins middle, where you throw yourself into the woods, and hope without any real hope that they’re empty.

Grass folds under your feet. Your panting is as loud as your heart.

When the only shallow breathing you can hear is your own, you circle back to the High School, sticking to the shadows so as not to attract any more attention. A few geeks have collected to join the two you’d left behind, and for a second you’re sure Steve’s succumbed to fatigue and fallen into their blackened clutches, but you spot him balancing dangerously on a handrail between two sets of stairs, leg pulled back in preparation to kick any opposition away.

You sweep up the bat and try to make a plan. You were never going to be able to handle that many people before, not with their new mutations, but you can handle four. Maybe. Probably not.

“Steve, what do I do?” you call. “You have to tell me what to do.”

“You came back!” He swears and shimmies further up the railing as one of his attackers finally manages to traverse the blocked up staircase. “I don’t know what to do! Just hit at them until they die!”

It’s easy for him to say. They’re gruesome creatures, the faces of people you once knew but none of their humanity. They can run as fast as any person can. A human bite has alarming force behind it. The voice on the radio warned you that what you’re trying to do is a bad idea, and yet. You roll the bat in your hand. Your chest aches as hard as your dry throat.

The first geek goes down easy. Unsuspecting, you manage to whack it in the back of the head hard and break through soft skull. The second turns to see you just as you’re lifting the bat again, and it runs hard into it as it comes down, killing itself.

The third is where things get tricky.

“Fuck,” you mumble, lifting your bat to find a sloughing of cartilage and tissue stuck between the spines. “Oh, fuck,” you moan.

“Be careful!” Steve shouts.

You step back and trip, nearly falling. “Stay away from me!”

It snarls in response. Eyes clouded, the geek is a little slower than the others, and it follows you sluggishly away from Steve. The fourth remains, snapping, but you can’t keep watch.

“Stay away from me!” you warn again.

Steve swears on the railing, his cursing followed by a wet thunk.

The geek doesn’t listen, it bites.

You pull your arms to the side, hands wrapped tight around the base of the bat and ready to swing. With a huge, aching cry, you swing the bat to the side and knock the nails clean into its cheek.

It doesn’t die.

Fuck fuck fuck! You throw yourself to the floor by the geek’s feet and out of its reach, on knees, on your feet again, scrambling toward Steve’s bag. You glance over your shoulder as your knees slam down hard into the floor, never so scared in your life, horrified as the bat stays stuck between tendons and the geek takes a running jump toward you.

You pull the knife from Steve’s bag and hold it out in front of you, squeezing your eyes closed in terror.

“Fuck, hey!”

You scream as the weight of the geek lands on top of you. You scream like it’s taking bites of you, until your throat burns and there’s no sound left to make and you choke on it instead. A short, sharp sound.

Then the weight is pulled off of you. Someone lets out a massive gasp.

“Did it get you?”

You blink your eyes open against the glaring white sun where it meets the horizon. If you’re crying, it’s your business, water on your cheek and a dizzy hot feeling everywhere else.

Steve Harrington looks at you like you’re a ghost. “Did it get you? Are you okay?”

You look at your hand and the knife —his knife— where it rests on the tarmac. “I don’t think so. How do you know?”

“They bite! Did it bite you?”

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“Because I’m not exactly uninjured, Steve!”

He frowns at you. Well, he glares. “You’d know if it bit you. Don’t be dense.”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“You’re telling me you don’t know what a bite feels like?”

“Some of us had homework.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

Well, yeah. It was supposed to be hilarious.

You look around the parking lot and the school courtyard for any outliers, but the school seems well and truly abandoned now. You can’t hear anymore huffing or screeching, no crying, not even the sound of a radio. Everyone’s been playing them nonstop for weeks, waiting for days like today. Suddenly the raptures here, and you aren’t part of the rescue.

But you saved Steve Harrington, at least. You’re accruing some good karma.

Steve doesn’t hold his hand out, he just grabs you under the arms and pulls you up into a standing position. You’re surprised he can do it, you aren’t light, but you remember his last skins game in the gymnasium and nod to yourself. Of course he can pick you up. Plus, you help, using your legs despite their stiffness to brace yourself on the ground.

“Doesn’t look like it bit you,” he says, quieter now, his hands sliding down to yours briefly before he stands back. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought this was the rendezvous point. I mean, it was, right? We missed it.”

“We missed it.”

“How’d you get here?” you ask.

“Bike. Car chose the worst possible time in the world to die. Not that I could’ve got gas.” He eyes you hopefully. “Tell me you drove here.”

“I biked too, but it’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Tire popped.”

Steve rubs his eyebrows. His hands are clean where yours are caked. You stand unable to mask your heavy breathing now, and when you reach for him to steady yourself, he doesn’t move away.

“Sorry,” you mumble, licking your lips. You’re a map of little pains. “Are you okay?”

Steve’s hand reaches back to cover yours like he’s going to pull it off, though he doesn’t. “Are you alone?” he asks.

You wince. “Yeah.”

“Where’s your stuff?”

“I lost it.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” Your knees hurt. “It’s gonna get dark soon.”

It’s a question. You’re immediately thankful to have found him, because he’s a real living person, and you don’t think you can do this alone. You don’t mean to force him, but you need to know what he’s doing and soon.

“…Better come with me, then,” he says finally.

Steve walks out of your grasp, grabbing up his bag which you’d unfortunately ripped open and shoving the spilled contents back inside. He doesn’t stop to zip it closed, walking straight in the direction of the school.

“Where are we going?”

“Same place as everybody else.” You stumble. Steve, reluctant, frowning hard enough to etch a new wrinkle, holds out his hand to catch you by the elbow. “Where did you think?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you say, half-indignant.

“You ask a lot of stupid questions, you know that?” He looks you up and down. “How’d you do that?” He points at your bleeding knees.

“I ask stupid questions?”

He grabs the bat from near the felled geek and stands tall. “Jesus. Let’s go find a car.”

It’s not as easy as his tone might suggest. You don’t find a car, you never do, and you never stop asking him obvious questions, but Steve says thank you for saving him eventually (nearly an entire year later, with a hand on your cheek).

[spiritsonic]

Hi Evan! Big fan here, hope I'm not disturbing you at an inconvenient time. I love your work as an artist and writer, but it's not just Sonic that you work on. It would be cool to know more about your work Ensouled. What is it about? Who is the ghost guy and the human girl?

Sure, I’ve been wanting to write some new character bios. Check it all out under the break!

CHARLEY PARKHEARSE

Once, long ago, Charley was the best teamster in Santa Alma county. His stagecoach flew over treacherous mountain roads, One crack of his whip could snuff a candle’s flame from six yards, and any bandit who dared to stop his stage would meet the business end of a rifle. Anyone who cared to comment about his sour temper or murky past knew to keep their voices low… and God help any fool who questioned Charley’s refusal to remove his heavy greatcoat, no matter the weather. 

But Charley’s fame was bound to earn him enemies… When the bandit Sugarfoot learned that Charley was in fact born a █████, the secret spread like wildfire through the mountains. Charley was ruined. He thought his life was over, until he was visited by a being dealing in black magic; a devil known in his human guise as Aurelius Flood. This devil promised to erase Charley’s secret from the minds of Santa Alma’s people, restoring Charley’s reputation, in return for his soul. Charley accepted, though he would not learn the depth of his folly until the night he died… and was raised as a ghost by that same devil, now bound to his service. Still, the devil was true to his word. Charley’s secret was safe, even beyond the grave.

At one point in the many decades since his death, Charley thought he could escape Aurelius’ control. But today… he’s given up that hope. He haunts the roads he was once the master of, frightening drivers to meet his quota of Soul and waiting ‘till his memories fade away, taking the pain of his mistakes with them. That is until, in a flash of ill-advised mercy, Charley spares the life of a young woman he scared off the road…

(Charley is LOOSELY based on Charley Darkey Parkhurst, a real historical figure. Look him up! He's a really cool example of a queer, probably trans person ((by today's standards)) in history. The real Charley's dying wish was to be remembered as a man; a wish that has not been respected by history. I want to explore the pros and cons of living closeted or stealth in an ever-changing world, while also honoring his memory and wishes as best I can in a modern context.)

SEQUOIA LOGANBERRY

Sequoia would like you to believe that she is a monster. It’s easier that way. Ever since her father left for a mistress on the east coast in her senior year of high school, Sequoia has been working a dead-end job at the local amusement park and doing her damndest to drink and drive herself into an early grave. And she almost does it… Until a friggin' SKELETON GUY fishes her out of the lake she drove into?! And now she’s getting these insane migraines and seeing spooky shit everywhere???? 

After a close encounter with death (and Charley), Sequoia develops an unpredictable 6th sense that threatens to finish what she started in her car the other night… Until she’s found by the misanthropic wizard Monty and his much nicer siren husband Luka, who help her get her new powers under control… in trade for her helping them with a few odd jobs. Nothing crazy, just, oh, infiltrating the local magical crime lord’s fey court. Sequoia is just the wild card they need to break a fifty-year standoff between the supernatural powers vying for control over Santa Alma. Sequoia will need to learn fast, about both magic and herself, or else end up a pawn in other people’s plans. Will she be able to make the friends she desperately needs and find direction in her life before she’s swept away?

OTHER CHARACTERS INCLUDE...

MONTY MOUROS, aforementioned misanthropic wizard. Older than he looks. Came to Santa Alma in the 1930’s to earn his fortune, and ended up embroiled in one of Charley’s bids for freedom. It didn’t go well, and he still holds a bitter grudge. He’s guarded the local amusement park, the Boardwalk, from Aurelius Flood for years, but other than that has hidden himself from both the magic and mundane worlds for decades.

LUKA, a siren who lost his singing voice in a trap set by Flood. If not for Monty, it would have taken his life. When they were young the two fell in love, and Luka defied his family’s traditions to be with Monty. They’re still together, and Luka is the only person who can get past Monty’s harsh exterior. Luka now runs a speakeasy for spirits hidden beneath the Boardwalk, where he mixes magical cocktails and turns the rumor mill. He is a kind soul who defines himself through service to others…perhaps to a fault. 

