#tw: bullying mention

[inkshine]

Here's to all the students with disabilities unhappy about going back to school.

Here's to all the students with disabilities unsure of how their disability might impact them this coming school year, and are wary.

Here's to all the student with disabilities who know the school environment will make their mental and/or physical issues worse.

Here's to all the students with disabilities bracing themselves for being bullied, ignored, or harassed when they're back at school.

Here's to all the students with disabilities already dreading feeling embarrassed at school because of their disability.

I know it sucks, and I wholeheartedly believe in you all <3

[choices-binglebonkus]

I'm not a Jocelyn fan either. She's toxic and vile, but I find her more compelling in a lot of ways than say, Lily Ortiz – especially when the writers want the readers to see Lily as this pure as the driven snow angel who can do no wrong. Jocelyn is horrible, but she did put her life at personal risk to save others at Homecoming paid a steep price for it. She was also hit hard by Cody's death, so there's some humanity there too, even if it's just a drop.

There’s a lot to this ask so I’m going to tackle the littler bits first, starting with the ILITW cast and their weaknesses.

The It Lives characters are all incredibly flawed in their own ways. Their stans don’t think they’re innocent: they acknowledge and embrace those flaws because those are what make the characters so human.

Ava’s biggest flaws are that she’s kind of reckless, and that she’s sarcastic toward people who are easily angered which endangers her.

Andy’s biggest flaw is that he gets angered very quickly, though he has good reasons for it, he still does fly off the handle at times. Anger leads to rash and not very well thought out decisions, which can very easily get you hurt or killed, especially in a horror series.

Stacy’s biggest flaw (which we do see going away as the book goes on) is her fixation with appearance and status.

Lucas’s biggest flaws are unwillingness to ask for help and biting off more than he can chew, which are also behaviors that are dangerous enough in real life, but potentially deadly in horror series.

I can’t really say what Dan’s biggest flaws are because we get so little interaction with him in the series, and all of Noah’s flaws can be attributed to the trauma he’s faced throughout his life, as even before Jane died, his parents had a lot of issues with their marriage, which was something he was aware of and tried to shield his sister from.

If Noah dies and takes Jane’s place, the ILITW crew is shown and stated to be completely unaware of it, the MC being the only person who knows of Noah’s true fate. Given this, the same could probably be said if the MC dies and takes Jane’s place. It’s not that the ILITW crew used the MC: they simply aren’t aware of the true nature of their death.

And given all the chaos and trauma that took place in the book, it’s perfectly understandable why the ILITW crew would want to move on in their lives without revisiting the ordeal more than they need to. I’d probably do the same. However, they’re more than willing to help out in ILB, and they still meet for pizza every year so they never fall out of touch and never forget what happened and those they lost.

It also makes sense why the MC can’t and won’t let go of their supernatural experience. Jane, their best friend, died right before their very eyes, was stuck as a shadow monster for a decade, and then Jane’s brother Noah (who arguably becomes MC’s closest friend as a result of their shared loss) dies and takes her place. The MC probably feels some survivor’s guilt and feels as if they’re to blame for what happened, and wants to make it right by “fixing” things if they can, which is why they’re devoted to becoming a monster hunter/tracker.

None of these characters are perfect. Absolutely none of them. But what person is? To have a flawless, completely innocent character who has done absolutely no wrong is completely unrealistic.

Moving onto Lily, who I’ll admit isn’t my favorite of the bunch.

It is true that the ILITW crew is dealing with some heavy shit. Abuse, blackmail, estrangement, familial neglect, PTSD, struggles with identity, struggles with ostracism. That is very true.

However.

Lily’s big life-or-death issue isn’t merely that her crush doesn’t like her back, that’s kind of an oversimplification. She’s mercilessly bullied because she’s fat (and maybe there’s a bit of homophobia thrown in there too, I’m not actually 100% sure) and she’s preyed upon by her crush and her crush’s friend who think manipulating Lily and humiliating her on homecoming night is funny.

Lily is not a physically strong character. She can’t fight, she runs away, and is generally no help in a fight. But not every character can realistically be an action hero and badass. She also suffers from low self-esteem from the bullying (which she mentions occurred throughout her childhood as well) and has little to no confidence.

To be frank, to say she thrives off of playing the victim comes across as victim-blaming.

Lily does shove Ava and yell at her for almost killing Jocelyn in the fight, and I’m not trying to excuse that because that’s pretty harsh, but I’d probably chalk her reaction up more to adrenaline and fear than trying to pin all the blame onto her. Lily did foreshadow early on in the book that the monster could enthrall Ava using her powers and was probably aware that the monster had some form of control over her during the fight.

Additionally, she doesn’t seem to give Jocelyn a free pass either: she was visibly scared and upset during the fight where Jocelyn had the upper hand and after all is said and done, the principal is the one who tells her (and Stacy) to help Jocelyn to the nurse’s office.

Lily doesn’t blame Ava and doesn’t hold any rancor over the fight after everything has settled down. Her reaction is pretty much on par with everyone else’s emotions in the ILITW crew after the fight: fear, helplessness, and guilt. I mean, she almost watched someone get strangled to death in front of her.

She does acknowledge the possibility that Britney changed and began treating her better because of Redfield, but doesn’t want it to be true. She acknowledges it and probably deep down knows it’s true, but still wants to give Britney a chance because they used to be close in childhood. She even states at one point that Britney used to defend her from bullying when they were young. Lily wants to give Britney a chance to change because she remembers all those fond memories as kids, but also, her confidence is so depleted from the years of bullying that she just wants someone, anyone to show some semblance of care for her, even if it isn’t completely genuine.

Hell. I’ve been bullied throughout my whole life, and I’ve dated people who treated me like absolute shit just because they paid attention to me. Lily is absolutely the type to do the same. I empathize.

Should Lily survive the events of ILITW, she goes on to create a successful indie video game with a sequel in the works. That didn’t surprise me because she mentions having gone to a coding camp, and she also had a 4.5 GPA in high school. She’s used her wildly smart brain and incredible drive to find her own success and further her own life, just like everyone else from the ILITW crew.

Which is why your statement about everyone else bettering their lives “while she gorges on pizza” comes across as incredibly and unapologetically fatphobic.

Lily is not my personal favorite. She’s actually my least favorite of the ILITW crew. But every character brings something to the group. Lily is timid, meek, and suffers from a lack of confidence. She’s not a fighter and she’s frequently terrified throughout the book.

But she still helps the group. She helps research, she helps obtain the hospital records when the group visits Dan, she risks life and limb to go into the woods and perform the binding ritual, and she does it again to save Andy. She faces her fears time after time after time.

So in a way, though Lily is fearful and afraid throughout the book, she’s actually the bravest character of them all.

[schrijverr]

I Found Myself a Cheerleader 2

Chapter 2 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

In this chapter, Steve settles in with the cheer team, finding real friends that are by his side. They work towards the competition and compete, which Steve enjoys enough to maybe consider staying a little bit longer. A conversation with Dustin and Will convinces him.

On AO3.

Ships: eventual steddie & buckingham

Warnings: eating disorder, period typical homophobia, bullying, f-slur, child abuse mention

~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2: The Competition

Steve has first period biology with Heather, who is waiting at the door to walk with him. They get some looks from people as they pass and Steve hopes that the rumor that will go around is that they’re dating instead of Steve Harrington has become a cheerleader.

He skips over going to his locker, because everyone knows where his locker is and it’s a place where he’s an easy target.

By the time lunch rolls around, he has to admit that he hasn’t had this good a day in a while. The constant presence of the cheer girls that either intimidate people or whom people want to impress, means that he doesn’t get pushed around as much. And it’s nice that he can talk to someone during his classes instead of just holding his head down and hoping no one looks at him.

The cafeteria feels just as daunting as yesterday. Eyes follow him as he crosses the room and goes to sit at the cheer table. Mutters float up all around him and he feels his chest tighten as he hears some of the words that are thrown around behind his back.

A small hand on his arm snaps him out of the impending sense of doom and he looks up to meet Chrissy’s eyes.

She’s a sophomore he learned yesterday and she looks a bit uncertain about touching him. However, she pushes through it and smiles at him. Chrissy doesn’t mention anything about the whispers and just says: “Coach Miller was in a bad mood when I had her today. I think we’re running laps later,” and wrinkles her nose.

Steve laughs and asks: “Not a fan of laps?”

“Not really, no,” she smiles.

“Ugh, laps are the worst,” Susan butts in. “Like running isn’t that bad, but coach always makes us do special running. Like heels to butt or knees up and it’s so tiring.”

Now that she mentions them, Steve has seen the cheerleaders running in ways that always looked exhausting to him. He grimaces and comments: “Oh yeah, I remember those. They looked like they suck.”

That earns him some giggles, especially when they remind him he’s now a part of it too and his face falls.

After that lunch is bearable. The cheerleaders are fun to talk to, though in a different way. It’s not a competition of who did the wildest shit or insulting each other, instead they just lean in a talk about classes, a new shirt they got, something they’re not looking forward too.

Steve doesn’t chime in much, content to sit there instead of outside or in a bathroom. He starts to feel normal again, surrounded by girls and getting some envious stares. He’s not interested in any of them, but it’s nicer than what’s been happening.

After school, they go to practice. Steve decides to change in a toilet as to not have to face the boys and he has brought his tracksuit for after practice.

Coach Miller is indeed in a bad mood and they run more laps than necessary, in Steve’s opinion at least. He’s an athletic person, but at the end he’s also reaching for his water bottle like a dying man in the desert.

However, when practice is over, he feels content. There is something to putting in an effort and it going right that feels good. Yesterday, he was the main reason not everything went well and though he has a bit to go, today he fared much better.

He drives Lisa home again, along with Chrissy, whose mom couldn’t come get her and told her to walk home. Steve thinks it’s ridiculous to expect anyone to walk a few miles after practice, not to mention that Chrissy didn’t even bring a snack. She refused the one he offered, but did take him up on the drive home.

And this is how most of the week goes.

There are still comments thrown at his head and whispers that go around, but he is a Harrington and Harringtons hold their heads up and ignore rumors about them. His mother has been ignoring the infidelity rumors for long enough and Steve has always been more like her.

The biggest thing that happens to him is on Thursday, when he gets to his locker to find the word fag smeared over it with paint. People around his start to giggle and point as they see him with his locker. But Steve just stands there frozen as he sees the word.

He knew this could happen when he said yes. It’s the reason he said no first. Because this is what people think of him now, this is what his father can never hear.

Steve is a Harrington and Harrington men are the epitome of masculinity. They play basketball or swim. They marry a cheerleader, they aren’t one. Because being a cheerleader means being a faggot and that is the worst thing one can be.

For years Steve has lived with this knowledge, molded himself to it. But now he stopped listening to the voice of his father, who is always in the back of his mind. Look where it got him.

And it’s not like he can deny it. That’s the worst part. Not performing King Steve continuously has opened his eyes to some of the things he did, because he felt like he had to, instead of because he wanted to himself.

So, he realized alone in his room that all the girls he went after, he did because they were desired by others, which meant it was a win to get them first. It wasn’t because he actually liked them. He never has.

When he saw Nancy with Jonathan, he was hurt, sure. But he was more jealous of Nancy for being held by Jonathan than the other way around. And ending the friendship with Tommy hurt more than the break up with Nancy.

It feels like everyone knows that now.

His vandalized locker stares back at him and he takes a breath before opening it, ignoring the word written there. If it looks like it affects him, it will only be used against him more. He just has to ignore it.

Still, he’s out of it for the rest of the day and the cheer squad notices. Lisa offers him half her cookie and Chrissy just leans her head against his shoulder without saying anything, letting her presence comfort him. The two have become his closest friends.

It’s not until they’re done with practice that Lisa says: “We can go clean it off if you want. No one is around anymore.”

On some level he knew that they had seen it, but it still makes the shame burn in his face. He looks to the ground, his shoulders tightening. Pretending it doesn’t affect him, he shrugs: “It doesn’t matter.”

“We know,” Chrissy says. “But I know where Billy’s locker is.”

Both of them look at Chrissy with wide eyes, not expecting that from the tiny girl. She grins at them and says: “I have some paint in my locker. Come on. Can you imagine his face?”

“He might not have done it,” Lisa says. It’s quiet, before she concedes: “Okay, he definitely did. But what do you want to write?”

“Not that word,” Steve buds in, unsure when they exactly decided they’re going to do it. He doesn’t want to be that guy anymore.

“I was thinking something like: Baby needs his paci,” Chrissy tells them. “Since he’s been acting so childish. It’s like he’s my baby cousin, who didn’t get his way.”

They all laugh at the image and Steve snorts: “Alright, fuck it. Lets do it.”

First they get cleaning supplies and rid Steve’s locker of the word. It feels a bit like doing a cleanse, a fresh start. Steve knows it won’t stop, but that doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have to let it mark him, he can shrug it off. Wipe it away.

When they’re done with that, the parking lot is empty, the entire basketball team has gone home, so they sneak to Billy’s locker. Lisa and Steve do the text, while Chrissy paints on a pacifier, all of them giggling.

Steve likes having friends he actually wants to be around, who stand up for him instead of dropping him for the newest shit in town when they can.

He misses it when Billy finds his locker, but when he later passes it, it’s dented as if someone punched it. It gives him a bit satisfaction.

In the weekend, he desperately tries to do his school work that has gone undone because he’s been training so much. It feels a bit like he’s a sophomore again and he was just making it in the basketball team.

On Sunday he drives the kids to the arcade again. They’re good kids. He grumbles about it all, but he does like the little shits. They’re fucking hilarious and he feels a sense of protectiveness over them.

Apparently it goes both ways, because when all the boys are distracted, Max slides up to him and asks: “Are you okay?”

He gives her a surprised look and says: “I am. Why do you ask?”

She shrugs, looking a little embarrassed and explains: “Oh, uhm, Billy- he has been spitting all sorts of vitriol at home. Talks about you. It- It isn’t nice.” She looks guilty on Billy’s behalf. “Just wanted to check he was keeping his promise.”

Steve doesn’t have it in his heart to tell her that promises to middle schoolers mean nothing to someone like Billy and that he has been getting pushed around for months already. They look up to him, he has to be strong for them. They don’t need to know this.

“Yeah, he has,” he assures her. “Just doesn’t appreciate that I’m preventing the cheerleaders from going on a date with him.”

“Iew,” Max groans, misinterpreting his words like he had intended. Steve might not be smart, but never let it be said that he can’t be manipulative when he wants to be.

He shoots her a wink and she rolls her eyes, before walking away with a groan. It gets the attention of Will, who quirks a brow at Steve. Steve smiles at him, getting more unwanted attention off of him.

And life goes on. His locker gets left alone for the following week and he only gets tripped up in the hall once. A few people yell names at him, but he’s become immune to it.

On Wednesday he first witnesses that the cheerleaders meant their promise. Over the week and a half he’s been sitting with them, they all have become more comfortable with his presence and have gone back to gossiping about crushes and stuff that Steve never knew girls talked about. It makes him feel like a spy. It also makes him feel included, but isn’t telling them that.

The fact is, he knows that Mary has a crush on Brad on the basketball team. She has had that crush for ages and Steve has caught her staring a few times at him during practice.

However, Brad is also the one that tripped Steve up in the hallway this week, then called him a queer after. Mary had been waiting for him in the hall so they could walk to practice together, since he doesn’t have a shared class with anyone that period.

Right now, Brad is coming up to their table with all the confidence in the world. It isn’t really a secret that Mary likes him and since she is junior and he a senior, he doesn’t think she will ever say no to him. No boy asks in public if there is a chance he’ll get a no.

“Hey, Mary,” he starts, leaning against the table next to her as she smiles. “I got an extra movie ticket for Friday, wanna go with me? I could come pick you up for dinner too?”

Steve is waiting for the moves he knows so well from all the times he has asked a girl out. The ducking eyes, hair tucking and giggle, before a blushing yes is said.

Instead everyone is surprised as Mary looks up at him with cold eyes and says: “No, sorry. I don’t go out with boys, who are mean to my friends. It’s not a good look.”

Brad rears back as if slapped in surprise and frowns as he tries to think of what he has done. Mary very deliberately looks at Steve, who is sitting a few seats down trying to give Chrissy a sandwich because she forgot lunch.

