#which means i also know how to fix it! unfortunately rest is not an option re: 50-60hr workweek

[solarsturniolo]

𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖕 // 𝕸.𝕾. // 𝕺𝖓𝖊

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: in which Matt is failing his classes and at risk of having to repeat the semester, and his tutor is the reason behind it.

𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗: This is a collaborative story that me and @bambi-slxt started on, but I am in charge of it now :) All characters in this story are of age. None of the characters are minors.

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: cursing / smut / switch!matt / switch!fem reader / male masturbation / wet dreams / use of good boy / virgin!matt / p in v / oral (fem receiving) / oral (male receiving) / overstimulation / breeding kink / praise kink / mommy kink / scenes mentioning anxiety

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 5,906

“W-Wait, what?” Matt’s eyes widened, his eyebrows raising. “What do you mean I might not be able to graduate?”

The school counselor sighed, lifting her glasses from the bridge of her nose and placing them onto her desk. She leaned back in her plush swivel chair, looking at the nervous boy sitting across from her. Her office was comforting, a place that Matt had found solace in quite often on his bad days. She never used the overhead light, always opting for the warm glow of her floor lamps and the flicker of light from the flame in a scented candle. Her bookshelves were littered with not only books, but numerous knick-knacks and do-hickeys. Most people would have seen it as clutter, but Matt found comfort in the items she had, which more or less reminded him of his grandmother’s house.

She turned her monitor for him to see, and she visibly saw the blood drain from his face. Her screen glowed with a much harsher light, the gradebook showing Matt’s transcript laid out in front of him. “You’re proficient in your American History class, but the rest of your classes for the semester are in the gutter. Socioeconomics, U.S. Government, European Literature, and Chemistry are all greatly negatively impacting your overall grade point average.” Matt’s head fell, his hands coming up to rub his face. How could I have let it get this bad? How could I be so negligent? How was it even possible? She clasped her hands together and leaned forward, resting her arms on her desk. She had grown to like Matt, he was polite and always greeted her with a smile, he was very open with his thoughts and feelings, and he really did work hard. She empathized with him, because she knew how it felt to be in this spot. “This is a reversible situation - we can fix this. You have options, Matt.”

Matt looked up from his lap, his hands falling onto his thighs. “W-We can?”

“Yes,” she replied with a smile. She swirled her chair around, unlocking one of the drawers in her filing cabinet and opening it to reveal a number of filing folders. She fingered through them before pulling out a sheet, turning her chair back towards her desk and placing it down in front of Matt. “We have a tutoring program available, and I think you would benefit greatly from it.”

“Tutoring?” Matt frowned, staring down at the paper. He never thought in his life that he would need tutoring. How embarrassing. I’m doing so bad in my classes that I need another student to teach me. What if I know them? What if they tell everybody? Matt looked back up at the counselor, hesitation clear on his face. “Are there any other options?”

She sighed, putting her glasses back on and turning the monitor to face her once again. Matt watched intently as she clicked her mouse a few times. Matt instinctively brought his hand to his face, subconsciously beginning to chew on his nails. I can’t choose tutoring. Chris and Nick will never let me hear the end of it. This is so embarrassing. Can’t I just retake a test or something? Why did I let it get this bad?

“Unfortunately, the only other option I have here is for you to retake these classes again…which would also mean repeating senior year.”

Matt hadn’t realized he had chewed his nail off. He dropped his hand back to his lap, discreetly spitting it out when she wasn’t looking at him. “I’ll take the tutoring,” Matt sighed. The thought of not graduating with Nick and Chris made him feel queasy. His stomach turned over just thinking about his brothers walking across that stage while he sat in the audience and watched. His brothers holding their diplomas up with cheesy smiles on their faces for their pictures that would surely be framed and hung on the walls of their parents’ house for the remainder of their lives; all while Matt would have to wait another year to meet the same fate. Another year of high school, this time without his brothers. Without Chris to make him laugh, to make the day move by just a little quicker. Without Nick, who always looked out for Matt, always offering to ask the teacher any questions that Matt had to take the heat off of him, to avoid any anxiety inducing feelings that Matt might have had. I can’t do it. I wouldn’t last a day without them. Any chance to avoid that outcome is one he would take, no questions asked.

x o x o x o

I should have asked some fucking questions. Matt’s heart pounded as he pretended to look at something on his phone, switching between his social media apps anxiously; not that any of them were bustling with activity, he just needed something to make himself look busy. She was here. I wasn’t prepared to see her. Holy fuck.

For the past four years, Monday through Friday, once the bell rang after the final class of the day, Matt had booked it for the locker room. Shuffling through a crowd of boys, shoving Chris (and getting shoved right back), listening to a variety of music through his headphones (mostly Kid Ink, Lil Skies, Mac Miller, and Post Malone), and throwing on his gear for lacrosse. Today, however, he sat awkwardly in the school library, leg bouncing, chewing at the skin around his pinky fingernail. His headphones tucked away in his pocket. No music to drown out his thoughts. Why didn’t I ask more questions? I can’t do this; I can’t be here with her. This can’t be happening. She…looks so pretty.

Across from him, a few tables over, she sat on the table itself, cross-legged and completely at ease. A light blue sweater hung off her shoulders, a pair of khaki cargos crinkled over her legs, worn-out white air forces, and a pair of hoop earrings rounded out the simple, gut-wrenching outfit.

Matt hated feeling this way. She drove him insane, and she had no idea who he was. That was a lie - they had a few classes together. Incidentally, those same classes glowed red in the gradebook. It didn’t take him very long to figure out why.

For the past four years, Matt had walked into school every morning hoping in equal measure that she had shown up and that she had suddenly become homeschooled. Every single class, he would stare at the door just hoping he’d catch a glimpse of her, whether she was walking into the classroom or just passing by in the hallway. He knew where to look for her in the hallways between classes, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart rate pick up when he’d see her in the flood of other students chaotically herding through the halls.

Now she was his tutor. She was the reason he was failing, and she was his tutor. His counselor had no way of knowing, but she had just doomed Matt to repeat senior year. He was not about to sit down with that girl and make a complete idiot out of himself.

Lifting his backpack and hooking the strap over his shoulder, he got up and turned for the door. At that moment she looked up from her book, her eyes locking with his, and he froze.

Her hair fell softly along the edges of her face, and she looked at him with mild curiosity. Matt’s breath hitched in his throat. Years of her never even noticing me, and now she’s looking at me and…smiling. Oh god.

Don’t you dare fuck this up, he heard Chris whisper in the back of his mind. “Fuck off,” he muttered and began to walk towards her.

“Is this where I’m supposed to be for uh…” He didn’t want to say it. Normally people would jump in and finish sentences anyway to avoid uncomfortable silences. She did not. She just continued to look at him with minimal interest, her smile growing a little in amusement. Oh god. This isn’t happening. Somebody please pinch me. Or shoot me.

Matt felt the heat rising to his face, his breath catching in his throat as she stared at him. “Tutoring. I’m here for tutoring.”

She slipped a bookmark between the pages of the book she was reading and pulled a knee up to her chest. Matt caught a glimpse of the cover of the novel, furrowing his eyebrows a bit. A hockey player? I played hockey. Should I say that? Does she like hockey players? Lacrosse is like hockey… in some ways. Should I-

“You’re Matt, right? One of the triplets?”

Matt blinked. “Yeah.”

She smiled again, placing her book down onto the table. Icebreaker? Matt made a mental note to look that up later. “I think we share a few classes, right?”

“We have Socioeconomics, European Literature, and Chemistry together, and when Chorus comes into the auditorium to practice, I run the soundboard for you. You took Workshop with me and Chris, and I could never focus on a single project me and him had together. We had Math and Introduction to Culinary together last year, all of our electives the year before that, and in ninth grade you were in my home room and study hall. You’ve always been in my lunch block, and you like to eat out in the courtyard under the willow tree far away from the picnic benches. You’re in the photography and Yearbook club because you love to take pictures, and you also run the school’s yearbook account on Instagram. You never get breakfast because it hurts your stomach to eat in the mornings but if you forgot to have dinner the night before, you’ll go through the line in the cafeteria and get an old-fashioned donut and a cup of mixed fruit. You prefer peppermint gum over spearmint, you always wear shimmer lip gloss instead of clear, you chew on your lip when you’re thinking really hard, you write sloppily when taking notes, but your papers are written in cursive. You’re terrifyingly beautiful, and I’ve wanted to talk to you for four years.”

That’s what Matt thought about saying. Instead of opting for that particular route of social suicide, however, he simply went with, “Yeah, I think we have one or two together, right?” and sat his bag down.

Don’t fuck this up. You cannot fuck this up.

x o x o x o

“Ms. Coleman said you were behind in some classes,” she said, pulling out her laptop from her bag. “Which ones?”

‘All of them’, He thought to himself. Matt sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “What am I not behind in?” he mumbled.

She looked up at him through her lashes. Matt felt his stomach twist up in knots. He had imagined her looking at him like this more times than he could count. Usually late at night when he was in bed, his hand wrapped around his cock, his eyes screwed shut as he bit back soft whines and whimpers as his arousal leaked into his fist. He couldn’t help but feel his pants tightening around his crotch as filthy thought after filthy thought played in his head.

She smiled at him again, and Matt suddenly realized that she had been speaking. His stomach dropped. “S-Sorry, what?” he stammered. She laughed softly, a sound that made Matt’s heart leap up into his throat. “I asked if you could be a little more specific.”

Matt cleared his throat. “Um, Government, English, Socioeconomics, and Chem.” He looked down at his hands in his lap, the thoughts from earlier looming over him. I won’t graduate. Mom will be so disappointed. Dad won’t speak to me for a year. Chris and Nick will move on in life without me. She probably thinks I’m an idiot. Who the fuck fails almost every class in their last semester?

He could have sworn he felt his heart come to a full stop when he felt her hand on his shoulder, his head snapping up in an instant. “Hey,” she cooed as Matt met her gaze once more. “We’ll fix this. We have four months until graduation. You have time.”

Yeah, time to spend my afternoons drooling over you and retaining no information. Four months to sit here and gawk at you every fucking afternoon while my grades continue to plummet. Four months of me rushing home after these tutor sessions to beat off before Nick and Chris get home from their after school extra curriculars. Either way, I’m failing this semester.

“Why don’t we start with English, hm? I’m in that class with you, third period. We have a paper due on Friday.” She opened her laptop, pressing the power button repeatedly. Matt swallowed the lump in his throat – fuck. The paper… he was hoping to avoid it altogether. Sensing his hesitation, she raised her eyebrows. “Have you started it?”

Matt blinked. He licked his lips, suddenly noticing how dry they were. “...No.”

“Me neither,” she grinned, and Matt felt his shoulders relax. She had a beautiful smile, and it so rarely appeared on the Somerville High property, even less so in the classes they’d shared. It made him wonder what else he could do or say to make it stay for longer.

“It’s okay,” she continued, tapping away at her keyboard, urging the ancient relic to awaken and let her log on. “We can write it together.”

“Yeah, sure…together,” he said, taking out his own laptop, proud that he had enough focus to keep his hands steady. He wanted to make her smile again, but he hadn’t the faintest idea how. Matt also wanted to crawl into the floor and sleep for an eternity, but his wishes seemed to have no substance. His grades did, and more than anything, he knew he wouldn’t forgive himself if he made Chris and Nick leave him behind. Punctuating his thoughts with a deep sigh, Matt pulled up the assignment rubric. “Three pages, double spaced - that’s not bad - third page sources cited…” As he scanned the page, she, still waiting on her dinosaur of a computer to come to life, leaned closer to him to see for herself.

Her perfume. Waves of vanilla with floral notes. Undertones of musk. It was strong but intoxicating. Matt used every ounce of self-control to not turn towards her and inhale as much of it as he could. She had been using this perfume for the past three years, and Matt had become obsessed with it. He was like a stoner catching a whiff of weed, he could identify it from a mile away. He could sniff her out like a bloodhound if he really wanted to. Matt begged his brain to behave.

It didn’t.

The aching in his pants grew. Matt pulled his hoodie down to cover his lap, he could not let her see what she did to him. He felt his face heat up as embarrassment flooded his brain. Still, his cock remained half hard and his balls felt heavy with arousal. Despite knowing how wrong it was, he wanted nothing more than to rub one out. Matt used every iota of his self-control to focus on puling the assignment up on his computer. One hour. I just need to get through this one hour.

x o x o x o

“How long have you been tutoring?” Matt wanted to know more about her. It was a near-feverish affliction that kept his leg bouncing continuously, releasing nervous energy at speeds that could power the entire city of Boston.

She didn’t look up at him, pulling up the assignment on her computer. “I started last year…gave me a chance to get out of Johnson’s eighth period. Do you know why you’re falling behind in Philosophy?”

Matt didn’t hear her question at all. The stickers on her laptop were incredibly distracting - he caught a glimpse of Homer Simpson, the Monster logo, a few Pokémon, numerous band logos, Marilyn Monroe, a sick vaporwave statue head, and a plethora of raccoons. I like raccoons. Now is probably not the best time to tell her that. “Huh?”

She glanced over through her lashes, and Matt felt his air supply vaporize. “I asked why you’re failing.”

Because you walk into the room and I forget how to speak my own damn language. Because I want to talk to you so bad, but my throat closes up when you look at me. Because when you smile it makes my legs heavy…But more than anything, because I want you in ways that I have never wanted anyone before, and it is all that I can think about. No matter where I am at or who I am with, you manage to take over every thought in my head. Movie nights with my brothers where I can drown out the movie, daydreaming of what you might look like waking up next to me in one of my shirts. Dinner with my family, wondering if you like whatever it is that we’re eating that night. In the shower, wondering what your routine is like. Late nights in my room, the door locked and the lights off, clothes discarded onto the floor, my hand tugging at my cock. You are always there. You’re the reason why I’m failing, and you don’t even know it.

Matt settled on, “It’s hard to focus in there.” Not a lie. But not even close to the truth.

She nodded. “She talks in circles sometimes.” A pause made his eyes dart up to hers, terrified that he’d missed something again. But no, she was…studying him.

Her head tilted slightly, and her hazy eyes rested on his. He wondered what she was thinking about, and something primitive in his mind was screaming at him to hide. He felt vulnerable, weak under her gaze. His cock throbbed. Matt did his best to bite back the soft groan that fought to escape his throat.

“I think you might just need a body double.”

He blinked.

She continued. “The classes you’re failing, those are the only ones you don’t have with one of your brothers or your other friends, right?”

Matt nodded, wondering how she could possibly know that. He bookmarked that thought for later.

“Well, your brain probably knows that they expect you to do your work, and you don’t want to let them down, so the work gets done. Not in English or History, apparently. So, I’m your body double. And I expect you to do your work.” She grinned. “It’s corny as fuck but you’d be surprised how much you get done. Ready to start?”

Matt decided to process that particular heap of information later. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m sending you my sources. You know how to cite them?”

His brain couldn’t register her words. It all made sense, but his brain felt too fuzzy to put the pieces together. “Sources, right. Y-Yeah, I uh…yes.”

“Good boy,” she purred. Matt nearly choked, his dick now fully hard. There’s no way she just said that. She gestured to his keyboard, and Matt began to shakily type the name of the website he needed into the search bar. Maybe I just imagined it…It’s been a weird day. Matt could feel her gaze burning into his skin like the heat of a thousand suns. His heart was lodged in his throat, he had begun manually breathing, not wanting his breaths to sound too heavy or too short.

Her hands kept brushing his arm, and Matt realized if he wasn’t careful, she would notice the way his face turned a bright red when she touched him, or worse… she’d see the bulge that could barely even be hidden by his hoodie. He turned away from her, pretending to look for something in his bag. “I um…thanks.”

“Go ahead and read those, throw all the relevant information into a messy doc, and then let me know when you’re done, okay?” Matt looked up and she leaned once more against the concrete column behind her, earbuds in, typing away in her own empty doc for the same assignment. He glanced at the stickers on her laptop, eyeing the one in the dead center with the name of a band he had never heard of. I wonder what she’s listening to. Would she like my music? Would I like hers?

Pulling out his own headphones, Matt shuffled his own playlist, and tried desperately to focus on the article in front of him.

x o x o x o

Forty two minutes later (he counted), Matt finally reached the end of the mind-numbing wall of text. No closer to understanding what the fuck he was doing, he reached out to tap the table near her knee. Her cargos sported faded stitching on their edges, proof of intentional wear as opposed to fashion wear.

When the flash of motion moved into her line of sight, she looked up from her own article, brows raised expectantly and eyes locked onto his. “How’s it going?”

“Well…It’s not perfect but…it’s better than nothing right?.”

“Mhmm.” She leaned forward, staring at his screen. “One and a half pages? Atta boy.”

Matt’s face flushed, his lips parting to speak but silence was all that followed.

“Did you do what I said earlier?”

“Yes ma’am.” Where the FUCK did THAT come from?

She wrinkled her face, her lips tugging up into a smile. “Down, boy.”

Matt almost puked. A lightning bolt struck his lungs, and they withered in his ribcage. “Sorry- sorry,” he stuttered. He ripped his gaze away from hers, blinking rapidly.

She laughed softly, the ghost of a smile passing over her lips. Matt’s head shot up faster than he’d ever admit. “Little weirdo,” she muttered, turning away from him to put her laptop in her bag.

“Oh, are we-”

“Mhm. Bell’s about to ring.”

He blinked again, opening his own backpack.

“Give me your snap.”

“Huh?”

“Your snapchat. So we can talk about your assignments and schedule tutoring for sometime other than boy’s athletics.”

How did she-

“Wouldn’t want you to miss lacrosse.” She tilted her head to punctuate her all-knowing tone, and put her phone in Matt’s hand.

As he typed megamett_44, Matt reevaluated the entirety of his life’s choices, and hoped she’d just…ignore it. Or not see it at all, that was preferable.