AURELIUS FLOOD, The mastermind behind most of Santa Alma’s woes. A cruelly ambitious leprechaun who thrives on greed, he’s been following the money since the time of the Romans. In the 1800’s he came to the new world, where he found fabulous opportunity during the California gold rush. Assuming a human disguise he carved out a business empire in the mundane world, and a criminal one in the magic world. He built Santa Alma himself, engineering the city’s growth. Fattening a pig for the slaughter. Now, the only thing standing between him and his ultimate payday is Monty and the pivotal bit of territory he controls at the Boardwalk. It’s stymied him for years, but he’s got a new plan…

SUGARFOOT, Flood’s left-hand man. As the illegitimate son of a powerful Californio rancher and an Ohlone woman trapped in the California mission system, fate did not deal Sugar a kind hand. After his father’s family lost their rancho, Sugar turned to a life of crime. He got his sarcastic nickname from a festering leg wound he earned in a shootout with Santa Alma’s top teamster, Charley Parkhearse. As his infection grew, so did his hatred… These mountains should belong to him, not some johnny-come-lately from New Hampshire. So he turned to another stranger for help; Aurelius Flood. In trade for his soul, he gained information; a secret that, if it were to get out, would ruin Charley forever. Sugar leapt at the deal, and got exactly the revenge he’d wanted… until Charley came for him, blinded by rage and shame, and shot him dead in the street. In death, Sugar and Charley found themselves in the same situation… bound to serve Flood forever. As coworkers. Hell would have been a mercy. 

(Sugarfoot is also based on a historical figure of the same name, but almost nothing is known about him other than he was a bandit with a very stinky foot. IRL Charley shot him when he tried to raid his stagecoach.) 

ZINNIA LOGANBERRY, Sequoia’s annoyingly precocious little sister. While Sequoia turned to delinquency after their parents’ divorce to avoid her feelings, Zinnia threw herself into her studies for the same reason. She has become the model student and daughter, earning their workaholic mom’s favor… but man, this kid is Burnt. Out. When she finds out about Sequoia’s new adventures with the supernatural, she throws herself into this new world as a release from her demanding daily life only to once again take things too far. And now, the consequences come with fangs, and hair, and claws…

DEBORAH LOGANBERRY, Sequoia and Zinnia’s mother. She knows she could be doing better by her daughters, but ever since her no-good husband left them, she’s been the family’s sole provider. Her job in the city’s planning and zoning department is the only thing keeping them off of the streets, and the price of housing in Santa Alma is only going up. It’s a matter of survival; surely, once they’re more financially stable, she’ll be able to patch things up with Sequoia. And maybe something will come of the new friendship she’s struck up with Mr. Flood. He IS quite the successful developer, after all… perhaps they could be more than friends?

[ourhees]

𝐶𝑂𝐿𝐷 iN LA ── SJY

❄️ 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝖺 .. 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽

PREC𝓲S ｡｡ 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒, 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗁𝖾.

심재윤 ／⠀𝑓𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 reader ── fluff + non 𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑙 au ｡｡ if you know this song, i love you >3< happy birthday to MY MAN !! ∿ ✦ more

♫ iS YOUR BODY TALKING, CAUSE YOU DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY? DO YOU DO THIS OFTEN? IS IT ALL JUST A GAME? TO YOU IM WONDERIN’ , NEVER SEEN THIS SORT OF THING.. AM i THE ONLY ONE YOU CAME TO SEE ?

moving back to your hometown was supposed to be exciting. you got to be with your family again, reconnect with close friends, and experience everything from your childhood. part of you had forgotten you met jake in your hometown.

it was senior year 2019, when jake slipped a note in your locker saying he has a crush on you. at first you hesitated, “ why would the best soccer player at school have a crush on me? ” you were skeptical, but you went for it.

your relationship was perfect.. for a while. miscommunications were happening constantly, leaving you unsure about where your relationship stood. you called it off, leaving yourself and jake heartbroken. to escape your heartbreak, after high school you moved away.

being a few hours away from your hometown was difficult. you didn’t see your parents often, you were alone almost everyday, who lead you to feeling depressed. after some time away, you decided it was finally time to move back home.

you pulled into the driveway of your parents house, turning the car off as you hopped out of the driver seat. you walked to the front door and knocked on it, hoping your mother or father would answer.

“there you are sweetheart, i’m so glad you got here safe.” your mother pulls you in for a warm embrace, being in her arms after a long time felt like a warm blanket on the coldest day.

it was cold after all, it was the middle of december. the snow was falling softly, and your fingers grew red and cold. you got inside, where you reunited with the rest of your family members. over a cup of hot chocolate, your mother asks about jake.

“have you contacted jake since you got here?” she asks, her hand resting on top of your free hand.

jake.. a name you haven’t heard in months. “no.” you quickly said, sipping on your hot chocolate. you wanted to avoid the topic, deep down though, you wanted to know how he was doing.

“you know he visits sometimes… to see your brother” your mom added, you had forgotten your brother and jake were close. “shit..” you mumbled under your breath.

jake and your brother were on the same soccer team, after finding out they had a lot in common, they became close friends. close friends lead to spending the night at each others houses and play video games.

your brother came out of his room to greet you. “been a while, sis.” jaemin hugged you. your brother never hugged you, but you could easily tell he missed you. you caught up with your brother, during the conversation you managed to ask about jake and his well-being.

“so how is he..?” you ask, sipping your hot chocolate to avoid saying his name.

“who?” jaemin teases, forcing you to say the forbidden name.

“jake, stupid.” you roll your eyes, placing the cup onto the nearby coffee table.

“jake’s been alright. we went to nationals and he made us win the golden cup.” jaemin bragged, proud of the moment. “he’s a great guy you know.. i think he misses you.”

jaemin’s words had you for a minute, lost in your thoughts. you couldn’t imagine your ex of almost 5 years missing you, or even holding onto the feeling you.

“you’d think by now he’s probably seeing someone.” you tried to brush off the thought of jake, as much as you tried, he always came back to your thoughts.

you went into your childhood bedroom, your bed made the same way you left it, all your childhood goodies remained safe and tucked exactly where you left them. you skimmed through your shelves, looking past all your school awards and achievements.

your eyes became fixed on a stuffed bear jake had bought you after finding out you won your volleyball tournament, the matching bracelets you bought on a school trip, and other goodies you had saved.

the idea of throwing away anything that belonged to your past relationship hurt you, it was almost like you were throwing away the memories and the idea of him, which was far from the truth. ever since that talk with your brother, you wanted to see jake again, you just needed a way to.

you decided to grab a few essentials for dinner that night, your father promised to make all your favorite comfort meals but needed a few more things. as you were about to check out, you noticed a familiar face at the register.

it was jake, something about his appearance was different. he looked more mature, his hair got longer. he wasn’t the jake you knew back in highschool, he was far from that. nervously, you walked to the register jake was working at. his eyes widened as he met with your figure.

“y/n.. no way?” jake says, he stops scanning your groceries, giving you his full attention.

“hi jake..” you smiled nervously, it had been a while and it was clear you both were nervous.

“when did you come back?” he asks, his dark eyes meeting with yours, sending a familiar feeling up your spine.

“today actually..my dads making dinner tonight so i had to pick up some things. so you work here now?” you ask.

jake nods, smiling dearly. “ i do, it helps pay for university.” he resumes scanning your groceries, placing them all in a bag. “that’ll be $21.97”

you reach in your wallet to grab your card, you hold out the card for him to take and swipe. jake’s hand gently touches yours, you don’t pull away, instead you found yourself yearning for another subtle touch. as jake swipes your card, returning it to you, your fingers touch his.

jake’s face flashed a shade of pink, he grew more nervous. “have a good day y/n.. hope to see you soon.” he waved goodbye, his smile was just how you remembered, soft and sweet.

jake went home that same night, his thoughts were consumed with you. he wondered about what happened after you moved away, what your life was before coming back. he sat on the couch of his apartment, scrolling through his socials as he normally would. suddenly, his phone rang, causing him to jump out of his thoughts.

“hello?” jake answered, it was jaemin.

“hey, you wanna come over and play that new game that came out earlier this week.” jaemin asked, setting up his console for two players.

“yeah i’ll be there.” jake hung up, he grabbed his coat and a few snacks before heading back out.

jake arrived within 5 minutes, while him and your brother stayed up playing video games, you sat in your bed, your attention growing strong onto a book you’d recently gotten into. within a few hours of gaming, jaemin has fallen asleep on the bean bag chair he sat on.

jake got up slowly, he made his way to the door and opened it softly. his figure made it into the hallway, walking towards your half—closed door. jake knocked softly. “can i come in.”

“yeah.” you said, sitting up in your bed and placing your book to your side. “what are you doing up so late?”

“jaemin fell asleep.. and honestly i can’t sleep.” jake sat by the end of your bed, you could hear the tiredness in his voice and his eyes.

“how come?” you asked, leaning against the headboard behind you.

“because you’re back in town.. and i’m always thinking about you. but now, you’re here.. you’re consuming my mind so much y/n.” jake stopped, realizing he had said too much.

“i should go back.. shouldn’t i?” you asked, unsure if what he said was a good thing or bad.

“i don’t want you to go back, your home is here..with me.” jake leaned in close, the closest he’s been since your last moment together as a couple.

jake’s lips softly pressed against yours, pulling you into a sweet and soft kiss. his lips on yours was a familiar feeling, one you hadn’t felt in a long time. you slowly pulled away, jake had realized what he just did, he quickly backed up.

“i’m sorry.. i shouldn’t have done that.” jake got up from your bed. “i’m sorry y/n..” he quickly left your room, leaving you alone in your thoughts, questioning what happens next.

it had been a few nights since the incident in your bedroom, you refused to tell your mom or anyone, except yunjin, your childhood best friend.

you and yunjin were getting ready for a holiday party, you both wore matching red dresses and a similar heel. “so he kissed you?” she asks, finishing up her makeup.

“yeah he did.. i don’t know what to do now.” you sat down, getting ready to place your heels on.

“i say go for it, i mean your brother told you he misses you .. and he pulled that? you should absolutely go for it.” yunjin stops. “only if that’s what you want.”

“i do.. kinda?” you said, you were confused and lost in your thoughts.

life with jake again didn’t sound so bad, in fact you both grew as the years progressed, you matured as individuals and that was what mattered.

you and yunjin arrived at the apartment complex the party was being held at. the music was blasting, drinks were on the table and everyone was enjoying themselves. you sat down on a couch, your drink in hand as you watched everyone have a good time.

“wishing jake was here.. maybe he’d keep my company.”

you thought to yourself, when in reality, you didn’t know how to talk to him after the incident in your bedroom. you sipped your drink, when suddenly jake appeared from the crowd.

“looks like you’re not having fun, parties have never been your thing.” jake smiled, a hand reaching out towards you. “come.. let’s go outside for a bit.