He follows her look and makes eye contact with Steve. He glares at him and Steve can’t help but smirk back. This type of vindication is rarely felt. He has a seat at the table again. He has influence, a social currency that he can use.

Because the cheerleaders are making good on Molly’s threat, which hadn’t been taken seriously by anyone until now. If you bully Steve, you are not getting a date.

With a scoff Brad stalks of again, having to ignore the whispers that start to follow him, like Steve has had to do for months now.

Steve isn’t surprised when his car is keyed when he leaves practice. At least they didn’t slash his tires, that would have been worse. He can still drive the car like this.

Still, as Brad walks away, he feels bad for Mary, who has had to blow her chance with her crush for him. Softly he taps her on the shoulder and says: “You didn’t have to do that,” when she looks back to him.

She smiles reassuringly. “It’s okay. I didn’t like him much after what he did to you anyway. You’re a good guy, Steve. It’s nice that you look me in the eyes for one. Plus, if we don’t stand together, the pyramid starts to crumble, you know. We made a promise.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve says, not used to someone picking his side so unequivocally. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Mary tells him, then turns back to her conversation as Steve does the same.

That weekend is the weekend of the competition. They all have been practicing religiously to the point where Steve sees the stunts as he falls asleep. Not that he minds, it’s better than those creatures that are haunting his dreams.

They all get to the school early on Saturday. They have quite the drive to the competition and it makes Steve feels like he’s playing basketball again and they have competition at another school. In some regards, sports will be sports.

Chrissy usually sits next to Emma, but since Steve is replacing her, he ends up next to Chrissy on the bus. Something he doesn’t mind.

He counted on being next to Chrissy in fact. He noticed she never eats enough and that isn’t good, especially not for an athlete. To the basketball team it was always stressed how important eating enough is. He doesn’t hear that much on the cheer squad.

So, he brought an extra granola bar and is trying to give it to her. “Come on, Chris. You got to think of it as fuel. If you eat now, you won’t get a stitch during the game.”

“We don’t call it game,” Chrissy laughs as she corrects him, ignoring the rest of what he said.

“Competition then,” Steve corrects himself. “Please, Chrissy. I’m afraid you’ll faint otherwise. I’m not good enough at catching to do it when you’ve blacked out.”

“I have eaten breakfast,” Chrissy tells him, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Steve doesn’t want to push her, he is only concerned for her. He remembers being unable to stomach much after that evening at the Byers house. How he had nearly fainted during basketball practice and how scary that had been. He doesn’t want that for her.

“I know,” he says with a soft voice. “I’m just worried about you. Feel like I’m going to snap one of your bones one of these days. You’re so thin.”

“Girls are thin,” she replies as if she is reminding him of something that has been said many times before. However, she softens a little at his concern.

Steve guesses those words are the root of the problem. It’s not something he knows how to fix, except by continuing to offer her food and hope she takes it. So, he holds up the granola bar and says: “Will you take half? For my peace of mind?”

Chrissy bites her lip and Steve is completely still, not wanting to scare her off. “Sure,” she gives in and Steve resists the urge to fist pump. Instead, he breaks the bar and hands her the bigger part. She eats it, only when he does.

They’re interrupted by Heather, who is leaning over the seat behind them. She has a sparkle in her eyes as she said: “Did you hear about what happened during fifth period yesterday?”

“No, what happened?” Steve asks, mingling himself in the gossip in a way he wouldn’t have allowed himself three weeks ago.

“I share the class with Eddie Munson, the drug dealer. You know him?” she begins, launching into a story how he climbed out of the window when the teacher’s back was turned, because he wanted a smoke.

Steve thinks it’s quite funny and it fits with what he knows about the metal head. He doesn’t know him well, but he has always noticed him. He’s quite dramatic and doesn’t seem to care much about school.

For a long time, Steve thought he hated Eddie. A hatred that came from admiring his confidence, but ever since he realized how he looks at boys, he has realized that it has never been hatred, always something else. Eddie is quite handsome and funny and charismatic… Not that he’ll ever tell anyone that. It would be stupid and Eddie seems kind of mean and scary too. More someone to admire from a distance than someone you talk to.

They talk about Eddie for a little more, before a familiar voice comes from Steve’s backpack through a crackling speaker: “Steve, come in, Steve. Over.”

The girls around him squeak a little at the sudden noise and many lean in with interest as he takes out a radio. He feels a little silly and watched, but he knows the kid will worry and become insufferable if he doesn’t answer. So, he replies: “What do you need, Henderson?”

“You have to say over when you’re done. Over,” Dustin says after a few seconds.

Steve rolls his eyes, but repeats: “What do you need, Henderson? Over.”

He can hear the kid’s smile when he says: “Yeah, like that! Anyway, you’re not picking up your phone. We need a ride to the arcade. Over.”

It has become kind of standard to drive them to the arcade as least once each weekend. He had hoped they would want that drive Sunday, but no such luck. He bites his lip, unsure of what to answer. In the end he settles on: “I can’t today. Sorry, buddy. Over.”

“Why?” Dustin exclaims and Steve stays quiet on purpose until Dustin sighs: “Over.”

“I’m with the cheer squad. Over,” Steve tells him honestly, not elaborating further, so Dustin can make up his own interpretation with that.

It’s quiet for a second, then, almost in awe, Dustin says: “Like the whole cheer squad? Over.”

Steve laughs at the response. He answers: “Yeah, man, and they can hear you. So maybe behave yourself. Ask Nancy or Jonathan if they can drive you. Over.”

“You can’t do this to me, Steve,” Dustin shrieks. “I would have made a better impression if I’d known. Don’t tell them anything embarrassing about me! I have to show my face at that school in a few months you know. Over.”

“I won’t, just go bother someone else today,” Steve tells him. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Over.”

“Alright, but I want to know everything,” Dustin concedes. “Over and out.”

The radio is quiet again and Steve puts it back in his backpack, just waiting for someone to ask, because he knows they’re going to.

Lisa doesn’t disappoint, asking: “What was that?”

“That’s Dustin,” Steve explains. “I babysit him and a few other kids sometimes. I usually drive them to the arcade in the weekend. Guess I forgot to tell them I’m unavailable.”

“And the radio?” Sofia asks.

“Oh, they’re a bunch of nerds, in the best way,” Steve says, excited to talk about the kids. “Dustin is mega smart, you know. He built his own radio headset and shit. I just got this one, because his mom won’t always let him use the phone. He’s a little shit, but I love him. He’s practically my little brother at this point.”

Some of the girls coo at that and ask him more about the kids. He happily obliges in answering their questions, though editing out the Upside Down stuff of course. Most of the cheerleaders seem to find the kids adorable.

The competition is nothing like Steve expected. He feels nervous, but the good kind of nervous as he takes it all in. He gets a few looks as a boy with the team, but everyone is more concerned with their own routine.

There isn’t a male cheer uniform, so he’s just wearing his basketball uniform, which is good enough. The one other guy that is competing has a better uniform though. Steve can’t help but stare at him a little.

The guy is handsome. His dark skin suits the white and dark purple uniform that is tightly fitted to his body. He’s very muscled and has a pretty smile. He talks with his hands and all the girls from his team flit around him.

Next to him Sofia says: “Wow, look at that guy. He’s so hot. I wonder what those muscles can do,” and it takes all of Steve’s strength not to agree out loud.

Coach Miller pulls them back to the group and they all warm up. Steve knows all the chants and they say a cheer before they go out there. All the judging faces are easily ignored when performing and Steve gets lost in the show.

He’s breathing heavily at the end, holding the pose until the okay is given and they all move from the stage. Everyone is excited, accomplishment seeping in their bones. Molly is jumping up and down from excitement as she exclaims: “That went so well! We totally have a chance.”

The waiting that comes next is the harder part. The other groups they watch are also very good, doing dizzying stunts.

Steve perks up when the purple and white uniformed groups takes the stage. The guy is in the middle of it all. He participates with the tumbling, flipping around, as well as the stunts. He’s able to be base by himself, extending the girl above his head and throwing her around. It’s impressive and Steve finds himself captivated.

When the group finishes, the guy makes eye contact with Steve, who must look stupid with awe filled eyes. The guy looks surprised for a second, then his face morphs into a smirk and winks at Steve.

He blushes in response to the wink and looks away, only glancing back after a second, but the guy has been pulled off with the rest of his squad.

Disappointed he searches the crowd, but he doesn’t find the guy again. Instead he meets the calculating eyes of coach Miller. Ice grips his heart and he fears that he’s been caught. Trying to play it cool, he sends her a confused look.

She starts making her way over to him and he wants to hide, but that will look suspicious. He’s 90% sure she can’t leave him stranded here, if he’s about to get told to get away from the school or something.

Instead coach Miller surprises him by saying: “You’re just filling in for Emma, I know, but if we can get in some stunts like that group next competition, we’d up the scores easily. You should think about it.”

Honestly, Steve often forgets that this is just a two week thing, that come Monday, he isn’t required to go to practice after school. That he can just sit with them in classes and during lunch, before going home. It makes his heart sink.

Lisa and Chrissy had been nearby enough to hear the interaction and as coach Miller walks away, Lisa quietly says: “Everyone would be happy if you decided to keep going.”

“Yeah,” Chrissy smiles at him. “You’re part of the squad. Everyone really likes you. You’re so nice to us. You look us in the eyes and help fix our costumes.”

It is the second time that one of the cheerleaders told him he looks her in the eyes and confused he asks: “Where else would I look?”

“Most guys tend to look at our tits,” Lisa tells him quite bluntly.

Steve hadn’t even realized they actually did that. Another thing his performance of King Steve had apparently lacked. He feels a bit caught out, so he stumbles: “Well, oh, uhm, I- I took etiquette lessons as a kid.”

Chrissy giggles and bumps her shoulder against his as she says: “You don’t have to defend yourself for being respectful, Stevie.”

Stevie, that’s new. He quite likes the nickname and feels a little more at ease. He shrugs: “I mean, the school year is practically over. Will there even be another competition?”

“Yeah, after spring break is the next one,” Lisa says. “We’ve never won. It frustrates Molly to no end. She really wants a win on her record.”

“Molly is super competitive,” Chrissy confides like it’s news, before cracking up.

“I know,” Steve laughs. “I’ll think about it.”

“Please do,” Chrissy says, Lisa nodding.

The conversation haunts Steve. They don’t win the competition, but they do get third place, which results in a group hug and a lot of jumping. The purple white school takes number one and Steve contemplates congratulating the other guy, but it feels too risky.

So, they go home, sleeping on the bus. Well, most of the team does, Steve doesn’t want to risk a nightmare, so he stares out the window as Chrissy uses him as pillow. And when he gets home all he can think about is that conversation.

On Sunday he is awoken by Dustin and Will knocking on his door. He’s still in his sweats, having been awake for most of the night after waking up screaming. “What do you want?” he asks.

“You promised you’d tell me about how you ended up with all the cheerleaders,” Dustin says.

“I didn’t have anything better to do,” Will offers as explanation. “Mike is with El and Lucas with Max.”

“Sure, okay, come in.” Steve doesn’t even care anymore as he steps to the side. “I’m making pancakes for breakfast, want some?” It wasn’t his plan at all, but sue him for wanting to spoil his kids. Especially with the enthusiastic yes he gets.

As he cooks they sit at the breakfast bar and Dustin asks: “So?”

“There was a cheer competition,” Steve says, trying to decide whether to tell the truth or not. It feels so silly to lie to two middle schoolers, but he also wants them to think he’s cool. It’s utterly ridiculous how much he wants them to like him.

“Did you go to support someone? Are you dating a cheerleader?” Dustin asks.

“No,” Steve snaps automatically. Too many guys have asked if he’s stealing their girl the past two weeks. It gets tiring. However, that would have been a great excuse to Dustin, which he has blown now. He decides to fuck it, he can always kick them out of his house if they’re dicks. “One of the girls broke her leg two weeks ago. I was helping out so they could compete.”

“Boys are allowed to join cheerleading?” Will asks in confusion. However, there is an undertone to it too, as if Steve is a hero.

It throws him off balance as he shrugs: “It’s not illegal, I guess. They needed some help, thought I’d offer. It’s quite fun, actually.”

The two kids are quiet for a second. Steve purposefully doesn’t look at them as he flips the pancakes, because he doesn’t want to see their judgment. He likes these kids so goddamn much. The last thing he wants is for their parents to hear and decide that they shouldn’t hang around Steve anymore.

God, he was stupid for opening his mouth. He’s about to spiral even more, but before his breath can catch, Dustin asks: “Did you guys win?”

“What?” he asks, more shocked than anything else.

“The competition, did you win?” Dustin repeats. “How does a cheerleading competition even work? It doesn’t seem that hard. It’s just cheering someone on, but then more extreme.”

“Dude,” Steve laughs, overcome by relief that the two seem cool with it. “Cheerleading is fucking hard. Don’t diss the cheerleaders. These girls physically pick each other up and throw each other around. I’m fucking sore.”

“Really?” Will asks.

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Will smiles. He’s such a polite kid. Never demanding. He’s one of Steve’s favorites, though they’re all his favorite.

“So you’re a cheerleader now?” Dustin asks. “What happened to basketball?”

The conversation he had with coach Miller pops up in his mind again. No one at school knows he only agreed to two weeks, except for the cheerleaders, but they’re cool with it. He can just pretend like this has always been the plan. It can’t really get worse and he’ll get a fun hobby out of it. The sense of accomplishment after each training is something that he missed.

“Guess I am a cheerleader, yeah,” he tests it out and it saying it makes him happy. “As for basketball, that’s a team sport, but it’s not as fun with Billy on the team.”

“But Max scared Billy off,” Dustin says. “He’s supposed to leave you alone.”

“He is,” Steve lies. “Doesn’t mean I want to play basketball with the guy. He’s a piece of shit.”

“That’s fair,” Dustin says, before announcing he has to go pee.

Once Dustin is gone, Will quietly says: “Jonathan mentioned you were getting bullied. He told me what they did to your locker.”

Steve pauses, unsure of what to do now. He removes the pan from the fire and turns around. He studying Will for a second, there is no pity or malice in his eyes, but something else. A desperate need to be seen. A sympathetic hurt.

It suddenly clicks for Steve. He couldn't tell you why, but in that moment he understands that Will gets it. That Will is like him.

He gives Will a sad smile and says: “It’s okay, baby Byers. Not fun, but okay. Did Jonathan also tell you what happened to Billy’s locker?” Will smiles mischievously and nods. “Good,” Steve says decisively. “Don’t let anyone put you down, kid. You deserve to have fun. You deserve to do what you want.”

That’s as close to a confession that Steve is willing to give. He might have accepted it about himself, but that doesn’t mean he wants to talk about it with Will. Not now at least.

Luckily Will also doesn’t seem ready to talk about it, because he just nods with a shy happy look, before looking away.

At that point, they’re interrupted by Dustin coming back from the toilet. They stay in and play some board games, before Steve truly has to do his homework. He doesn’t want to be in that school any longer than he has to. If that means trying to understand calculus, so be it.

It’s kind of funny how the two eight graders have given him more confidence. They’re just two nerdy kids, who don’t know better than to just do what they find fun and deal with everyone looking down on them. It’s something Steve has had to learn way later in life.

He goes through his day like he has the week before. He shares first period with Heather and a study hall with Sofia.

Sofia notices him struggling and offers to help. Since she is in the same classes Nancy is, he gladly accepts her help. She has a good way of explaining things and by the time study hall is done, he feels like he understands math, something that has never happened before.

Lisa is in the class right before lunch. She slides into the seat next to Steve as she greets him quietly, her standard state of being. She leans in and Steve knows what that means, so immediately leans back to heard what she has to say.

“Coach Miller mentioned the stunts you could do to Molly,” she tells him. “If you want to say no, brace yourself for lunch period. You know how she gets.”

Steve laughs at that. Molly is a nice girl, but she is ambitious and very competitive, which sometimes takes precedence over being nice. If she wants something, she is not afraid to go after it until she has it.

He is now glad he had the talk with Dustin and Will, or that news would have been daunting instead of funny. He grins: “Guess it’s Molly’s lucky day.”

Lisa perks up at that and says: “You’re serious?” in a louder volume he has ever heard her use.