Neither of those things happened.

“Mega. Mett. Forty four?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“...Yep.”

“You, um…” She gestured, sarcasm beginning to drip from her lips. “You wanna explain?”

“No I do not,” he replied, grinning nervously, avoiding her gaze.

“Hmm…cute,” She smirked. Matt felt his heart swell and his pants tighten even more at the comment she had made, just barely crossing the line of being a praiseful remark. He wanted to ask more about what she meant; Why did she say cute? Does she think I’m cute? Was she just saying the username is cute? But before he could think of something, the bell rang, and in one fluid motion, she swung her bag over her shoulder and slipped off the table. “Later,” she hummed before she disappeared into a river of students escaping school grounds for the weekend.

Matt exhaled and slumped into his chair, hanging his head as he dropped his bag back onto the floor. The visible bulge under the fabric of his shorts and his hoodie taunted him, his mind raced, thinking of all the things he could have done instead of gawking at her and stuttering one or two words at a time in response to whatever she said to him. Matt ran his fingers through his messy hair. His cheeks remained a rosy pink. He rubbed his lips with his fingers, an anxious habit he had picked up over the years in a desperate attempt to help with his nail biting problem, though very little progress had been made there.

“I’m done for,” he said, nodding decisively. “Yep. This is the end of Matthew Sturniolo.” Matt looked down at his phone, numerous texts from his brothers flooding the screen.

Nick: where are you

Chris: where r u ?

Nick: why weren’t you at lacrosse

Chris: coach is not happy with you lmao

Chris: helloooooooo

Chris: the van is still here so we know ur here

Chris: unless 😏

Nick: enough

Chris: man come on nick is grumpy and bitching about the weather

Nick: it’s fucking sweltering out and i’m sweating bullets. I’d appreciate getting into the air conditioned vehicle that we OWN

Matt sighed and shoved his phone into his pocket. He looked around, making sure that nobody was nearby as he stood up. Grabbing his bag, Matt hurried out of the library and pushed his way through the halls to the nearest restroom.

Ensuring that the bathroom was completely empty, he slipped into the closest bathroom stall and locked it behind him. Matt quickly dropped his bag to the floor, lifting the hem of his hoodie up and holding it between his teeth. He pulled the band of his shorts down, groaning softly as the friction sent bolts of pleasure through him. He slipped his hand under the fabric of his boxers, his eyes fluttering closed as his hand wrapped around his shaft. He hummed ever so softly as he gave his cock a few strokes.

He opened his eyes, suddenly realizing what he was doing. No, this isn’t like you. This isn’t right. You don’t do this here. He pulled his cock up into the waistband of his boxers, dissatisfied above all else, but knowing he had to hide his unpleasant erection somehow. This was a new low for him. What kind of a creep can’t even keep it in his pants until he gets home? Matt pulled his shorts back up, dropping the hem of his hoodie from where it had been between his teeth. He stepped out of the bathroom stall, taking a quick once-over in the mirror to make sure he looked put together and not a flustered horny mess, before he slipped out of the bathroom, following the mass of students rushing for the exit out into the student parking lot.

x o x o x o

Matt saw Chris and Nick leaning against the edge of his car. Matt clicked the unlock button on his key, the vehicle chirping in response. Nick opened the door to the backseat, huffing something under his breath as he got into the car. “Where the hell were you?” Chris asked, slinging his bag into the back next to Nick’s foot, closing the door behind him.

“Library,” Matt muttered, clunking into the driverseat. Chris paralleled Matt’s actions, dropping himself into the passenger seat. “Library?” Chris repeated, tasting the word with furrowed eyebrows as he turned to look at Nick, expecting he might know more about Matt’s situation.

He did not. Nick scrunched his face. “Since when do you go to the library?”

Matt groaned. “Can we just go home.”

The other two didn’t ask too many questions after that. What normally would have been a debrief session of their individual experiences from that day while feasting on whatever fast-food place the three of them had voted on, was instead a deafening silence and a painfully tense atmosphere. Matt was secretly very appreciative of this, his mind was too scattered for him to hold a conversation with his brothers, never mind care about what they were discussing.

x o x o x o

When he collapsed onto his bed, Matt checked his phone, brows furrowed in surprise. He’d gotten a notification from Snapchat (a rarity), and his heart shot up into his throat when he saw who it was from. He tapped on the notification to see that she had sent him a photo of herself - her hair fell in waves around her face, and Matt could see the glint of her earrings. She wasn’t even looking at the camera, making the edge of her eyeliner effortlessly severe. Matt’s chest went aflutter, and he stared at that picture for a very long set of minutes. “Here’s my snap”, she had typed, and once he tapped out of the photo, Matt added her back.

But they hadn’t spoken past that.

He laid on his bed trying to think of something to say to keep talking to her, but everything sounded desperate and corny. He had so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask. He wanted to talk to her for hours, about anything and everything. He wanted to know everything about her.

As the sky darkened, Matt scrolled aimlessly on TikTok, then Instagram, then back to TikTok, avoiding Snapchat to the best of his ability. His mind refused to let go of her, and it was starting to piss him off. What is she doing? Does she stay home on school nights? Does she go out? What are her hobbies? Does she play video games? Would she play them with me? Does she like to read outside of school too? When does she go to bed? Does she like to stay up late? Does she go to bed early? Why can't I think of something normal to say to her?

Matt dragged himself out of bed, crumpling slowly to the floor. He leaned his head against the edge of his mattress and sighed - what a fucking day.

A knock at the door had him lifting his head from where it rested against the mattress. “Hi, honey.” Mom. “You eating dinner with us tonight?”

He stood up, crossed the empty floor of his room quickly, and pulled his door open. “Hey Mom.” Matt leaned into her, and Mary Lou slipped her arms around her son.

“Hi baby. Somethin’ on your mind?”

I’m failing.

I’m failing four classes.

You and dad would be so disappointed.

I feel tired and sick all the time.

I just want to go to sleep.

Graduation is in four months.

Nick and Chris are gonna leave me.

I’ll have to repeat senior year.

It’ll all be my fault.

The girl making me fail is the girl trying to help me pass.

I can’t focus on anything.

I’m so fucking tired.

“Just missed ya.” Matt sighed. He hummed when he felt his mother's loving arms embrace him just a little tighter. “I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

x o x o x o

A dark room. The brush of fingers over silk. A candle flickering shadows against the walls. The faint scent of vanilla. Pleasure flowing through his body. The buzzing hum of a vibrator. More waves of soft tingling flowing from the center of his body.

“Good boy…”

He sighed, lips parted, eyes closed. His hips began to shift upwards, slowly at first, pushing against the vibrator, aching for more. Instead, his leaking, rock-hard cock met a soft hand. He whimpered, digging his pelvis into the pillowy skin. “Awww…d’you wanna hump Mommy’s hand?”

“Yes…” he pleaded, his head lolling to the side, chest heaving. “P-Please, I-I... Please.”

Her fist began to slip around the head of his cock. “Please what?”

“Nnnghh…please let me hump your hand. I need it s-so bad, p-please, it hurts Mommy, I just wanna…jus wanna feel your hand around my…my…”

Another hand cupped his balls, silky-soft thumb rubbing spine-tingling circles over his pleasure-filled skin. “Hmm? What was that, pretty boy? Mommy didn’t quite catch that.”

“My cock, miss, I…p-please reward me…please, I-I’ve been so good…”

She smiled, amused by how easy it was to get him riled up. “Go ahead, baby. You’ve been such a good boy. You deserve a little treat, don’t you?”

Matt didn’t need to be told twice. His hips lifted, his jaw going slack as his shaft slipped through her fist with ease, her hand already sticky with his arousal. A whimper grew at the back of his throat, his hips beginning to buck up into her grasp. Erotic sounds filled the room; heavy panting, his wet cock slipping in and out of her grasp, the bed frame creaking ever so quietly, her quiet praises that she’d whisper to him. “Atta boy, you’ve got it,” she hummed, earning a sound from Matt that he hadn’t even known he was capable of making. A mix between a sob and a whimper, a sound that made her press her thighs together, her core aching for him. “That’s it, baby, hump Mommy’s hand. Doesn’t that feel good?”

His pace quickened, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he began to rut against her hand. His desire was primal. It was animalistic. The way he craved her, unlike anything he had ever craved for in his life. His balls, heavy with his arousal, slapping against her wrist as her hand reached the base of his cock with every thrust he made. His tip, swollen and pink, leaking with his desire. She could feel the way his shaft throbbed, practically begging for more. Her hand gently squeezed his tip, a guttural moan falling from his rosy lips.

He began to whine now, desperate pleas pouring from his lips like thick sweet honey. “I’ve been so good, I’ll behave, I promise, I’ll be s-so good for you Mommy, please let me cum, please, I’m b-begging you, please Mommy… y-you’re so sweet and g-good to me, I jus’ wanna make you happy, please let me make you happy…f-fuck!” White-hot liquid spurted from his tip, coating her hand and his abdomen as she continued to stroke his sensitive shaft.. “Mmmph…Mommy…f-fuck…thank you, th-thank you, mmph Mommy…thank you, y-you’re so good to me…”

Breathlessly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking up at the beautiful girl in front of him. His gaze flickered down to her hand, his cock throbbing as he saw how much of a mess he had made. Ropes of thick warm cum coated her hand, and Matt couldn’t help but think of what it’d look like leaking out of her. He watched with a dazed and aroused glisten in his eyes as she brought her hand up to his lips. Obediently he licked his mess off of her fingers, paying no mind to the taste. He didn’t care, he’d do anything she wanted, even if it meant having the lingering taste of his seed in his mouth. Once her hand was cleaned up, he pressed kisses up to her wrist, trailing up her arm, keeping his eyes low in reverence.

She lifted his head with a finger under his jaw. “You’re welcome, baby. You did so good for me, hmm?” she murmured, kissing his forehead. Matt closed his eyes, never wanting to leave this moment. “Were you a good boy for mommy?”

Matt shot up in his bed and his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. He pulled his duvet cover off of him, and in the dark of his bedroom he could still see his mess leaking through the fabric of his boxers. His torso was slick with a sheen layer of sweat. Despite having already finished, his cock refused to soften.

“Oh fuck me,” he snarled, rubbing his tired face with his hands. This is going to be the hardest four months of my life.

Tags: @mattsturniololoverr @oversturn @mattslolita @simplysturn @flowerxbunnie @soursturniolo @megamett44-lover @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @plasticferal @cupidsword @liz-stxrn @sturniolosreads @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @matthemunch44 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chriss @tillies33ssss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @breeloveschris @meg-sturniolo @lustfulslxt @braindead4l @xtravrgnoliveoil @ghostlythinggoingaround @rootbeerworshiper @querenciasturniolo @whicked-hazlatwhore @m4ttslvr @sturnioloblogs @mqttittude @bewtyschooldropout @taekwite @itzdarling

[fangirlwriting-stories]

What's Almost Familiar

Summary: “It’s not quite that simple,” Ford says, turning to look back at his drink. “If the portal is turned back on, it could give Bill a path through to whatever world it’s turned on in. It’s not as easy as turning it on and you get to go home. It’s the needs of the many versus the needs of the few. He has to keep the world safe from Bill. I can understand why he has to leave you here.”

He winces a little as soon as he says the last part, and braces himself. He expects a glare, or for Stan to snap at him, or anything similar. Something that shows he doesn’t understand the sacrifice part of all this. But instead, Stan laughs, a strange mix of fond and sad, and takes another swig of his beer.

“God, Poindexter,” he says. “You’ve been out here almost thirty years and you still haven’t learned a damn thing, have you?”

Author's Note: No of course I didn't read the Book of Bill lately like everyone else what are you talking about

I also blame this post with all the amazing inspiring art btw

...

In retrospect, Ford probably shouldn’t have run when the fashion police from the last dimension had started chasing him.  But while he doesn’t know anything about how to look fashionable, he does know that based on the suits and dresses of that dimension, he wouldn’t stand a chance in court.  He hadn’t even known someone could wear that much glitter.

He hadn’t even meant to go to the stupid dimension in the first place.  He’d been aiming for the one over, but his dimension-hopping gun had been buggy for weeks now, and the parts still aren’t ready to fix it.  The dimension he was aiming for was supposed to give him an opportunity for a short rest, somewhere he could stay just long enough until the jerry-rigged screen on his gun would go off and tell him the parts are ready.

But surprise surprise, the malfunctioning gun still has a tendency to malfunction, and he’d wound up in a dimension that took his proclivity for comfort personally.

He hadn’t really had a dimension in mind when he fired up the gun again, just somewhere he could hide for a bit, but unfortunately the fashion police followed him right through the portal, meaning Ford is still running, with them hot on his heels and shouting about the tears in his coat.

Okay, okay, he can do this.  He’s been on the run enough times to figure this out.  He needs to lose them, find a place to hide, and get his dimension gun working long enough to find a place they can’t follow him.

Ford looks ahead and sees a corner to his left, and dives around it.  What meets him is a straightway of crumbling abandoned buildings.  Well, he’s hidden in worse places.  But as he starts running down the street, aiming for another alleyway to duck down in a hope of losing the officers behind him, someone sprints out of an alley on his other side, and runs headfirst into him, knocking them both to the ground.

“Hey, watch where you’re going you knucklehead!” Ford snaps, but when he turns to glare at the person as he tries to pull himself to his feet, he’s met with… himself?

No, that’s impossible.  If this was an alternate version of himself, both of them and the entire dimension would now be starting to fade from existence.  But it sure looks like him, which only leaves the option of—

Ford’s eyes widen.  “Stanley?”

Stanley stares back at him, looking equally as stunned as Ford feels, but before either of them can say anything, from behind Stan comes “You won’t get away with it this time!” and Stan whirls back to look towards it.

“Uh, we should probably get out of here,” he says.  He stands and pulls Ford to his feet, and starts pushing them both back the way Ford came.

“Uh, no,” Ford says, pushing back.  “Bad idea.”

Before Stan can ask why, the fashion police run around the corner, and Stan looks at them.  His expression turns baffled, which is fair, Ford hasn’t encountered cops who wear that much perfume before tonight either.

“Get back here, you filthy criminal!” one of them yells.  “The detective themed party was last week!”

“O-kay, we’re running now,” Stan says.  He grabs Ford’s hand and pulls them both down the street, away from both sets of cops.

“Buy me some time,” Ford says, yanking out his dimension gun.  “If I can get this damn thing to work I can get us out of here!”

Stan turns over his shoulder, and there’s the sound of a gun of some kind going off, which is strange, because he hadn’t thought Stan had one.  But judging by the pained cry and the “No, not blood on my suit!”, Stan definitely hit the fashion police with something.  Another cry comes from behind them, and Ford manages to get the gun settled on one dimension.

He hits the button on his gun, and a portal opens in front of them both.  He grabs Stanley’s arm and pulls them both through it, then points the gun over his shoulder and zaps the portal closed.

They’re in a dimension that’s clearly experienced an apocalypse recently, just a flat, gray, dead expanse of land.  And while whatever happened is bound to be depressing if they take the time to figure it out, for now the both of them just use it as an excuse to stop and catch their breath.  Ford leans forward and puts his hands on his knees, and lets out a large sigh of relief.

After a moment of heavy breathing, Stanley laughs.  “Well, that’s the last time I ever bring that much fake money into a casino,” he says.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Ford mutters.

Then realization strikes him, and he stands back up.  “Wait, Stanley,” he says.  “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Stan asks incredulously.  “You weren’t supposed to jump in after me, Poindexter.  What the hell were you thinking?”

“After you?” Ford asks, baffled.  “You mean you…” he pauses as the obvious option occurs to him.  It seems to occur to Stan at the same time.

“We’re… not from the same place, are we?” Stan asks, his face falling ever so slightly, despite the way he was just yelling at Ford about coming in after him.

“It seems not,” Ford says, giving a sympathetic smile.  “But hey, thanks for the save back there.  How did you do that, anyway?”

Stan shrugs, and hoists up his right arm.  Now that they’re not running from the cops, it’s easier to see that the arm looks suspiciously metal, which is confirmed a second later, when Stan points it firmly away from both of them and turns all of the fingers into what look like miniature guns.

For a second, all Ford can do is stare at it.

“Lost the real one a decade and a half ago,” Stan says.  “Figured if I was gonna get an upgrade it might as be an upgrade, y’know?”

Ford swallows, still looking at his arm.  “Six fingers?” he asks quietly.

Stan’s eyes widen slightly and he immediately hides the arm behind his back.  “Yeah well uh, you know, the guy who made it doesn’t get too many humans and wasn’t super sure what he was doing.  Plus uh, more bullets.”

Ford raises an eyebrow.  “Why not get seven fingers, then?”

Stan sighs, and drops his arm back to his side, then rubs the back of his neck with his other one.  “Don’t make a thing of it.”

“Never,” Ford says, smiling a little despite himself.  And despite the fact that he really can’t afford to waste time finding parts for his quantum destabilizer, he can’t help the next thing that comes out of his mouth.

“Hey,” he says.  “I know a good human bar a couple dimensions over.  I can probably get this thing working long enough to get us there,” he says, lifting up his dimension gun.  “Do you want to get a drink?”

Stan grins.

…

This version of Stan who got sucked into the portal is everything Ford would have thought to expect from a version of Stan who got sucked into the portal.  He’s loud and brash and boastful, with plenty of tricks he can pull off with his prosthetic arm and plenty of stories about space heists he’s pulled off.  Ford is fairly certain they’re not all true, but he wants to hear every one anyway.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed Stanley.  His feelings about his actual brother from his own dimension are so tangled up with betrayal and anger and a million other things that it’s hard to even know what he’d do if he saw him.  But in talking to a version of Stanley that carries none of the emotional baggage, Ford almost feels like he’s eighteen again, before everything went so horribly wrong between them.