“you remembered..” you smiled, taking his hand as you both walked out to the balcony. “of course i do..” jake adds, opening the door to the spacious area.

you and jake stood beside eachother, it was quiet for a moment, silence consumed most of the air, followed by the loud music coming from inside.

“i miss us.” you blurt out, a rather surprised look forming on jake’s face. “ever since i moved back here i was afraid of seeing you again.”

“why’s that?” jake asks, his hand leaning against the cold medal of the balcony.

“i don’t know..” you sighed. “we’re both confused, are we no-“

jake’s lips crashed onto yours, a sweet kiss you received weeks ago. the smell of his cologne filled your nostrils, it was all too familiar. his hand rested on your lower back, holding you close to him.

“i know what i want.. and that’s you.” jake smiled, holding you close to him. his eyes met with yours, sending a rush of shivers down your spine.

“i want you as well.” you smiled, leaning in to kiss him again.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

part two to this little thing 'cause i saw these tags on the last part from @stevesjester and actually kicked my feet and giggled about it

After Pretty Boy kissed him, Eddie walked back to the staff break room in a daze.

His slow lumbering gait still managed to scare some folks, though, so that’s a plus.

He opens the door, slowly turns to close it softly, and leans back against it once it is.

“Eddie? You okay?” Comes a voice he’d know anywhere. “Wait, that is you, right? You’re supposed to be Piggy Man tonight?”

Eddie pulls the rubber mask off, making his stomach flip thinking about the last time it was pulled up. You know, ‘cause he’s a sap.

Chrissy takes in his shocked, sweaty face, “Oh my god, you okay? What happened?”

He looks up at his roommate (best friend, sister) in her bloody cheerleader costume, an ironic holdout from their time in high school, and breathes a laugh, “I fell in love.”

“OMG OMG tell me everything right now!!” Chrissy bounces over to him excitedly and pulls him down to the bench of their one (1) break table, a sagging plastic picnic table.

He looks up at her bright happy face and barks out a half hysterical laugh, “I can’t believe you’re this excited about me potentially falling in love with someone I’m literally being paid to scare.”

“Oooh, so they were a runner??”

“Yeah, literally in this case.”

“Start talking, Munson, or I’m going to throw all your guitar picks down the garbage disposal.”

“Okay, okay, Jesus Christ.. Okay, so I did my usual creepy husky voice at him, called him all the usual things,”

“Let me guess, you started with ‘pretty boy’?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause he’s pretty. Duh. Damn was he pretty…”

“Uh huh. And you fell in love with him ‘cause he was pretty?”

“No, no of course not, listen to this:” Eddie sits up straighter in preparation for the story. “I had him backed into a corner, right? The fake gate over in section 2B,”

“Ah yes, of course.”

“Yeah! And when I lunged at him, he caught my arm, and spun me around.”

“Shut. Up.”

“No, never. SO he’s got me backed against the fence, and he–I swear to fucking Jesus H. Christ–lifts my mask up and kisses me.”

Chrissy starts to squeal incoherently. “Eeeeee!!! Shutupshutupshutup!! Holy shit there’s no way this happened!!”

“Look, 100% serious right now; he kissed me stupid, and spun around and booked it again.”

“Pretty Boy distracted you with a kiss to escape!?! I cannot believe this, c’mon..” Crissy grabs ahold of his arm again and pulls him out of the breakroom with her insane unchecked leftover cheer squad strength.

“Whoa, what? Where’re we going?? He’s probably gone by now! I was standing over in 2B like an idiot for a while after he left!!”

“Not that, we gotta go see Argyle.”

“Argyle why—ohhh shit. Oh my god, you think they caught it on camera?” Eddie’s actively following her now.

The two burst into the warehouses’ security office, where they’re met with the backs of two ‘zombie’ guards (and the leftover smell of weed).

“Argyle, Jonathan, you need to look at something for us,”

“Is it the footage of Eddie’s makeout sesh in 2B? ‘Cause we’re waaayy ahead of you pompom.”

“Ah!! Holy shit he was telling the truth?!” Chrissy bodies between the two, sending Argyle rolling away on his chair, and Jonathan staggering back a step.

“Dude, that’s so cool of your boyfriend to come to the haunt, keepin’ us in business.” Argyle directs at Eddie, though still spinning slowly in his chair.

“He’s not my–you thought he was my boyfriend?”

“Yeah man, why else would you look at him like that.” Jonathan points down at the screen. 

Chrissy re-winds it again and Eddie watches himself charge forward at Pretty Boy (damn, he’s still pretty though this grainy footage too, how the fuck is that possible??), get spun and–oh shit, they’re right.

“Oh Jesus Christ.” he hangs his head into his hands, falling down into Jonathan’s previously abandoned chair.

“Sooo…he’s not your boyfriend..?”

Chrissy re-winds the footage again. Squeals happily.

“Nope. Just met him tonight.”

“Wow dude, that’s like, love at first sight if I ever saw it.”

She re-winds it again, squeals.

“Yeah I know, it’s embarrassing as shit, alright?” Eddie’s still talking into his palms.

Chrissy snorts at that, “Not for you! Well..kinda..but him too, did you not see that pause?”

“...What pause?”

His question goes unanswered as Jon and Argyle move back in over Chrissy’s shoulders and after a few seconds both “Ohh…” in sync.

“The fuck’re you talking about?”

“Look,” She re-winds the tape once again and points, “Watch after he lifts your mask.”

So he does, and..okay, there was a pause.

“...So?”

“He totally fell in love with you at the same time you did him. Fell with him. With each other?”

“You both fell in love at the same time.” Chrissy says what Jonathan was trying to. “We have GOT to find this guy somehow.”

Chrissy records the footage on the screen with her phone, intending to post it online to find the guy, but Argyle’s positive he’s gonna show back up tonight.

“Give him a chance, pompom, he’s totally in love too, remember?”

“Fine, but if he doesn’t come back today, I’m posting this. Maybe it’ll get us some more business too.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer.

“No.” Yep, there it is.

So, he rolls his eyes, puts his mask back on, and finishes out the night like everything is normal and he didn’t just fall head over fuckin’ heels for a random (hot) stranger earlier.

He’s done for the night before Chrissy since she’s got a lot of that fake blood to try and wash off, so he grabs up his stuff and heads out the front, intending to wave bye to Gareth at the front counter before braving the frigid late fall wind to warm up his car (and move it closer to the entrance so Chrissy doesn't have to walk in the cold). 

“See ya Ed,” Gareth calls, and he waves over his shoulder at him as he passes, his attention pulled to a blonde with a choppy bob looking in through the glass of the door, partially silhouetted by the bright ass headlights of a shiny Tesla parked behind her.

He can see the shadow of someone in the driver seat too, as he gets closer and opens the door for her, their face only partially lit up through the tinted glass by the glow of a phone screen.

She starts rambling off immediately after the door is open. “Oh my god, I thought we were too late and you were closed and I completely didn’t even realize I’d left something here when we were here earlier an–”

“Nope, no worries, ma’am, just go talk to Gareth at the front counter and he can tell you if someone turned in…whatever it is you left here.”

She says her thanks and scoots past him, and he spins quickly towards the side lot where his old Neon is parked.

He glances back when he hears the bell chime over the door, a bit delayed (probably the wind holding it open), and sees that the Tesla’s stopped beaming their headlights into the front door, that’s nice of them.

He unlocks his car and gets in, turning the engine over and cranking the heat as high as it’ll go. Once the engine stops it’s signature ‘I’m cold as fuck rn, don’t even try to move me’ rattle, he drives to the front door to wait for Chrissy, pulling in next to the burgundy Tesla.

He scrolls down TikTok for a couple minutes before a banner pops up on his screen

Chris C.: oh my holy fucking shit eddie, get your ass back inside!

Panicking, he races back in through the door, not even bothering to shut off his engine (or close his car door for that matter), thinking shiny Telsa duo is like, robbing the place or something, but as soon as he gets back in, he’s stopped dead in his tracks.

His heart’s still beating a mile a minute, but now with nerves.

Because standing infront of the counter are Chrissy (who���s actually vibrating with excitement), choppy blonde, and…

Oh fuck.

No way.

“H–hi, hi. I’m Steve, you’re Eddie right?”

He can’t help the grin that splits across his face. “Hey, pretty boy.”

thanks to @henderdads for rightfully pointing out that modern day rich boy steve would probably have a tesla <3

tagging everyone i saw in the tags of the last post that seemed interested in more/wanted to see the aftermath lmao: @bangarangdarling, @tartarusknight, @kas-eddie-munson, @wormdebut (AMAZING url btw), @vecnuthy, @perseus-notjackson, @homosexual-having-tea, @matchingbatbites, @scarcrossdlvrs, @anzelsilver, @auroraplume, @kkpwnall, @wildwildsoul, @bennys-burgers, @steveharringtonssluttywaist

[metalhoops]

Steve was used to climbing out windows. Before his junior year, he’d made a habit of entering through and escaping from girls' houses unnoticed. He was stealthy. He’d learned how to scale trees and tread lightly across roof shingles with the deftness of a nocturnal animal. Yet, for the first time, he found himself escaping his own home. There was a first time for everything, right? 

Steve’s parents were home. The second Steve saw the familiar BMW pull into the Harrington’s driveway, he knew he wanted to be anywhere but home. His parents were only palatable when he had good news, but all he had to tell them was that after their last visit, The Mall had burnt down and he’d gotten a new job at a video store. He really was doing the family proud. He didn’t want to deal with it, not today. 

That’s how he found himself crawling out his bedroom window, shimmying across the guttering and trying not to sprain his ankles as he dropped onto the lawn. He headed out back, past his pool and into the woods. Usually, it was the last place you’d find Steve. He kept expecting to run into a Demogorgon or something equally as nasty. 

He walked for a while without direction, trudging through the underbrush until the rustling of leaves behind him set his teeth on edge. His body moved before his mind had time to keep up. He spun on his heels, hand scrabbling to the forest floor in search of a weapon. It supplied him with a fallen tree branch, almost too large to heft comfortably, but he did it, running on adrenaline. He came face to face with a familiar, wide-eyed boy. 

“Holy shit, Harrington. Take it down like ten notches,” the boy grumbled, showing his upturned hands as though trying to calm a startled animal. 

Hawkins was a small town, the kind of place where everybody knew everybody. Steve knew the boy with deep brown eyes and dark hair, halloed by fallen leaves, was none other than Eddie Munson, or as he was colloquially known, ‘The Freak’. They’d gone to high school together. He thought the guy was due to repeat his senior year, again. He didn’t know what he was doing alone in the woods. 