They get some looks and quiet down immediately. Steve nods: “Yeah, I mean, why not, you know? It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

“Gonna be honest, Stevie,” Lisa says, “I’m glad you’re gonna stay. I would have missed you at practice. Who else is going to stand on my toes.”

“I don’t stand on anyone’s toes,” Steve guffaws to hide how emotional the confession makes him.

“Whatever you say, Harrington,” Lisa grins, before turning back to the lesson.

Steve does the same and makes eye contact with Eddie, who turned back to watch them when they got louder. His beautiful dark eyes bore into Steve’s and he feels a blush crawling up his cheeks. Not wanting Eddie to know the effect he has on him, he plasters on a bitchy expression.

Eddie in turn frowns, before shrugging and turning back to looking out of the window. The dismissal somehow hurts more than anything else would have, even if it’s what Steve wanted. He hates how the boy makes him feel.

There is something magnetizing about Eddie.

Whenever he climbs on the tables, Steve can’t help but look at him, can’t help but listen. He has long been the target of lectures about conformity and society at the hands of the metal head. He always played unaffected, it’s what he’s good at after all, but now he misses those eyes.

Ever since he’s fallen from his throne, it is Billy, who is the prime target of those speeches. It’s irrational to be jealous of Billy, but Steve can’t deny that he is.

He shakes his head and tries to put Eddie out of his thoughts. It doesn’t matter. Eddie will never want to talk with Steve anyway. Steve, despite his fall, is the embodiment of all Eddie stands against. If he even talks with Steve, it’s not going to be nice.

But the rumors that go around would have Steve believe he has a chance with the guy, something that makes it all the more frustrating.

Stop it, he tells himself, you have enough on your plate already. And you’re too much of a pussy to ever say anything to him anyway. Why bother?

And with that he tries to tune back in to the lecture that escapes him. Hopefully Lisa has better notes than he does (she does and lets him copy them during lunch).

The cheer table has become comfortable, the chatter of the others is a familiar background noise, which is why Steve notices when it changes. He looks up and Molly is sitting across from him. She usually sits further away, so there was a silence when she took a different spot.

Steve smiles at her like he doesn’t know why she’s there. He greets: “Hey, Molls. What’s up?”

“You coming to training after school?” she asks.

She sounds tense, but also like she’s holding back. If Steve had to guess, he’d say that she has an entire speech ready to go for the no she is expecting. Just to throw her off, he grins: “Course, yeah, see you there.”

Molly opens her mouth, before the words hit her. She’s speechless for a second, then nods as a smile creeps up her face. “Good, yeah, see you there.”

Lisa leans in and says: “I’ve never seen her speechless before now.”

“You’re staying?” Chrissy asks excitedly.

“Yeah,” Steve tells her, happy with his decision. It’s nice to be wanted somewhere.

After his last class, both Chrissy and Lisa are waiting for him with big grins. Chrissy immediately starts chatting about all the homework Mrs. Click gave them and how unfair it is. Steve and Lisa just nod along, they’re familiar with the teacher.

Steve gets changed in a toilet stall, then joins the girls again. Coach Miller smiles when she sees him, a glint coming over her eyes. Steve already knows he’s going to be sore again, but he doesn’t care. He’s officially a cheerleader now.

~~

A/N:

This is nice popular girl propaganda, I’m not a girl, nor was I popular, but I like the idea of popular solidarity, athlete girls, but that might be because I am a lesbian xp

Also I know a lot more goes into doing stunts and doing it safely, but this is fanfic logic, bc I’m not writing a training montage, so you just got to trust me lmao

I have decided to upload every Wednesday and Sunday, so you can look forwards to uploads then :D

[cinnamonroll-soong]

I’ve not been that active on tumblr in the last year, but I’d like to give you guys a little update as to what I’ve been up to.

I graduated from college (well almost, the ceremony is july 5th), as a theatre maker, actor and teacher. A lot of the things that I make are inspired by trek in some capacity, since my special interests are my creative fuel. And for some reason people seem to enjoy my weird creative visions and are excited to work with/for me??? Like what???

I started this blog when I was 13. A scared, lonely kid who wanted an escape from being bullied every single day (I believe this blog was called thewizardtimeladyof221b back then?). I found that escape in the form of the fandoms here on tumblr, and especially star trek (and Data of course). Having this blog got me through high school. I basically grew up here!

I’m not alone anymore, and I get to do what I love for the rest of my life. While still being a huge fucking nerd.

And if you’ve been following me for a while: thank you for sticking around.

[sunflwrlitskies]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Hande Erçel 

full name:  Esmeray Yildiz

nickname(s) / goes by: Esme

pronouns & gender: She/Her & Cis Woman

sexuality: Pansexual

birth date: December 28th, 1995

birth place: Merrock, Maine

arrival to merrock:  1995

housing: The Coast & Pier

occupation: Florist

work place: Lavender Lane

family: NA

relationship status: Single

PERSONALITY

she’s very kindhearted and warm towards anyone she meets. she’s very self-conscious of herself, and often a bit too forgiving, but will not hesitate to boost someone else up. she can be a little shy but it doesn’t take her long to warm up to someone.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content warning: bullying, harry potter

Esmeray was born to two loving parents, both of whom adored their daughter with everything they had. She was the only child of Zehar and Ömer Yildiz. Shortly before her arrival into this world the Yildiz’s moved from Turkey to Merrock, Maine. See even though moving to Merrock had been part of the plan for years, getting pregnant with Esmeray wasn’t. Regardless, her parents were delighted when they found out.

Growing up Esmeray was a happy child at home. She was so infectious with her laughter and smile that her family quickly nicknamed her “Sol,“ and the name was one she fell in love with from a young age. She tried her hardest to live up to it every day.

(bullying tw) Despite the loving household Esmeray had things at school were different for her. For some reason, one Esme couldn’t seem to understand, the kids in her grade always looked at her funny. The girls never wanted to talk to her about anything, no-one made an effort to sit with her at lunch, during gym she would always get picked last, and her locker usually had some sort of goop or slime smeared on it as ‘the prank of the day.’

She found her escape in books and gardening. One day she picked up a copy of ‘Harry Potter’ and the brunette was hooked since. It wasn’t long before she was trying to read as many books as possible, from all different genres. If she wasn’t reading, then she was listening to audiobooks while she gardened.

With a lot of hard work, she ended up graduating top of her class, and her parents were proud. After graduation Esmeray took some time to travel around Europe for a bit. She did some backpacking and, in her adventures, met many lovely, and not so lovely, people along the way. She went to places like Paris, Peru, Japan, China, Egypt, and Prague. She spent some time in Turkey but only when her parents would go visit family there.

Now a days her parents have moved back to Turkey and Esmeray lives on the coast with Darrius Powell, Aisha Thevar & Emeline Newman, loving every minute of it. She has a bearded dragon named Reptar that she absolutely adores and works as a florist at Lavender Lane. 

[kingofthewebxxx]

For the HCs inbox call!

If Jim hadn't been as twisted as he is, but would have decided to use his smarts to either help people or at least pursue a career that could satisfy him without damaging others (like Sherlock), what do you think he would have picked? How different would he be in terms of personality, lifestyle, relations? And what would have been the motivation(s) that could have pushed him to make this sort of choice?

Of all his past experiences, is there a specific event that marks the birth of Moriarty as the criminal world has come to know him? Any specific circumstances that have led Jim to become the most feared criminal mastermind of history? And was it just something that happened, or was there one person (or more) who can be considered somehow responsible for helping to create Moriarty?

A very difficult question! What I will do is first explain my thought process so you can see how I came to the conclusion that I have. Throughout the show, we soon learn how Moriarty has a slight fascination with narrative particularly, writing his own. Not only has he built his reputation up to suit his own needs and desires. He had a particular way he wanted Sherlock to die and it soon became clear how much thought he put into it with so many details, including the links to fairytales as it got closer to the main event. If Moriarty thought so little and thought about connecting it all to fairytales merely to get at Sherlock then it wouldn't have been so grandiose as it was and besides, wasn't what happened with Eurus and Moriarty, the big story of getting Sherlock and the others to ‘save’ the girl on the plane one big narrative? Therefore, I have concluded he would perhaps be a writer, trying to help the world understand itself better through enveloping emotions and feelings in words to make people less frightened of themselves or perhaps a teacher (as we see in the original), the same reason for this would also apply to a support worker, wanting to help people change their narrative. He would likely be a lot more open and have a sense of empathy or at least be trying to ease the pain within himself by helping others instead of more destructive means. He would likely have gotten on with his Co-workers, not super close but working relationships nevertheless, he may have had one or two friends perhaps but it would still be a small number since he would most likely close off darker parts of himself and may come across as shy, he may not be bad but that does not mean there wouldn't be an internal struggle. I would imagine that he would likely be closer to his parents and brother, although I would say the closest of any potential relationship would be with his partner whom he would be capable of loving, a chance that he never got. Most likely he would have had a less lavish lifestyle but he would likely have been slightly more laid back and valued people a lot more over other things. His main driving force would be to help those who had also suffered pain and to show them that it's worth fighting for who you are and not giving up by leaning into the darkness.

Out of everything that happened to James growing up, many aspects contributed to how he developed, some much darker than others. Considering how much pain this character carries and how it manifests which I think is something some people may not associate with him, yes he inflicts pain but he has suffered so much. At this time I will not be going into the darkest of headcanons, if anyone truly wants more details please DM me, I'm still testing the waters with Tumblr. One such occurrence that led to him becoming ‘Moriarty’ was how he was treated differently by his family. Growing up it was clear he was different, being quicker at learning new things and getting higher marks, yet he would have more frequent angry outbursts and become frustrated much easier than others. His slightly older brother had many more friends than James had growing up and seemed to get into significantly fewer fights, his parents thought that he had gotten into fights, and the reason he had gotten into fights was that after reporting the bullying it had not stopped, he did whatever was necessary to make it stop. His parents always favoured their older son and struggled to understand their younger child, often favouring one before the other. Feeling misunderstood and also almost a second priority distanced him from his parents and with time he started to resent them, leaving home at 16. Leaving him feeling unable to talk to his family when he needed them the most.

Note:

I always encourage those who suffer bullying to report it, as someone who suffered it themselves a lot through life, you deserve to be happy.

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+

Your current boyfriend used to be the jock that shoved emo-freak SAM MONROE into lockers. And now Sam’s got you moaning his name while his skinny boy cock rearranges your insides. Who needs all that muscle when you’ve got a sleep-deprived pill-popping grunge cunt destroyer filling up the empty space in your bed? Is he doing this to get back at your soon-to-be-ex? No. He’s always loved you. Always wanted you. Looked after you in envy while you were with that air-headed football player. He’s only got the confidence to fuck you now though. He’ll worry about his future broken nose later. Currently, all that matters is getting you to squirt all over the mattress so his old bully comes home to soaked sheets that smell of sweet betrayal.

[rinhaler]

𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

would you fuck your high school bully if you got set up on a blind date with him? if he was hot, probably, right?? ... right?

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ ex bully!rensuke kunigami x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: a concept that has rotted my brain for weeks now. ty to @chososdoll for beta reading as per ♡ Warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption, pro player!kunigami, pleasure dom!kunigami, consent check, overstimulation ♡, multiple orgasms (duh!), pussy eating ♡, fingering, slight nipple play, dumbification, size difference, vaginal sex, dacryphilia ♡, enemies to lovers?, pool sex ♡, skinny dipping, morning sex ♡, wake up blowjob, shush kink?, praise, reader has pubes! (landing strip), calls your pussy 'she', bullying mention, pet names (baby, princess). Words: 15.1k

“This seems a little…”

“What?”

“Sad.” you laugh, repositioning yourself on the couch beside your best friend as you watch your fourth horror film of the evening. She tuts, but not before gesturing that she needed a refill on her wine. So, you reach over to the side table and start taking off the lid for her. “I don’t know. It feels a bit desperate, no?”

“No!” Maisie objects.

She can’t remember the last time she heard you gush about a guy. And honestly, neither can you. It’s been forever since you went on a date. And it’s been even longer since you got laid. You shake the thought away as you pour the red liquid into her empty glass.

You’re happy alone, for now, you think. It’s not like you feel lonely. Admittedly, it isn’t the best feeling when you have to listen to all of your friends talk about their date nights or cosy nights in with their partners. It isn’t the end of the world, though. Maybe happy is a strong word to describe how you feel.

You’re content being alone.

“I’m not saying you have to marry the guy,” she continues, lifting the wine to her lips when you finish filling her glass. “Just meet him. He’s so sweet, and he’s gorgeous!”

“You fuck him then!” you laugh. She takes the opportunity to flaunt her engagement ring that she hasn’t even had for a week yet. You roll your eyes, but laugh, grabbing her hand so you can examine it again. It is beautiful. Are you a bad friend? Because the stab of jealousy you suddenly feel is almost painful. “I’ve never been on a blind date. I didn’t even realise they were still a thing, why won’t you just show me him?”

“I promise he’s extremely sexy. Trust me, if I wasn’t engaged I’d definitely take him for a ride.” she giggles, and you laugh back at that. She has similar taste to you, so you’re sure you’ll feel the same way when you see him. It’s intimidating though. You’re putting complete faith in her that she won’t fuck you over. And then, you realise, you’re thinking about it as if you’ve already accepted. Maybe it’s a sign. You should just take the plunge. “I don’t want to tell you too much and spoil the fun, but—”

“I’ll do it.”

“Y- really?!” she wiggles a little closer to you in excitement, her wine sloshing in her glass as she approaches. “I’m gonna text him now! Eeeeeeek!” she squeals, putting her wine down and picking up her phone. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her fingers move so fast as she texts the mystery man.

You want to pry for more information, but you know her too well. She’s stubborn. And the blind date aspect for her is too exciting. There’s no use trying to get her to spill. Though it doesn’t stop you from attempting to extract even a slither of information.

“How do you know him?”

“He’s a client.” she pays you no mind, perfectly manicured fingers tap away at her phone as she formulates a text message.

You’re surprised, for multiple reasons. You hadn’t expected her to answer that truthfully, let alone with no hesitation. It came so easy for her to say; which means one of two things. Either, it’s true, or, she had a well-crafted lie prepared in case you asked that very question. But if it’s true… that’s interesting.

She’s a social media manager. And while her clients aren’t necessarily A-Listers, they aren’t exactly nobody’s, either.

“Oh my God, is he a footballer?” you smile, widely. She peers up from her phone and you find it hard to read her expression. She’s always had a good poker face, but you’ve known her long enough to recognise her tells. And when she licks her lips, you have your answer. “AH! Is he rich? Oh I bet he’s gorgeous, fuck, is he shredded? Like—”

“The horny jumped out!” she laughs, and you playfully hit her arm before laughing along with her. She doesn’t say anything else about it. Now, she is fully committed to the blind element of the date. “I’ll drop you off, I’ll tell him what you’re wearing so he knows it’s you. He said he’s free Thursday night, does that work?”

“Sure.”

“Great! So 9PM on Thursday.”

“Um…” you hesitate. Fucking 9PM? You know you aren’t that old, you’re in your mid-twenties for crying out loud, but that seems very late. You’re usually tired by 10 o’clock. But you refuse to risk her chastising you for being boring. So, you suck it up with a beaming smile, “Perfect.” it almost hurts to say.

She claps, enthusiastically, before picking up her abandoned wine glass again. You’re both silent, fixated on the movie. But you spot Maisie out of the corner of your eye finish her drink in a hearty swig. You don’t comment, though, still trying your damnedest to focus on the movie. It’s too late, though, you’ve missed most of the plot since she started plotting and preparing your upcoming date. You don’t dare break the silence, though. She looks utterly engrossed.

However your own attempt at concentrating is thwarted when you hear her glass land a little too harshly onto her coaster. It doesn’t smash, thankfully, but you’re both staring at each other after that.

“I haven’t got a fucking clue what’s happening in this.” she admits, and you laugh, agreeing. “Let’s go plan your outfit for Thursday!” she suggests, throwing the blanket you’re sharing off her body before walking hastily to your bedroom.

This is so her.

She’s more excited for this date than you are.

“Deep breaths, you look gorgeous!” she assures you, holding your hand as you squeeze it again and again to calm your nerves. “For what it’s worth, by the way, he’s my sweetest client. He’s really respectful and kind, a lot of them can be rude but he’s never been like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! He’s really understanding.” she nods, eagerly. “Do you want me to come in and wait with you?”