“Listen, I’m telling you, that one was the law’s fault,” Stan says, setting his mug of beer down.  “Laws shouldn’t be stupid if they don’t want to be broken.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how that works,” Ford says, though the large smile on his face is definitely giving away how little he’s bothered by it.

“Hey, I wasn’t the only one running from the cops tonight,” Stan points out with a bright grin.  “Guess I’m not the only criminal in the family anymore.”

“Laws broken in the name of science and survival don’t count,” Ford says, picking up his own beer and taking a drink.

“Great, so that means I can write off everything I did in the ten years after dad kicked me out, good to know,” Stan asks, sounding amused.

Ford startles a little, surprised at the casual way that Stan says that.  He doesn’t often think about what life was like for Stan during those ten years, but if he’s talking about writing off broken laws, Ford really doubts he means it in the name of science.

Either way, Stan seems totally content to move on, instead grinning back at Ford.  “And what was tonight, survival or science?” he asks.

Ford wrinkles his nose.  “Fashion.”

Stan laughs, loud and delighted in the way Ford hasn’t heard in decades.

“I’m sorry, didn’t you say something about bringing fake money into a casino?” Ford says, shoving Stan in the shoulder rather than acknowledging the ache in his chest.

“Yeah, but you expect that of me.  Next time you want to break the law, put some actual malice behind it.  It’s way more fun.”

Ford just rolls his eyes and takes another drink of his beer.  “Please, I bet I could outshine you with multiverse law-breaking stories.”

“I’m sorry, have you been listening to all my space heists?”

“And how many run-ins have you had with monsters and dream demons?  Have you ever even met Bill Cipher?”

“Bill Cipher?  What is he, like a secret code nerd you lost a boxing match to?”

“Oh, now I know that wasn’t a dig at my boxing skills.”

“Well, if the glove fits.”

“I’ve been traveling the multiverse and fighting monsters for almost thirty years, my boxing skills are a little better than they were in high school.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Ford glares over at Stan.  “Are you trying to get me to start a brawl in the middle of a bar?”

Stan just takes another drink of his beer, though Ford can see the smile behind it.  He can’t help but smile back a little as he shakes his head and takes a drink from his own mug.

Stan sets his drink down after another second, and turns to face Ford again.  And while Ford is expecting another joke or the start to a story to try and one-up all of Ford’s options, instead Stan surprises him.

“So uh, your portal incident,” he says.  Ford turns and faces him.  He wasn’t expecting Stan to go there.  But then Stan says, “where’d you end up after going through?  Because like, if we didn’t run into each other until now, but everything else seems mostly the same, does that mean we started in different places?”

Ford gives an “ah” of understanding.

“Well, I ended up in the nightmare realm with Bill,” Ford says.  “Had to run for my life pretty fast, but I made it out.  I mean, obviously.  Where were you?”

“A giant empty void of some kind,” Stan says.  He rubs the back of his neck and gives a sour smile.  “Thought Ford was mocking me.”

Ford narrows his eyes in confusion.  “Huh?”

“Oh, my Ford, obviously,” Stan says with a wave of his hand, as if that clears it up.  “Not you.”

“No, I— what do you mean, you thought he was mocking you?”

“Well, after he shoved me in,” Stan says, and something about the way he says it makes Ford’s chest go cold.

“But… why would that mean he was mocking you?” he asks, hoping he’s misunderstanding.  “It was an accident, wasn’t it?”

Stan turns and gives him a confused look.  “What?  No.  What are you talking about?”

“Well, I wouldn’t— you’re not saying he shoved you in on purpose, are you?”

“Hey,” Stan holds up his hands.  “Different worlds, different Fords.  It doesn’t say anything about you.”

Ford tries not to let his obvious discomfort show.  “I suppose,” he says.  But still, he can’t imagine any scenario where he’d shove Stanley into the portal on purpose.  He might have been angry at Stan, but he never wanted him in danger.  And shoving him through the portal would have guaranteed that.  He shut it down because it was dangerous, and he didn’t want anything like what happened to Fiddleford to happen to anyone else.

“You’re really bothered by that, huh,” Stan says after a second, because he’s far too similar to the brother Ford knows, which means he can read him like an open book.

“I just don’t understand,” Ford admits, shaking his head.  “I mean, you are so similar to how I remember my version of Stanley.  Why would I be so different?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, he was actin’ different too,” Stan says.  “My brother, I mean.  Real weird.”

Ford looks curiously back at Stan.  “Weird how?”

“Like, real giggly and manic.  At one point I kicked him hard into the wall and he just started laughing.  He said something about how hilarious it was.  Honestly, I think he was on something.”

Ford can’t breathe.  His mind is starting to paint him a horrifying picture.

“He— Stanley,” he says.  “Did he fall unconscious at any point that you were down there?”

Stan looks at him in confusion.  “How’d you know that?”

Ford runs a hand through his hair.  “That— god.  Stanley, that wasn’t your brother.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That— remember when I mentioned Bill Cipher?”

“The secret code nerd?” Stan asks, smirking.

“He’s not a secret code nerd, he’s a demon,” Ford says, turning to face Stan directly, trying to get across the importance of what he’s saying, because if Stanley meant it when he said he never met Bill, that means he’s spent the whole time here thinking his brother pushed him through the portal on purpose, and Ford can’t let that go on.

“Stanley, he’s a demon that I met, and that your brother must have met too.  I suppose I can’t say that things went exactly the same, but from what you said…” he takes a breath and folds his hands together.  He doesn’t make a habit of telling people his history with Bill, but this is important.

“I met him when I was young and idealistic and stupid,” he says plainly.  “And before I realized how malicious and dangerous he was, I made a deal with him, and let him possess me whenever he wanted.  He can’t anymore,” Ford knocks on the metal plate in his head.  “But back then, he could anytime that I fell asleep.  And that whole thing, about pain being hilarious?  He said that all the time.  He probably thought that you were too dangerous to him, or that you’d get in the way, so when your brother fell unconscious, he… well.  I can’t imagine why he’d lead with the fact that it wasn’t your brother in control anymore.”

Stan looks at him for a long moment after he finishes, and to Ford’s surprise, he can’t read his face.  Finally, Stan just says, “Huh.”  He turns and takes a drink of his beer.

Ford blinks at him.  “Huh?” he repeats.

Stan looks back at him.  “Do you want me to say something else?”

“Something— do you believe me?” Ford asks, a little incredulous.

“I mean, I’ve seen enough crazy shit out here that it can’t exactly be off the table,” Stan says.  “You also have no reason to lie to me, so… yeah, sure.”  He shrugs.

Ford looks at him for another minute.  “I’ll admit, I was expecting a bigger reaction,” he says.

“I mean, it doesn’t change that much,” Stan says.  “I’m still here, aren’t I?  Come on, we both know how smart you are.  If my brother wanted me back he’s had thirty years to do something about it.  Even if he wasn’t responsible for the first part, it’s on him now.  It’s fine.  I made my peace with it a long time ago.”

Oh.  Ford gets it now.  Stan wants something he can’t have.

“It’s not quite that simple,” Ford says, turning to look back at his drink.  “If the portal is turned back on, it could give Bill a path through to whatever world it’s turned on in.  It’s not as easy as turning it on and you get to go home.  It’s the needs of the many versus the needs of the few.  He has to keep the world safe from Bill.  I can understand why he has to leave you here.”

He winces a little as soon as he says the last part, and braces himself.  He expects a glare, or for Stan to snap at him, or anything similar.  Something that shows he doesn’t understand the sacrifice part of all this.  But instead, Stan laughs, a strange mix of fond and sad, and takes another swig of his beer.

“God, Poindexter,” he says.  “You’ve been out here almost thirty years and you still haven’t learned a damn thing, have you?”

“I— what?  I’ve learned plenty,” Ford says, feeling a little offended.  “I’ve learned so much about the multiverse, and about Bill, and—”

“About yourself, knucklehead,” Stan says, smirking at him.  “Have you just been passing through from one place to another for thirty years?”

“I— there aren’t a ton of other options,” Ford says.  “I can’t stay in a parallel Earth, I could run into a version of myself.  There’s too many dimensions that can’t sustain a life form like me, and I still have Bill to worry about.  It’s not like I can just leave him to do whatever he wants.”

“Sure you can,” Stan says.  “Someone else will take care of him.”

“Someone else will what?  Stanley—”

“It’s not all on you, Ford,” Stan says, looking back at him.  “If there’s a version of me here, there have to be other versions of you.  Let one of them take that risk.”

“I can’t just count on that!  What if that’s what we all think?”

Stan snorts, like that’s somehow funny.

“Stanley—”

“And then what?” Stan cuts him off, turning and raising an eyebrow at him.  “After you defeat Bill.  What do you do then?”

“I— there’s bound to be something else that—”

“What stuff do you do because you want to, Ford?  What out here makes you happy?”

“Well— discovering new dimensions and how they work,” Ford says.  “Their laws of physics, their food and cultures, their—”

“You got any friends?”

“What does that matter?”

“How much of the stuff you learned was pure observation?  Did you go up and talk to anyone, ask them questions about how things work?”

“Right, because everyone in every dimension speaks English.”

Stan raises an eyebrow.  “You’re telling me you’ve been here almost thirty years and you’ve never gotten your hands on a dimensional translator?”

“I— I have, but that’s not—”

“Ford, listen.  We have to live here, right?  I’m never going home, and it doesn’t sound like you think you are either.”

“I’m not,” Ford says.  “What’s your point?”

“So this is all we got,” Stan says.  “You’re never going home, so you have to do something else.”

“Obviously, what are you getting at?”

Stan grins at him.  “You want to come check out my place?”

Ford stares at him.  “You have a house?”

“Of sorts.”  Stan pulls out a small box that looks vaguely like a treasure chest.  “I’ve got a dimensional lock on her.”

“I…” Ford says, and trails off, not quite sure what to say.

Stan smiles at him, and then waves over at the bartender.  “Thanks for the drinks!” he calls.  He slams a couple bills down on the counter and turns back to Ford.

“Are those bills real?”

“Shh.  Let’s go.”  Stan hits a button on his dimensional lock, and the world bends and twists around them, pulling them back to whatever Stan’s put the other lock on.  When they stop, Ford looks around, and—

“Why am I not surprised?” he asks, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, she’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Stan says, grinning at him.  “Welcome to the Stan-O-War II.”

They’re standing on a houseboat in what looks like a fairly typical human ocean, if you ignore the fact that a stretch of it rises into the air and twists upside down into the sky not too far up ahead.

They’re sailing right towards the lift into the air, but Stan seems completely unphased by this.  He walks up a set of stairs to a steering wheel, and pulls a lever on the side.  The entire boat starts glowing gold, and as they reach the shift in gravity, the boat turns into it with no issue, and Ford doesn’t feel his own center of gravity shift at all.

“You would not believe how much I had to steal to get that part working,” Stan says.

“Stanley—”

“Alright, I lied.  I worked odd jobs until I could afford it.  Easier that way.  There’s so many police checks on these kinds of dohickeys, it’s ridiculous.”

The boat sails with the curve until they’re upside down, and Ford can look around him to see stars and planets around them, though not any that he recognizes.

“Remarkable,” he breathes, because he can’t help but be a little blown away by it.

Stanley walks back down the steps and over to stand next to Ford, smiling at the stars around them too.

“I picked this dimension as a home base,” Stan says.  “I think you can guess why.”

Ford just nods.

Stan walks forward and leans over the side of the boat to look down at the water.  After a second, Ford joins him.  From the— sea? sky?— below, fish leap up and eat the stars out of the air.  As soon as they land back in the water, one of the stars still in the air splits in half, and the number of stars in the sky remains unchanged.

“Some of the planets,” Stan says, pointing at one with his finger and following it as the bot sails past it.  “Can support life.  So when the fish eat the stars, the stars split so nothing on the planet dies.  The brief moments of darkness are the planet’s solar eclipses.”

“Planet-wide solar eclipses?” Ford asks, amazed.  “Is the star gone for too short of a time to make a difference in the temperature?”

“Nah.  The folks on the planet just evolved to get used to it.”

“How do you know?” Ford asks, looking back at him.

“I shrunk myself down and went to ask ‘em.  Had to time it right, though.  I’m sure not evolved to survive an eldritch fish eating the sun.”

“Stanley, that’s… incredibly dangerous,” Ford says.  But for a moment, he can’t help but feel impossibly jealous.

“Worth it though.  I’m apparently well known to everyone on pretty much every planet.  They kind of view me as a god.  Hell of an ego boost that was.”

“Oh lord,” Ford mutters.  “I don’t want to think about that.”

Stan laughs.  He turns and leans back against the side of the boat, then gazes up at the sea, back on the… well, Earth, of sorts, now above them.

“When I said I made my peace with it,” Stan says, without looking at Ford, “I meant it.  I know my brother.  I know how his head works.  I know he’s probably doin’ alright without me, and I’m okay with that.  Way I see it, my two options were either let everything fester and grow into an angry, bitter old man, or let it go.”  Stan spreads his hands.  “I like where the second option has let me end up.”

Ford looks at Stan, and finds he doesn’t know what to say.  It’s an unusual feeling.  He’s not sure he likes it.

It looks like they’ll be sailing along the sky for a while, judging by what’s ahead of them, so Ford leans back next to Stan and looks at the sky below them and the sea above them.

“But…” Ford says finally, because he has to say something.  “What’s your goal, here?  What are you trying to do?”

Stan turns to him, raises an eyebrow.  “Goal?”

“What do you want to do, with your life?” Ford asks.  “It— it can’t just be— this.”

Stan smiles, just a little.  “And why not?”

“Well— because…” Ford trails off, lost.

Neither of them say much for a while.

Finally, Ford’s dimension gun beeps at him.  He glances down at the screen and lets out a sigh of relief.

“My parts to fix my gun are ready,” he says to Stan.  “I’ve gotta get going.  But… thanks, I guess.  It was nice to meet you, and have a drink, and…” he looks around, and his words are stolen for another moment.  Eventually, he just finishes “…this.”

Stan gives him a long look, then just nods.

Ford moves the gun’s settings carefully, and when he fires it, it shows him the right dimension.

It’s just as he’s about to step through that Stan speaks again.

“You could come with me, you know,” he says.  “We could hunt for treasure and adventure, like we always said we would.  Even if we’re not technically the ones we said it to.”

This, Ford has been expecting, and he responds instantly and with ease.  “I can’t,” he says, turning to give Stan one last look.  “I have to try and defeat Bill.  I have to save the world.”

But rather than get angry, or sad, or doing anything that makes sense, Stan just sighs.  “Yeah,” he says.  “You always do, huh.”  He turns and starts back up the stairs towards the wheel, and Ford watches him go.  Stan gives no argument, doesn’t keep trying to convince Ford to come.

Ford doesn’t know what to say.  It’s the third time it’s happened, and that’s enough that he’s decided, he’s not a fan.  He would say it’s foolish to expect to know how a Stan from an alternate dimension would act, but so much about this version of his brother has been familiar enough to make Ford’s chest ache.  And yet, when it comes to the big things, the set-in-stone things, like the Stan-O-War, and Bill, and getting shoved into the multiverse for thirty years by someone Stan freely admits he thought put him here on purpose; when it comes to the conversations that Ford should absolutely know the path of, Stan reacts in the complete opposite way he expects, and it leaves Ford feeling lost and unsteady.

“I…” he says, reaching for something normal.  He fails.  “I don’t understand.”

Stan turns to face him.  There is so much sudden warmth and love in his gaze that it takes Ford’s breath away.

“That’s okay, Sixer,” Stan says.  “Just go try and save the world.  Come find me if you fail, okay?  I’ll still be here.”

Ford doesn’t know what to say to that either.  After a second, he just turns and walks through to the other dimension, to get the parts he needs.

He turns one last time and watches Stan as the portal between them closes.  Stan smiles as it does, and then he’s gone.  He leaves Ford with a lump in his throat, an ache in his chest, and the feeling that he’s missed something important.

[doberbutts]

for your tiefling oc in the tags of the ask game you just reblogged!!

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

Well, currently Panic is grappling with the mortifying idea of having a parasite chewing on his brain that really really wants him to turn into a mindflayer, which he is unsurprisingly less than thrilled about. He has a moment of, hah, panic when he feels the symptoms of the parasite begin to take hold, but his dream guardian kissed it all better so he's been trying very hard not to think about it.

In his current moment, Panic himself is pretty even-keel, and he stays that way throughout most of his story. The biggest thing with him is that he has invited people to share his life with him, and unfortunately he's got a chronic case of Loyal Bitch Disease and is incredibly ride-or-die about it.

In the fic I'm writing, which takes place after BG3, he has to confront the possibility that someone he holds very dear to him may be a lost cause, and it may even be his own responsibility to put said person out of their misery. Panic has multiple bad days in a row about this, because he has to weigh the love and loyalty he has to this person against the danger they represent to the rest of his group.

I don't think he's capable of acknowledging how much of a prick he's being to everyone else while he's worried about what he needs to do to resolve this problem. And, luckily for him, everyone else has a long history of him granting grace and compassion in their weakest moments, and so they also are trying very hard to not take it personally. I do think he gets a reckoning and a scolding when the problem resolves, but I have not written that far in just yet.

But yes, Panic in his weakest moment is only capable of staying on task to the bitter end. We will get this done and we will fix this because I don't know what else I will do if we don't, I can't stop to think about what happens if this doesn't get fixed, I can't stop to consider any delay or hesitation, we have to do this. Shut up about bathroom breaks and rest stops, we're sleeping only the amount necessary before getting right back to it, what do you mean this is hard??? It's important, put on your big kid pants and back to it because I can't, we can't, failure isn't an option, this has to work.

Additionally, though I haven't explored this side of him as of yet in any game setting, I think if someone were to kill one of his companions or friends in front of him in a moment of cruelty, we'd see him slide very quickly from lawful good to lawful evil. He'd be willing, devoted even, to playing by the rules, but we would also see him justifying horrific actions by explaining that it created a net positive. A goblin clan tears apart and eats his kobold friend? Guess who just gained a new mission of "no more goblins in faerun ever".