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

You couldn’t blame him for being on high alert. Even if Eddie was someone he’d grown up with, that didn’t make him safe. Steve was still riled up after running down Billy Hargrove with his car. He was paranoid. He’d had a rough couple of years. 

“Collecting sticks,” Eddie breathed, indicating the large bundle in his hand. 

“Collecting sticks?” Steve echoed. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe him. He couldn’t fathom why the guy was doing it.

“Yeah, I’m making a miniature log cabin for my D&D campaign, and you know, miniature logs are just... sticks—you don’t care, anyway. Sorry for startling you, my liege.” Steve tilted his head, thinking the acronym was familiar. 

“Is that the dragon game, with the Demogorgon and junk?” Eddie looked at Steve like he’d sprouted a third head.

“How the hell do you, Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington, know what D&D is?” 

Steve wished people would stop calling him that. Every time he heard the stupid nickname it felt like someone was rubbing chunks of asphalt into his gravel rash. He wondered if Eddie felt the same about his title. 

The old Steve would’ve used it just to spite the guy, to see what buttons he could push, not because he wanted to but because it was expected of him. It wasn’t an excuse. He knew that. Instead, Steve shrugged his shoulders and told the truth, something the old Steve never would’ve done.

“I babysit some nerds who play it,” he confessed. 

Eddie looked at Steve in wonder. He was puzzled, amazed and, for once, a little intrigued. He’d never looked at Steve like that back in high school. The two rarely crossed paths and when they did, they never spoke. Sure, Eddie ranted about ‘jocks’ as a whole, but Steve had always just been one piece of a puzzle. It would seem redundant to yell at a patch of blue and grey for being a picture of the sky. 

“Why did you need to take up a babysitting gig?” 

To answer that, Steve had to embellish a little. Maybe he no longer liked lying about who he was, but he couldn’t exactly dump the cosmic mind fuck that was The Upside Down on some unsuspecting guy. 

“I needed money.” 

“You needed money? What, did you get cut off?” Steve shrugged in response. 

“Christ, what did you do? Piss in a family urn? Trash the house? Get a girl pregnant?” Eddie questioned.

“I think generally existing was enough to do it,” Steve mumbled, kicking at the dirt beneath his shoes. 

Eddie let out a low whistle. 

“Hey Harrington, think fast,” Eddie called, throwing the bundle of twigs in his direction. Steve dropped the branch and grabbed the bundle with wide eyes. 

“What was that for?” Steve choked. 

“What are you doing in this neck of the woods, anyway?” Eddie asked instead of responding. Steve shrugged, still cradling the bundle to his chest. 

“Avoiding my parents.” 

“You got any plans for the rest of the day?” Eddie spoke. Steve responded with a shake of his head. 

“Well, you know, this really is a two-person job, so if you wanted to come back to my place, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” 

For some reason, Steve agreed. 

Eddie had a habit of collecting strays. 

There was the cat he’d kept under the bed when he was six and the gathering of stray dogs that hung around the back of the trailer park that he’d been feeding for as long as he could remember. The same theory applied to people. He made friends with the loners, the weird kids, the ones with wide eyes and nowhere to go. He was a bleeding heart, so sue him. However, he’d never expected Steve Harrington to trigger his urge to protect and befriend. That really hit Eddie out of left field. 

Never in Eddie’s wildest dreams did he imagine he and Steve would be sitting across from each other at his small dining table, Steve’s knee pressed on the inside of Eddie’s thigh. The jock’s still hands held small bits of twigs in place as Eddie worked around him with his hot glue gun. The guy had seemed so lost, back in the woods, so unlike how Eddie remembered him. He knew about D&D for Christ’s sake. Eddie wondered if he’d woken up in an alternate universe because it seemed like Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. 

He asked Eddie about his goddamn log cabin, tavern. Then he’d pushed deeper. ‘Why do you need a bar in a game about dragons’? To which Eddie explained, of course, you do more than just fight dragons, which appeared to be news to Steve. Besides his friends, no one showed interest in Eddie’s ‘stupid little fantasy game’. With Steve, questions came thick and fast. Eddie loved every second of it. When he’d asked why Steve cared so much, the guy had shrugged his shoulders and muttered,

“I might be able to impress the kids.” 

Eddie decided to ask about ‘the kids’. He and Steve didn’t have much in common. Sure, the two could commiserate about high school together, but neither man was in the mood to do that. And god, Steve could talk about ‘the kids’. 

“I run a D&D club called Hellfire. If they’re starting high school this year, send ‘em my way. I’ll tuck your little ducklings under my wing. Keep the big scary jocks away from ‘em,” Eddie noted, feeling comfortable enough with Steve to take a jab at him. Steve surprised him again by snorting out a laugh.

“Make sure you do. That Jason kid’s a senior, right? Total psychopath. The kid would peg basketballs at pigeons.” 

By the time the sun set, the boys were in stitches and had a fairly decent log cabin to show for a day’s work. Eddie was surprised that the idea of Steve leaving set a pit in his stomach.

“Hey, Steve? We should do this again,” Eddie proposed, and Steve was too quick to agree. 

“I have work tomorrow morning, but how about the afternoon?” 

Eddie hadn’t expected the guy to be as keen as he felt. 

“It’s a date,” Eddie agreed, before promptly wanting to shove his head through a miniature log cabin. A date? Really, Munson? 

A flicker of amusement crossed Steve’s face as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his too-tight jeans. Mind out of the gutter, Munson. You were doing so well. 

“You’re weird, you know that?” Steve remarked, running his hand through his trademark hair, and yeah, Eddie should’ve expected that. 

Now Steve was going to call him a Freak, the ‘King Steve’, he’d heard about would make an appearance and Eddie would be glad he dodged a bullet by cutting his crush off at the knees before it had the chance to grow legs. 

“Weird is good,” Steve corrected, seeming aware of Eddie’s inner turmoil. 

“One thing I’ve learnt about myself since high school is that I like weird.”

Oh, no. Eddie was so gone for Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. 

Read Part 2

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

I know that Halloween is over but I still gotta talk about this Hocus Pocus au I thought up

(Human) Adam just moved to Salem, the witch capital of the U.S and the whole town is telling ghost stories of Lucifer Morningstar, the famous male witch who swore he’d be back to take revenge on the townspeople before he was hung by the neck until dead.

Adam thinks this is a crock of shit, so he and his new friend Lute and his sister Emily sneak into Lucifer’s house (which has since been turned into a small museum) legend tells that Lucifer can only return if a virgin lights the black flame candle and Adam is being less than honest about his sexual exploits to his new friend.

As a joke to freak them both out he lights the candle. Unfortunately for him, it works and the witch appears in a violent gust of wind

That’s all I got but I just like the idea of Adam trying to escape from witch Lucifer

MY DUDE I LOVE THIS!!! @fanofstuff01 @beef-brisket

And I'm going to have him and Lute be like freshmen in college so Adams like 19-20 and Emily is like say a senior in high school her and Adam are a year apart.

And yes they had Emily out trick or treating because she's short en to get away with it and said "teenagers are allowed candy too".

-

Lute: Adam come on this isn't funny, the curse is real.

Adam: It's not real because witches and magic aren't real. The trails were just so they could hang a bunch of people who didn't agree with their beliefs.

They looked around the museum house and at night it's creepy especially being in the woods. Emily turned on a light so they could see.

Emily: Can we go?

Adam: No look at all this cool stuff! And that book? Says it's bound in real human flesh...... Gross.

Lute watched as Adam went over to the black candle.

Lute: Don't light that! If a virgin lights the candle it's said that Lucifer Morningstar will come back from the dead.

Adam burst out laughing: Good thing I'm not a virgin then.

Emily raised a brow: You only dated Eve for like a week.

Adam: You can have sex in a week!

The truth was they only made out a little bit and then her folks didn't want her having a boyfriend until after she graduated from high school.

So yes, Adam is a virgin. But his fucking sister doesn't need to know that!

He pulled out his lighter and smirked, curses and magic what a load of shit.

Lute: Adam no!

Adam lit the candle: See, nothing to-.....

The house started to violently shake, the floorboards glowed underneath and a laughter could be heard.

Lute: The fuck!?

Emily glared at Adam: A virgin lit the candle.

Adam: W-what!? It's okay! I'll just blow it out!

He blew out the candle but the flame came back.

Lute and Emily's eyes went wide when they saw a man that matches Lucifer's picture come out from the back room.

Lucifer: And who do I owe the pleasure to? Hmm? Oh, you.~

Adam turned around and jumped, what the fuck!?

Lute: We should go.

Adam: Good idea.

They all turn to run out the door, Emily and Lute make it out but the door slams in Adams face locking him in.

Adam: Fuck!

Emily bangs on the door: Adam!!

Adam tried pulling on the door but it was no use. Chills crept up his spine when a low laugh echoed in the room. He turned to see Lucifer standing there with his book now in hand.

Lucifer: Oh, you weren't leaving already were you?~

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

🍂🍁🎃

❤️ just some tooth rotting fluff involving Eddie and his not so secret admirer

🎃💌

Eddie was in hell. Who's idea was it to do this stupid shit again?

A banner hung from outside the school that proclaimed today was Boo Day 👻🎃 a day dedicated to your boo (partner) or someone you admired.

Who had came up with this monstrosity you ask? Why that was Miss O'Donnell. She had the idea to have the day before Halloween dedicated to love. Where she had even had an idea like that was anyone's guess but Eddie was pretty certain that the old bat had lost her mind.

Or teaching Eddie for three years had finally driven her crazy.

Everywhere he looked people were cooing over mystery cards that they had gotten from a secret admirer.

This was another thing he hated about this whole day, he had to suffer through Valentine's Day, now he has to go through this shit as well? Who the hell would send him a card like that?

He'd be slightly jealous if he didn't think this was load of bullshit.

He dodges excited students dressed up as ghosts and pumpkins, students who Miss O'Donnell had cajoled into delivering cards and gifts to people who had participated in the card and gift exchange.

Finally there is a hint of escape when he barges into the drama room and breathes a sigh of relief. Jesus h Christ that was a nightmare.

It takes Eddie a second to realise that he's not alone. His heart skips a beat when he realises you're with him.

🎃💌

You're settled on one of the desks with a serene smile on your face that disappears the moment you hear the door open.

Once you see it's just Eddie and no loved up couples looking for a place to make out, you feel yourself relaxing once more.

"Hey Eddie" the haggard look on his face morphs into a genuine smile, all cute dimples and big brown eyes lighting up.