“No, um… c-can you wait and let me know when he’s coming in? Or, just be here in case I get stood up.”

“Don’t even think that, he’s excited! He’ll be here. I’ll drop him so fast if he does, but I know he won’t.” she assures you.

You take another deep breath before smiling at her. She reaches over to give you a hug. It’s a tight, reassuring squeeze that makes you feel better for a fleeting moment. She waves like a child when you step out of the car, and she wolf whistles before you close the door.

If nothing else, at least you look good. You both agreed that there’s nothing like a little black dress, and your high heels accentuate your legs. They clack as you stomp across the pavement. And when you realise your steps are in time with your heartbeat you think it wise to slow down.

As the entrance to the restaurant comes into view, you look down the street and give your friend one final wave. Though, really, it’s meaningless. You know as soon as you sit down you’ll pull your phone out and start texting her in a panic. The maître d’ welcomes you with a beaming smile, checking the reservation list for the booking strategically made under Maisie’s name.

Still so committed to the blindness of the date.

It’s sort of exciting to think he doesn’t know anything about you, either. Though it’s scaring you slightly that he could take one look at you and turn around. And you won’t know until it’s too late. You won’t know until you’re being pestered to order after telling the wait staff that your date hasn’t arrived yet several times.

They’ll have to be polite despite how humiliating it is to tell you that other patrons need to be seated and seen to and you’re wasting their time. You’ll have to swallow your pride and leave. You can’t possibly eat alone after shouldering such a burning humiliation.

Oh God.

You text Maisie. And your fingers tremble as you type out the message. Telling her that you cannot go through with this and that you’re about to leave. A barrage of texts come through as she tries to give you a pep talk. But your anxiety flares and your leg begins to bounce as you try and shake the nervous energy from it.

Part of you thinks it’s best to stay sober, but your body is screaming differently. One drink won’t hurt, you decide, ordering two glasses of wine in case your date ever turns up.

And then you remember who he is. Or who he might be. He’s a client of your best friend, the social media manager. He must have some level of fame to need that representation. You’re pretty sold on the idea that he is likely a footballer. And through this thought process you manage to relax, if only a little. If he’s famous, he could be busy.

You decide to offer him some grace.

Though you should have given him the time to be really late before you got so worked up. You’ve only been seated for three minutes, after all. It’s not like he’s stood you up for an hour. You decide you’ll give him fifteen minutes before you leave. That’s a suitable amount of time to be able to leave and not look really foolish.

Every person that enters makes your heart race. Is it him? Only to realise it’s a couple or a double date or a family party in tow. You check the time on your phone, nine minutes have passed. Your cheeks fill with air as you puff it out slowly through pursed lips.

YOU: he’s not coming. MAISIE MOO 🐮: dw he just called me! he was stuck in traffic!!! YOU: rly? MAISIE MOO 🐮: yah! should be there any minute, have fun 😉

Your heart rate intensifies again as you see a man walk through the entrance and close an umbrella as he greets the maître d’. It prompts you to look outside, the windows are practically black save for a few lights on in the buildings across the road. But your eyes focus on the fat raindrops and their white outlines as they roll down the glass. How didn’t you notice the sudden torrential downpour?

Even from your seat at such a distance from the entrance you can see how large and well defined his hand is as he shakes raindrops from his orange hair. The colour makes you shiver, but you bat it away. It’s him, it has to be him. He’s alone, after all. And you see the maître d’ smile in your direction.

Hell, he might be happier that he showed up than you are.

You hear him laugh, and it’s deep, as he’s guided into the restaurant. And you can’t help but smile as you see him. He’s handsome, very handsome, and he has such a positive energy beaming from him. His face seems warm despite being chilled by the wetness of the rain. There’s pink in his cheeks and at the tip of his nose as he continues to smile kindly.

And, really, you’re speechless.

He smiles so sweetly, you almost didn’t recognise him, as he takes his seat opposite to you. And he thanks you for the wine. His eyes betray him as he looks at you with optimism. You know him, you’ve always known him. Those amber eyes that you’ve never seen in another man again since him. They seem so kind, now.

But you know better.

While he knows nothing.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” he grins, looking briefly over the menu. “I got stuck in traffic and then I had a hard time in the car park.” he laughs, his thumb indicating he’s referring to the multi-story car park down the road. The one notorious for its broken machines and confusing layout.

“Well, you’re here now.” you smile, weakly. Tipping the remaining contents of your glass until it flows between your lips. It goes down smooth and you almost feel it swim directly to your braincells, feeling slightly faint until your senses return to you again. You blink it away, and your eyes squint at him suspiciously. “Excuse me, I have to pee.” you tell him.

“Oh, sure.” he smiles. “Should I order for you if the waiter comes by? What would you like?”

“Are you paying or are we splitting the bill?” you wonder, taking his menu from his hand before he can even register that it’s gone. Your eyes scan the menu quickly, not looking for anything in particular.

“I’m old fashioned, so—”

“Great, then I want this.” you tell him, pointing to the most expensive meal on the menu as you place it back into his grip. He chuckles, gently, before looking up at you. Your smile filled with anger and malice as you turn on your heel to find the bathroom. “Oh, and an expensive meal should be paired with an expensive drink, right?” you tell him, leaving before he can respond.

He watches as you approach a waiter, asking where you can find the bathroom. They point you in the right direction. But before you go, you point towards the table your date is still seated at, telling them you’re ready to order. You ascend the staircase to the second floor and slip away into the bathroom and out of your dates line of sight.

Your heart pounds furiously.

Little hands shake as you search for your phone in your purse. Christ, you could use a cigarette right now. You feel light-headed as you take deeper and deeper breaths as you pull up your texts, your fingers tremble as you lean against the sinks.

YOU: do you hate me? be honest MAISIE MOO 🐮: ???? what’s wrong? Do u think he’s ugly? YOU: no he isn’t ugly. ANNOYINGLY. UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! MAISIE MOO 🐮: … MAISIE MOO 🐮: what? YOU: do u remember me telling u about a school bully 😊 MAISIE MOO 🐮: stop it YOU: YOU SET ME UP ON A DATE WITH MY BULLY!! WHAT DO I DO?? MAISIE MOO 🐮: NOOOOOOOOOO MAISIE MOO 🐮: OMG OMG OMG IM SORRY MAISIE MOO 🐮: FUCK YOU: I told him to order me the most expensive stuff on the menu bc he’s paying.. so I might just eat and dip MAISIE MOO 🐮: stopppppp omg lmk when ur done I will pick u up im so sorry ily

You sigh, putting your phone back in your purse. Is that really the right thing to do? Maybe not right, it’s morally wrong, of course. But is it the best decision to make? Do you really want to sit and eat a meal you probably won’t enjoy with your former bully watching your every move?

“Fuck.” you whisper to yourself. You decide to pee while you’re here, and you wash your hands for longer than you intended. It’s distracting you from your worries as you stare at yourself in the mirror and feel the comfort of the warm water encasing your hands as you clean them. You shake them when your done, little drops of water landing back in the sink before you go to the hand dryer. Maybe you’re stalling. You’re definitely stalling as you realise you’re drying your hands for far too long.

With one final look into the mirror, you take a deep breath and decide to return to your date. He smiles as he sees you descend the stairs again. And instinctively, you smile back. It’s a habit you’ve developed, not necessarily a bad one. But in this instance, it feels like a betrayal to yourself. You tell yourself to remain straight faced as you sit down, pulling your chair closer to the table.

“I’m Rensuke, by the way. I realise I didn’t introduce myself.” he grins, beaming white teeth almost blinding you as he awkwardly holds his hand out for you to shake. “Sorry, been a while since I had a date.” he laughs as he puts his hand down.

“I know who you are.” you laugh in return, though it’s not because of what he said. You just can’t help but find yourself amused over the fact he doesn’t recognise you. He laughs, too, looking a little uncomfortable all the while. He scratches his head as he nods, coming to his own conclusion.

“Oh, right. You’re a football fan, then? Sorry, you didn’t strike me as the type.” he continues, assuming you’re familiar with him through his fame. You hold your eyes shut for a beat too long, an annoyed smirk creeping its way onto your face as you try to bite your tongue.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” you comment, taking a swig from your newly filled wine glass. He cocks his head in confusion, but drinks with you. “So, why are you here? In London, I mean. I assumed you’d be… not here.” you ask, unable to control your tongue. There’s venom in your words, but not enough to kill.

“Um, I—” he clears his throat, coughing into his balled-up fist. His honeyed eyes find yours again, an incredulous look appears on his face as he formulates his thoughts in his mind. “I feel like I’m being set up.” he chuckles, though you can sense the worry behind his voice.

You take another sip from your wine glass. A sip turns to a glug as you empty the red liquid from the crystalline glass. You refill it yourself; sensing things are about to go south very quickly.

“This wasn’t really a blind date, right? Maisie told you who I am and you wanted to meet me. Am I right?” he wonders. And at that, you do scoff. And now you’ve lost all interest in holding your tongue.

“Oh my God. You’re so full of yourself, you haven’t changed at all.” you tell him, crossing one leg over the other as you rummage through your purse in search of a cigarette that will never appear. “I had no idea I was being set up with you. If I knew that, I wouldn’t have agreed.” you tell him without remorse. Defeated, you throw your purse down to the ground by your feet.

There’s a sense of shame flaring within you that you couldn’t keep it together until the end of your date. Of all the people roaming planet earth right now, why did he have to be your blind date? You stare at him as you observe his confused expression, he’s utterly bewildered by your words.

“I’m… we’ve met before, huh? I’m sorry, I’m having trouble remembering. I— are you a fan? Or… were you?” he asks, trying to decipher your identity. You scoff, again, preparing to stand to your feet. He reaches across the table and grabs your wrist. You look down at his large, veiny hand and then into his eyes. Your own vibrating with a slight twinge of fear. You feel like that teenage girl all over again.

“Let. Go.” you warn him, voice quiet through your gritted teeth. He relinquishes his hold of you instantly, apologising profusely. He’s just confused about what he could have done for you to hold such disdain for him. But your warning replays in his mind like a record on repeat. It’s like his fractured memories are forming again, becoming whole as he hears your voice again and again.

Let go.

You sounded so much weaker back then. You’re more defiant, now.

“Are you Ryusei Shidou’s little cousin?” he asks, eyes widening and brows raising in excitement. You sigh, sitting properly in your chair with correct posture as your eyes look angrily at him.

“No, I told you—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not really cousins your families are just close. I remember.” he smiles. His eyes almost dazzle as he looks at you, all recollection of his past hits him like lightning as he repeats your name again and again like a mantra. “Is that really you?”

“It’s really me.” you repeat, sarcastically. “Cancel the food order, you can still pay for the wine.” you tell him as you pick up your purse and prepare to leave.

“What? Why? We should catch up!” he tells you, an expectant look on his face as he hopes to convince you.

“I don’t want to catch up with you?” you tell him.

“But… why not? It’s been so long since we saw each other.”

You signal the maître d’ when you finally catch his attention. Rensuke looks disappointed as you continue to ignore him. Instead, you alert the man that you’ll be leaving early and to cancel your orders. But you make sure to tell him that Rensuke will happily cover the bill. And he does, hastily pulling out a wad of cash from his wallet as you depart the restaurant. He hurries after you, he’s in slight disbelief when he realises how fast you are. You’re almost halfway down the road when he finally exits the restaurant.

“Slow down!” he calls out to you, running right up behind you until he’s walking at your pace. He opens his umbrella and holds it above your head as you carry on walking. “You’re gonna get sick if you keep this up.”

“Leave me alone.”

“At least take my umbrella.” he requests, “I’ll go to my car and leave right now if that’s what you really want. But at least take it while you wait for a ride home.”

You accept, not too proud to take something that might offer you a small comfort in the absolutely obscene downpour plaguing the city. How quickly you’ve transformed from a vixen to a drowned rat. He must be loving this.

“I really would like to catch up with you, y’know…” he smiles.

You look up at him as the rain soaks his gorgeous gingery locks dampening and sticking to his forehead. Maybe he has changed. It’s been years after all. He’s grown up, it’s plain to see from his chiselled jawline alone. And he was always big back then. One of the tallest guys in your class, and so big and beefy to boot from playing so much football and training in the gym.

He terrified you.

And now, he’s bigger. An inch or two taller and completely filled out into an even more muscular physique.

“I can take you home, too. You don’t need to talk to me if you don’t want to… but, it’s freezing. You’ll be waiting ages for a taxi or for Maisie to come get you.” he speaks softly. And unfortunately, he’s right. You know all too well how tough it is to get taxis around this time, but it would be worse if it was the weekend so at least you’re thankful for it being a Thursday. You want to decline. You’re so ready to decline.

But for some reason—

“Okay.” you nod. You walk ahead, though, leaving him behind as you walk to the parking complex you’re pretty confident that he used. He laughs, hurrying after you again and allowing you to lead the way. It seems you know the area way better than him.

He guides you to the elevator and to the top floor of the complex. You aren’t sure what you expected when you step out. It’s not like you’re familiar with cars. But you were expecting some kind of expensive sports model. A Ferrari or something. Instead, you’re greeted to a black Range Rover.

It’s definitely outside of your pay grade, but you can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“I thought you’d have a nicer car, Rensuke.” you decide to goad him, thinking it’s the least he deserves at this point.

“This is my incognito car.” he smirks, looking over his shoulder at you as he unlocks it. Of course he has an incognito car. You huff a little as he helps you up and into it, closing the door behind you. He circles around the back and you see him looking around in the boot before he comes to the driver's side and sits behind the wheel. He gives you a towel, presumably used for his training days, and tells you to dry off. “My nicer cars are at home, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, wait…” you snicker as a thought comes to you. “Were you gonna try and pretend you’re a nobody if I didn’t recognise you?”

His face fills with a pink hue as he feels completely caught out. And you can’t help but burst into hysterics. It’s tough for him, meeting girls who will actually like him for him and not his bank account. When Maisie suggested a blind date, he thought it was as good a chance as any to try and form a natural connection.

“Anyway, I’ll take you home now.” he tells you, trying to change the subject. “Sorry the date didn’t go to plan.”

You huff, again, as you try to dry your skin with the towel. Eventually you give up and use it as a horribly soggy blanket. “I can’t believe you even wanted to go on a blind date. Girls used to throw themselves at you in school. I told Maisie a blind date seemed really desperate.”

“Did we go to the same school? I was a virgin ‘til we left.” he informs you. You look at him, surprised, and he nods to clarify. “I was focused on football and shit, didn’t have time for girls.”

“Well, you had time to bully one girl.” you remind him, regretting saying it instantly. You thought confronting him would feel better than this, cooler. Like you can finally get closure and make him feel almost a fraction as bad as he made you feel back then. But instead, really, it just feels… cringe.

He offers a weak smile at you. The tension could be cut with a knife as he pulls out of his parking space and drives down each floor. He wants to say something, and really, so do you. Maybe you should just let the hatred go. It was a really long time ago, after all.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t a good guy back then, but I like to think I’ve changed a lot.” he speaks, eyes focusing on the road as the street lights and car beams blind him in the rain. “Your cousin bullied me, y’know. Dunno if he ever told you, but I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair though, so I’m really sorry.”

“He is not—”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, princess.” he smirks, “I wouldn’t want to claim a relation to that blonde freak either.”

The insult towards Ryusei makes you laugh. You’re still close with him to this day, and ‘blonde freak’ is the perfect descriptor. But you don’t like to think of him as being capable of bullying. You had a feeling that was why you were subject to Rensuke’s torment each day, but you didn’t want to discover the truth. He always made it a point to vilify you for being related to Ryusei. Though you adamantly denied it each time.

“So, you were a prick to me for being related to someone I wasn’t even related to?” you respond, seriously. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Though you’re unsure any answer to his bullying would have made you feel better. It hurts to know you suffered so much, ultimately, for nothing. “Wish I told him you were picking on me, he would have fucking killed you.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” he laughs a little. It’s soft, but not weak. It’s almost like acceptance. As though he deserves anything and everything you’ll throw at him. “We’re good now, though, if we’re in the same place we’ll meet up for drinks. He’s a fucking good player, too. Always admired him. He kept me in my place for a long, long time.”