The doglike loyalty and devotion he holds for his friends are also unfortunately his biggest weakness when it comes to his mentality - someone pushing Astarion off a cliff is going to be sparta-kicked off the same cliff immediately after. You know the joke about how in a world full of magic and weapons and special armor, the concept of one dude running at you at 60mph in clothes with a fist raised is at such a high level of absurdity it's bordering on horror? Yeah the easiest way to activate that mode for Panic is to hurt one of his friends, at which point you will wonder if he's got a level or two in berserker class.

And the thing is. I don't think he knows this about himself. His monastery was never raided, and prior to Rukbah he never had any friends during his travels, so being faced with the possibility that someone he cares about might die in a horrible way with nothing he can do about it truly has not crossed his mind until now.

[scrawnsenior]

Well due to circumstances beyond my control I am back on a Ducati in the British Superbike Paddock. Unfortunately one of my team mates got clobbered at Silverstone and is temporarily broken. This means I get to keep the seat warm on his V2 whilst he fixes. I haven't ridden a Ducati race bike since 2019 in the Tri-Options when I finished a run of five seasons on the 899/959. I have been given the opportunity to ride a Supersport V2, provided by Laguna Motorcycles, this coming weekend at Oulton by the team. I wasn't sure at first as I feel like I finally have the Superstock Suzuki where I want it to produce my best performance. Instead of jumping into it blind this coming weekend I managed to ride the V2 for the first time last weekend at Castle Combe with NG Road Racing. It was very wet Friday for the morning sessions which I was on. I only had three 12 minute sessions and needed to test a few things on the Suzuki so did that first. I tried a harder compound SC2 wet tyre then did my second run on my usual SC1 as a comparison in identical conditions. For my last session I intended to have another run on the SC1 front and rear but to my utter surprise the mechanic got the V2 through the noise test. The bike hadn't been ridden since Silverstone and was still showing a few battle scars and didn't have the lightweight alloy tank on it but it was perfectly functional so I got ready to take it out. It still had the other rider's springs in it and was set up for him but I just softened it off a few clicks and jumped on. I was shown how to use the new dash and popped it into wet mode which has been developed by Moto Rapido. The bike obviously felt familiar as I'd ridden it predecessor a lot but it also felt very alien as I have been on the Suzuki since 2020. It didn't take long to get into it though and the sheer joy of being able to open the throttle hard in the wet without fear of being launched to the moon was immediately noticeable. I managed to go within .5 of a second of my lap time from the session on the Suzuki. The bike has been built over the winter but I hadn't really paid much heed to what has been done to them to make them eligible for the British Supersport. Visually they have the Termi (sounds great) and the dash/ECU combo. The rest of the mods consist of trying to shave off as much weight as possible and I think there are Febur rads on the way for when the warmer weather gets here. Other than that I don't know but I'm sure I will learn more this weekend. They are restricted on power/throttle and I've been told it's somewhere between 70 and 75% but again I will find out this weekend. I raced it on Saturday in the dry and although I had data from my 959 for Castle Combe I don't think the gearing was working particularly well for me. It was hard to tell due to the power restriction so I just left it. I had a good couple of races with Jamie Coward and I was thankful he was there as it made me push on a bit to try and see what I could do on the bike prior to Oulton. Overall I was impressed with the Supersport set up and will see whether I can make it go quick around Oulton with the appropriate group of riders around me. If I can get anywhere near my lap times that I am capable of on the Superstock bike then I will be a happy rider. I will be running #50 not my usual #22 as that is taken in the Supersport. Adding a few pics, wheelie bin included of course and I will get a few more this weekend once the scuffed fairings are off and the alloy tank with the livery is fitted.

[holidaytorment]

the items on my recent work trip to phoenix that i will be claiming reimbursement for, ranked & reviewed:

two donuts and an iced tea at the donut place across the street from the hotel. the platonic ideal of a donut to me is that they should taste good and you should be able to eat two of them in the morning and be able to go about the rest of your day no problem. dunkin donuts are not this because they do not taste good, and the donuts from artisanal donut places are not this because you eat half of one and need to go down for a nap, and these seem to be the only options around where i live. by contrast, these donuts were light and fluffy, and i was able to maintain attention through boring work meetings without wanting to take a nap for reasons associated with the donuts. the iced tea, flavor-wise, was nothing special (clearly just made from ordinary tea bags) but was strong, which also an unfortunate rarity. in total, like $7, great deal.

hotel stay at the sheraton downtown. got a room with two double beds instead of one king, which is whatever. the comforter was not a comforter, but instead some manner of fitted sheet wrapped around a plastic blanket? it was unclear to me at any point why this was, but was especially unclear when the blanket became unfitted from the sheet, waking me up at 4am while i tried to piece together what happened. also, i dislike the new trend of putting full size toiletries in bathrooms now, i want to steal tiny lotions man, c'mon. food provided for meeting was pretty good and varied (no boxed lunches!). stay overall was okay, but not $700 for two nights okay.

parking at the central parking garage at logan airport. turns out that the central garage at 10am on wednesdays can be full! my car was "valeted" which in practice means they parked it at the next open spot and then the parking attendant gave me my key and told me where it was. also the parking attendant did not have the correct location for my car. $123 but considering that the other option was public transit there an after-midnight uber back i think i'm okay with paying this. the sumner tunnel being closed after 11pm did not affect the placing of this on the list. this whole parking experience was stressful for reasons i will go into later.

the items on my recent work trip to phoenix that are already paid for but i need to include on my reimbursement for record keeping purposes, ranked & reviewed:

flight from boston to phoenix. six hours in the air is a long ass time. they only provided snacks once (the impression i got was that they didn't have many tp give out??), and it was just a packet of two biscoff cookies. read some of a book about coding, wrote some notes about a coding project i'm working on in my spare time, listened to the religion disasters episode of the shutdown fullcast (see below). i do not know how i managed to handle flights this long in the past before i had an adderall prescription. i had a flight from new york to phoenix late last year where my dose wore off midway through and i was unable to take my afternoon pill, and i quickly started feeling like i would do something that would land me on a watchlist or get tackled by an air marshall.

flight from phoenix to boston. somehow i think the flight was only four hours and change (not sure how. jet stream?) but we spent an additional hour and a half at the gate in phoenix while they fixed a computer issue. finished reading "the pigeon tunnel" by john le carre and read some more of a couple of coding books. pulled up to the gate at midnight which is too late to get food pretty much anywhere. i think overall my time on this plane was shorter than the flight out but it was so much worse.

the items on my recent work trip to phoenix that i will not be claiming reimbursement for, ranked & reviewed:

three donuts and an iced tea at the donut place across the street from the hotel. the donuts mentioned above were so good that i went back the next day even though breakfast was being provided. ordered and paid for two donuts and they gave me three instead. $7, and winner of DEAL OF THE TRIP. can't reimburse because a meal was provided.

two tacos, rice, and refried beans from a taco place across from the phoenix suns' arena. good food, not too heavy and didn't make me more tired than i already was. got to peoplewatch the bad bunny fans go to the concert, always neat. i think $15? can't reimburse because i paid cash and forgot to get a receipt like a dope.

two sazeracs from the hotel bar. love a sazerac. was ordering off-menu but checked with the bartender on if they had the stuff to make one and he said yes (even had the absinthe). i feel like hotel bars generally make good, if expensive, drinks. enjoyed these with coworkers and two people who i would with but wouldn't classify as coworkers for reasons i will not get into (mainly we don't work for the same company). $15 or so each, i think. can't reimburse because alcohol

two house margaritas at the taco place mentioned above. for some reason i am a sucker for a cocktail that you get from a tap. good enough, had a bit of a carbonated taste to it but overall enjoyed. stronger than the drinks that i bought at a recent work outing to a local sports bar. $13 each, which is a lot, but it's next to an arena so i'll give it to them. can't reimburse because alcohol.

glass of (i think) sauvignon blanc at the hotel bar. did not drink this myself, but bought for a coworker i really appreciate. don't remember how much, but probably $12-15. can't reimburse because alcohol.

taxi ride to the airport from the hotel. the best thing i can say is that we got there in plenty of time. we managed to do that by blowing through two red lights. very cool! $25. can't reimburse because i did not get a receipt and paid cash because the driver could not find his credit card reader thing.

vibes and other miscellaneous that i interacted with on my recent work trip to phoenix that are ineligible for reimbursement by virtue of the fact that they are vibes, ranked & reviewed:

the most recent live episode of the shutdown fullcast (the internet's only college football podcast), which is a combination book release party for jason kirk's book ("hell is a world without you") and a religion disasters episode. fantastic. tremendous. i must have looked crazy to the person sitting next to me trying not to laugh out loud on the flight out. also includes at least one excerpt from the book which was amazing (i believe there were two excerpts but i can't recall at the moment if the second fully-casted read was in the book, but this was very good too), as was the fact that the entire pre-order proceeds ($56,000) went to the trevor project. The whole thing shifted "hell is..." up to next on my reading list once i finished...

the pigeon tunnel, by john le carre. le carre's my favorite author so it shouldn't be a surprise that i enjoyed what would probably be best described as his abridged memoirs. while initially disappointed that it's not a full telling of his life, i do somewhat respect the idea that the life-stories of the assets he ran aren't really his to tell, and that cover remains cover even to the dead (nevermind the fact that most spy stuff is dull). certainly, "a perfect spy" is a more complete biography than we'll receive otherwise. it's not his best work and certainly no tinker, tailor or smiley's people but i'm not sure anything he'd written in the past 15 or so years would be.

the idea of flying six hours one-way to go to a two-day in-person meeting. it was nice to see people i hadn't seen in person for months or years, but i'm not sure that phoenix was the best destination for it. flying out on the day before the meeting instead of the day of (as originally planned) turned out to be a saving grace, and probably would've meant either no real sleep or sleep during the meeting. would've preferred it in DC as originally planned.

[thisfairytalegonebad]

*lying face-down on the floor* hello. i'm here to update you on my life.

after dropping out of my apprenticeship as a sales clerk i spent eight months looking for an apprenticeship in a different city and didn't find any,

looked for a job in that city, almost found one, then the whole move fell through,

then i got a letter from my insurance company asking for money, so i very quickly signed up with the temp agency that i was working for back when i was at university, but quickly got sick of working in factories,

so now i work at netto (do you have netto over there? it's like aldi a bit to the left),

but i'm also getting annoyed with that so i'm thinking about finding an apprenticeship or a duales studium in computer science. again.

oh, and i still live with my parents.

i hear you're going through it too?

Siiimon, my buddy, my pal, I've missed you <3 (I say, as though I had not been perfectly capable of reaching out to you myself... but you know how it is *joins you on the floor*)

I'm putting the rest under a read more because I got talkative and I don't wanna make everyone else read that

Man, I'm sorry things are still this shitty for you, you deserve way better than that. It sucks that everything costs money and that it's kind of necessary to get some form of education after finishing school or you'll be stuck at factories or dealing with customers.

But, judging from my own life, still living with the parents is easily the worst part of it, isn't it? And oh, how unfair is it that there is money required to get tf away from the parents, fuck if I can't relate.

If you're going for potentially an apprenticeship, what kinds have you been looking at? Anything in particular catch your eye?

We do not have Netto here, but I've heard of it before. We do have Aldi and Lidl, though, that's as far as German supermarket chains go here.

As for myself, well, I'm certainly going through it but not in a new or exciting way, just that some days are normal levels of shitty and some are pure dread wanting to stop existing kinda shitty, all the sorta things I hope will be fixed when I move out.

I was particularly dreading my bro finishing his military service (which is mandatory for men here, idk how it is for y'all folks over there) because he said he was going to move out once that was over, but then they liked him so much they made him stay another round (no joke, apparently they can just. Force you to stay) so he finally did finish at the start of November, but now he put off moving for the time being for various reasons and I'm so glad, I don't want him to be able to make a run for it whilst I'm still stuck here, and I particularly don't want to be stuck here with my parents alone.

So yeah the bro is staying, for now, and unfortunately so am I, but my apprenticeship is nearing its end, which means the problem of "what do I do with my life" is also coming closer once again, except now it's more along the lines of "where will I want to work and in what field". So far I liked the accounting department and the purchasing department, those are certainly options, and apparently boss man of the purchasing department (where I am right now) would like to keep me after finishing, which is certainly nice but I don't know if I want that yet, but it's also not an official thing yet, just something he apparently said to a coworker. But I think I'd also really like to work in IT somehow? Mostly because that's where the nerds are and I'd kind of really like some irl friends, and I like computers and stuff so yknow, IT sounds nice, definitely an option too. We'll see. Problem for future me, I guess.

[galwaygremlin]

i feel like i’m on the verge of a gender breakthrough in my mind, which is great for like personal growth or whatever but i REALLY DON’T HAVE TIME considering i’m working 50-60 hours a week, planning for my sister’s trip to houston, planning for my partner’s trip to houston, trying to finagle my work schedule so i can go on my roommate’s trip to the state i just left, and am in considerable pain and discomfort from approximately five million physical problems that just keep. cropping. up.

also bathroom ain’t gonna clean itself.

[genshinboys]

Thigh job with Genshin Boys - Xiao

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Fem reader x Xiao

When you enter your flat, a handsome but grumpy Yaksha is sitting cross-legged on your bed resting his chin in the palm of his small hand. He grimaces and shoots something that can be referred to as a death stare in your direction. 

Here we go again. You think to yourself as you close the door behind you.

„You are late.” He basically growls at you fixing you with another menacing glare.

„It’s nice to see you too, Baby.” You approach the sulking adeptus and lean in to kiss his forehead but, alas, he backs away and frowns in turn.

„Oh, no kisses then?” A smile on your face but a sneer in your voice makes his blood boil.

It is like a match in a powder barrel.

„Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N!” He warns. „I know all of your cheap tricks.”

You let out an annoyed huff. Arms crossed on your chest.

„Why would you even ask when I saw you following me all the damn time, hmm?” You accuse your boyfriend, gazing right into Xiao's averting eyes.

„I wasn’t follow-,” and then he goes silent knowing fully well that lying isn’t an option with you.

„So?” You nag, hoping for any kind of response. „No need to be this jealous, Xiao.”

„Don’t get weird ideas in your head.” The boy deadpans. „I’m not jealous!” He defends himself but it doesn’t sound convincing enough even for his own ears. He blushes and turns his head away.

You let out a sigh and smile warmly at your boyfriend’s pettiness.

Does he even realise how cute he is? You briefly wonder and then you reach for his silky hair and ruffle it affectionately.

It’s been a taxing, full of ups and downs journey since you met the haunted by karmic debt Yaksha. At first, he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. You were just another bothersome individual and he could not care less about your existence. It was unnerving. He was snarky, seething with rage for no reason, hiding his feelings for so long that it seemed to you that they were going to explode inside of him one day leading to his utter despair and demise. You got to know about his past and the weight of his karmic debt from Zhongli. You took pity. Somehow you felt compelled to help the boy, regardless of his repulsive demeanour. The golden-eyed Yaksha was of a different opinion, though. 

Xiao didn’t want you to get close to him. He couldn’t make any sense of your stubbornness. Why would you even want to have anything to do with him? Him? 

A barbaric monster, eaten up alive by remorse and regret. 

A blood-thirsty fiend whose sole purpose of breathing is to slaughter and spread fear wherever he shows his face. 

These were the thoughts so deeply engraved in his unfortunate soul that he couldn’t allow anyone to come near him.

He perceived himself as a hollow, barren of any human emotions vessel. The only feelings he was familiar with were pain and the burden of his legacy that he is forced to carry up to this day.

Bizarrely, as time had passed he was taken aback by some unfamiliar sensation of tightness in his chest. It wasn’t painful. Nothing that would come close to the distress caused by the divine will. It wasn’t permanent, either. It only happened in your presence, as Yaksha would hesitantly observe. Sometimes it got even worse. It would be accompanied by this fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

„Why are you this close? Huh? Do you have a death wish?”

„Move, I don’t have time to sit around and be idle like you do.”

„You have no respect for the adepti. Stop fooling around.” 

The more he pushed you away the more you were determined to lure him in. You couldn’t stop laughing when one day Zhongli informed you that the troubled Yaksha came to him to seek advice regarding this weird tightness in his chest and an upset stomach when you were around. 

And so, you smile fondly at your boyfriend as he yanks your hand away not liking the way you tousle the emerald green strands.

„I’m sorry XIao. I didn’t mean to be late. Just wanted to buy some jewellery.” You point to your thigh to get the adeptus’ attention back where it should be, which is you, not the wall.

Xiao glances at your thigh doing his best to remain impassive and uninterested. Unfortunately, his eyes widen a little and his mouth is somehow stuck hanging open as if he were to say something but the words never come out.

„You saw me bargaining with the shopkeeper, nothing wrong about that, right?” You explain to the adeptus currently captivated by the glimmering golden chain adorning your thigh.

Xiao has a lot to learn when it comes to dealing with his own emotions. You are acutely aware of that. He doesn’t know how to react, how to show that he cares or process what he feels. He doesn’t also entirely understand the purpose of half of the things that you insist on doing to him. Playful bites, tickling, holding his hand in public. He doesn’t question these actions even though it’s all a novelty. He does know for sure that it makes him feel flustered and all hot inside. 

Does he despise it? No. 

Would he like for you to continue? The answer to that question is definitely affirmative but Xiao is not going to admit it out loud. 

He also has no clue how to initiate all of these things. Is he supposed to bite you back as well? What if he hurts you? Everything is so overwhelming as he’s endured years of solitude and sadness. You have to patiently teach him everything from square one. Nevertheless, it’s incredibly rewarding and you find yourself falling for him a bit more with each clumsy kiss, a shy but warm hug and an awkward attempt at complimenting you.