He was so cute and you had the biggest crush on him and you had planned to tell him, today in fact but his loud proclamation that this day was all a bunch of bullshit made you chicken out of handing him the card you made.

You doubted he felt the same anyway, he probably had a crush on one of the cheerleaders or someone like that.

Even if he said he didn't conform to societal standards you still caught him checking out the cheerleaders once or twice. You weren't a cheerleader or popular or anything like that, you just did what you liked and right now that was occasionally joining in on a Hellfire campaign or drawing or writing, honestly anything creative was your thing.

"So do you not have a secret admirer you made a card for?" Eddie teases and you clam up, avoiding his eyes.

"Maybe it's not like he feels the same though" you murmur and notice that Eddie isn't smiling anymore, in fact he looks kinda pissed and a little sad.

"Right, so I guess it's some popular douchebag or something?" He mutters and you try to figure out why his mood has suddenly changed so dramatically.

Was he jealous of who you liked? Didn't he realise that it was him you were smitten by. Shit what if he didn't... Feeling brave you decide to tell him how you feel and hope that he feels the same way or at least things aren't awkward between you after it all.

"It's you. I made a card for you Eddie" shit you wish the ground would swallow you up. The waiting to know how he felt was horrendous, if he laughed in your face you're sure that you'd high tail it out of here.

Instead of laughing he's gawking at you and you're ready to leave and hope to forget this all but something in his expression stops you.

"Maybe I should thank Miss O'Donell after all then" he's grinning widely and looks thrilled. "Can I see the card sweetheart?" flustered you nod and hand him the card.

It has a hand drawn picture of a pumpkin patch and you wrote inside if you were a pumpkin I would pick you 🎃❤️

Cheesy yes but you thought it was cute. Now however you're second guessing that decision and mortification fills you. Shit. This was a bad idea.

The anxiety leaves you when Eddie looks up at you smiling, he hides his face with his hair and it's so adorable.

"Aww shucks sweetheart, that's so cute. Just so you know I feel the same about you, I like you a lot princess and I'm thinking that maybe I could take you on a date"

Beaming you kiss his cheek and nod. "Where were you thinking?" he holds up your card and points to the pumpkin.

"I'm thinking of visiting the Pumpkin patch in town" he suggests and the idea is so perfect that you can't help but giggling.

"Sounds perfect"

🎃❤️

[itadorey]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: in an attempt to distract gojo, yaga sends him on a quest to locate you; a missing member of the zenin clan with prophetic dreams. genre: pre-relationship, humor, fluff notes: college gojo makes me feral. i think he would've been a menace. i also kind of want to continue this as a series of one shots (set in the same universe but not necessarily a multi-chapter fic). wc: ~3k song inspo ♫: ruby sparks by monet ngo

"i saw you in my dreams."

gojo chuckles at the words, a flirty smile appearing on his face as he tilts his head up to look at the person that's speaking to him. he can't help the way his eyes briefly widen when he sees your face, recognizing you as the very person he was sent to find.

he understands that yaga wants to give him a distraction, a getaway from all the shit that has happened to him in the past few years. but going undercover at the university of tokyo to locate you, a supposedly important jujutsu sorcerer, wasn't exactly how he wanted to spend his post-high school years. now that you're standing in front of him, he can't really find it in himself to complain. not when he realizes just how pretty you are.

he quickly composes himself, leaning back in his seat before motioning for you to sit. you glance at the seat across from him uncertainly, refusing to move. there's a conflicted look on your face as you scan your surroundings, almost as if looking for an escape route. you look like you regret speaking in the first place.

"i'm flattered, really," gojo says, shamelessly checking you out over his sunglasses. "but that's kind of a cheesy pickup line, isn't it?"

your nose scrunches up at you look at him, and you stutter a few times as you lean against the table. gojo watches with an amused smile that quickly drops when you finally gather your thoughts. "ew! that was not an attempt to flirt with you!"

there's a moment of silence before you sigh and slip into the seat across from gojo. you place your elbows on the table, head in your hands as you stare down at the table. another minute passes before you look up, making brief eye contact with gojo's sunglasses before fully laying your head down. "listen, this is gonna sounds crazy."

"try me," gojo says, smirking as he leans forward. one of his elbows rests on the table, check in hand as he watches you struggle with your thoughts.

he's never met you before, hell, he hasn't even seen you before this moment, but the faint cursed energy that surrounds you lets him know exactly who you are. you're a member of the zen'in clan, labeled as missing when your parents fled a couple years after you were born. the discovery of your prophetic dreams had made you an instant target, and you had been so well hidden from society that even gojo and yaga had had a hard time finding you. there was absolutely no information on your childhood or adolescence, and the only way they had managed to locate you was due to a wayward curse you had taken upon yourself to exorcise. the recent spike of your cursed energy had caused an uproar in the jujutsu community, and a race had begun to see who could get to you first.

between jujutsu high, the zen'in clan, the higher-ups, and a special grade curse, gojo thought he was the best option.

"okay, come on," gojo says, standing up and stretching before pushing his chair in. you finally look up, frustration visible on your face as you stare at him. your expression quickly morphs into confusion when gojo gently grabs your arm, tugging you up from your seat and slinging your bag over his shoulder before interlocking arms with you.

"where are we going?" you ask, stumbling after him. he's taller than you, and you find yourself struggling to keep up with his long strides.

"we're gonna go get some coffee!" he says, smiling at you. "i know a place. besides, i wanna know all about those dreams you had of me."

"you don't think i'm lying to you?" you say, eyeing him skeptically. "or that i'm crazy?"

your question goes unanswered, but the look he sends you makes your stomach twist with nervousness. there's a glint in his eye that catches you off guard, and you find yourself wondering if he knows more than he's letting on.

your mind races as he walks you off campus, chatting your ear off as you go. he doesn't receive a single response from you, yet your silence doesn't seem to bother him. if anything, it only motivates him to talk even more, and you find yourself almost enjoying the way he doesn't let the silence last more than a few seconds.

"oh look! there it is," gojo says, fully capturing your attention as he motions towards a small café. it's a small, charming place, one street over, visible through the alleyway the two of you are currently standing in front of. you come to a full stop when he makes a move to walk down the alley, inadvertently pulling him back to your side when he realizes you won't budge.

"what's wrong?" he asks, leaning down to catch your eye. you're met with a startingly blue gaze, and you shift from one foot to another as you tear your eyes away from him. "oh, i know! i bet you're nervous for our date!"

"this isn't a date!" you snap, finally pulling your arm away from him. you can feel a headache coming as he giggles, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walks into the alley. "wait!"

gojo halts at your words, turning around to fully face you. he watches you curiously as you take a few tentative steps forward, a shiver running down your spine when you enter the alley as well. there's a coldness seeping through your bones as you approach gojo, and when you turn to look behind you, it feels as though you've left the busy streets of tokyo completely.

"what's wrong?" gojo asks, the smile still on his face as he observes your reaction. you're almost certain that he knows something you don't at this point.

"this alley," you start, wringing your hands as you take a step back. "this is where we were. in my dream, i mean."

"and what exactly were we doing here?" gojo asks, his teasing tone earning a scowl from you. "this alley is quite inconspicuous, and we're all alone."

the insult you had ready dies on the tip of your tongue as you notice movement behind gojo, and his eyebrows furrow as he notices the sudden change in your demeanor.

"so, in my dream we were here. and you were in danger. i couldn't do anything to help and you—," you cut yourself off, nervousness coating your words as you start to close in on gojo. you ready yourself to fight, remembering every detail about your dream as the curse lurking in the alleyway reveals itself. you curse to yourself as it notices you, and you absentmindedly note that it seems be a grade 1 curse.

"and i?" gojo asks, curiosity coloring his words as he tilts his head in confusion. he hasn't moved at all, and you find yourself wondering if he can sense cursed spirits. in your dream it seemed like he could.

you inhale sharply as the curse lunges, and you notice too late that this scene isn't playing out the same way it had in your dream. you throw yourself at gojo, eyes wide with panic as you realize you're just a bit too far to reach him.

"you have to move!" you shriek, your heart pounding as gojo simply grins at you. he raises his hand silently, fingers twisting as he mutters something under his breath. the curse is killed instantly, and you find yourself collapsing to your knees as you look at gojo in shock.

"y-you—"

"me!" gojo cheers, cutting you off as he approaches you. he hauls you onto your feet and loops his arm with yours once again, guiding you past the disintegrating curse and emerging on the other side of the alley. you spare another glance back at the corpse, swallowing harshly before turning to look at the sorcerer standing next to you.

"who are you?" you ask quietly. the smile doesn't slip from gojo's face as he holds the cafe door open for you, following closely after you and guiding you to an empty table.

"how about we order first? and then i'll answer all of your questions," gojo says, picking up a stray menu and flipping through it casually as if he hasn't just taken down a grade 1 curse with ease. he notices your stare but doesn't comment on it, instead choosing to place the menu back on the table before waving over a server.

"can i get a slice of cake with two forks? oh! and two glasses of chocolate milk please."

gojo twiddles his thumbs as the two of you wait for your order, and you find yourself fully studying him for the first time since you approached him. he's sitting casually, leaning back slightly in a relaxed manner as he hums a song under his breath. when he notices your stare, he sends you a small grin and proceeds to go back to observing his surroundings.

he's much too relaxed for someone who just had an encounter with a curse, and you realize that he truly does know a lot more than you originally thought.

"here's your order!"

gojo thanks the server enthusiastically as you mutter your appreciation, your hands closing around the glass he pushes towards you without much thought.

"so, who are you?" you finally ask, repeating the question that gojo had ignored earlier. he laughs at your words, grabbing one of the forks and taking a bite of cake as he extends the other one to you. he waits for you to grab the fork, using his own to pick up another piece of cake before he notices you don't make a move to take it from him.

"what? you want me to feed you instead?" he asks, eyelashes fluttering as he gives you a flirty smile. he places the fork meant for you back on the table, leaning in closer and bringing his own fork to your mouth. "i guess that would be more date-like. okay, say ah!"

his enthusiasm dies down when he notices the frown tugging at your lips, and he deflates in defeat when you push his hand aside and reach for the other fork. you fiddle with it for a couple of seconds before placing it back down and looking at him with a glare.

"who are you?" you demand once more, your eye twitching in annoyance when gojo opens his mouth. you have no doubt he's about to say something stupid. "if you don't tell me, i will scream for help."

his mouth clamps shut as he studies you quietly, taking another bite of the cake before sighing.