You stare at him as he speaks. How have you never noticed how soft his features are? He’s so relaxed, peaceful. He looks at you briefly when he notices you staring, but just as quickly looks at the road again as his cheeks fill with heat, reddened with embarrassment.

“I was immature…” you start, looking down at your shivering, wet thighs as you decide to accept your own faults, too. “It’s been a long time since then. And we were young, it’s obvious that you’ve changed. I didn’t give you a chance and I was childish.”

“No, no—”

“I’m serious. Ordering the most expensive stuff and going off in a strop, that was really immature so... I’m sorry.” you tell him, and he smiles at that. He can’t help but think you’re a great girl. He looks over at you again, smiling so widely his eyes close.

“You never gave me your address, y’know.” he reminds you, laughing when the realisation hits you that you’d let him drive off with no real destination in mind. “Is it too late for that catch up?” he wonders, looking at you with hopeful eyes. The orange and brown colour tainted with sparkles of red as the stop light reflects from them.

And you’re powerless.

You find yourself agreeing before your brain can even keep up with the way you’re shaking your head. No, it isn’t too late. And his smile is almost as blinding as the headlights of each car in the road illuminating the falling raindrops and deep puddles forming in the street.

“I know where we can go…” he thinks to himself

Bowling.

You never thought you’d be coming somewhere like this. Truthfully, you feel like a kid again. You remember skimming some money from your daily lunch allowance given by your parents to save up enough to go to the arcade every weekend with your friends. Saving the extra coins to use the DDR machine.

Let’s just say you mastered Captain Jack on expert difficulty.

“Another strike? You’re too good, puttin’ me to shame.” Kunigami laughs before picking up a ball and preparing for his turn. “You better not tell anyone you thrashed me; my reputation will be in tatters.” he warns you, jokingly.

You watch him as he takes a swing and hits all but two pins, leaving an awkward split between them. You hear him mutter under his breath but can’t decipher whatever it is he was talking about.

For some reason, you feel like he’s going easy on you. It’s not like he was a stranger to the arcade either back in the day. You always scarpered whenever he showed up with his friends, deciding it was the perfect time to grab a bite to eat and hope by the time you were done they’d be gone.

“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I knew you were gonna show me up like this.” he smiles, sitting next to you after completing his turn. “I didn’t know you liked bowling, thought you just liked using the dance machines.”

“You remember?”

“Yeah, uh,” he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck as he recalls the memories from way back then. “Me ‘n Raichi, remember Raichi? Anyway, girls on the dance mats… well, we were teenagers, so—”

“Oh my God you’re so embarrassing.” you interrupt him to put a stop to his stuttering.

“Look, it was a sexual awakening that’s all I’m saying.” he laughs. “And you were the best one, never missed a step. I remember we used to watch you for ages before we came in to scare you away.”

“Disgusting. Pair of perverts!” you lightly smack his arm as you continue to tease him. “I was good, though. Wonder if I could still pull it off…” you look at the machines in the distance as you contemplate restoring your former glory, you feel a newfound sense of confidence as you think about Rensuke finding you attractive back then.

You decide to go for it.

He follows you as you approach the machine, standing on the second player arrows right next to you.

“Always wanted to try!” he shrugs as you look at him suspiciously. “You can teach me.”

“No, I can’t.” you laugh, slotting two-pound coins into the machine so you can both play. “It’s just memory and hoping your feet will respond in time. Good luck, though.”

“Yeah, sounds like you have real faith in me.” he rolls his eyes, throwing his coat over the red metal bar behind him and rolling up his sleeves. You quickly kick off your high heels as you scroll through the songs. You hover over Captain Jack, and his face lights up as memories of you back then flow through his mind. “You always did this one. There was a different one I remember liking, though…” he tells you.

He starts to scroll through the songs, listening to them carefully as he searches for the one he remembers. Your eyes widen in horror as he settles on one, and he looks at you with pride.

“This one!” he exclaims, loudly.

“No, no way. I could never get the hang of it and I’m even more out of practice now. Afronova is too hard it won’t even be fun!” you warn him, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you teasingly. “Let’s do it la—” he interrupts you by pressing the select button.

“It can’t be that hard.”

“You put it on the hardest difficult, idiot. We’re fucked!” you laugh, but get into position. You’re both definitely going to fuck it up, but at the very least you’ll get a good laugh out of seeing him eat his words.

All colour drains from his face as he sees all of the arrows immediately come into view on the screen. He barely knows where to look let alone where to plant his feet. He looks at your side of the screen, though, seeing you miss a fair few moves yourself but you manage to keep up the pace enough to earn some words of praise from the machine.

If you’d know you were going to be doing this, you definitely would have worn a bra. You hold your arms across your chest as you continue to jump and follow along with the arrows as best you can. Kunigami, however, decided to give up and watch you instead. He puts his feet down a few times on ones he think he might actually be able to get.

You’re left panting by the time the song comes to an end and your final foot stomp leaves you breathless. Rensuke claps, proudly.

“Fucking hell.” you gasp for air, leaning over the red bar behind you. You think you might actually throw up. “You dick, you barely did anything either.”

“I was captivated by the master at work, you were amazing!” he praises you, and you can’t help but giggle. “I think we should do an easy one next.”

“Agreed…” you respond, flipping through the songs until you land on 5678 by Steps.

You both laugh and joke as you easily follow along with the routine on baby mode. And it’s easy to keep up a conversation with him like this. Discussing more memories of spotting each other in the arcade and what you got up to on weekends.

It makes you sad, in a way. Knowing how sweet he is now and what he was capable of back then. You could have been friends, great friends. Maybe even best friends. Though you’re sure Raichi wouldn’t have liked that.

He allows you to pick your favourite song for the final round. And, naturally, he can’t keep up with you. But this time he actually does his best. But for you, it’s like muscle memory. You don’t miss a single step through the whole routine and you don’t even feel out of breath when it’s over. Kunigami however is sweating and panting again, his already wet hair sticking onto his forehead again as the sweat clings to it.

“It’s getting late.” you tell him, “Should we get some gross bowling alley food and call it a night?” you wonder, moving to pick up your discarded high heels so that you can decide what to do.

He rushes by you and hops off of the step, snatching your shoes up before you can. You watch him, nervously, as he gets down on one knee while holding your black pumps. You’re too speechless to object when he helps you slip your feet back into them, so delicately. And he smiles up at you from his lowly position as you gain another six inches of height. He holds his hand out to you, helping you down the step after you take it.

You exhale, deeply, after feeling how unbelievably soft his hands are.

“I think I’ll get a hot dog.” he thinks, not letting go of your hand and he leads you up the small flight of stairs and into the eating area.

“Oh, the burgers were good last time I came here.”

“Ohhhh fuck you’re right, I’m getting one too.” he laughs, ushering you into a secluded spot to sit down. “What do you want to drink? I’ll run up and order everything now.” he smiles.

You quickly look through the drinks menu and tell him you want a strawberry and lime Kopparberg. He nods approvingly at your choice. You watch him walk up to the bar to order, unable to take your eyes off him. He’s chatty with the bartender, and you wonder what else they’re talking about. You see him grab a pad of paper and a pen from behind the bar, handing them over to Rensuke. And he smiles, happily, signing it for him. You see the man thanking him over and over before Rensuke walks back over to you.

“You only just got recognised?” you tease him.

“It’s rarer than you’d think, y’know.” he laughs, “he said his kid is a fan. No big deal.” he shrugs, sliding your drink over to you.

He moves on from the subject of his fame and status in favour of complimenting you again. Telling you how talented you are and how fun it’s been hanging out with you again. You end up telling him about your job. It’s nothing fancy but pays the bills. You tell him about how you pretty much fell into the job of doing admin work for a law firm and now you’re training to be a solicitor.

His face lights up as you tell him. Like he’s proud. Or maybe it’s a twinge of relief that he didn’t fuck you up mentally enough to ruin your life. Either way, his smile is contagious. It only grows wider when your two plates of food are put down in front of you. And you hate that you’re trying to eat politely. There is absolutely no way to eat a dirty burger in a ladylike manner. He laughs at you when a dollop of ketchup drops on your chest and tries to slither down your cleavage. But, ever the gentleman, he cleans it up quickly with a napkin.

“Sorry,” he hesitates after realising how intimate it is. He hands it to you and you finish clearing your chest. “Good call on the burgers, though, they’re so good.”

You smile as you chew your food, still doing all you can to appear polite and demure. But he doesn’t mind, or care. Canines tear his burger apart with ease, and he can’t seem to stop himself from smiling each time he looks at you.

“So,” you start, putting down the final bite of your burger in favour of taking a swig of your drink. “You perving over me, did that affect the bullying?” you wonder, laughing lightly as he almost chokes on his food.

“I wasn’t perving, it was, I— ugh. I always thought you were cute. But I wasn’t about to tell you that.”

“You thought I was cute?”

“Oh, like you didn’t have a big fat crush on me? I heard the rumours.” Kunigami laughs, drinking his beer as he leans back into his seat.

“No, no, rumours and hearsay. I told one girl I thought you were hot on our first day and it turned into a game of broken telephone and spread like wildfire. I hated you!”

“Sure, sweetheart.” he winks before taking another drink. “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”

You shake your head, opting to finish your burger instead of disputing it further. He does the same, leaning back and sighing with relief before taking another drink. He slaps his stomach, as if he’s gained a beer bellying rather than possessing the rock-hard abs that you know reside there.

“This was fun. Really fun.” he tells you, crossing his arms over his chest as he continues to get comfortable in the booth seat. You nod, agreeing. “What are we calling… this?” he wonders.

“What do you mean?”

“Was it just a ‘catch up’ or could it still have been a date?” he asks, smiling when your eyes widen and your face flushes with heat so much that you feel the need to fan yourself. You tell him that you’re just hot from eating, but another cocky eye roll tells you that he’s not buying that. “I’m hoping you’ll say it was a date, if you were wondering.” he speaks, low and gravelly as he leans across the table to tell you.

“Well, it was technically a date. Just not the location we’d planned.”

“I enjoyed this a lot more.” he tells you, looking around at all of the arcade machines and the people bowling in the distance. “I go to snooty restaurants a lot, I don’t get a chance to relax like this as much. So, thank you.”

“R-Right, no problem.” you smile, unsure of what to say. “I guess we should get going, then.” you finish, gathering yourself and clutching onto your purse as you prepare to shuffle out of the booth. He looks a little deflated, then, but he follows your lead.

He puts his arm around you as he guides you to his car, helping you inside again. He even gives you his jacket to wear when he notices you shivering. Though you opt to wear it over yourself like a blanket.

You look out of the window as he climbs inside and shuts the door. The rain stopped while you were bowling, but it’s still so dark out. It’s damp and dreary, it’s just miserable, really. But the cold chill of staring out into the black abyss leaves you when Kunigami turns on the radio. Some generic pop music you’ve never heard in your life, and it makes you feel old and out of touch. But the face he pulls says the same story, and he begins flicking through other stations until he hears something he recognises.

“S-So… do you live nearby?” you ask him, curiously.

“I do! Just got a new place a few weeks ago, I’m still unpacking.” he smiles as he envisions all of the moving boxes still piled up in each room. “So where am I taking you?”

“If you go to Maisie’s office I can direct you from there.” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt into place as he pulls up directions on his phone to the office. You look out of the front window when you hear raindrops begin to pitter patter again. “Um… Rensuke…” you start, hesitating to speak as you wonder what the fuck you’re even thinking of doing right now.

“What’s up?” he asks, eyes darting to you before he starts the car. The only thing that can be heard is the light drops of rain. It makes your skin jitter, you feel a chill as you look at Kunigami, the rain rolling down the windows in your peripheral vision and you feel thankful to be here and not out there.

You feel desperate. And you’re sure you’re going to humiliate yourself, but you don’t want the night to end. In a million years, you never would have pictured yourself enjoying the company of Rensuke Kunigami. He’s a busy man, you’re sure. He fit you into his busy schedule and you’re sure he has better things to do than spend all of his free time on a date. A date that is supposed to be drawing to a close.

But you don’t say that.

In fact, you barely say anything.

He can’t help but smile, though, knowing exactly where your next destination will be.

“I don’t want tonight to end, either.” he confesses. You feel your body become lighter as you realise he feels the same way. He starts the car promptly, and you note how sure he is about where he’s taking you. “Can I show you my new place?” he asks.

He’s so cocksure as he says it. His eyes don’t meet yours and you sense it’s because he knows you’ll say yes. And who are you to disappoint? You’re curious, anyway. You wonder if it will be as impressive as you’re envisioning in your mind. Footballers are rich, aren’t they? But maybe he isn’t a high earning player. Either way, you’re curious to see the home that your former bully has worked so hard for.

You lose track of time as you pull up to his house. Or mansion, you should say. He’s allowed through the security gate currently being manned by a member of staff, and he drives up and towards a three door garage. You can’t believe you’re visiting somewhere like this, it feels like a dream.

It’s something Maisie is accustomed to, Rensuke even tells you how confidently she strutted around and didn’t even bat an eyelid when she came over to discuss his contract. But you’re left speechless as more comes into view.

He doesn’t bother parking in the garage, pulling up directly to the stairs leading up to the front door. He’s out first, doing a little jog around your side to open the door and help you out.

“I didn’t bring you here to brag, by the way.” he insists.

“And here I was thinking you were trying to woo me into bed.” you laugh, and laugh harder the redder his face becomes. He holds his hands up defensively, waving them dismissively as he tries to assure you that was not his intention.

“I’ll take you home right after if you want! I swear I wasn’t—”

“Relax! I was teasing you.” you tell him, bumping into him as you enter the mansion. He offers you a drink, which you accept, happily. He pours you a glass of wine but gets himself some water directly from the tap. “You aren’t drinking?” you question, feeling a little uncomfortable that you’re drinking alone.

“I won’t be able to take you home if I drink more than I already have.” he chuckles, handing your wine to you.

He drinks his water, and you take a sip of your wine. His smile, that beautiful smile, it’s so disarming. You’re tottering on your heels to walk by his side as he encourages you to follow him. You feel as though time is flying when he takes you from room to room. There are still moving boxes in each room but it doesn’t detract from the lavishness of it all.

You laugh when he tells you there’s a tennis court out back.

“What are you going to do with a tennis court?” you giggle.

“Play tennis, I suppose.” he laughs back.

You don’t mind even a little when you feel his cold hand come into contact with the even colder skin between your shoulder blades. You mind even less when his hand snakes down your spine and settles in the small of your back as he guides you to the next room.

“Oh wow…” you express, hit by the warmth of the room. Your heels clack against the tiles with each step you take. You leave his side as you get closer and closer to your target. And you scream, smacking Kunigami’s arm as he rushes behind you and presses his fingers into your sides. “An indoor pool… you’ve really fucking made it.” you tell him, and he shrugs.

“There’s one outside as well.” he informs you.

“Now that was a brag.” you laugh.

“Shit, was it?”

“Absolutely.

You crouch down to the balls of your feet, letting your fingers swim through the pristine pool water. You aren’t quite sure how to describe the colour of it, but it’s mesmerising, as if sage and turquoise paint mixed specifically to fill this pool.

He takes your hand and encourages you to stand upright again. And he doesn’t let go as he leads you out of the room. The thought of going back to your poky apartment after being in here is harrowing.

It almost feels like he’s doing charity work.

There’s a rumble outside that causes you both to stop in your tracks. And once you enter the living room again, you see the heavy rain pouring down violently on the windows again. It’s louder than before. The raindrops are weightier.

He squeezes your hand as you yelp after seeing a bolt of lightning pierce through the sky. You look up at him, eyes full of grace as those honeyed eyes warm your soul for the umpteenth time tonight.

“There’s a weather warning from The Met Office…” he tells you as he checks the time on his phone. He lets go of your hand to look at you again, unsure of what to say. “I can take you home… before it gets any worse…” he whispers. His voice betrays him, though. You can hear the voice of a liar interspersed with his desperation to be a good guy.

He doesn’t want you to leave.

You don’t want to leave, either.

“It’s… dangerous, though…” you start, looking out of the window again at the gloomy weather.

“In that case…” he bends down, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “You should stay.”

You mewl, softly, as he not-quite kisses against your ear and the smooth skin behind it. And your head tilts, for him, so that he can press one final kiss against your neck. You don’t want it to stop, but he withdraws himself with a cheeky smirk while your eyes are heavy with lust.