However, despite being not well-versed in sexual encounters, Xiao does pleasantly surprise you by catching up with everything real quick. 

So, as his eyes are fixated on the trinket, you once again run your hand through his lush and long hair.

„Why would you even buy it? Pointless.” The boy retorts grumpily this time showing no signs of objection to your tender gesture. He moves his head up a little, losing himself to the tingling sensation going down his scalp.

„So that you can stare at me like that with those needy eyes?” You answer truthfully, barring the real intent behind your actions.

He snorts and his face turns into that lovely shade of pink and then deep red within seconds.

He would absolutely turn his gaze away if not for the fact that you take his chin in your hand and thrust his face upwards forcing him to look you straight in the eyes.

„If you don’t like it you can take it off.”

„No need.” 

You chuckle softly.

„Let me make amends for my delay.” 

You take a step forward and place your knee on the verge of the bed. Xiao drinks in the view of your thigh-highs squeezing into the meat of your legs. The chain shimmering lightly right above the lacy material.

„You can touch it, Baby.” You encourage the nervous Yaksha.

Visibly tensed, he reaches for the exposed skin and lightly traces the chain with his unsure fingers. It almost tickles but you let him do as he pleases and soon Xiao attempts to fully envelop your thigh with his greedy hand. He does cover half of it at best, but he seems satisfied and proceeds to squeeze it. It feels soft to the touch and he shivers at how warm and inviting your legs are in contrast to his icy-cold and sweaty palms. Bewitched, Xiao aches for more and he selfishly pulls you in so that you are now kneeling in front of him on the bed.

He stops breathing when you swiftly unbutton your shorts and undress for him. You let his eyes roam over your half-naked body for some time enthralled by the way Xiao’s pupils dilate in awe.

You lean into him as Xiao pulls you towards him for a messy kiss. It isn’t gentle as usual but full of passion and urgency. He whines when you bite on his lower lip but then you gently stroke him with your tongue to ease the discomfort.

Slowly, very very slowly, your hands go down his torso only to finally stop at the bulge in Xiao’s loose pants. You tug at the waistband and Xiao lifts his ass a bit to help you strip him naked. His penis, hard and heavy, resting now on his lower belly. He hisses when you palm his hard erection and that simple touch sends jolts of electricity down his spine. It leaves him intoxicated once you start gliding with the heel of your palm up and down the underside of his member. You repeat the movement and Xiao’s body jerks in response.

„Don’t tease.” The adeptus pleads through gritted teeth.

„I’m so sorry, Baby. Gonna make you feel real good.”

Xiao can feel himself growing impossibly harder when you place your feet on either side of his hips. When he looks down he can see your wet folds and the pinkish colour of your tight hole. Lying on your back, you prop yourself on your elbows so that you can look at Xiao’s face in the process. You scoot a bit closer to the confused boy, your bum is right in front of his erected shaft. You take his cock in your hand and guide him in between your thighs. In the beginning, you try to be delicate. You gently rub the tip of his cock, circle his shaft with your fingers and with a fisted hand spread his pre-cum all the way down to his pubic hair so that he is thoroughly lubricated. You wouldn’t like to hurt the boy during the whole ordeal. 

His breath is shallow. Excitedly, you clasp your thighs together and start playing with his dick. You rotate your hips and massage his cock. It slides in and out and Xiao growls feeling ecstatic. You exchange between rubbing him with your thighs or gliding your hand along his cock, starting at the very top and working your way down to the bottom until Xiao can’t stifle his cries anymore. A few more strokes and he is definitely going to beg. 

Xiao is on fire. It feels too good to be true and he wants this moment to last forever. He licks his dry lips and moans wantonly thrusting his hips forward. He meets you mid-way and the friction it creates every time he pushes his dick in between your legs leaves him gasping.

„You’re making me cum, Y/N.” He cries out for the last time before it is too late to warn you.

„Then cum for me, Baby.” 

Obediently, Xiao shoots his thick and heavy load all over your lower body. For a moment the world around him seems out of focus and it makes him dizzy. He pants heavily and can’t catch his breath. He feels as if he was drowning. But then, your loving arms envelop him and he is safe again. You gently stroke his chest hugging him from behind. He melts in your embrace letting his head rest on your shoulder. His erratic heartbeat slowly going back to its usual rhythm.

„I think it looks pretty on you.”

„Hmm?” You want the boy to clarify what he meant.

„The chain... Looks pretty.”

„Oh.” 

Shakily, he reaches out to put your hand into his and he squeezes them together. 

„I’ll never let you lose yourself again, XIao. I love you and I will protect you forever.”

Xiao recognizes the familiar feeling of tightness in his chest. A single tear rolls down his cheek but he hurriedly wipes it before you can notice.

„Shut up.” The boy responds angrily and kisses you breathless. 

Other boys:

Albedo

Diluc

Kaeya

Childe

Zhongli

Kazuha

[buckys-black-dress]

all the signs i don't read

a/n: guys!!! I'M OFFICIALLY DONE WITH MY FIRST YEAR OF UNI! i'm sooo happy to finally be done, i can focus on writing more for you guys this summer :) here's a lil somethin' i whipped up after my last final today. enjoy! xoxo, ali <3

wc: 2.5k words

[bucky barnes x fem!reader]

read part two here!

-

You never thought anything of it.

You never thought anything of it when every time someone would come into the room, Bucky would act like he couldn't stand being touched by you.

It was little things, at first.

You would be in the kitchen in the morning, making coffee for him and you. He would be holding you from behind, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. And then Steve, or someone else, would walk into the room.

And he would shake off your touch, like you were poison.

It never hurt less.

But it's not like you could ever make a scene out of it, or anything. Because nobody even knew you and Bucky had been dating for the past two months.

You had no one to turn to in this situation. No one knew you two were together, and you kind of messed this up for yourself when you agreed to all of this at the beginning of your relationship. Bucky had told you he wasn't really ready for PDA, and you had told him, in a haste, that it was fine.

But after two months of extremely close calls, your patience was wearing thin, and you know it sounds bad. But you've been extremely careful with him, always asking asking him if everything was okay before going further with anything involving physical touch. You always made sure you weren't crossing any boundaries, but it was starting to get frustrating.

You couldn't understand why Bucky could get all touchy-feely with Steve and Natasha when he felt like it, but was practically gagging at your touch.

You were currently cuddled up on his bed, watching a movie. You were on cloud nine, basking in the warmth of your boyfriend's touch. This was one of the rare instances where he would let you get this close. It was nice, and you made sure to always take advantage of it if the situation presented.

You could feel Bucky's gaze fixed upon you as the colors of the TV screen reflected onto your skin. Your eyes dip down to his, and a warm smile graces your face as your eyes meet.

You couldn't ever put into words how happy Bucky made you. You had liked him for so long before he even asked you out, and you were over the moon the day he had brought up wanting to take you out.

It was another night of dinner with just the two of you. Everyone else was on a mission, and since you two were the only ones left, you had decided to make the decision to make food for the both of you.

"James?" Your voice resounded through the empty kitchen and dining room.

"Yeah, honey?" He answered, painting your face red in a blush.

"Do you... just- nevermind." You shake your head, looking back down at your plate.

"Hey, look at me." He says, putting his hand over yours. "I was actually tryin' to figure out how to ask you this..."

Your brows are pulled together, wondering what he was talking about.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, James." You reassure him. You were grateful that he was such a good friend to you, and that he trusted you enough to open up to you.

"I was wonderin'... would you like to... go out on a date with me sometime?" He asks, holding your gaze.

You're sure you look like a fish out of water right now, your mouth opening and closing in shock. He wanted to ask you out?

"I just... I like spending time with you, I like how you call me James, I like how you don't judge me and how long it's taken me to get comfortable here. I like how kind you are, and how you've always asked the others to be patient with me, so... would you like to go out on a date with me?" He held such hope in his eyes.

"I... I would love to, James." You reply after a moment of silence.

"I'm so happy you said yes." He smiles warmly. "But just... don't mention it to anyone? I don't want Steve or Sam on my case. You know how they can be sometimes." He smiles, and you nod at his request.

"Of course, James. I don't ever want to make you feel uncomfortable, we can go at your pace." Your tone was soft and understanding.

"Thanks, doll. You don't understand how much it means to me." Bucky returns your soft smile, and scoots his seat closer to yours.

His gaze was fixed on you, and while you were playing over the time in your head, Bucky leans in and pecks your lips gently.

"Hm, what're ya thinkin' of, honey?" He questions, sensing your mind was elsewhere.

"I was just thinking of that night when... when you first asked me on a date. How sweet you were." You smile coyly, leaning back in for another kiss.

Your stomach fluttered at Bucky's hum of approval at your actions. He deepened the kiss, motioning for you to fully sit on his lap. Bucky gently placed each of your legs on the sides of his thighs, his hands grasping your hips.

As he stared from your eyes to your lips, back up to your eyes, you felt lightheaded. This was the most intimate the two of you have gotten so far, and you feel the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Soon enough, your lips are back on his, moulding onto his like you two were made for each other. Although you two loved watching movies together in each others' rooms, (to avoid prying eyes, of course) you have never been so close to him before like this.

You felt yourself getting high on his affection, and once you had it, you didn't think you could ever go without it.

As Bucky's grip on you tightens, your hands move up to his shoulders, also moving to grasp them. Your hips move with a mind of their own, grinding against his lap.

You didn't think anything of it, but Bucky freezes at the action. His hands stop their gentle strokes along your sides. His lips pause their actions, and you feel him pulling away.

Both physically and emotionally.

"James, is everything alright?" You ask wearily, truly perplexed. Everything was going so well...

"I just... I can't do this, Y/N. I- I'm so sorry... I can't do this with you." He leans back, and limply moves his hands to flop onto the bed at his sides.

"O-Oh," Your voice breaks as you process his words. He didn't want you. This has all been a joke to him. Even in private, your touch made him uncomfortable.

"I... I have to go." You slide off Bucky's lap, gathering your belongings from the end of his bed and rushing out the door.

Without even a glance behind you, the door slams, and Bucky is sat dumbfounded on his bed. Why did I do that? He thinks to himself. Why did I say that to her?

As tears filled your eyes, you just pray that no one will see you. Unfortunately, your room was on another floor, and you think the stairwell would be the best option to avoid people at this point in time.

But of course, as fate has it, Steve is taking the stairs up. You can tell he's probably just returned from his nightly run, as he's sweating through his shirt.

You quickly wipe your eyes, hoping they look too puffy. Your nose was probably red, too, but just sniffle to clear it.

At the sound of your nose, Steve's head shoots up. Your eyes meet, and you plaster on possibly the fakest smile you've ever produced.

"Steve! How was your run?" You ask enthusiastically, trying to make it seem like you were just fine.

"Yeah, it was good. Took a bit of a longer route today. What are you doing here? You never take the stairs." He asks with a raised brow.

"I uh... I was watching a movie, and I had some snacks that were sitting a little heavy on my stomach. I thought a flight of stairs or two could do me some good." You shrug, trying to look as unsuspecting as possible.

"Are you sure you're alright? Your eyes seem a little red." Steve counters. He could feel that something was off.

"Y-Yup, I was watching a sad movie, you know how I get." You give a fake laugh, turning back around. "I have to head back, but good talk, Steve. Enjoy the rest of your night!" You practically yell while walking away from him.

The door of the stairs close behind you in a haste, and you take a moment to take a deep breath. You hated lying, but it's not like you could've said anything to Steve. He had no clue about anything having to do with you and Bucky.

While you locked yourself away to your room for the rest of the night, Bucky was still trying to process the events. How in the matter of a minute, he managed to shift your entire relationship. He was kicking himself, trying to figure out how to fix this. He couldn't seek out advice from Steve like he normally would in situation like this, or ask Natasha. Usually, she was the one to help him when it came to women these days.

But now, he was on his own.

And he was fucked.

So, he had two options.

One, go to Steve. Confess everything; dating you for the past two months, admit he was an idiot and didn't want anyone to know. Realize it would've been fine if everyone knew because everyone loved you. Try to win you back.

Or two, try to get you back on his own. And let's be honest, that option was not looking too good. Clearly, Bucky was clueless in this topic.

So now, he was left to stew.

That night, you drifted into a dreamless sleep with a heavy heart and a tear-soaked pillow.

-

The next few days were... rough, to say the least.

You could barely drag yourself out of bed. You would leave your warm blankets and pillows around eleven each day, which was unheard of for you. Natasha and Wanda would stop you on your way to the kitchen, and try to pry the problem out of you.

Sweetie, this isn't healthy for you.

Honey, just tell us what's wrong. We're here for you.

Y/N, we're worried about you. We love you, but you look horrible.

That last on made you crack a smile, but shook your head and headed in to make yourself a coffee.

For the first time in two months, you were only making coffee for you.

And fuck, was it killing you.

You so badly wanted someone to wrap you up in a hug, rub your back, and tell you it was okay. To tell you your touch was comforting, that they wanted to be close to you.

But of course, fairytales weren't real. You were alone again, and it seemed that it would stay that way for a long time.

No matter what you did, all you could hear in your head was James' words. I'm sorry, I can't do this with you. With you. With you. With you.

And you couldn't help but wonder. What was it about you that was so repulsive to him? You were understanding from the beginning. You just thought he wasn't ready for PDA, that he just wanted his privacy, you understood.

But what you didn't get was how James could have asked you out on a date, how he could've kissed you, for fuck's sake, and yet be so ashamed to be seen with you.

So you allowed yourself to only wallow for five days. You only gave yourself these next five days to feel sorry for yourself, whatever you needed to be pathetic for a few days, but that's it. After that, no more.

You were tired of feeling like you weren't good enough for anyone, like you were a burden. You were an amazing person, and if some people couldn't see that, it wasn't your problem.

You were done.

-

During your five days, you hadn't seen Bucky once. And of course, as your luck would have it, day two brought you your ex-boyfriend.

All in his glory, in the kitchen.

With not one, but two mugs of coffee.

His eyes meet yours, and you see a light in his. But you made sure you were quick to put that out.

"Do you need something, Bucky?" You all but sneer, and his soft smile drops.

"I just... I was about to bring you some coffee. Just how you like it, iced and black." He tries the smile again.

"No thank you, I'd rather make it myself." You turn your stare to the coffee machine, grabbing a capsule and sticking it in the machine before sliding it shut.

Bucky just stands there, dumbfounded. Again.

This seems to be a trend with you.

"Y/N, come on. Let's just sit down and talk about this. Let's go to your room, or maybe mine-" He begins, but you couldn't be bothered with him anymore.

"You know what, Bucky? No. If you want to talk, we can do it out here, for anyone to see. What are you afraid of? Me? Scared that someone will see you with me? God forbid, someone sees that you like me, right? God fucking forbid someone actually is proud-" your voice cracks in an ugly way, and even though you don't want to seem weak in front of him, you continue, "proud to be with me. I gave myself time. Time to understand why on Earth you seemed so... so disgusted to be with me. So ashamed.

And I got over. I am not going to let you make me feel like I'm anything less of a great person, and anyone would be lucky to have me. So screw you, and your secret relationships. I'm done."

By the end of your speech, tears had definitely made it down your cheeks, and your coffee was long forgotten as you turned to move out of the kitchen.

Bucky's eyes had widened at your words, realizing the weight of his mistake. He had made you feel so small, so repulsive and you thought all those things about yourself were true.

But they couldn't have been further from it.

Bucky loved you. He had only had you for two months, but in that short time, he was so hellbent on keeping you a secret. On showing the others that he wasn't weak, that he was still a big, tough guy. That he didn't need a girl to comfort him, or to help him through the nightmares.

But you were the best thing he ever had, and now you were slipping away.

But if Bucky is anything, he's a determined man. And he's determined on getting you back.

-

a/n: aw shit, what's gonna happen?? don't worry, i would never leave y'all hanging like this. part 2 will be coming shortly :) in the meantime, enjoy whatever this is. love, ali <3

read part two here!

[teasty]

kiss yourself (03) || h.js

● pairing: han jisung x (female) reader

● genre: angst, smut, (kinda) fluff  ||  fwb to lovers au || college!au || non!idol au

● warnings: | praise + degradation | reader and jisung are not in a relationship at the beginning! | suggestive dialogue | profanity | unprotected sex | softdom!harddom!jisung | reader gets into short fist fight | fingering | hair pulling | slight dumbification |

● words: 10.4k

→ summary: It all started when you and your best friend for life, Han Jisung, got a little bit too tipsy at a party and ended up waking up naked in the same bed. After that unfortunate night, you and Jisung confirmed there be a distinguished “friends with benefits” relationship between the two of you, with a few rules.

Number One: No one else is supposed to know about this relationship.

Number Two: The minute one of the two of you starts a serious relationship with someone, the benefits are cut off immediately.

Number Three: Have to respect the other’s wishes, if one doesn’t want to do it, then there’s no argument.

Number Four: No falling in love.

But, when Jisung starts crushing over your classmate, you start to break the rules. One by one.

a/n: a lot happens in this chapter,, it's pretty fast paced but it is what it is ~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | CHAPTER THREE

“I want you to fuck me dumb, Jisung. I want to think about nothing but you.”

You refused to cry, no matter how bad you wanted to.

You didn’t actually head back to the dorm, deciding you weren’t tired enough to fall asleep fast enough and that you simply wanted to have the comfort of being alone for the time being. You’re so fed up, so irritated and stressed, not even Jisung fucking you over and over again until you’re too weak to even speak could fix it. Neither did you feel like dealing with Jeongja, so you headed straight for the 24/7 cafe a few blocks away from the school. You didn’t go there often, but you went there a few times with Jisung in the mornings. You weren’t as familiar with the place like he was, but you knew for a fact that it was open all day, every week day.