"my name is gojo satoru," he finally says, holding his hand out to you as he introduces himself. you place your hand in his hesitantly, a gasp leaving you when he brings your hand up to his mouth and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles. "and you, you're a zen'in."

gojo watches as your eyes go wide at his words, and you yank your hand out his grasp before looking around nervously.

"no, i'm not," you say quietly. "i've never heard that name in my life."

you receive a funny look from gojo, and he crosses his arms before snorting. "yeah, ok. i totally believe you."

"how do you know that name," you say quietly, your eyes still scanning your surroundings. your shoulders are tense, and gojo can tell that you're seconds away from sprinting out of your seat and away from him.

"it's a pretty well known name in the jujutsu world," gojo responds, his head tilting as he looks at you questioningly. "so you know about curses, but not about the clans?"

"sorry, i'm afraid learning about the politics of the jujutsu world was the least of my worries," you reply sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you do so. gojo thinks it's kind of endearing. "the information on curses was much more important, so i kinda just tuned out my parents when they gave me that lecture."

gojo chuckles, shaking his head slightly at your words. he leans forward without much thought, holding out three fingers as he speaks. "there's three big jujutsu families that exist. there's the kamo clan, the gojo clan, and the zen'in clan. you and i belong to two of those. and all three of them are looking for you."

you shift in your seat at his words, giving him a wary glance before shrugging nonchalantly. "so you found me first. now what?"

there's a slight nervousness to your tone, causing gojo to frown. he shrugs, grabbing his glass and taking a drink. "i dunno. i wasn't sent on behalf of the gojo clan. i was sent by yaga masamichi, the principal of tokyo jujutsu high. we have no plans to turn you over to the higher-ups, it that makes this situation any better."

"then what do you plan on doing?"

"now that, i also don't know," gojo confesses. he notices the look of irritation on your face and chuckles. "all we know is that your power is too strong to be left unchecked. now, i'm not necessarily kidnapping you, but i am asking you to return to the school with me and speak with yaga. we think there's a way that your dreams could help jujutsu sorcerers know what they could possibly be dealing with on a mission ahead of time."

"i don't think that'll be possible," you mutter, frowning down at the table. you seem lost in thought, and gojo gives you a moment of silence before he speaks.

"what do you mean by that?" gojo's voice is soft, his eyebrows knit in concern as you give him a worried look.

"i mean that i don't think my dreams are reliable," you whisper, panic lacing your words.

"they're prophetic dreams!" gojo yells quietly. "what do you mean they're not reliable."

"ok, look," you say, pausing to reach for the half-eaten slice of cake. you finally take a bite, eyes lighting up as you hum with delight. "that is good! ok, anyways, i don't think my dreams are truly prophetic."

"that's literally not possible," gojo argues, eyes wide in disbelief. "it's a part of your cursed technique! everyone knows that the zen'in clan members with this ability are never wrong."

"well they are now!"

"what do you mean by that?"

"i mean that my dream wasn't accurate," you explain, taking another bite of the cake. you ignore gojo's confused look, sighing before pushing the plate back towards him. "that dream i had of you? yeah the real-life scenario didn't play out the way it was supposed to."

gojo's stare hardens as he processes your words, and he pushed the cake aside as he looks at you questioningly. "what do you mean it didn't play out the way it was supposed to?"

"you were supposed to die," you confess, your voice no louder than a whisper. the silence between the two of you is heavy, and you wonder if your admission was much too harsh. "in my dream, the curse attacked you after i failed to protect you. i don't know what changed."

"well, i'm the strongest sorcerer alive, so there's your answer," gojo says, an uncertain smile on his face as he tries to lighten the mood. "besides, i had to step up my game. i wasn't going to leave someone as precious as you to defend yourself."

his efforts pay off as you huff out a laugh. it's weak, but it manages to dispel the heaviness that had been previously present.

"listen," gojo begins, his tone uncharacteristically serious for the first time since you've approached him. "i'm not trying to freak you out or anything, but that's incredibly strange. there has never been a zen'in prophetic dream that didn't come true. i really think you should speak with yaga, or tengen. but i won't force you to."

"tengen?" you ask, confusion on your face as you look down at the table. "who's that?"

"long story," gojo breathes, making the decision to let yaga fill you in on that. "but what do you say? i'd really like to figure this out, but i kinda need you in order to be able to do that."

there's a moment of hesitation on your end, and gojo finds himself tensing up as he waits for you to speak. he's almost certain that you're going to decline, and he's afraid that once you walk out of the café, you'll be gone forever once again. his fears are dispelled when you look up to meet his gaze, determination clearly visible in your eyes as you nod.

"okay, i'll go with you."

"great!" gojo says, his grin reappearing as he stands. he places a small wad of cash on the table before walking around the table to you and offering you his hand. you've barely slipped your hand into his before he tugs you towards him, his grin getting wider as you bump into his chest. you don't get the chance to say anything before he's walking out of the café, throwing a cursory glance around before heading down the street. "let's get out of here. we shouldn't stay in one place too long, just in case."

gojo chatters endlessly once again as you presumably head towards tokyo jujutsu high, and you find yourself staring at him as you recall your entire day in your mind. gojo satoru had single-handedly disrupted the course of fate, and neither one of you had any idea as to how.

you can feel a headache coming on the longer you stare at him, and you finally look away when he glances back at you and gives you a charming grin.

you have no idea who gojo satoru is, but if he has the power to change the course of your prophetic dreams, then you're determined to find out more about him.

and he sure as hell wasn't going to complain about that.

reblogs are appreciated <3 thank you for reading!!

[floralcyanide]

𝟑𝟎,𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫

jackson rippner x f!reader

Usually, airports were the bane of your existence due to your career and the constant requirement to travel. But when you stumble upon a handsome man at the airport bar, your disdain for flying seems to change.

warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, public sex, mile-high shenanigans

word count: 2780

author’s note: not proofread again lulz but when do I ever?? anyway I got a request for this and had to write it right away because I love jackson sm omg. please lmk if you enjoyed and send some feedback <3

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

You wouldn’t mind it if you didn’t have to step foot inside another airport for the rest of your life.

Unfortunately, your career requires you to travel every month, so your escape from airports will have to wait. You doubt there’s anything that will make your experiences with the liminal spaces any brighter or more profound- you doubt there’s anything that would make them even a smidge exciting. But, who knows, maybe one day you’ll eat your words. So, until then, you’ll fast-walk through airports and terminals with your carry-on with the deepest resting bitch face you can conjure up. And it appears that today will be yet another day that you muster up one.

Deciding to hit the best bar in the DFW airport during your routine TSA spiel, you weave around the other flyers in the corridors in a hurry. Even if your red eye flight has been delayed about two hours, you figure two hours in an airport could be better spent drinking. After scouring the entire airport numerous times on each trip you’ve taken from DFW, you finally settled upon a corner bar near your gate. After passing by it a few times, you decided to give it a chance. Its appearance is initially off-putting- it is dark and moody. Still, it had an oddly comfortable atmosphere and good drinks, obviously. You stroll up to the bar, smiling and nodding to the bartender you’ve come to know here. Going to sit in your usual booth, you discover there’s someone already seated there.

“If this were middle school, I’d tell you this is my spot,” you joke as you approach the man, whose face is covered by his long bangs.

A pair of sharp blue eyes glance up at you from their place on the cocktail menu in his large hands, and a sweet smile graces his lips when he looks you over, “I certainly apologize for stealing your spot. Care to join me? I can buy you a drink to make up for it.”

You give him a questioning look, half-joking with your tone, “What’s in it for me?”

“A free drink and your spot back,” the man says haughtily, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Deal,” you reach a hand out for him to shake.

“Deal,” the man says, accepting your hand and shaking it firmly.

You slide into the booth, sizing the man up, “What’s your name?”

“Jackson,” the man says, his eyes nearly piercings into yours, “Jackson Rippner.”

“Oh,” you raise your eyebrows, suppressing a giggle, “your parents must hate you.”

Jackson laughs, shrugging, “Yeah, you could say that. But you can’t hate anyone if you’re dead.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry-”

“No need. Finished them off myself,” Jackson says, deadpanning.

You pause before laughing at his joke, “Gotcha.”

“So, what’s your drink of choice?” Jackson asks, changing the subject lightly.

“Hmm, I don’t think I’ll tell you just yet,” you let your eyes roam everywhere but Jackson’s face until you land your gaze back on him.

“You want me to guess, then?” Jackson asks, “I’m good at that, actually.”

“Oh, really? Prove it, then,” you say with a playful edge to your tone.

Jackson puckers his lips, furrowing his eyebrows in thought, “I’m thinking white liquor,” he trails off, “Maybe vodka, something fruity but not too skimpy.”

“You’re close, but not quite,” you bite your lip.

“I think you’re the type to have a classic no one considers.”

“Which is?”

“Dirty Shirley,” Jackson snaps his fingers, pointing at you confidently.

“Nope,” you say, grinning, “Just a vodka and Sprite for me.”

“Ah, but I was close.”

“Yes, you were very close,” you say, having the urge to flirt with this man you don’t even know.

“I’ll go grab that for you,” Jackson says, getting up out of the booth and heading to the bar.

While he’s gone, you rummage through your bag for a perfume roller, quickly rubbing some on your pulse points. Then, you unbutton the first two buttons of your blouse, revealing your cleavage just enough to be subtle. Turning around for a second, you see Jackson heading back to the booth, and you brush yourself off before slipping the perfume back into your bag.

“A vodka and Sprite for the pretty lady,” Jackson places your drink down in front of you before returning to his spot across from you.

“‘Pretty lady,’ huh?” you raise an eyebrow, taking the two black straws into your mouth.

“What can I say?” Jackson raises his hands in defense, “You are a pretty little thing. I’m glad I sat in your spot.”

“Oh,” you say, trying not to let your face heat up at the compliment, “Well, I’m glad too.”

The both of you silently sip your drinks after that, sharing fleeting glances while giggling. You decide to be cheeky, slipping off one of your heels and running your foot underneath Jackson’s pant leg. You nonchalantly look around the bar, chewing on your straw as if you weren’t up to anything. Jackson is staring right at you with a smirk as his eyes stare holes into your off-cast ones. 

“Feeling a little naughty, are we?” Jackson whispers, just loud enough to hear over the music.

You move your eyes toward him, “How do you mean?”

“I see,” Jackson looks down at the remainder of his second drink, “You wanna play like that, huh?”

“Play like what?” you challenge him, pushing your foot farther up his leg, now going over his pants and toward his thigh.