It’s been so long.

Too long.

You might have lived your whole life up to now without being kissed like that.

He curls his finger, instructing you to follow him back upstairs. You put down your wine glass and hurry after him. He doesn’t wait, this time, leading ahead as he brings you to one of the bedrooms.

“Wait here.” he commands, and you do.

You walk up to the standing mirror against the wall and check yourself out. Trying to make sure you makeup hasn’t smudged or there isn’t food in your teeth. Your hair is still soaked, but that can’t be helped. When he walks back into the room you quickly back away from the mirror as if you’d been caught doing something wrong.

“The bathroom is just opposite to here.” he reminds you, pointing.

You look down at the pile of items he brought in from another room. There’s an unopened three-pack of toothbrushes and a brand-new tube of toothpaste. You can’t help but smile when you pick up the rolled-up ball of white, fluffy bed socks.

And you hate to admit how your knees go weak when you realise he’s gifted you with his football jersey to sleep in for the night. There are shorts, too, but you doubt you’ll need them. You want to keep your dress on for as long as possible. You’ll just sleep in the jersey and your panties when you’re ready.

“Thank you.” you smile at him. You notice the tips of his ears and his nose turn a blush pink as he sees you holding up his jersey and modelling it against your body.

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves the room, giving you the space you need to do whatever it is you’re planning on doing. You take the opportunity to freshen up, you pick up the dental hygiene products he’d thoughtfully left for you and head to the bathroom. You catch his figure slipping into his own bedroom and closing the door behind himself.

Your mind runs rampant now that you’re truly alone. Look where you are. You’re brushing your teeth and preparing to spend the night in Rensuke Kunigami’s house. Sorry, mansion. How the fuck did this happen? Your heart begins to race. Are you actually going to fuck him?

You can’t.

You can’t.

You can already feel your inner child cussing you out for letting him kiss you like he did, no matter how brief it was. It helps, slightly, to tell yourself you have a reason to spend the night. The weather. It would be dangerous to drive in weather like this.

But, Christ, you can feel your cunt throb with want as you think about him railing you in every room of the house.

“Stop.” you whisper to yourself.

You finish brushing your teeth and spit into the sink. And that is when an idea hits you. You splash your face with water and find some cleansing wipes in the cupboard underneath. You start getting ready for bed. Because that is what you should be doing. Sleeping, alone, until you can go home.

When you’re done clearing your face you decide to slip into the clothes Kunigami gave you to wear. Even the ill-fitting, downright hideous shorts.

You emerge from the room, and see Kunigami appear again with a wide smile.

“Hey—”

“I think I’m gonna go to bed.” you blurt out, awkwardly, and Rensuke stops in his tracks.

“Oh… really?”

“Yeah I’m… tired.” you lie, already turning back into your room. “Goodnight.” you call out, not bothering to look at him as you’re already shutting the door behind yourself.

“Goodnight.” he replies, the disappointment in his voice doesn’t go amiss.

You can’t.

You just can’t.

You can’t fucking sleep.

It’s closing in on midnight when you check the time, and you have a multitude of texts from Maisie blowing up your phone. You can’t bear to respond, though. Not after all of the horror stories you told her about Rensuke. The thought of her knowing that you’re spending the night at his house is just embarrassing. Even though it is innocent enough. You didn’t even kiss, really. You’re just sleeping until morning.

But you can’t sleep.

Your mind is racing with ideas of what could have happened if you didn’t say goodnight. What else could you have gotten up to if you hadn’t had your responsible brain hardwired in. You’re thankful for it, you are. But just because it’s responsible doesn’t mean it’s always right. Right? It’s been so long since you’ve gotten fucked.

Are you depriving yourself over something so trivial?

You throw off your duvet and prepare to leave the room. You’re not looking for him. In fact, you’re hoping he’s asleep, like you should be. But if he catches you roaming the halls, you’ll just tell him you were going to use the bathroom.

The corridors are cold. The chill in the air caresses your no longer covered thighs, you discarded the shorts barely any time after you said goodnight.

You aren’t sure where you’re going, you only have the flash from your phone to light the way. You’re sure he wouldn’t mind you turning the lights on, but you don’t want him to catch you if he is awake. And you don’t want the light creeping into his room to disturb him if he did actually manage to get to sleep.

When you find yourself in the same room as the swimming pool, you have no idea how you even got here. It’s like you were summoned. It’s a mermaid’s lagoon and you were drawn in by a sirens song.

You can’t remember the last time you swam. It’s not like the weather is ever nice enough for it, and you hate public pools. But this… it might even help you feel tired enough to sleep.

You look behind you and approach a set of loungers.

As you��re about to pull Kunigami’s jersey over your head, you screech. The sound of breaching water echoes through the room and you turn around, sharply, to see the source.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, his voice reverberating through the room. “Were you looking for me?”

“Jesus Christ,” you yell, laughing soon after. “I- I couldn’t sleep. You almost gave me a heart attack, I didn’t even know you were in here!” you tell him, truthfully, and he laughs. He swims under the water from one end of the pool to the other. You stand at the edge when he comes up for air again. “I just couldn’t sleep.” you confess, though it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. Your voice is quiet and mousy so that your words won’t carry throughout the room.

“Me neither.” he tells you, looking up at you as he does. You notice his eyes stray, catching a glimpse of your panties under his jersey before he shamefully looks away. But he looks, again, as he admires you in his jersey. “Why can’t you sleep?” he asks, the sound of water pouring is boisterous as he raises his hand and pats the edge of the pool.

You look at it, his hand, and understand what he’s doing.

You can’t.

You can’t.

But you do. You crouch down, submerging your lower legs in the warm liquid while it ripples against the back of your thighs and ass. Your breath hitches when you feel his hand on your thighs and raking up the sides. He stands up, his forehead resting against yours as water cascades from his soaking body.

You can’t bring yourself to care when you feel it splash up against you.

The only thing on your mind is how close he is.

“Why can’t you sleep, baby?” he tells you in hushed tones. The weight of his words and the way he speaks them makes your body limp. But he’s there to keep you upright. He angles his head so that his eyes, those honey pot eyes, can focus on you. Your words die on your tongue as you try and formulate a lie.

One won’t come.

“Why did you say you were going to bed when you weren’t tired?” he whispers, again, and you feel your resolve begin to crumble. He’s like an archaeologist, meticulously brushing at an ancient relic that he has no business handling.

He should have left you be.

“I… I don’t know, Rensuke.” you lie. And it’s an awful lie. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he hears you struggle to think of anything better than that. He knows. You both know. That’s why you can’t object when he pulls you closer. His hands force your legs around his waist. How did you get here?

“You look good, princess,” he tells you, tugging gently as his jersey, looking down at the strip that drapes like silk over your cute tits and perfect frame. “Want you to have it…”

“But it’s yours.” you respond. You’re a little taken aback by how demure your voice is as you speak. It’s like you’re instinctively making yourself small for him. Your inner child is protecting you, still to this day. He shakes his head at your words, though.

“It’s yours, I’ve got plenty.” he assures you. He keeps a tight grip of your thighs as he begins to walk you further into the pool. You wrap your arms around his neck and will yourself to remain some semblance of control. But he smirks, his nose touching yours before he pulls away again. “You’re coming for a swim… do you want to take it off?” he wonders.

Your eyes widen in horror as you recall your decision to decision to forgo a bra, knowing it would ruin your outfit. You shake your head, defiantly.

You can’t.

You can’t.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath…” you inform him. He chuckles, at that. In his mind, he knows. And deep down, you know it too. If you don’t find your willpower soon, your bare-naked form won’t be an issue. He closes his eyes and holds them shut, laughing when you repeat his name a few times in an attempt to get him to open them again.

“Take it off, ‘m not looking. You can hide under the water.”

Your movements are halted but for barely any time at all. He has a way of making you submit to anything he wants and you aren’t sure why that is. You were so mad at him hours ago. You didn’t even want to have dinner with him.

But look at you now.

Your legs are wrapped tight around his waist and you’re throwing his football jersey away. It doesn’t land on a lounger, but near enough. And you hold onto his shoulders as he begins to walk you both deeper and deeper into the pool. You don’t want him to feel you, not like that.

It’s getting out of hand.

You can’t stop it.

You can’t help it.

“You can open your eyes.” you tell him, and he stops walking. His eyes slowly open and it takes an incredible amount of restraint for his eyes to not wander beneath the water. And, you feign innocence. You aren’t sure what is wrong with you, because you know you shouldn’t have. But you look away, pretending something in the distance has piqued your interest.

You give him the opportunity to leer at you.

And he’s so thankful.

Even submerged and obscured by the greenish, dithering water, your body looks like an oil painting. To him, you’re a work of art and he’s grateful that you’re even letting him experience you in the slightest. But this… you’re a masterpiece, he thinks.

“Hey,” he speaks, he moves a hand from your thigh to your chin and you cling to him instinctively. He guides your line of sight back to him, looking back at you with a serious stare. “You don’t need to fight me, you know.”

Your heart practically stops at that. At the very least you think it skips a beat. But you hold his stare, eyes vibrating as you look between his as you search for an explanation. Are you truly so easy to read?

He sees you wrestling with your conscience. He doesn’t want to intervene, but what else can he do? He pulls you closer to him, a surprised whimper leaving you as you feel your bare chest come into contact with his.

It doesn’t register to him, though.

You don’t fight when his lips begin to trail your own. No pressure is applied, but you’re breathing is heavy. And he can’t deny that his is matching your own.

“I’m not seventeen anymore.” he reminds you, quietly. Your eyes weld shut and your self-preservation begins to scream at you. Imploring you to have some fucking common sense.

You can’t.

You can’t.

“I know…” you confess.

You look at him briefly, giving him silent permission to proceed. And he takes it. Without hesitation he takes it as his lips capture yours in a sweet kiss. You feel like you’re in a romance novel as it continues. It’s polite but not entirely tame. And for you, it’s been entirely too long since you last kissed anyone. You feel him smile into the kiss when he hears the softest little moan crawl out of your throat. But it fades, fast, when he remembers how lucky he is to be experiencing this.

He doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t.

And so, he takes it seriously. He brandishes the plumpness and texture of your lips to the forefront of his mind as you allow him to continue. He implants the way your body arches into his as his fingers trace up the curve of your spine, and how your mouth parts ever so slightly when he reaches the nape of your neck.

You’re perfect.

“Has it been a while? Since you had sex.” he asks, quietly, like it’s some sordid little secret. You feel embarrassed when you register what he’s asking. The insecurity creeps in and you try to pull away. He doesn’t let you, though, pulling you closer and reaffirming his interest with another searing kiss. “You’re so responsive, baby, that’s all.” he tells you.

You kiss him again.

And you feel pathetic. Like a dog humping a stuffed animal as you begin to instinctively roll your hips against him as you beg for more.

“Feels like forever…” you confess, hiding your words into another kiss and hoping he’ll forget you even uttered them. You hear him grunt when you sensually slip your tongue between his lips. He reciprocates, licking at yours as he carries you to the edge of the pool again. “W-What about you?”

You regret asking. Of course, the answer won’t be the same for him. He’s gorgeous. Beautiful, in fact. He’s rich, famous, successful. You’re another in a long line of women who throw themselves at him when given the opportunity.

You certainly aren’t naïve enough to think otherwise.

“Since I had sex? Not too long ago.” he responds, and it’s effortless. You knew. You fucking knew and yet you’re still feeling hurt. And you feel ashamed of yourself in the same breath. It doesn’t matter, really, you know who came before you and who came before him are irrelevant to what’s happening right now in this moment. But still, the feeling of embarrassment lurks. “I don’t remember the last time I fucked anyone the way I want to fuck you, though.” he finishes.

And now, you’re ravenous.

Your lips find his again. And the politeness has died, drowned in the pool along with your morals and self-respect, you figure. Your fingers grab and pull at whatever they can find. One hand finds purchase on one of his biceps and digs and squeezes into the hard flesh. The other tugs and pulls at his hair residing just above his undercut.

And he moans when you yank his pretty orange tufts. He breaks the kiss, laughing, for a moment after he recognises what you just stole from the pits of his lungs.

You feel your ass come into contact with the edge of the pool as he sits you down in the middle of a kiss. He breaks it, sinking down further into the water until you’re looking down at him. Your heart rate quickens as you feel deft fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

And you can’t control your body, moving on autopilot as you lean back and keep your legs together as he steals the black lace from your body. He has no regard for where they land, but you hear a faint splash as they float on the surface of the pool. You won’t see them again, you think. They’re soon to absorb the chlorinated water and sink to the tiles framing the pool.

You sit back upright but find yourself unable to meet his eyes again. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling as he gently pries your thighs apart one by one. He’s slow, and careful, as he parts them. Soaking in the sight of your intricate folds.

“Pretty everywhere, huh? So fuckin’ pretty…” he expresses. You feel his thumb drift along your inner thigh to your pubis. A soft, low chuckle escapes him as it comes into contact with your pubic hair. A perfect landing strip guiding his eyes to your scintillating cunt. “You did this for me.” he states. He doesn’t ask, he tells you. And your eyes snap back to look down at him, defensively splashing him with water.

“I didn’t know it was going to be you,” you remind him. “I wanted to be prepared in case I—”

“But it was me.” he interrupts, wrapping his arms around your thighs after wiping the excess water from his face. “You’re letting me see. So it’s all for me, princess.” he continues. You don’t have a response, despite his logic seeming broken at best. It’s for him, now. But had you known who would be walking into that restaurant…

His breath fans across your heat as he places his thumb at the top of your lips and pulls back the hood of your clit. You gasp, letting your head sink as you lean back on your hands and rest your weight on them. And he spits on it, sucking at it soon after.

“’h my God…” you start, moving a hand to his hair, threading your fingers through damp, orange strands as he continues to suckle at your clit.

You’ve lost the means to feel embarrassment anymore as he looks up at you with his head buried between your thighs. Though you can’t deny the hot flush you feel as he makes a holy show of flattening his tongue between your lips and licking upwards from your oozing hole to your still exposed clit.

But you lose him, again, as he decides to focus.

He didn’t think he could burrow any deeper between your legs until you feel his still hooked arm drag you closer to the pools edge. You tug at his hair again when he finds his rhythm, and he emits another grunt that vibrates throughout your sex.

You admire how his muscles flex as his grip around your thighs intensifies. He feels how your hips begin to buck, like you’re getting there. Like he’s helping you get there but you’re still trying to run from him.

You can’t.

Not anymore.

He looks up at you with golden retriever eyes as you begin to moan. It’s quiet, until it’s not. Quiet, secretive breaths begin to turn into sinful, saccharine moans that echo right back to you as they bounce from the walls.

His nose wiggles and nestles against the perfectly formed line of your pubic hair. It tickles, but he’s always had an affinity for landing strips. It’s nothing he can’t handle. And it’s something that drives him wild.

You clamp your legs around his head as you start to dance along the cliffs edge of your orgasm. But he parts them, easily, his veins bulge in his hands as he grips tightly into the doughy flesh of your thighs.

“Ren- Rensuke—!” you cry out, unable to even warn him before he’s already dragged you into toe-curling bliss. And he prolongs it, divinely, not altering his ministrations even as you begin to shudder and scream. “S’too much, Rensuke, f-fuck…” you pant, looking down at him as he finally begins to slow down.

“’m not done, though.” he warns you. He liberates your left thigh from his grasp, but his fingers lightly trail down your inner thigh and he can’t help but marvel at the sight of your sensitivity. You twitch and spasm from the lightest of touch.

Though the whine that rips through your vocal chords is just as delightful. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t even predict it when you felt two thick fingers seamlessly slot inside of your clenching entrance and curl up against your g-spot.

“Fuuuuuck, no, Rensuke, c-can’t.” you warn him, partially succumbing to light headedness as you feel him hone in and target your squishy slippery inner walls without remorse. You’re shivering. You’d like to think it’s just the exposure of wet skin to the stormy air, but it’s too much. You know it’s too much.

“You think too much,” he tells you, head sinking low again to continue feasting upon your gorgeously ruined flesh. Your pussy pulsates through the recent orgasm and the overstimulation. He’s going to be disappointed when he realises you can’t even fathom the idea of cumming again.