There was only one other person in the cafe. A young, tired looking woman who typed vigorously on her laptop, which was plugged into the wall along with her phone, which she listened to whatever on. She must be a college student, since she had a backpack at her feet and a lanyard hanging from her pocket. You didn’t recognize her, so she was probably your senior. She gave you a subtle glance before turning back to her laptop, and you ignored her. Walking (more limping) up to the cashier.

“Welcome. It’s pretty late,” said a man who didn’t seem too young, but nor too old. Probably in his mid - twenties. He had a small stubble on his chin and his longish hair is tied back, a few rebellious strands framing his decently structured face. You could make out his toned chest and broad shoulders underneath the beige button up he wore, a dusty pink apron around his waist, accompanied by a pair of black slacks. He’s attractive, you couldn’t deny. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too late for a pretty little lady like you to be walking around, alone, in a tee shirt?”

“I’m fine on my own,” you admit, “I’ve been here a few times, but I can’t remember the menu. Mind handing me one?” The man nods, reaching over something to grab a one sided menu, and he hands it to you. After glancing over it, you felt too nauseous to eat, but you needed caffeine, something to keep you going since sleep wasn’t going to be an option for you tonight. “Can I just get an americano? Make it large, please, I need it.”

“Oh, coffee at this hour?” He chuckles.

“This is a coffee shop,” you glance around, a little agitated.

“Yeah, yeah,” the man laughs out, waving a hand as he pressed a few buttons on the cash register, “I’m just teasing you, sweetheart. Is that all you want? An americano, large?”

“No, get me the green tea, too,” you sigh, placing down the menu. It’s not like you to get bitter drinks, let alone two. You’re actually more of a sweets kind of person. But, since you’re not feeling too well, you just want hot, bitter drinks to keep you from going insane.

The man nods, “Hmm, tough night?” You nod slowly, “Surprised you came to a coffee shop. Most people who have rough nights usually hang around at the bar down the road. What made you come here of all places?”

“Well, it’s the first place I thought of,” you shrug a shoulder, “I don’t want a hangover in the morning either. I always know how those go. Never had the best luck when I’m drunk.” You chuckle, smiling wistfully for a moment before it turns into a bitter frown at the thought of your vague first time with Jisung. You shake your head slowly, subtly. It wasn’t a mistake. Not at all. It wasn’t bad luck. But, right now, it kind of feels like it. You’ve gotten more attached to Jisung than you have the years before you both started fucking around. “Plus, my friend used to bring me here. Thought I’d see the place alone.”

“Well, I appreciate you stopping by,” the man smiles down at you, and you give him a brief one back, “What’s your name? What should I put as the name, sorry.”

“(Y/N) (L/N),” you grumble out your name.

“Are you a foreigner?”

“No. My parents just aren’t born here,” you respond, having gotten the question hundreds of times in the past.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/N) (L/N),” the man smiles, and you chuckle softly as he rings up the order, “My name is Jeongguk. I assume you go to the college down the road?” Jeongguk asks as you sit on one of the stools at the counter. You sigh, your shoulders dropping as you nod slowly. Watching as Jeongguk prepares the americano. “Ah, I used to go there. I already graduated.”

“What was your major?” You ask curiously.

“I was a fine arts major. I only have my undergrad, but I’m saving up to go back and get my masters,” Jeongguk says.

“Oh,” your eyes brighten, intrigued by the sudden conversation, “If you don’t mind me asking, what’ll you do with your masters once you get it?”

Jeongguk sighs, his head tilting slightly as he focuses his eyes on the drink in his hand, perfecting it, “I’m not sure, actually. There’s a lot of things I could do. I could just work under a company to make things for ‘em, like designs and shit like that. But, I’m more into painting. Heh, but there’s not much painting can get for you nowadays. I haven’t seen many jobs that take in painters, so I’m reconsidering whether or not painting should be my go - to.”

“Right,” you nod, completely understanding, “It’s an amazing skill to have, though. You could probably start up on social media and sell your works worldwide.”

“Social media’s never been my forte, but it’s a thought,” Jeongguk passes you the americano, and you don’t hesitate to take a sip of the hot drinking, cringing slightly at the bitter taste. But, you soon get used to it. “What’s your major?”

“Political science,” you chuckle.

“Oh - ho! We got a smarty - pants over here, now don’t we?” Jeongguk jokes as he grabs a white, bulky mug from a shelf. You chuckle, a bit flusters. Already feeling better from this conversation with him, “The only person I knew in political science was Chris! You know Chan? Bang Chan?”

“Yeah, he’s on my committee, we’re friends,” you shrug a shoulder.

“Nice. Let him know I said hi, won’t you?” You nod quickly, taking another sip of the coffee, “Is it as much work as they say?”

“Well, with this dumb team I was pressured into, yeah, it’s a lot more than most other people with different majors seem to have,” you answer, and Jeongguk nods slowly, listening intently as he puts a kettle filled with water on a small stovetop. He then turns to you and leans against the bar table separating you both, “It’s fine, though. I’m just doing it to get a job so I can provide myself with enough money to get what I need and a bit more to have what I want. People in that field get lots of money, you know?”

“Yeah, just depends on what you decide to be,” Jeongguk nods.

“I guess you’re right,” you nod slowly, “I’m most likely to graduate with my bachelors, but I’m gonna take law so I can be a lawyer. Either tort or criminal, I don’t mind.”

“Ah, those are tricky fields in law, aren’t they,” Jeongguk chuckles, and you nod slowly, “Well, I wish you the best of luck. By the way, when did you and Chris become friends? I’ve been friends with him for a few years, now, and I don’t recall him being with you.”

“Oh, I only befriended him at the beginning of the year,” you say, and Jeongguk nods, “I went to a party with my friend and met him there. We’re also on the same committee for planning for the school, so we got pretty close.”

“You mean the huge party right before school started up, don’t you?” You nod slowly, “Mm. I know just what party you’re talking about. I think I might’ve seen you. You looked familiar when you walked in, so it’d make sense. Let me guess, were you with one of Chris’s buds? I forget his name, but I think his family name is Han, right?”

Your eyes instantly roll, and you nod, “Yeah. Han Jisung. I went with him.”

“Ouch, what a reaction,” Jeongguk laughs, noting your eyes which rolled sassily, “Did he do something to you?”

“It’s a long story.” You admit. It’s not too long, actually. It could be simplified, but you didn’t want to talk about it to a stranger.

“I have time,” Jeongguk says, smiling brightly.

You raise a brow, “So do I, and I’m going to spend it drinking my coffee.” Jeongguk raises his hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine. Have it your way,” And finally, Jeongguk finished your tea and gave it to you.

You both talked for the remainder of the night (well, morning) until the sun came up. You had about five coffees, trying different kinds that Jeongguk suggested, and another green tea with honey in it. You learned that Jeongguk graduated early, mostly since he didn’t have enough money, but he was also ahead of the rest of the year by a long run, so he privately graduated. He didn’t start working at the coffee shop until a few months ago, and works the night shift and was the only one there. Apparently, no one usually came in during his shift except for travellers passing by or the tired college students, which were more likely to come by and study.

You didn’t even notice it was morning until Jeongguk’s face illuminated with the sunlight over the city’s buildings. You both traded numbers, and you promised to come again during his shift on his days. He said he’d text you, but you weren’t too sure he would. You were at least thankful to not be totally alone that night, since part of you knew that Jisung was going to get to your head, and you’d be either upset or angry. Jeongguk was able to rid your mind of him, even if only for those five or so hours you sat there, talking to him.

But, once you walked into your dorm to change into a quick pair of different clothes, all you could think about is Jisung. Debating your feelings.

You, however, constantly repeated to yourself that you didn’t even like him like that. He’s only a friend. Only a friend. Have it be with or without benefits, he’s only a friend.

You decided to just wear a pair of baggy sweats and an old hoodie, not caring much for your appearance. Although there’s tons of caffeine running through your system, you were still exhausted from the lack of sleep, and your mood had been dropped. You knew there was probably going to be another meeting today with Chunae, but you couldn’t be too sure. You didn’t get any work done last night (obviously), and you don’t know whether or not you’ll hear it from her or not, whether or not she’ll pull you out of class again for a meeting you could care less about.

You didn’t see Jisung for the first few hours of school, per usual. He didn’t try texting you nor calling you, which you were a bit skeptical about, but you tried to ignore it. You’re supposed to be agitated with him. And, you are. You still cared for him, and you still miss him despite it being only one night. But, then again, he probably didn’t miss you the way you missed him.

He would miss you, sure. But he wouldn’t miss the way you kiss him, right? He wouldn’t miss the way you hold him. The way you love him.

But, you’re not in love with him.

You can’t be.

You did see Chris, though. He actually walked up to you during passing hall and pulled you aside, against a wall. He wore a concerned, tired look as he folded his arms. Staring down at you, and rose a brow. It was silent for a moment until you emit a low, “What?”

“What’s going on between you and Jisung?” Christopher says sternly, and your blood runs cold right then and there. Your eyes widen and your brows raise as you stare up at him. Did he know? You’re too scared to answer.

“What… do you mean?” You utter out.

“Jisung called me last night asking if you were at my dorm last night at, like, midnight. Woke me up when I should’ve gotten sleep…” Christopher grumbles, rubbing his temple, “He said he thought you would have run off to my place. Didn’t say shit as to why, though. Didn’t say a damn thing. The boy even asked me to go to your dorm to see if you were there, but no one answered. I figured you were asleep. I just need to know why Jisung had to call me at fucking midnight ‘cause of you.�� Christopher’s Australian accent slips into his Korean, which means he’s probably both irritated and tired.

“Oh… I’m sorry. No, I was out at some coffee shop until, like, five in the morning last night,” You answer truthfully, and Christopher sighs, “Oh, and by the way. I talked to Jeongguk there. He said hello.”

“Really, now? Jeon Jeongguk?” Christopher asks, and you shrug a shoulder, “Well, I appreciate it. Tell the guy I miss him. But, that’s not the point. At this point, I’m kind of concerned. I went over my conversation with Jisung last night all morning and yet I can’t find a single reason why you would be running to my dorm like he thought or why he didn’t go see you himself. Did he do something wrong?”

“It’s not that it’s wrong. I’m just upset about it,” you answer, and Christopher nods slowly.

“Do you mind telling me what that is? If you do, it’s a possibility I can help,” Christopher suggests, but you smile and slowly shake your head.

“It’s not something you can help with this time, Chan,” You sigh, “It’s a bit too personal.”

“Okay, now I’m really concerned. I might have been Jisung’s friend longer, but I care about you, too, (Y/N). Please tell me what’s wrong. I know something’s happening between the two of you. And if it’s really that personal, I promise on my life not to tell anybody,” Christopher says.

You sigh and look around before grabbing the man’s hand and pulling him away to somewhere more private. He didn’t argue, but he seemed a bit surprised at how quickly you acted. You pulled him out to the courtyard, not caring much for being tardy, anymore. Your heart thumped in your chest. The rules vividly recite themselves in your mind; “No one else is supposed to know about this relationship.”

Well, here goes one rule flushed down the toilet.

Once you stopped, Christopher shoves his hands in his pocket, shrugging his shoulders at you, “Okay, now what is it?”

You shake your head slightly, debating whether or not to tell him. If Jisung found out, it’d be the death of you. But, you don’t know if you should be excited about that or scared. You’re not sure how he’d react to such news from Christopher.

You know what, fuck it, you thought to yourself.

“Well?”

“We’ve been fucking since the party,” you blurt out, and Christopher’s brows raise in shock. At both the news and how flat toned and blunt you were being. “I got a bit too tipsy and we ended up having sex. We made specific rules, which is so dumb of me to say since one of them is to literally tell nobody. Which means you can’t tell anyone and you can’t let Jisung know that you know this or he will kill me, Chan. Kill me, got it? Whatever, it… he and I had a bit of a fight after doing it last night.”

“But why?” Christopher carefully asks.

“Because he’s after a girl. A girl I’m not too fond of,” you admit.

“Chunae, isn’t it?”

“How’d you know?” You raise a brow, glad he isn’t overreacting to your confession to sleeping around with Jisung.

“Let’s just say that he’s been flirting with her every chance he gets,” Christopher admits, and you sigh softly, looking down in disappointment, but trying your hardest not to make it too obvious about how upset you were, “They share some classes, and he’s apparently been talking to her every chance he gets. Not to mention, Chunae seemed pretty into him, too.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you sigh, tiredness suddenly coming over you, as well as exhaustion, “We fought about it, but I’m the one in the wrong. He has every right to like someone and want to date someone. But… I dunno.”

“Do you love him?” Christopher asks slowly, and you take a seat at the nearest bench, Christopher following behind you and sitting next to you.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully in a small voice, “I really don’t know. One part of me misses him so much whenever I’m without him. One part of me loves him, but the other part just tells me that he’s only my friend and nothing more. But, yeah. He wanted me to stay the night at his dorm, but I didn’t since he only had me over and treated me well because he’s going to cut things off soon.”

“Do you want him to cut things off?”

“No!” You yell, a little too upset with the situation, and Christopher breaths in through his nose. You cover your face with his hands, slightly muffled by your hands, “I don’t! But he says that we will, and I-” you don’t bother to look up, cutting yourself off before you start crying out of nowhere. Your head hurt from the lack of sleep, but your eyes hurt from the need and resistance to cry.

Christopher placed a warm hand on your back, and you breath slowly.

“I don’t want him to leave me, Chris… I really don’t,” you shake your head slightly. Christopher’s hand massages your back and shoulders reassuringly. His warm hand giving you the reassurance you needed.

“I know, (Y/N), I know. It’s alright,” he sighs, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you into a hug. You don’t resist it. In fact, you lift yourself up to let your hands grip onto his shirt to hug him tightly, “If you’ll like, I can talk to Jisung. I won’t tell him that I know about the… benefits… but, I’ll let him know that you just don’t feel comfortable about his relationship with Chunae, alright? How does that sound?” Christopher’s voice is sweet and soft, calming you from your growing tears.

“That sounds perfect, Channie… thank you,” you whisper softly, your head burrowed in his chest.

It’s weird being held by another man. Another man that isn’t Han Jisung. It’s nice, especially since Christopher has such a loving and gentle personality. His hands hug you without any awkwardness, and it’s nice that someone other than Jisung can hug you without being uncomfortable.

But, your comfort was soon taken away when Christopher let’s go of you and shifts in his seat. You look up, and you see someone familiar walking towards you both. At first, your tears — blurred eyes make it impossible to see who it is, but once your eyes are cleared, Han Jisung’s perfect face comes into view. His face is stoic, his lips down turned in a subtle frown. His eyes are focused on you, and you stand up in your spot, clutching your backpack to get ready to leave.

“Don’t you dare move, (Y/N),” Jisung yells loudly, and you freeze at the spot. Christopher’s eyes widening from how aggressive Jisung sounded. Once he’s directly in front of you, he finally looks over to Christopher, and steps towards him, “I asked you to check up on her, Chan. Not do whatever the fuck you guys were doing just now.”

“What, comforting her?” Christopher stands his ground, standing up despite them both being the same height, “Something you should have been doing instead of me?”

Your hand clamps over your mouth. Jisung’s brows furrow, and his fists clench, but he doesn’t do anything, “I asked you a simple favor. To check up on her for me.”

“And that’s what I was doing,” Christopher defends himself, and you watch curiously. Neither of them spare you a glance, both staring at each other, “I’m not trying to pick a fight here, Jisung. But, it’s not my place to take care of her in… your situation.” Christopher looks Jisung up and down, and Jisung wears a disgusted look on his face. “I only asked what the fuck you did for you to think she was running off to me. ‘Cause, she was actually at the fucking coffee shop all damn morning talking to Jeongguk.”

“Jeongguk?” Jisung’s brows furrow, and he looks over to you briefly. You slowly nod, “Did you sleep at all last night?” You slowly shook your head, and Jisung groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. He turns back to Christopher, “Can you leave, Chan? I need to talk to her.”

Christopher looks past Jisung to you, and you shake your head slowly. Somewhat afraid of being alone with Jisung just for what you will talk about. However, Christopher gives you an apologetic look before turning back to Jisung, “Fine. Call me later (Y/N). If you don’t, I’m stopping by your dorm to check up on you.”

“Alright… Bye, Chan…” You mumble loudly back, and Christopher gives Jisung a subtle glance before grabbing his things and walking away.

You sat back down, half expecting Jisung to do the same. But, no, he stood in front of you. Towering over you as you stared at your feet. His hands stuff themselves into his hoodie’s pockets, and there’s a tense silence.

“Jisung…”

“Why did you run off like that last night, (Y/N)?” Jisung immediately cuts you off, and you can’t find yourself having the courage to look him in the eyes. You felt embarrassed for yourself, but you had to stay and talk to him. You don’t know how to answer. You don’t have a straight answer in your tired mind. “Answer me, (Y/N). We’re not going to get anywhere if you keep quiet.”

“I don’t know, Jisung,” you breathe out, gripping the bench below you, “I… Was just irritated.”

“Why?” Jisung crouches down so you can’t avoid his eyes. Unlike how you thought, Jisung’s eyes were more concerned than angry, like you thought they’d be. His hand escapes his pocket to rest on your knee, “I knew you weren’t irritated. You were just fine before I started talking about Chunae.”

Caught red handed. You stared at him like a deer in headlights, and your lips purse, trying your hardest to find an answer.

“I don’t know, Jisung. I really don’t,” you whisper to him pitifully, and Jisung shakes his head.

“No… No, I know you know the answer, (Y/N). I can make everything better if you just talked to me,” Jisung says in a voice you rarely heard. He’s usually joking around or simply has such an upbeat attitude. It’s so rare to see Jisung this serious, it almost makes you want to cry by how it affects you so. The way his voice lowers, relaxing and calming, yet stern. The way his eyes weren’t bright or happy, but not cold or angry.

It was almost scary.