Jackson chuckles, about to say something, but he’s interrupted by the airport intercom. Your flight is a few minutes from boarding.

“Oh, that’s me,” you frown, downing the rest of your second vodka and Sprite before looking at Jackson, “What do I owe you?”

“For the drinks? Nothing,” Jackson licks his lips, “But for the teasing? We’ll have to see about that.”

“Oh really?” you ask, your heart rate now picking up at the obvious flirting.

“Really.”

“And what will you do about it?” you daringly ask.

“Well, we are on the same flight,” Jackson says, “So we’ll have to see.”

The two of you head over to the gate, getting in line to board. You boredly flip through a book your friend suggested for you to read on the flight. Jackson takes notice of this.

“Bookworm? Didn’t pick that up about you,” Jackson asks, rolling back and forth on his heels and toes. 

“Depends on the book,” you say, pursing your lips as you skim over the words, “Don’t think I’m a fan of this one, though.”

“That’s a shame. Any ideas of what you’re gonna do on the flight?” Jackson inquires, a flirty undertone in his question.

“Hmm,” you wonder, “Probably sleep. Unless I find something else to do.”

“Ah,” Jackson nods, “Hopefully, you will.”

“Hopefully,” you chuckle.

You and Jackson get separated during boarding, but you do a double-take when you arrive at your seat.

“Are you in the right seat?” you ask.

A familiar pair of striking eyes look up from a book to meet yours, “Did I steal your spot again?”

“No,” you shake your head, laughing, “I’m seat fifteen B.”

“And I’m fourteen B,” Jackson closes his book.

“Interesting,” you say, “Small world, huh?”

“Small indeed,” Jackson exhales, about to say something, until a lady a few rows down asks for help with her carry-on.

You move to the side, allowing Jackson to scoot by you. As he does, he puts a gentle hand on your waist, sending goosebumps up your spine. You watch as he helps the lady, and you try not to laugh when she tries flirting with him. Jackson returns to the row, moving past you again and plopping into his seat. 

“I know we talked for what, two hours? But I never asked, why are you headed to Miami? Work or play?” Jackson asks, buckling his seatbelt as the flight attendants announce preparation for take-off.

“Work, unfortunately. I take this trip often, red eye and everything,” you say, resting your head on the headrest behind you.

Jackson nods, “I’m here for work too. I hate flying, not going to lie.”

“Me too,” you grumble, “I hate everything about flying, including the airport and everything that comes with it.”

“Everything?” Jackson presses jokingly.

“Well, today was different. I actually had a nice time at the airport, especially since I got to meet you,” you say, keeping your eyes on the flight attendant as she goes over the safety precautions and flotation devices under the seats. 

“Good to know,” Jackson says, placing a hand on your knee.

You look at his hand, feeling very warm all over. The plane begins to speed up and ascend, and you relax in your seat, Jackson’s hand still on your knee. His nose is in his book as you try your best to read your friend’s book suggestion. When the plane finally reaches 30,000 feet, the seatbelt light turns off, and the lights dim. Flight attendants offer pillows and blankets, and you take a blanket, tucking your book away and covering yourself with the blanket. You’re on the verge of sleep when you feel Jackson’s hand slide up your thigh. You pretend you’re asleep, not moving or reacting to his touch. His hand is hidden by the blanket, so no one can see his hand move further up, dangerously close to your core. You’re wearing a dress, so there’s easy access. Not that you were complaining that Jackson was touching you. You were feeling him up earlier at the bar, so now it’s his turn. 

Jackson sneaks his hand back down your thigh and over your dress, slowly making his way over your hip and waist, up to your clothed breast. The blanket‘s hem was tucked behind your shoulders, covering up your entire body, so no one could see Jackson’s hand crawl underneath your dress again. This time, to squeeze at your breast. You try not to move or make a noise as Jackson takes your nipple between his fingers, pinching it lightly. Pretending as if he woke you up, you rouse and sit up straight.

“What are you doing?” you ask, acting as if you were asleep.

“I know you’ve been awake the whole time, sweetheart,” Jackson whispers.

“No, I wasn’t,” you say innocently.

“Don’t lie to me,” Jackson chastises, twisting your nipple harshly.

You bite your lip, muffling a moan. You squeeze your legs together as he continues to tweak the bud. 

“Is this what you want? Hmm? Teasing me earlier with your foot, I figured I’d play with you too.”

Jackson’s hand moves to your other breast, flicking your nipple. His other hand travels under your dress, his fingernails pressing into your skin. You bite your lip to stifle a moan from the sharp sensation on the sensitive skin of your thigh. His fingers ease to your core again, ghosting over your clit as you open your legs.

“Be quiet like a good girl,” Jackson says, eyes darting around to ensure no one is looking despite the lights being off.

You nod as he presses two fingers to your clit, rubbing slow, soft circles. Warmth gradually spreads in your lower belly at the sensation, and you widen your legs further. Jackson pulls his fingers away momentarily to slip them inside your underwear and continue his movements on your bare bundle of nerves. You cover your mouth, exhaling shakily at the stimulation. Jackson slips a finger inside you after playing with you for a while.

“Already so wet?” Jackson teases in your ear, his lips brushing against it.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath.

Jackson slowly pumps his finger in and out, eventually adding a second one. You shutter from the delightful stretch. You look around before subtly jerking your hips forward, riding his fingers.

“Fucking yourself on my fingers so good,” Jackson nibbles at your ear lobe, “Can’t imagine how you’d feel around my cock.”

You bite your knuckle to hold in a desperate whine at his words, “Please,” you whimper.

“Please, what?” Jackson asks, his fingers picking up the pace.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, “Take me to the bathroom and fuck me against the wall.”

“What a brazen little one you are,” Jackson grins, pulling his fingers from you and sucking your arousal off them, “It’s gonna take a little more than that, though.”

You groan at the loss of fullness, “Like what?”

“Beg.”

You pull Jackson’s hand back to your soaking slit, “Please touch me, fuck me, do anything you want to me. Please.”

“Keep going,” he pants, circling your clit with his fingers again.

“Jackson,” you sigh, “God, I need you inside of me. So bad,” you hiss.

“Go,” Jackson whispers, “I’ll meet you there.”

You hurry to pull down your dress, pulling the blanket off you before quietly walking to the bathroom. You check the vacancy before pulling the door open, leaving it unlocked for Jackson. You sit on the toilet, waiting patiently as your pulse thumps in your ears. A few moments pass, and the door opens slightly, revealing Jackson before he slips inside the bathroom. You stand up, but before you open your mouth to say something, he picks you up and presses you against the wall. You wrap your legs around Jackson’s waist, kissing him with a bruising force. Jackson slides his tongue through your lips and into your mouth, exploring it as his hands grip your ass. You reach a hand down and unzip and unbutton Jackson’s pants, your hand snaking past his underwear band and wrapping around his cock. 

“Fuck,” Jackson seethes, already hard from previous events in your seats earlier.

He pushes up the hem of your dress around your hips, pulling your underwear down far enough for him to slowly enter your throbbing core. Both of you gasp at the feeling, hours of pining hitting the climax. You thought Jackson was attractive the moment you laid eyes on him. You aren’t passing up the opportunity to join the mile-high club with such a gorgeous man. Jackson pushes further into you, and you relax more so he can press his hips into yours. Your fingers grasp at his hair as he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Your back roughly hits the wall behind you, but it wouldn’t be the last time. You have to hold onto the wall with one hand to not bang into it, your other hand holding onto Jackson’s hair for dear life as he fucks you without mercy. 

“God,” you say, the word drawn out as you and Jackson’s hips slam into each other. 

Jackson covers your mouth as you stare into his blue eyes, now darkened with lust, “Stay quiet.”

You nod, “Mhmm,” you hum from underneath his hand.

Your eyes stay on each other as you move your body forward in time with Jackson, his cock hitting that spot inside you perfectly, sending shockwaves over you. Jackson wraps an arm around your waist, holding you steady as his other hand moves between the two of you to rub tight figure 8’s on your bundle of nerves. You squeal, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Jackson continues to fuck into you like you’re a sex object. You feel yourself clenching around him as your orgasm creeps up. You pull on Jackson’s hair harshly, causing him to moan as his hips stutter. You do it again, and he has to bite your neck in order not to moan out loud. 

“Are you gonna cum?” Jackson grunts into your ear, “Huh?”

“Yes,” you gasp, “Fuck yes, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum around my cock, pretty thing.”

Your release smacks you in the face, sending your body reeling as it nearly convulses against the lavatory wall. Jackson cums right after you as the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock sends him over the edge. You milk him for all he’s got, rutting your hips through both of your orgasms. You both catch your breath as Jackson lets your legs collapse back to the floor weakly. He holds you up as you regain your posture.

“I suddenly really like flying now,” you push your hair out of your sweaty face.

“Me too,” Jackson says with an expressionless face, which you match.

Suddenly, both of you burst out laughing but cover your mouths quickly before anyone can hear in the plane. After cleaning yourselves up, you both successfully sneak out of the bathroom and back to your seats, covering up with the blanket.

“Ever barhopped in Miami?” you ask Jackson, trying your best to hold your eyes open.

“Nope. You?’

“Nope. Want to?”

“Absolutely.”

taglist:

@baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie @cutexlr

[changetyre]

This may be way out there but could we get some Logan smut? TIA!

Need a hand? || Logan Sargeant x Reader ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: Trying to relieve some stress doesn’t go as planned but you’re not complaining ;)

WARNINGS: **18+**

A/N: First time I write for Logan but somehow got this written in like 30 minutes so let’s see how this goes :)

Being young surrounded by incredibly intelligent people in what could easily be considered one of the fastest paced environments was far more stressful than you’d anticipated

It was a dream, truly. Being able to achieve that goal of working for an F1 team was still hard to believe yet you still couldn’t deny the stress from it all.

Despite this being a smaller team it almost seemed like stress levels were higher or maybe you still simply didn’t know how to handle the chaos of it all but now a days it seemed finding even a moment to breathe was hard enough.

You needed to relieve some stress, it used to work during your stressful school days so why should’t it work now. After hours of work you’d finally been able to get a few hours of somewhat a break that you knew how you wanted to spend.

Finding an empty room in the back of the Williams hospitality you tucked yourself into a hidden corner taking out your trusted little but powerful device.

Lifting your skirt up you raised your knees up to your chest opening yourself up nicely. You tucked your panties to the side taking a deep breath before running your finger down your fold a few times lubricating yourself with your own wetness.