You just can’t.

Your body goes limp as he nudges a particularly delicate spot and presses down on your lower abdomen. The moan that leaves you at the feeling is downright pornographic. You can’t see, you can’t feel, but he’s smirking. He doesn’t relent, but his ego and his cock swell with pride as that salacious fucking moan plays on repeat in his brain.

The hand applying pressure ventures up north of your body. And your cunt clamps down on his fingers as his adventurous hand grabs the fat of your breasts and gropes your flesh. You moan, weakly, with no energy left in you as he tweaks at your nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

You’re pathetic, you think.

It was this easy for him to reduce you to this.

But you can’t help it. Your body is spent and you can feel another orgasm climbing through your nervous system. And yet, despite being wrecked, your body still finds the energy to clench and groan as you feel pleasure surge through you. Your toes curl, again, before they spread and widen and you try and gain some sort of control over what Rensuke is thrusting upon you.

Another scream is torn from you as you fall, no, you’re pushed from what seemed like a higher cliff than the first. Your back arches from the tile and further into Kunigami’s titillating touch.

“Rensuke, I- I…” you aren’t even sure what you want to say when you begin babbling. You manage to rest your weight on your hands again and look down at him. He showers your inner thighs with adoring kisses, they’re sweet and loving and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were falling in love.

He pulls his fingers out of your spasming walls and looks up at you. Your jaw is agape, slightly, as you feel him spit a perfect glob of saliva onto your clit without even looking. He needs to stop. You shake your head as you see the gears turn in his brain and you catch up almost instantly. You try to pull his wrist away but you’re weak.

“C-Can’t, Rensuke… no more!” you tell him, despite trying to sound firm, you just sound pathetic.

He can’t stop.

So he doesn’t.

He rubs the two fingers that were inside you just moments ago repeatedly over your throbbing clit. The smile sprawling across his face is that of a menace. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He thinks he knows your body better than you do.

And, hell, he might.

You say you can’t.

But why are you moaning for him?

“Doin’ so good for me, princess.” he tells you, kissing your inner thigh again as he continues his assault. His eyes droop as he admires how tender and overstimmed your pussy is. You can keep going, though. He’s sure of it. “You moan really pretty when you cum… ‘n I can tell she likes attention.” he speaks, it’s gruff but somehow still soft. He doesn’t look at you right away after he speaks. Instead his eyes remain focused on your tremoring cunt.

“I’m— I c-aaaan’t. Anymore, no more, ‘mmm hmrmf…” you struggle to even make sense in your mind of what you were originally trying to say as the nonsense you actually spouted takes root in your brain. He laughs, shallowly, as you try to reason with him.

You can’t reason with him, though.

Not when he knows better and your cunt is betraying your weak will.

“Goin’ dumb for me ‘cause you feel too good, huh?” he chuckles, tilting his head as he tries to command your focus on him. The way every inch of your skin trembles with pleasure makes his cock leak like he could never imagine. He’s glad he’s in the water so you can’t see what a pathetic mess your pretty noises alone have him reduced to. Though he makes a mental note to get the pool cleaned tomorrow. “Don’t need to think when you’re cumming. Jus’ cum for me. Can tell she wants to… just let go, princess.”

“Haah, hn- hnnnnng—!” you finish with a cry, you can’t believe he’s managed to make you cum three times in such quick succession.

Even as an adult, Rensuke Kunigami has found a way to reduce you into a sobbing puddle.

He frees you, eventually, allowing your body to catch up to what has just happened. He finally lets you close your legs and allow your twitching quim to recover, alleviating the pressure between them.

He hoists himself out of the water, though. And he climbs effortlessly above you. And, really, you know he’s always been a big guy. It’s arguably his most defining trait. But fuck, like this, while you’re shivering and spent, he’s fucking massive.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks. The soft, caring voice contrasts completely with his all-consuming presence. He lowers his head to kiss between the valley of your breasts and down to your navel. But he stops short and looks at you again. “We can, if you want. But… I’m having fun with you.”

You should answer. He’s asking for consent, after all. Your lips part and reseal repeatedly as you try and decide on what to say. You’re having fun, too. But can you handle it? Can you handle more of this?

“You’re so… big.” you whisper, and you don’t know where that even came from. You giggle when you see him smile at your silly comment, and he immediately has a retort spring to mind.

“My cock matches, y’know. Why d’you think I made you cum so much?” he tells you. “Well… I like making pretty girls cum anyway, but you’ll thank me. If you wanna keep going, that is.”

“I want to fuck… want you to fuck me, ‘Suke.” you admit. He lifts your back away from the cold, damp tiles and pulls you into his embrace. You receive one final, show-stopping kiss from him as he pulls down his swim shorts. You keep your eyes on him, not having the confidence to look down below.

He grabs your chin, his thumb helping tilt your head and guiding you to look at his length. And, embarrassingly, you gasp. He chuckles, kissing your forehead and you look between him and the impressive size he possesses. It’s scary, honestly, looking at how thick and heavy his cock is and what it will feel like inside.

There isn’t a doubt in your mind that you’ve never seen a dick like this and you surely won’t again. He’s big, thick. And long to boot. His tip is prominent but soft. Like you could suck it into your mouth and hear a pretty pop sound once it’s in. You could run your tongue along the ridge and make him hiss from the pleasure.

The thickness is akin to an energy drink can. Eight long inches threaten to invade your apparently well-prepared walls, but still, you aren’t so sure. His veins aren’t prominent, but they’re there. You see them running along his shaft in different directions. And then you do find one. One throbbing, prominent vein as you admire each and every inch of his heavenly member.

You’ve never had an affinity for balls. Seeing them as a nuisance that are just there rather than anything you have any interest in pleasuring. But for him. For those. You could be persuaded. They’re heavy, God they look heavy but every inch of him does. He’s a large, imposing man and his balls are no exception.

It turns you on to no discernible degree to think about how full and aching his balls must be after you’ve teased him all night. How they’ll tighten and release as he floods you with his cum when he’s through with you.

“Need you, Rensuke, n-now.” you tell him, unable to function without feeling him inside of you for a second longer.

A brief panic shoots through your veins as he pulls you back into the water like a siren. But he stops short of pulling you to your death.

At least, in the literal sense.

You might experience your fourth little death as soon as he sticks his tip in you.

The water sloshes around you as you’re pushed into the pool wall. Your legs sit comfortably on his hips as he guides his still leaking cockhead into your greedy cunt. You moan in tandem as you become accommodated with each other.

“You’re so cute, s’fucking tight, princess.” he tells you, silencing any response you might have had with an ardent kiss. You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. And it’s calculated, of course, as he pushes further and further into your sticky walls.

It wasn’t enough.

Three wasn’t enough.

The thickness of his length would have you screaming if he wasn’t keeping a firm grasp on the crown of your head so you couldn’t pull away to voice how the stinging stretch was affecting you.

He doesn’t let go until he’s in. Fully in. You feel him kiss your cheeks and now you can finally moan, pant, screech if you so choose. But as your breathing comes out in hiccupped sobs, you realise he isn’t kissing your cheeks.

He’s kissing away your tears.

“Took me so well, gorgeous.” he mutters against your skin, still continuing to softly peck his lips against your damp skin. “You’re so good… such a good girl, princess. I’m so proud of you, bein’ so good f’me tonight.”

It makes you cry more, though you aren’t sure why. You can barely think about what he was like back then. When he was cruel and callous for no viable reason. But you’d never have heard such sweet sounds from him like you’re hearing now. You’re a good girl, and it’s for him.

Your tongues tangle into a clumsy fervour as he starts to move his hips. The sound water lapping at your bodies is deafening. He lifts you up, slightly, so that he can pound himself into you without restriction.

Both of you find it hard to keep kissing romantically and consistently the harder and faster he batters his cock against your insides. Your lips touch but your mouths hang open. And he’s looking at you. Really fucking looking at you as he drinks in every facial contortion you make from the feeling of his cock bullying itself against your self-destruct button.

He loves the way you bite your lip when you’re close. How your eyes cross and you look so damn wet and pathetic as he brings you to ruin again. It’s a sight he’d have tattooed on the back of his eyelids if he could. He’s been around the world and still couldn’t name a more beautiful sight.

Maybe you could be a porn star, he thinks. If both of your careers fall through, he knows what a good fallback will be if you were so inclined. You’re perfect. Every inch of you, top to bottom, is perfect.

You can barely hold onto consciousness as you feel his heavy breeder balls slap relentlessly against your ass. But you hang on, you have to when he grabs the lower half of your face and pinches your cheeks until your lips pucker.

“Is my good girl about to cum?” he asks, and you nod, dumbly. “That’s it… stay with me. Wanna watch your pretty face while you cum again.” he orders.

You breath faster, fighting against the crushing urge to close your eyes and let go of your body completely. But you’ll do anything he asks, in this moment, so long as he keeps calling you a good girl.

“Can I cum inside?” he asks, thrusts increasing in pace as he jackhammers into you. He’s close, too, but he wants you to cum first. It’ll tip him over the edge if you cream him like this. It’s all he wants. It’s all he needs. “Or should I p-pull out?” he struggles, the thought of spraying your body with his seed appeals to him just as much.

“D-Don’t pull out, Rensuke, don’t you dare…” you command. “Hnf, ah, I’m! Haaah, aah, f-fuck—!” you finish.

“Shit, shit.” he follows you right after. It seems that he would have came inside whether you wanted him to or not. “Ohhhh, fuck, baby. Fuckin’ perfect pussy… take it.” he finishes, too, his pace only slowing by a fraction as his cock spurts rope after rope of pearlescent cum into your cunt.

The sound of water calms after some time. The waves lap around you, carefully, as you breathe and sweat after such a vigorous workout.

It surprises you, a little, as he kisses you after the fact. You thought he’d turn a little colder after he got what he wanted. But you underestimate him again, clearly, as he kisses you sweetly.

“That… amazing.” you tell him, not possessing the energy to fill the rest of the sentence. The start and end are enough for him to figure it out, though. And he cradles your body in his arms as he walks you both to the shallower end of the pool with the staircase. “’m so tired.”

“I know, baby.” he hushes you, you feel like a child in his hold. You’re so little in comparison and you’re still surprised he didn’t break you. He manages to effortlessly pick up his jersey and walk you towards the pool room door. “Gonna get you cleaned up, ‘n we can go straight to sleep.” he promises.

You can’t remember the last time you got such a good nights sleep. Really, you barely remember even falling asleep. You remember Rensuke washing your body and your hair in a warm bubble bath. But you don’t remember him putting you to bed.

Waking up in his arms was a nice feeling, though.

So nice you felt compelled to wake him up with a reward.

He stirred in his sleep as you began to kiss down his bare chest and further down his body. He’s a light sleeper, you came to realise, as he woke up with a cheeky smile on his face and asked what you were doing.

You took his cock between your lips and showed him just how thankful you were for his attentive treatment and aftercare from last night. And you may have wanted to give him a reason to remember you if he wanted to consider going on another date.

He got close.

Really close.

Until he pulled you away to sit on his cock.

“’m not wasting my cum in your mouth when I can cream this cunt again.” he smirks, helping you straddle his hips before lowering yourself down onto that perfect fucking dick again. And he watches you ride him, his jersey riding up slightly with each rise and fall of your hips.

“L-Love your cock, Rensuke, s’fucking big.” you moan like a slut with no remorse. You can’t act coy anymore. Not after last night.

“S’all yours, baby.” he tells you. His attention is stolen from observing your enjoyment when he hears a buzzing on the side table. He reaches for it, and you don’t even notice while your eyes are screwed shut.

And he realises it isn’t his phone.

It’s yours.

He moves slightly, so that he’s sitting upright, covering your mouth as he answers the call. Your blood runs cold as you feel the cold glass of your iPhone screen pressed against your cheek and your ear. Your eyes widened in horror as you look down at Rensuke for help.

“Hello?!” Maisie.

He uncovers your mouth, allowing you to speak. “H-Hey, Maisie.”

“I texted you so many times, where have you been? Did you get home alright? I was so worried!” she yells at you. You can tell she’s in her office pacing back and forth on the tiles as her heels click with each step. She’s pacing. She’s furious.

“S-Sorry! I was just, it was a weird night!” you try and answer simply without lying or giving too much away. But your heart quick starts again as Rensuke holds onto your hips. You're mouthing and no no no! Butit’s ignored as he nods sadistically. He holds tightly onto your hips until your flesh spills between his fingers. And he fucks. You whimper pathetically as you seal your lips in a bid to keep quiet. He really is a sadist, he looks like he’s going to cum to the sight of you desperately trying to maintain your composure.

“I cannot believe I set you up with your old bully, that is so my luck.” she laughs. “Did you just get a taxi home?”

“A-Ah! Uh, yeah I know, c-crazy.” you struggle. “S-Sort of. Eliza was in the area so she picked me up.” so much for not lying.

“Oh, really? That’s good.” she replies, though the click clacking of her heels comes to a stop. “Weird, though, considering I rang all of the girls to see if any of them had talked to you. None of them did.”

“T-That’s… weird.” you reply, eyes rolling back as you try and maintain a level head and think of a way to get off the call. “Um, I uh—”

“I’m at work, just looking through some of my client's details. I’ve got Rensuke’s address up on my screen right now.” she starts. Oh fuck. “You know what else is on my screen?”

“W-What?”

“Find my fucking friend you little slut! Oh my God!” she screams, though you can’t tell if she’s actually screaming or if it’s melded into laughter. “Did you fuck your bully? You whore!”

“I— It’s complicated, nngh!” your free hand flies to your mouth as you spasm through another mind-altering orgasm shatters through you. Rensuke keeps a firm hold of your hips as you tighten around his cock. You hold the phone as far away from your face as you possibly can, though it doesn’t matter. Not when Rensuke cums in you again with no regard to his volume.

“Oh… my God.” Maisie speaks, though you barely hear it. You bring the phone back to your ear and sigh. You already know you’re busted, there’s no point in hiding it now. “I thought I heard a mattress squeaking. Have you just fucked?!”

“Hmph… yeah. Sorry.”

“I’ll pick you up later if you need a lift, I want all the details you absolute slut.” she laughs, sitting down in her office chair as she actually starts to do some work. “How was the date though, was it good?” she asks, knowing she’ll have to go soon.

You look at Rensuke’s pink, sweaty face and wide smile. You melt into the way his thumbs stroke into your sides so tenderly. And you smile back at him, a newfound confidence you’ve never felt before.

“It was… fucking amazing.”

© 2023 rinhaler

[draslihanxfahri-bailey]

She smiled appreciatively. "Honestly, last time I remembered falling asleep in someplace unexpected was for a handful of times in a private room back in uni during finals." Well, and in general throughout the years. Aside from her family's home in Cairo and Doctor Ikram's office and when out in the field, the library back at AUC was one of her top places to be at. She didn't have any friends at the uni, leaving her primarily to study or to travel around Egypt. Asli hadn't minded the unexpected library naps. If anything, she felt entirely comfortable in those private rooms. The only times when she wished she hadn't was when she was discovered by one of her bullies there. Then Asli would spend quite some time avoiding the library for as long as she could. "Ah, got it! Well, welcome to the Midnight Club. And Providence Peak in general." Her eyes widened at his question. Her soon sitting up quickly while she shook her head. "No, that's not it at all! Trust me, their coffee is incredible. This was actually my favourite coffee shop in town for the longest time. I just... My ex works here. So that's why it's been a minute. The only reasons why I came back was because I usually use to do my best thinking here and I was certain that his schedule might've been the same." It felt awkward to admit this to the stranger. However, she didn't want him to have negative thoughts about the place. Aside from her strained relationship with Jesse, the Midnight Club was still an incredible place. "Seriously though, this place is great. I think you're going to really like it." ||📜@seongxhyunwoo

“No judgment here. I’m no stranger to falling asleep in unexpected places. If anything, I’m a sympathizer.” He replied with an easy smile, realizing that might make him sound like he went around passing out all the time. Back in college, he certainly had a bit of trouble falling asleep with an overactive mind that didn't seem to shut up. So sleepless nights turned into unplanned naps in student lounges and computer labs. In recent years, that restlessness returned with his thoughts eating away at him when he was alone with them for too long. Hence why he’d turned into a bit of a workaholic, welcoming escapism both physically and mentally to cope with the upheaval in his life. “No, no, first time. I just moved here, so as of now, I’m only a regular at my hotel.” Casting a glance around the seemingly popular establishment he dropped his voice a touch, not wanting the barista to overhear his next question. “But I am trying to find a place that's good. You haven’t been back in a while because the coffee isn’t up to par?” After all, he was all too reliant on caffeine to get him through the days and nights and unfortunately, he was a little too picky when it came to food and drink. @draslihanxfahri-bailey

[choices-binglebonkus]

Do you have any thoughts or predictions going into the finale/last three chapters of ILW? And how do you feel about how the ILW team has handled Jocelyn and her story arc? Sometimes it's hard NOT to feel like the writers shoved her redemption arc and the "Jocelyn is so great and everyone who disagrees is WRONG and EVIL!" mentality down our throats. Jocelyn reminds me of a school bully I had classes with in grades 7-9, and I just couldn't do it. What do you think? Is Jocelyn redeemable or no?