“You say that as if there’s something wrong with me,” you try to chuckle bitterly, dodging his stare. But, his head moves with yours, and his hand that rests on your knee rises to firmly cup your cheek, turning your head to look directly at him with no exceptions.

“Because there is. There’s something you’re not telling me,” Jisung answers.

“Jisung,” your voice hardens, your heartbeat rising as Jisung’s words tug and pull at your heart, “I need to get to class. I’m already very late.”

“No, you’re staying here until we figure this out,” Jisung’s other hand grips your wrist, tugging at it, even though you never moved to get up in the first place. He seemed on edge, and took a brief glance behind him before turning back to you, “You’re my best friend for life, (Y/N). You know that. I care so much for you, and if there’s something wrong with my decisions, then I need you to tell me.”

“I…” your eyes close for a minute, nibbling on your bottom lip before looking up at him, “I don’t want you to cut things off between us, Jisung. I want to keep doing this… whatever this is. It makes me happy, Jisung.”

“Oh, (Y/N)...” Jisung sighs softly, his head dipping for a moment before he looks up at you with a pitiful smile, “Is that why you were mad last night?”

“So what if it is? You won’t do anything about it,” you answer, and Jisung’s brows furrow, “Even if I begged on my knees for you to keep doing this with me, you’d still reject me, wouldn’t you?”

“I — (Y/N), you know that I—“

“Wouldn’t you?” You cut him off, your glossy eyes boring into his. His hand falls from your face, resting on your thigh, and he squeezes it slightly.

“It depends…” Jisung answers truthfully, “On what I’m rejecting you for.” Your frown deepens, upset with his answer. Even so, you would’ve been upset if he said no. “If it’s for something stupid, like someone told me to stop or I had moral changes, hell no. But if it were for something like… like Chunae and I… then yes.”

You don’t answer him. You just stare at him, blinking every so often to try and keep away the growing tears. He would choose Chunae over you. Of course. You should have known. Everyone loved Chunae. Chunae deserved everyone’s love for how pretty, smart and proper she is. Of course Han Jisung would reject the sassy, immature and lazy (Y/N) (L/N) for a perfect woman like Chunae. You’re not a perfect woman. Not at all.

Not for Han Jisung.

It was then, at that moment of thoughts of Chunae and Jisung running through your head that you came to a sudden realization as you stared into Jisung’s worried eyes.

You’re in love with him.

You’re in love with Han Jisung. Your best friend.

“Get away from me,” you mumble.

“What…?” Jisung’s brows furrow.

“I said get away from me,” your broken voice whimpers out, “You make everything so much harder for me. Everything…” You shove away his hands and stand up, but Jisung is quick to scramble up and wrap his arms around your waist, his chest pressed against your back as his face burrows into your neck.

Your heart burns badly. It’s painful, too painful. You feel as though you’re going to collapse from how painful it is.

“Don’t go, yet. Please. You’re confusing me, (Y/N),” Jisung whispers into your neck, his warm breath sending tingles down your spine.

“No. I said get away from me,” you try and push him away, scooping your arms under his to try and push him away. But, Jisung is oddly persistent.

But, you eventually get away, grabbing your things and dashing off.

“No, (Y/N), wait! Please!” Jisung yells after you, but you're already to the building doors, throwing yourself into the building and dashing to the girl’s bathroom to recollect yourself.

And, thankfully, it’s empty. You throw your backpack down and lean against the sink. Finally, you let the tears fall. They fell down your cheeks fast and hot, the aching feeling of relief in your mind allowing you to breath slowly as the tears dripped mercilessly down your face, showing no signs of stopping.

You stared at yourself in the mirror as you cried. You were quiet. Making no sound other than sniffling here and there. You don’t even try to wipe away the tears that stain your face, too bothered and eager to cry to do so. Your eyes grow red and big, your cheeks reddening from the tears and your heart aching badly in your chest.

Once the thought of being in love with Han Jisung enters your mind, you look away from yourself. Your head falling, and you grip your hair. Shaking your head in your arms, Letting out muffled, “No, no, no!”s as you started to weakly, softly sob. Your body trembles with your tears.

You can’t be in love with Han Jisung. It’ll only end in your heartbreak. Jisung will cut things off immediately, and probably push you away once he finds out. You can’t for the life of you let him find out. You’re too scared to tell him yourself, so you have to keep it a secret from anyone who might be able to tell him and have him believe it. It’s too risky, so you’d have to keep this painful secret to yourself, no matter how badly you wanted to babble on and on about how much you hate this feeling and about how good he makes you feel, emotionally and physically.

You didn’t say a word to anyone after your short breakdown in the bathroom. You soon grew too tired to cry, and too stressed to go back to class, so you waited out that period before your lunch hour would come by. You didn’t know where to go. There would be girls hogging the bathroom, and hundreds of other students roaming the campus. You really didn’t want to be around people at this point, but you didn’t have much of a choice in the first place.

So, you went to the courtyard. You called Christopher, telling him about what happened, and he said he was going to be there right away and to meet him by the outdoor canteen. So, you sat at an empty table, waiting.

You scrolled mindlessly through your phone, wearing a blank, stoic expression as nothing was present in your all — too tired mind. Your backpack resting against your leg as you waited.

When you hear loud footsteps coming near, you look up. Not expecting who it was at first. It’s Chunae, and she looks on edge and upset. Her perfectly tinted lips frown darkly at you, and she stops in front of you.

“And where were you last class period?” She asks, and you raise your brow, turning off your phone and resting it on the table.

“Not there? Why do you care?” You scowl back at her, staring up at her with a dark glare. However, she doesn’t seem to back down, only to get angrier.

“I was supposed to give you more papers for people to contact, as well as parents and volunteers,” she throws a stack of papers in front of you. And you gawk at it. She already gave you so much shit to do beforehand, why the hell is she giving you more? You already have enough work, she should know that. She knew as well as the rest how busy political students are. And she had the audacity to throw a stack of papers on your desk and demand you to analyze and contact each person? “I want them done by this weekend, no exceptions.”

“You don’t get to decide that, Chunae,” You scoff, smiling bitterly at her. Your own anger rising, “I already have enough shit from the other stack of documents you thrusted down my throat on top of my school work. I’m not doing all this shit in less than a week!” You nearly yell, but you don’t raise your voice too much. You thrust an angry finger at the stack.

“Listen, (Y/N),” Chunae sighs, “I’m not in the best of moods right now. I don’t want to deal with bullshit right now when we’re on a tight schedule. This event is in danger of being shut down completely if we don’t finish it soon.”

“And does it look like I give two shits?” You sarcastically smile.

“Don’t joke with me, (Y/N), and please control your language. It’s giving me a headache.”

“Oh, boo — hoo,” you roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair, “What do you want? A cookie?”

“Don’t, (Y/N). I swear.” Chunae vaguely threatens, and you smirk.

“You swear what?” You urge, standing up slowly. Taking a step towards her, and she takes a small one back. Her expression doesn’t change. Her dead, yet beautiful brown eyes glaring into yours, “What’ll you do? Give me more paperwork? Tell me off to Daddy? Punch my teeth in?” You glare down at her hand, cocking a snarky brow at it before glaring at her, “I’d like to see you try to lay a finger on me.”

“Like you could do any better,” Chunae snaps, and you’re surprised how she’s snapping back instead of de — escalating the situation. It makes you excited. The urge to punch her only grew, “Your words are louder than your actions, (Y/N). Don’t underestimate me.”

You laugh loudly, “Ha! That’s funny! You… scary? Hey, I give an A- for effort, how about it?” You elbow her arm jokingly before turning back to glare through the paperwork she so selfishly threw your way.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” Chunae snaps.

“You forget who’s older.”

“You forget who has Han Jisung.”

You freeze. The paper falling out of your hand as you turn slowly to see a smirking Chunae. Smiling as though she killed off her worst enemy. Your mouth falls open, and you scoff.

“What… the fuck did you just say?” You grumble darkly, her hands balling into fists at your sides.

“I said… You forget who has Han Jisung,” she repeats slowly.

You had heard her loud and clear. Just like you heard Jisung when he confessed his adoration for Chunae. You were just in shock. You did not expect this out of someone like her. And, just like that, all your respect was lost for the woman. She crossed a border she could never escape. She’s crossed a line she can never retract over. She’s pushed buttons inside you that can’t be fixed.

“I dare you to say that again.” You growl through gritted teeth, and in the corners of your eyes, you can see Christopher walking up. But, a small crowd had started to watch you and Chunae. He stops by them, deciding not to intervene physically.

“(Y/N)?” Christopher yells, and you turn your head to him. “Is…” He grows silent when he sees your angry glare.

You turn back to Chunae, Christopher watching silently, prepared if anything happens. He pulls out his phone, and presses a few buttons before pressing it to his ear. Speaking to the person on the other line under his breath. You could care less, though, and you mainly focused on Chunae.

“I said I dare you to say that again!” You finally yell, and the people in the canteen grow silent. All heads turning to the both of you, and Christopher continues talking on the phone to whoever it is. Your hand flies up, gripping the hem of Chunae’s blouse. Pulling her intimidatingly close. You’re slightly taller than her, so she looked up at you.

Chunae only chuckles softly, “I have Han Jisung… He’s mine, isn’t he?”

As if on cue, your fist, knuckling white from clenching it so hard, comes into contact with Chunae’s cheek right as an out of breath Han Jisung comes running to the scene. But, you’re too busy to pay him any mind.

Of course, like you expected, Chunae flies to the ground. Immediately cupping her face and letting out a brief cry. And, just like that, you’re the bad guy. You sigh and roll your eyes. Shaking off your hand, which aches slightly from the impact on her defined cheekbone. You turn to Christopher and Jisung. Jisung stands there, staring between you and Chunae, who lay on the ground, holding her black and blue face. Christopher just gawks at you.

“What the fuck, (Y/N)?!” Jisung yells.

“Hey, before you overreact, I can explain…”

But, you’re quickly cut off when you feel a yank at your ankle, and you let out a yelp as you get yanked down. Your body yanked down, and the top of your head slams against the table you were sitting out, letting out a loud thunk through the air. And, you can briefly see Jisung trying to run up, but Christopher holds him back briefly.

Your hand flies up to your head, dizziness overtaking you as your mind falls blank for a second. Your head begins to throb, and you hiss through your teeth. However, you’re not gifted with enough time to get over the pain like Chunae did before she towers over you. Her high heels are kicked off, and she presses the ball of her foot into your chest, forbidding airway.

You’re a little too dizzy to think, but you’re conscious enough to react. Your hand flies up on instinct, your hands gripping her ankle and twisting it with your hands, causing her to fall. Before she could have time to get back up, you climb back on top of her and straddle her stomach.

She kicked and struggled, but your hands gripped her wrists (all too familiar with this position with the help of Jisung), pinning them to the ground. Your head aches, throbbing painfully. You’re still dizzy, trying to stay conscious from both the lack of sleep and from your head hitting the table.

“Hey! Hey, calm down. Just, oh fuck, my head. Oh, my god, Chunae, what the fuck is wrong with you?” You grumble as you squeeze your eyes shut, as if that would ease the pain. But, it doesn’t.

Jisung and Christopher eventually come over. Jisung’s arms wrap around you, just below your breasts as he pulls you off. You don’t struggle, but Chunae does. Christopher struggles pulling Chunae away, who still tries to pummel you.

She got a good hit on you. But it wasn’t really her. She just yanked your ankle, which threw your head against the table. You melted into Jisung’s arms, and he helped you to your feet carefully. Every movement made your headache worse. It blistered your head, sending shots of pain through your body. You tried your best to stay conscious, but it was a bit more difficult than one might seem. So, you focused on the way Jisung’s hands held you to try and keep you awake.

You faintly heard a teacher running over, asking about what the hell was going on. Jisung excused him, saying that there was a fight but it’s been handled and he’s taking you to the nurse’s office. So, the professor let you and Chunae go without much argument (probably not wanting to deal with something like this in the middle of the day.

But, Jisung didn’t take you to the nurse’s office. Christopher did, though, dragging a struggling Chunae away to the nurse’s office with no help. Jisung whispered incoherent words to you as one of his hands gripped your waist, the other holding your hand as you stumbled on your own two feet. Your vision blurred and your stomach erupted in pain. You had a concussion, all because Chunae as able to swipe at your ankle.

You were in too much pain to think clearly, hanging onto Jisung, “Ji… my head hurts so fuckin’ bad.” Your words are muffled by the lump in your throat that grew from the pain.

“I know, baby. She got you pretty good, didn’t she,” Jisung’s soft words seem to calm your head a bit, but it goes away the moment your foot plants on the ground to take another step, “It’s alright… I’m sure she wasn’t in a good mood, that’s all.”

“Shut up,” you grumble out, and Jisung sighs softly, squeezing your waist briefly as he walks you through a pair of doors and down a hall.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). Let’s not talk about Chunae right now. Let’s just get you to rest for a bit,” Jisung reassured, and you thanked whatever god is out there that he’ll shut up about Chunae.

“Where’re we goin’?” You look around, squinting through your blurred vision, as if that’d help (news flash; it didn’t).

“Back to my dorm,” Jisung answers, and you turn to him, “Jeongin isn’t back, yet, so don’t worry. Besides, we have better shit than the nurse will give you. She’ll just give you an ice pack and tell you to move on with your day, now won't she?” You think about it for a moment, although nothing goes through your mind. But, you agree with him and nod slowly.

The rest of the walk is silent. Sometimes, you’d nearly trip over your own feet, but with Jisung’s hand on your waist, he always caught you and whispered words of reassurance that never truly got all the way through your brain. Eventually though, you both made it to Jisung’s dorm. He unlocked it with one hand easily and threw the white door open. Not bothering to flick on the light before he walked in, kicking the door closed, and sat you on his bed.

Once you sat down, you felt like you’d been holding the world on your shoulders. You got a bit of relief since you weren’t moving around as much, but it still hurt like a bitch. Your head throbbed, everywhere. Your body twitched in pain. You couldn’t think straight nor could you see especially clearly, and you felt like you were about to throw up all of the coffee and tea you’d had this morning.

Jisung shuffled through one of his drawers before pulling out a first aid kit. He took his chair from his desk and rolled it in front of you, sitting on it and placing the first aid kit in his lap before opening it. “Dad always said to keep it handy. Turns out it’s finally coming to good use. I just need to see if there’s a wound on your head.”

And, so, without struggle, you lay forward, your head resting on Jisung’s knee as he gently moved your hair to the sides, looking for something. He did end up finding a bruise on the top of your head and said that it would be best to leave it alone for the time being before icing it. He gave you a few pills of over the counter medication to help ease the pain. But, he seemed a bit conflicted. It was mostly silent, you didn’t really talk since you didn’t have the strength to nor the will to. Chunae might be pretty weak, but with a blow to your head on the table like that… that’ll fuck you up real good.

Once you’re laying against his pillows, Jisung finally pipes up again.

“Come here.”

“Hmm?” You look up, and Jisung’s legs are spread slightly, one hand on his thigh as he looked over to you. His hair shadowing his eyes slightly.

“I said come here, now don’t be stubborn,” He motions you over with his hand, and you groan and squeeze your eye shut as you sit up and slide off of the bed and walk up to him. Jisung guides you around and slowly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist tightly.

“Jisung?” You mumble softly.

“Shh… This is going to help you with the pain, baby,” Jisung whispers against your ear, and you feel his press a gentle kiss to the back of your ear. You breathe in sharply, somewhat knowing where this is going as Jisung’s hand grips at your shirt. “It’ll make your head feel so much better, baby. I’ll make you feel good, alright?”

“Mm… how would that help?” You sighed out, your head already leaning onto Jisung’s shoulder, your eyes closing in relaxation as Jisung’s hands caressed your stomach, nearing both your breasts and your womanhood, but not daring to go near just yet.

“It’ll make all your muscles relax. It’ll make you feel better,” Jisung whispers into your ear, making you shiver, “Don’t you want that? You want me to touch you, babygirl?”

You can’t think straight. All morality and logic is thrown out your mental window, so you nod quickly without thinking. One your hands swiping up to caress Jisung’s neck as he pressed a few light kisses to your ear. “Alright, (Y/N). My sweet baby. Just relax for me, alright?” The praise makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you nearly forget that he’s only your friend. Your legs spread slightly, your back pressing to his chest. Letting him hold your weight. “That’s my good girl. My perfect (Y/N).”

His. His perfect (Y/N). Those words made you happy, oh so happy. Even if a thought couldn’t bear to finish in your head, you still enjoyed such words. It’s a break from the name calling and the dirty talk. It made you feel like the only girl in the world. Like Chunae was never a part of the picture to begin with.

Jisung’s hands slowly unbutton your jeans, his lips still pressing kisses to the side of your neck and your ear. Occasionally whispering short sentences like, “Good girl… That’s right… Oh, baby…” It makes you squirm in his grasp as he undoes your jeans and pushes them off of you. You weakly lift up your hips to help him a little bit as Jisung lets your pants fall to the ground with a low thud. You press your ass against Jisung, your leg spreading a bit more at the feeling of the cold air of the dorm meeting your clothed womanhood, which got wetter by the second.

You let your head lift, resting your head against Jisung’s cheek to let it rest, but you wanted to watch his hands as they softly caressed your thighs. Sending calming chills through your legs and your gut as his warm hands touched your thighs and hips ever so intimately. You melted into his touch, your lips parting to allow your low breaths to become audible. You could feel Jisung’s breath against your ear and your neck, and your neck craned slightly to feel more of it.

“You’re so beautiful, (Y/N), you know that?” Jisung’s low, sudden voice sent butterflies exploding in your stomach. You whimpered softly in response, not knowing how to respond to such praise, since Jisung was quite the degrader. He’d usually call you all sorts of dirty things. He’s probably taking pity on you since you’re hurt, but it doesn’t matter. It still makes you feel so happy and so turned on. “My beautiful baby…” Jisung whispers, seemingly to himself as his fingers brush over your clothed cunt.