It was embarrassing to admit how wet you’d gotten from the simple idea of pleasuring yourself but it’d been so long since you’d had some time for yourself you were desperate.

After only a few seconds of circling your fingers around your pussy you were prepared enough to press that blue bullet vibrator to your core.

You had to remind yourself to keep quiet as you let out a sigh of relief at that pleasure you so greatly missed feeling.

“Mmm” you quietly moaned as you pressed the device deeper into you. “Uh fuck.” You took a peak past the shelves checking no one was there and you were in fact still alone before you lost yourself in your own pleasure.

Only mere minutes had passed of you running that device around your clit, occasionally pressing a few fingers inside yourself that you’d found yourself in a daze, focused solely on reaching that high you knew would relieve so much stress.

You were so lost in yourself you’d failed completely to notice as the man you worked so closely to walked into the room, curious as to the sounds he heard in his preferred hiding spot Logan was quick to investigate the source of the noise.

A small gasp escaped his lips as he found you sat atop a cupboard legs spread, panties to the side as you pressed something to your clearly wet core, your head fell back onto the wall while your chest arched in pleasure.

Logan knew this was wrong, it was completely wrong for him to simply be staring at you…and further more enjoying it. He knew he should’ve said something already, probably stopped you but quite frankly he didn’t want to.

Aside from these thoughts all he could think about was replacing your fingers with his own and that device with his own mouth.

“Need a hand?” He’d no idea where this new found confidence came from but perhaps the desire for you was enough to make him ask.

You gasped in surprise before your face turned redder than the Ferrari from embarrassment at what you’d just been caught doing. You shut your legs although Logan didn’t fail to miss how the device remained tucked between them, still audibly buzzing.

“Shit I was- I didn’t-“ you had no idea what to say.

“I don’t care…let me help you.” Logan took a few step forwards and was prepared to step away if you showed any sign of hesitancy.

But instead he noticed how with each step he took your legs seemed to open a little wider. “We probably shouldn’t” you spoke but it was such a weak attempt at stopping this that you didn’t even believe it yourself.

“We don’t have to but I’m sure it’ll help us both.” Logan suggested and you could feel his breath tickle your upper lip as he looked down at you.

“I was almost there-“ your voice was barely above a whisper but it didn’t need to be louder with Logans proximity.

“I’ll get you there don’t worry.” Logan smirked before he joined his lips with yours. You could feel as his hand trailed between your legs pressing your own fingers holding the device harder onto your core.

You moaned louder this time but thankfully it was muffled by longs mouth on yours.

"You're so wet." Logan commented as his fingers slid up and down your slit a few times before inserting two fingers inside of you.

"Agh yes-" you moaned a little louder forcing Logan to connect his lips to yours once more.

Logan could feel you were close as you clenched around his fingers and he could feel your wetness running down his fingers and onto his palm every time he curled his fingers in you.

The noises in the room were pornographic, the heavy breaths between you both, the sloppy kisses, and the squelching of your pussy every-time Logan moved his fingers inside you.

This was far better than the relief you thought you'd be getting merely a few minutes ago.

"ah ah Log- Logan I'm cumming." you cried as you felt your high wash over you, harder than it had ever before.

Your body slammed onto the wall behind you causing the shelves around you to shudder slightly as you momentarily lost control of your bodies movements.

Logan moved his fingers slower and slower as you came down from your high, your body shuddering every few seconds with the remainder of pleasure.

"That was fucking hot." Logan smirked as he placed a quick kiss to your lips before sucking his fingers clean as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Thank you." you weren't sure why or if you needed to thank him but it just felt like the right thing to say.

"Pleasure." he winked. "Let me know when you need a hand again" he waved the hand that was just inside you around. "or anything else." he said subtly before walking out the room.

You might just have to take him up on his offer in the future.

[mrs-hatake]

JJK Men's reaction to You not saying 'I love you' back.

Nanami:

“I’ll be returning home late.” Kento comments as he fixes his tie in front of the mirror. As always, his appearance is impeccable. Blond hair gelled to the side, suit wrinkled free and his brown shoes spotless. It’s no wonder that people still try asking him out despite the wedding band on his finger. 

“We’re having a private dinner after work with a potential client.” Kento continues. His explanation sounds just as boring as his expression. Despite coming home exhausted, complaining how much he hates corporate scum, he still has yet to resign. When You’ve brought up this issue, Kento explained that no other job can pay for his pastry addiction. 

Once satisfied with his image, Kento steps away from the mirror. His footsteps are soft as he makes his way to where You’re lounging on the dark brown leather couch. “So don’t wait up for me.” he instructs then leans down to kiss Your eager lips. 

“Gonna miss you.” Your tone comes out all high pitched and bubbly. A tone that Kento hates but has, begrudgingly, grown to love. 

“Missing you already.” Kento mumbles against Your lips that chased after his. “Love you.” he whispers softly, barely succeeding in pulling away.

He’s at the genkan, pulling on his black coat, when the silence reaches his ears. “I love you.”  Kento repeats, louder. 

When he is still met with silence, Kento clears his throat, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Your blank face expression immediately cracks and giggles bubbles out and bursts through your lips, “I’m so-sorry!” You laugh, not able to take Kento’s bewildered face seriously, “It’s a…a prank!”

A soft sound, almost resembling a chuckle. Kento shakes his head. It doesn’t show but relief seeps through his bones. 

“I love you.” Kento says one more time, not caring that he’s running a little late for work. 

“I love you too!” With Your wide smile and cute smile, Kento heads to work with light steps. 

Gojo:

“Do you really have to go?” You whine adorably at your boyfriend who is sitting at the genkan, tying his shoes. 

Satoru jumps once he’s done with his shoes, his hoodie lined with fur bouncing in the process. His arms instantly wrap around You, smothering Your face into his wooly jacket, cutting off all of Your oxygen. 

“I know, baby.” Satoru whines back, his soft cheek nuzzling Your hair, “But it’s parents-teacher night and I can’t bail.”

You scoff at his explanation. Of all the nights the school has to pick a parents-teacher conference, it has to be on Your night off.

“You owe me.” You pout, lips trembling dramatically, up at your boyfriend once You’ve pulled back.

Satoru steals Your lips into a searing kiss, “I know.” He mumbles between each kiss, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Having had his fill, Satoru pulls back and goes to Your apartment door. Slender hand on the gold doorknob, he turns to face You with a blinding smile, “Love you!”

If there were crickets, they’d be chirping very loudly.

Satoru lowers his dark shades, “I said, I love you.” 

Taking in Your crossed arms and still pouty lips, Satoru scoffs. He marches his way over to You and picks You up in a twirl. His laugh accompanies Your screech before setting You down. 

“Love you?” The statement comes as a question now, not knowing if You’re still mad at him.

Seeing how serious Satoru is, a breathless chuckle escapes Your lips, “Relax, it was a prank I saw on Tiktok. Thought I’d try it on you.”

“Oh-ho,” Satoru’s white eyebrows lifted all the way up, meeting his hairline, “I'm definitely getting back at You for this.” He says through a shit eating grin.

Rolling Your eyes, You kiss him one last time, “I love you too.”

Geto:

“You promised you’d take me out on a date!” You accuse Your boyfriend as You blocked the apartment door with Your body.

Guilt and expiation spreads across Suguru’s handsome face, “I’m sorry, love.” His purple eyes meet Yours as he explains, “The hospital called, they’re short staffed.”

Geto Suguru is a pediatric intern, working at the local hospital just a few blocks away from his apartment. Though his job is taxing, demanding him of his labor and robbing him of his youth and hours, Suguru always made sure to save his free time and what little energy he has left towards You. Which explains why Suguru sounded so regrettable – and slightly fearful – when he canceled the date the both of you have been planning for the past month.

“They promised to give me tomorrow off. We’ll go out for lunch and drop by one of Your favorite bookstores, how about that?”

Unable to look at the guilt eating up Suguru, You drop Your stance and step away from the door.

Relieved by Your act of mercy, Suguru engulfs You in a big, bear hug. The one he knows will earn him forgiveness for whenever he fucks up.

“I love you.” Suguru mutters. Strands of Your hair tickling his lips as he kisses the top of Your head. 

“Y/N?” Suguru pulls back, his head tilting to the side, “Are you still mad?”

“Ugh,” You roll Your eyes, “You’re too cute to pull any pranks on.” You say while cupping his soft cheek and pecking his lips twice.

“I love you too.” You caress his cheek as You continue to say, “And I’m not mad. Just a trend for couples I saw on social media.”

“Oh.” Suguru flushes in embarrassment but the mirth twinkling in his eyes tells You he isn’t really upset at the prank. “I love you more!”

His arms tightens around You one last time before leaving for his twelve hour shift at the hospital.

Toji:

“I love you.”

Static silence fills his ear. Toji pulls the phone away from his ear to make sure that the line is still connected. When he sees Your name, he brings it back and repeats, “I love you.” This time louder and clearer, just in case there’s something wrong with the signal.

Still not hearing Your voice, Toji sighs heavily. His thick fingers rub the space between his eyes, “What’s wrong now?” He asks, his hand returning to the steering wheel. The street light is red and traffic is heavy. He is not in the mood for whatever fit You’re having.

“Nothing.” Comes Your response, voice small, sounding like an upset child. Toji closes his eyes. He can feel a headache coming on, both from the traffic and from Your attitude. Guess he isn’t getting any tonight. Great. Now he has to find another way to blow off steam.

“Fine. Don’t say anything.” Toji is not up for games. Working as a firefighter is no joke. Returning home every night covered in ash, skin glistening with sweat and muscles tense, it’s no wonder he’s always exhausted by the time dinner is on the table. 

Just as he’s about to jab his large thumb on the glaring red button, “Wait, stop!” he stops.

Toji waits patiently. As patiently as a ticking time bomb. 

“It was a prank,” he hears You mumble. “Someone on Tiktok said don’t say ‘I love you’ back to your partner to see how they’d react.”

Toji grunts. His eyes rolling so hard his irises disappear for a second, “And you thought it would be funny?”

“I’m sorry.”

The light turns green, he steps on the gas, “Fucking brat.” 

A heartbeat later and Toji hears, “I love you.”

As if someone has doused his ire with cold water, his anger and impatience is washed out of his system.

“I love you too.” He sighs into the phone, glad that the cars are finally moving smoothly. If luck is on his side, he’d probably be home in less than five minutes. “Don’t think You won’t be punished.”

“Eep!”

Is the last thing Toji hears before the line is dead.