Disclaimer: I actually haven’t played any recent ILW chapters because life has gotten a little busy, and I also want to play the final three chapters all in one go. So I have no idea what to predict 😭

I do think ILW has handled Jocelyn and her redemption arc pretty well. They’ve fleshed her out in a way that the source material didn’t, and while she’s still snippy and rude, she’s more palatable.

That being said, I still don’t like Jocelyn. I’m autistic, queer, non-binary (though I wasn’t out about it in school I still dressed androgynous), and have ADHD. My entire time in school was riddled with bullies because I was pretty much a walking target. At best, they would exclude or ignore me. At worst, they would actually physically hurt me. One girl in 6th(?) grade slammed my face against a locker like Jocelyn did to Ava in ILITW.

So while I do think that the writers handled her redemption arc well, and that Jocelyn is capable of being a good person if she works at it, I still dislike her because she as a character has left a bad taste in my mouth that hit very close to home to issues I still deal with to this day from all the bullying I experienced in my formative years.

And I think that people who do like her are valid so long as they don’t downplay the things Jocelyn has done and said given that these are very real things that real victims of bullying experience. I had a rash of asks a while back trying to speak over and victim-blame people who had been bullied severely and it was very alienating and quite honestly pretty insulting.

But as I’ve said before, liking a character and openly acknowledging that they are or have been a bad person who has done bad things are two conditions that can and should coexist.

[sailor-brunette]

I am sick and tired of seeing shit takes from people about how characters like Sawako (Kimi ni Todoke) and Miyo (My Happy Marriage) are "unfeminist" because they're shy and soft-spoken. When Miyo is literally that way as a SURVIVAL TACTIC because SHE WAS FUCKING ABUSED And Sawako is showed to have social anxiety and the other kids are shown to kind of bully her. But both girls gain confidence and strength as both series progress. NOT ALL WOMEN HAVE TO BE STONE COLD BADASSES TO BE STRONG!!! Geez…

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

esther going “nice try, NERD” when she catches edwin trying to get niko to pull the string out of his pocket is the funniest shit actually. i feel like she becomes a bully and is gonna steal edwin’s lunch money. she’s like “haha idiot! you thought you had me for a second didn’t you, you fucking dork? you thought you could take that wittle string out of your wittle pocket? gonna cry about it? baby gonna cry? what a GEEK!” iconic. esther finch, the woman that you are.

[draslihanxfahri-bailey]

Aslihan gasped playfully. "Oh, really? I am nothing but completely and utterly innocent." Now, she and Atlas both knew how untrue that genuinely was. Not that she'd admit aloud. "Good luck trying to convince them otherwise. Wha---Now, that's just cheating!" Asli's eyes widened as Atlas pulled out the Theo card. Of course, she knew how much the man before her loved and respected her parents, so she knew he wouldn't truly do or say anything. Theo, on the other hand? She wouldn't be surprised at the thought of him finding some way to mess with her older brother. "A low blow, if you will. Going to my brother... Ugh, fine. Call it even, though you absolutely cheated this time around." Now, how could she possibly be mad or even pretend to be when he looked that excited to have won this time? The curator could only shake her head as she laughed softly, a gentle smile forming on her lips. "I hope you're happy," she said. Though it was meant to be playful and aligned with this, she also meant in general. All she's ever wanted for the man was for him to be happy. While at first, it hadn't been exactly what she imagined or hoped, she pushed that all down and tried to focus on the fact that he was happy. That's what mattered in the end.

I don't see how you do it all. Her features softened at his words. "Old habits, mainly," she mused. "We all got our own methods to survive, don't we?" While she had told him about her days at uni back in Cairo, how she endured being bullied and alone, it hadn't been until she went to therapy that she found out that her workaholic qualities were more so a coping mechanism than anything else. Of course, Asli did genuinely love to keep busy and stay active. Yet at the core of it all, she was still that fourteen year old who was treated differently, who was treated horribly, and stayed as busy as she could, if not more, so that she could survive in the end. That has never changed. She shook her head at his words. "No, I'm staying. Just with summer coming up and with some plans, I'm going to have a break from teaching and minimalize workload for the museum and institute. Spend more time at home with Alex and Eli and the kitties." And the baby, yet she couldn't tell him. Not just yet.

Over the years, she tried to imagine telling him the truth. Of what happened with Alex and how, had her father found her a few minutes late or had her doctor's efforts been in vain, everything would be different. Atlas could've possibly raised Alex, yet Asli wouldn't have been around to see that. How could one thing result in a multitude of different 'what ifs'? How could there be such a variety that, deep down, it'll always pierce her heart in wonder? No matter how much time has passed?

What would've made the most difference, she wondered: telling Atlas about the baby sooner; asking him to come with her to Egypt or him asking her to come with him to Colorado; or them never meeting each other at all? The latter, of course, but it only raised more questions as well. Would they have still eventually met? Would they have still eventually had Alex? What else would change? All her life, she believed that history and the world would make her question things the most. She never expected that another human being, especially one that was still alive, would ever fill her up with all the questions she has and how she only had more and more questions that come to her over time. She never expected that the boy she met in the small book shop back in London to be that person, yet here they are. She just tried not to wonder if he also had those same questions about her.

Quietly, she waited. She stared at the floor, worn wood with scuff marks from moving furniture and foot traffic over the years. She stared at the ceiling, high-beamed and dark in colour. She stared at the collection of books, a rainbow of colours and a mixture of hardcover and paperback. Everywhere, she looked and was made aware of her surroundings. But not at Atlas. No, she couldn't look at him. She couldn't look as she waited for his response. Whatever it is. She knew that she would deserve his anger. All these years, she waited for the day where he finally admitted that he was still angry with her and she knew that she deserves it.

Instead, she was given the reaction that she feared the most. The brunette quickly looking back at him as her face fell.

"Atlas, n-no," she said. "No, don't... Don't. Don't you dare apologize. Don't you dare say you're sorry. Please, don't apologize." Her voice sounded desperate as she pleaded, dark brown eyes searching Atlas' dark hazel hues. Remembering how to breathe was becoming a chore instead of second nature yet blinking back her tears was easier. "You have nothing to apologize for. A-Alright? This isn't your burden to bear, but mine. This isn't your fault. You did nothing wrong. I didn't tell you all these years because I knew that you would try to take the blame, but I'm not going to allow you to. Okay? Please... Please don't apologize. I'm not telling you this because I expect an apology of any sort. You've done nothing wrong. Please... Please don't be sorry. Please, Yankee." ||📜@atlaswilliams

"You wouldn't dare, would you? If you tell them I haven't finished those books, then I'll have to tell them something about you. Or maybe," he paused, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he bit back a devilish grin, "maybe I'll skip them and go straight to Theo. I mean, I'm sure he'd love to learn some things about you." That was the kind of threat he knew would get a response from the other. They were the definition of sibling rivalry and Atlas loved playing somewhere in the middle. "I'll let you decide if it's worth the war, or if we can just call it even?" It wasn't often he had a hand to play, but the look of pure excitement was proof that he wasn't bluffing.

He'd taken a page out of her book and was working two jobs, though one wasn't all that much of a job as it was a duty. The rescue, family owned and operated, was his to care for even if he had another job that paid well. It meant waking up early to beat the clock and falling into bed late, only to wake up and repeat. "I don't see how you do it all. I'm doing this two gig thing right now and I'm barely able to keep my eyes open half of the time." Between jobs, he was a father to not one child, but two. Both were happy to have his attention and despite running on E, he gave them everything. "A break, huh? What's going on? You leaving the State or something?" There weren't too many reasons she'd step back, but maybe she was making more time for Alex over the summer?

The longer the silence lingered between them, the tighter the knots in his stomach were becoming. Had he done something wrong? Had something happened with her? His thoughts raced a mile per minute, his heart aching as it thrummed harshly against his ribcage. He hated waiting for anything, but when it felt like bad news was about to be dropped? He couldn't stand it.

Head dropped the moment she started to speak. He nodded, but he couldn't muster the courage to look her way. February 2021, he remembered that. "Sage got super sick too. I think it's a me thing," he exhaled beneath his breath. However, as the quiet tone of her voice rose once more, he knew that it wasn't a him thing at all. Panic hit him first, but guilt followed all too quickly behind, and then nothing and everything all at once.

Blood. Birth. Healthy baby. Death. Coma. All while he'd been fucking off across the ocean. A lump formed in his throat and anger ignited in his bones. She'd carried that pain and had quite literally given her life to ensure that Alex could live. What had he contributed along the way? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. Fists clenched in his lap as he stared at the wooden floor beneath his feet. He'd walked away and he'd never looked back, had never considered the fact that something like that could happen.

"I'm sorry." He wasn't sure if he'd actually said the words aloud or if they were stuck on repeat in his mind. "I'm sorry," he tried once more, though his own voice sounded miles away, broken from the usual confidence he held. Knee bounced quickly and the tightly closed fists were accompanied by the harsh rubbing of his thumb into the side of his forefinger.

It wasn't his fault, but having left her alone to handle it on her own? That part was. He was the kind of man that he would have hated. The kind of man he did hate.

[pfhwrittes]

"you love him. you've loved him since you were 9 and you love him now 20 years later." TW: references to transphobic bullying, angst, fluff, allusions to offscreen smut, alcohol mention, menstruation mention. pairing: kyle x ftm!reader

1.5k words of childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers. as always i've barely edited it so typos and errors may remain. edit to add: a massive thank you and shout out to @gemmahale for cheerleading me with this one and reminding me to trust my instincts. i love you a lot.

-- you love him. you’ve loved him since he first shared his curly-wurly during break time at primary school. head over heels puppy love. your mum teasing you with a “my little girl with her first boyfriend!” despite the way it makes your cheeks burn (and something twist inside your chest) when you both stand shyly together at 3.15 hand in hand waiting to go home. 

you love kyle when he’s the joseph to your mary in the nativity. you love the way the teatowel your mum leant his mum slips into his eyes and causes him to laugh and forget his next line about needing to find an inn. you love him when he wraps you up in a big hug when missus king takes a photo of you both as your mum cheers the loudest from the back of the little crowd in the assembly hall. 

you love kyle even when you both grow up and go to secondary school at 11, split up into different form groups and different timetables. you love him even more when he folds you into his little band of miscreants, “one of the boys” he says with a cheeky grin that warms you all the way through.

you love kyle when he chooses you first for the biology practical lesson, flicking little slithers of onion at you to make you laugh, despite the way anna-marie looks you up and down and whispers something cruel about how “he just pities the he-she” loud enough for you to hear. 

you love kyle when he skives off school with you the day your period takes you unaware. he sneaks in through the kitchen door 15 minutes after your mum leaves for work, a battered curly-wurly and bottle of oasis clutched in one hand and his rucksack in the other. you love him when he settles onto the sofa, dragging your duvet over the two of you, flicking the telly on so you can both watch bargain hunt together. 

you love kyle the day he cuddles you into his chest, completely uncaring about the way your snot and tears mark his t-shirt as you sob, both of you curled up on your bed. you love him so completely when he listens to you stutter out that you think you’re not really a girl. you still love him when he pulls away for the first time, a tiny frown on his face. you still love him when he doesn’t reply to your text asking him if he got home alright later that night. 

you still love kyle when he starts ignoring you in school, no longer coming to find you during lunchtime. you still love him when he doesn’t laugh along with harry when you trip during design tech but he doesn’t stop james hissing “freak show” as you rub at your hip from where you banged into their table. 

you still love kyle even when your mum sits you down at the kitchen and asks you how you feel about moving schools at 16. you still love kyle when you ask her “but what about kyle?” and her voice catches when she offers you a gentle “oh love” with wet eyes. 

you still love kyle when he stumbles into you at mattie’s house party when you’re both 18, a shocked look on his face when he takes in your close cropped hair and wispy facial hair on your cheeks, despite the fact you haven’t spoken in years. you still love kyle even when he calls you the wrong name and your mumble gets swallowed up by cheers from the kitchen as someone spots kyle in the hallway. you still love kyle when you spot him crowd mattie’s older sister georgia up against the bannister and kiss her breathless before leading her up the stairs with his hand on her waist. you still love kyle when you end up sobbing into alex’s neck, their hand rubbing your back gently as the dew from the front lawn soaks the knees of your jeans. you still love kyle even as alex murmurs that “you should just forget him babe” into your hair as you sob anew.

you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle the next time you run into him, many years later when you pop into the pub under oath from mattie to meet her for a quick pint to catch up. you recognise the shape of kyle’s smile even if he is partially turned away to grin at a man with broad shoulders and a slightly flattened mohawk standing next to him at the bar. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle when he catches you looking and his smile slips momentarily as he offers you a tiny nod of acknowledgement before turning back to his friend. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle even when your eyes keep drifting over to him and the other three men in the corner booth as mattie fills you in on everything you missed during your years travelling around australia. 

you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle when you bump into him again in the same pub the following week. literally bumping into him as you turn away from the bar with a pint in your hand. kyle steadies you with a hand on your forearm and you feel your heart soar before plummeting into the sticky carpet at your feet. you pull your arm away from him and your drink sloshes over the rim of your glass as you offer him a tight smile before stepping to the side. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle, but you can’t help but feel the warmth of his hand long after you’ve rejoined mattie and alex at your table. 

you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle but a thrill goes up your spine when he asks you if he could “have a word with you, mate” as he joins you in the beer garden the week after that. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle but your heart aches as he stumbles his way through an apology. you’ve forgotten how much you missed your friend kyle when he makes you stutter out a surprised laugh when he talks about his friend soap knocking some sense into him. 

you’ve forgotten how much you missed your friend kyle when he texts you asking if you want to join him and his sisters for a chinese. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when he hands you his vegetable spring rolls without asking. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when after dinner he leads you up to his childhood bedroom and he kicks his dirty socks under his bed like you’ve seen him do many times before. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when your ribs ache from laughing and he’s wearing that beautiful grin. 

you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when he slips into the open seat next to you at the pub, his arm slung over the back of your chair, much to the matching shocked expressions of mattie and alex. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when he takes alex’s frosty demeanour on the chin. you fall in love with your friend kyle again when he responds to mattie’s pointed rhetorical “you know you broke his heart, yeah?” with a small squeeze to your shoulder and serious “i know, i was a fucking idiot.”.

you fall in love with kyle again when his hands shake on your waist as he leans in to kiss you outside your house under the flickering glow of a streetlight. just like you hoped he would so many years ago when you were both teenagers. you fall in love with kyle again when he pulls away to take in your stupefied expression and he asks if you’re okay, if he can kiss you again. you fall in love with kyle again when he gently turns you around so he can push you up against the front door to trail sucking kisses down your neck as your keys hit the doormat with a tinkling sound. you fall in love with kyle again when you ask him to slow down - wait - please - as he’s reaching for the top button of your jeans. you fall in love with kyle again when he traces gentle fingers over the scars on your chest, adoration in his eyes.

you love kyle when you trip over your boxers and his shirt the following morning as you stumble to the bathroom. you love kyle when you slip back into bed and he sleepily nuzzles into your neck. you love kyle when his phone blares his alarm from the back pocket of his trousers near the door to your bedroom 30 minutes later. 

you love him. you’ve loved him since you were 9 and you love him now 20 years later as he presses a kiss to your hair. you love him. -- taglist: @kaadaaan

[dovewingkinnie]

good teacher