“Jisunggie… don’t talk nonsense,” you utter out, sharply gasping when you feel the base of his fingers press against your clothed labia.

“What nonsense?” Jisung chuckles deeply, his fingers rubbing slowly circles, making your eyes close in bliss and your head rest against Jisung’s shoulder, your hands gripping the arms of the desk chair as Jisung’s other hand squeezes your inner thigh. “Don’t say that it’s nonsense. You’re only lying to yourself.”

You didn’t respond, basking in the pleasure and praise as Jisung’s experienced fingers rubbed along your clothes labia. Soaking your panties through with your juices (yet another pair of perfectly good underwear ruined by Jisung), the outline of your pussy showing through and letting Jisung touch even more sensitive areas.

He goes for a while without actually touching your bare womanhood. Mainly his index and middle finger rubbing and massaging your labia and over your pussy. Jisung’s eyes focused on his hands as he worked them over you. You feel yourself relax, the pain easing from you. You forget about the headache, the dizziness. The nausea and the aching throughout your body; forgotten. All that’s on your mind is how intimately Jisung touches you. How his experienced hands move over your sensitive pussy in such a delicate, yet firm way. So gentle, yet so emphatic.

So loving, yet so bitterly resistant.

Your mind grows blank. Too caught up in the relaxing pleasure and from overcoming your concussion to think straightly. All that keeps your mind wandering is Jisung and Jisung alone. Not Christopher. Not the man, Jeongguk, that you met at the coffee shop. Not even Chunae. Only Han Jisung.

After long minutes of slowly teasing your cunt, soaking your panties with your wetness, Jisung finally bids you one good deed and taps your hip. Guiding you to raise it as he slips them off slowly. Letting them fall down your legs and onto the floor below. You step out of them. Your bottom half now completely exposed, yet you still wear all that’s on your torso. You didn’t care, though. It was better than being fully clothed, anyways.

“Oh, fuck…” Jisung breaths out in a rugged manner as his fingers slowly brush over the lips of your pussy, your sweet wetness seeping from you, already coating Jisung’s fingertips, “You’re so wet for me, baby. So wet for me. It makes me want to fuck you so hard. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You frantically nod against Jisung’s head, watching as his fingers push against your labia and against your core. Firmly pressing against your clit, and your back arches as you grind your hips on his fingers. “But, I won’t. Not yet, anyways. I’m going to make you feel better, not make you scream and give you a headache all over again.”

Jisung chuckles deeply, as if what he just said was nothing more than a joke, but you didn't laugh along. He doesn’t seem to care, though, since you’re obviously so immersed in the way Jisung’s fingers rub your pussy gently. His lips part slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck as his middle finger teases your entrance.

“Jisung, ahh~... Yes, please, just like that…” you whisper out in sharp breaths as Jisung slowly inserts his middle finger into you. Pumping slowly until his knuckles are pressed against your heat. “Fuck, yes… Love your fingers so much, Jisung - ah.”

“I know, baby,” Jisung tenses below you at your words, and his finger slightly curves inside you, making your leg twitch. But, his hand that caressed your thigh gripped your leg, keeping you steady on his lap. “I don’t usually get to finger you like this, do I? Letting my hands do all the work, hmm?”

No, he didn’t. But damn, you wanted him to more often. You didn’t answer, only with a delicate moan as Jisung’s middle finger slowly pumps itself in and out of you. Curving slightly every time it thrusted into you to hit that special spot. Sending chills through your torso as his finger worked inside you so well. Your walls clench around him, despite how he was going slow. It wasn’t painfully slow, but not enough to make you cum quick enough. It’s a slow burn. Slowly building up your sensitivity as his palm pressed against your clit.

“You take my fingers so well, (Y/N) - ah… You’re always so good for me, aren’t you?” Jisung comments, his voice low, yet gentle. Soft to the ear, and not as aggressive and dark as it tended to be during sex. It sent you on an overdrive. It drove you crazy by just his tone of voice. It made your heart ache and your pussy wetter and wetter. “You don’t know how hard this is for me, baby…”

Oh, you knew. You can feel his hard dick pressing against your ass. The only thing keeping you two apart was his few articles of clothing. But, no matter what he was wearing, you could still feel how he ached underneath you. You mentally applauded him, but you were too lost in the lust to actually bid him something of a congratulations for being able to hold back this long (since he was usually pretty desperate to get his dick inside you).

It’s another minute or so until Jisung pushes in another finger. Slowly stretching you out and making you moan even louder. The way his fingers curled ever so slightly inside you, hitting that special spot over and over again drove you insane. His fingers pressing against it firmly with the tips of it. Your mind hazed with lust and desire, and your craving for him grew even bigger and even more intense.

“Shit, Jisung - ah… That feels so good ~,” you moan out as you meet with Jisung’s knuckles, grinding into his fingers.

“Hmm… does it, baby? You feel good?” You nod slowly to his words, and Jisung breathily chuckles, smiling, “See? I said it would help.”

“I don’t care about that…'' you sigh out softly, although it wasn’t entirely the truth and you were thankful that Jisung’s suggestion was able to subside your headache. “I want you to fuck me dumb, Jisung. I want to think about nothing but you.”

Jisung’s fingers stay inside you, his hand pressed against your throbbing pussy as he looks at your face. You already looked so fucked out. So desperate, your eyes craving and needy. “Are you sure?”

You slowly nod, turning your head and pressing a kiss to his lips briefly. It wasn’t too sloppy, but your tongue brushed over his lips, “Yes, Jisung… I want you to make me your bitch…”

“Oh, sweet, sweet (Y/N)...” Jisung chuckles darkly, his hand pulling itself from your pussy, making you twitch and gasp loudly as his wet hand flies up to grip your cheeks. Pushing your head back slightly as his fingers press into your jaw, holding your head in place as you clenched around nothing. Your pussy craves both release and Jisung ever so badly.

“You were my bitch since the beginning,” Jisung’s voice grows familiarly dark, and you try to clamp your legs shut from the chills that run through your womanhood. But, Jisung’s hand yanks your legs apart. “Keep your legs spread for me. I’m going to fuck you until you’re begging for me to stop.”

You let out a breathy moan, and, at first, you thought Jisung was going to pull you into a kiss. But, he didn’t. He chose a rougher path. He quickly pushes you off of him. Standing up and pushing you face first onto the bed. The back of his hand pushing your face down into the sheets, the other guiding your hips up slowly. Spreading your legs for him. Such a dirty position, your dripping pussy on display for no one other than Han Jisung.

But, he doesn’t spend much time staring at your pussy. Instead, his hands grip your wrists, and he grinds his clothed, hard cock against your wet pussy. He let out a breathy moan, leaning over your so he was next to your ear as he whispered, “You see how hard you make me, (Y/N)? You see you fucking riled up you make me? Makes me want to fuck this pussy all damn day. Have you sit on my cock all fucking day, huh?”

You moan out in response, your hair spread as your hoodie fell down. Your bra is slightly exposed, and Jisung pulls himself up. Basically ripping off your bra and tossing it to the side. Not even bothering with the hoodie itself as he tore down his jeans.

You couldn’t watch him, so you knew he was fully exposed when you heard the snap and fall of his boxers. It’s almost an instant when his throbbing head comes out and presses against your pussy. Your lips fall wide open as Jisung rubs his cock over your soaking pussy.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so wet for me,” Jisung moans out lowly, “So ready for my cock, like always. So desperate for me. So needy for me cock, aren’t you? Already so fucked out and I haven’t even put my dick inside you yet. Such a slutty girl…”

You moan out, your back arching, presenting yourself more to him, “Jisung! Jisung, please just fuck me…! I need it so bad, please…So bad…” You breath out rapidly, clutching the sheets.

Jisung lets out a shaky breath in response to your begging, “Since you asked so nicely…”

And, like an instant, Jisung was inside you. His hips pressed against your ass, his hands guiding your hips back to meet with his. You let out loud strings of moans and groans of Jisung’s name and incoherent words as Jisung fucks himself into you, raw. His dick throbs inside your wet walls. You clench around him desperately, your back falling limp as you succumb to the pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, (Y/N), you do so well in this po-position, don’t you?” Jisung breathes out raggedly, and you moan loudly in response. Jisung’s hands harshly gripping your hips and waist to have you meet back with his harsh, aggressive thrusts. His cock burns your hot walls, burning in such a blissfully good way, it makes your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Ji-Jisunggie -ah… It’s so… so good - oh, fuck! Just like that, please, just like that!” You scream out as Jisung props up one of his legs, allowing him to have a better angle to thrust even faster and harder. Ramming his rock hard dick into you with passion. Jisung’s hands trail around your waist and ass once you’ve started to bounce back, meeting with his thrusts on your own.

His hands knead your ass. Spreading your cheeks before firmly pressing them. One of his hands, however, reaches up. Slowly crawling up your back, and his hips stagger a bit as his hands grip a handful of your hair. First, his hand merely presses against your head. But, at some point, he yanks you head back. Forcing you up from the bed, and you use your weak arms as support as Jisung’s hand yanks at your hair. You stare at the wall, but you don’t focus on it. You can’t. Your eyes keep rolling back or crossing, mixing beautifully with your loud moans.

Jisung uses the grip on your hair to give him a steadier rhythm as he thrusted into you. His hips slapping against your ass, making it bounce with every thrust. The sounds of skin slapping, your loud moaning and Jisung’s groans and occasional dirty talk filled the room as Jisung pressed wet kisses to your neck. Suckling on the back of your neck especially, and you moan from the feeling of his tongue being flushed against your sweating skin.

It was so much, his cock, the pulling of your hair and his tongue on your neck. Your mind falls blank, thinking of nothing other than Jisung’s cock. Some drool dribbles down the side of your chin as your eyes water from the pleasure. You can’t say anything more, not even being able to form Jisung’s name correctly. You’re so fucked out, so beautifully fucked out.

Jisung definitely noticed it, too, since it gave him the courage to start biting your sensitive skin. It was more sensitive in some places, and you immediately knew that he left hickeys. He bite them gently, yet firmly before running his tongue over the markings.

Your pussy clenched around him dangerously tight. So tightly, it makes Jisung let out a low, broken moan and makes his hips stagger and twitch as he presses himself deep into you. “You’re gonna cum, aren’t you, babygirl? You gonna cum for me like the good little slut you are? Cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum for me,” Jisung groans out loudly, pressing your head against the sheets again, muffling your loud moans as you feel your climax nearing.

Your knees buckle as your legs twitch and tense dangerously tightly as you feel yourself cum hard. Jisung slows down slightly, riding you out on your high. Your loud moans turn into high pitched ones as your back spasms from the intensity of it.

Right after you cum, Jisung quickly pulls out of you before shooting ropes of white cum onto your ass. You breathe heavily, trying your best to catch your breath as you listen to Jisung moan loudly once he cums, too. Your pussy clenches around nothing, and you feel your entire body relax. All your muscles calm. Exhaustion washes over you like a tidal wave.

And you’re out like a light.

Jisung was a bit concerned as to why you fell asleep so easily. But, he didn’t argue. He gently cleaned you both up while you slept and changed you into a pair of his clothes after he realized you wouldn’t wake up even if he blew an air horn in your ear. He laid you in his bed, as comfortably as he could make you. He wiped the sweat off of your face and watched your sleeping face for a few minutes before he moved back to his desk, grabbing his laptop from his backpack and opening it. Opening work for his classes, since he’ll be absent for the rest of the day.

You slept exceptionally soundly, and he was thankful for that.

Jeongin actually came back that night, too. At first, he didn’t see you sleeping in Jisung’s bed, but once Jisung motioned for him to be quiet, Jeongin looked over to his bed to see locks of (H/C) hair poking out of the blanket. He wondered why you were here, and Jisung naturally just said that you had gotten into a fight and injured yourself and he was taking you in to take care of you. Jeongin didn’t argue much and minded his own business for the rest of the day.

However, Jisung intended to sleep next to you. But, he couldn’t bring himself to. The guilt piling inside him prevented him from doing so.

[masterjedilenawrites]

I’m not good at making requests, so forgive me if anything come out wrong.

But, could you do something were reader and Tech are fixing some eletronics and listening to cientific things, and start talking about a wrong thing people said there, so they get distracted and when realize, they’re in to a awkward position (like him btween her legs or sth like that)

I love your writing and thanks (: <3

Omg I've been so soft for Tech lately and this prompt is perfect 💚 I hope this is what you were looking for, I really enjoyed writing it!

Tech x reader | 2k words

...making bacta the most important scientific achievement in history...

"Dank farrik," Tech huffed beside you.

You came out of your daze at the sudden exclamation and looked at your friend with concern, trying to quickly figure out what had gone wrong. You were helping him with a project, though what it was exactly you weren't completely certain of. All you knew was it involved digging into the walls of the ship and untangling a lot of wires. You'd been instructed to hold onto several of them, keeping them pulled taught out of the wall so Tech could fiddle with the other ends, and the dullness of the task had caused your mind to wander.

"What's wrong?" you asked, doubtful you'd understand any explanation, but wanting to be sure you hadn't done anything to mess up his progress.

He waved a hand at you dismissively, not pulling his attention away from the work in front of him. "Just the radio," he mumbled.

You hadn't been paying attention; it had only been turned on as background noise to keep you from going insane with boredom. And since it was tuned into some kind of scientific news frequency, you didn't really understand much of what was being said anyway.

...with the most influential application simply being in the field of medicine, providing us higher life forms with a versatile tool in maintaining our quality of life, and potentially even prolonging it...

Tech huffed again. Scoffed. Your mouth quirked at how upset he was getting. It was kind of cute.

But, you had to debate whether engaging with his frustration would be worth it. He had only recently calmed down from his outburst earlier that day, the only time you had ever seen him genuinely upset. Wrecker had accidentally knocked over a piece of machinery that was... well, something very important, apparently. No one was too sure. But Tech had spent most of the week carefully arranging its parts just-so, so that when all his hard work went crashing onto the floor, his breathing had suddenly resembled that of a charging Nexu. He'd drawn himself up, trying to match his brother's height, and ordered the poor guy to never step foot in this part of the ship again. The other Batchers had tried to defend him and were subsequently banned as well.

That left you as the only option for help.

Maybe that meant he wouldn't kick you out for debating him....

"Sounds like they're saying some pretty reasonable things. Am I missing something?"

Tech's fingers, which had been deftly working through the wires before him, clipping some and splicing others, finally froze. The clone's face tilted over to you, his eyes looking a little too judgmental through those glasses for your liking.

"You think bacta is the most important scientific achievement?" he asked. You didn't like his tone, either.

You scrunched your mouth in thought, actually giving the question serious consideration. While you mulled it over, Tech stood up from his hunched position in the wall and started pulling on some of the wires, unraveling them from their tangled mess.

"Yeah," you finally decided. "I think medicine in general is pretty important. And bacta specifically is the strongest known substance to deliver fast and effective healing."

Tech was mostly focused on the wires, but he spared you a glance.

"And treating symptoms is the most important thing for humanity? Here, hold this." He added another wire for you to hold in your hands.

You knew it was a loaded question so you chose to answer it with one of your own. "Well if it's not bacta or medicine, then what would it be?"

"Electricity," he said quickly and assertively, as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. He continued to focus more on his work and you were annoyed he didn't seem to want to offer up an explanation to his opinion, despite having made you give one. He'd finally untangled the wires and was back to leaning into the cavern in the wall and setting them into their proper places.

"Why electricity?" You hated how dumb your question sounded; obviously you understood the concept and understood its importance. You just really wanted to challenge him to give you some explanations.

"For one, most medicines would not be able to be mass-produced were it not for the electrically-run vats in which they are made." He held his hand out behind him and made a grabbing motion. "Blue, please."

You sorted out the blue wire and passed it over.

"For another," he continued, his voice sounding distant as he leaned further away into the wall, "we must ask what constitutes a quote-unquote important achievement. For example, is an achievement worthy of the title simply because it improves our quality of life? Green, please."

You handed over the corresponding wire. "I'd say it's more about preserving life. Even outside of war, there's enough injury and illness that would end life were it not for medicine to heal them."

"Ah, but in that same reasoning, electricity also sustains life. It powers sources of light and warmth, which can also provide a means of boiling water and cooking food. All keys to survival. Yellow, please."

"So does fire," you shot back. "People survived long before electricity, and there's still plenty of civilizations living fine without it."

Tech finally emerged from the wall and took the last few wires from you, the red and black ones. He met your eyes with an earnestness that let you know how much he was enjoying this conversation. "And people have survived without medicine. At least the manufactured forms that you're arguing for, like bacta. Traditional medicine is as sufficient as fire."

Before you could respond, Tech moved to the side, motioning toward the wall with his head and holding up the remaining wires.

"Now, unfortunately these last ones need to be clipped in down below. I'm not able to fit through the lattice of the floor, but someone of your stature easily could."

You stepped forward and peered down. It was a mess of machinery and pipes and beams, but you could clearly see the port where the wires had been yanked out earlier. You knelt down, resting your stomach on the edge of the wall, but paused before bending over.

"If it wasn't for bacta, you wouldn't have been born." You were confident in your comeback and thus didn't linger for his reaction, turning to bend down into the ship with your wires instead.

You were disappointed to hear his soft chuckle from above you.

"And what do you think powers the bacta tanks that hold the clone embryos?"

You were glad he couldn't see the frustrated frown on your face. While you tried to think of a new point in your debate, you snapped the red wire into the proper port. But then you realized you couldn't quite reach the black one, and started carefully shimmying forward, deeper into the wall.

"It seems we have circled back to the initial question," Tech offered in your silence. You felt his hands hold on to your hips, steadying you as your legs lifted from the floor, most of your body now inside the ship. You didn't think anything of it, though, your focus split between your task and his words. "What makes an achievement the most important? Both medicine and electricity are capable of preserving life, but neither are essential to survival. So, what criteria are we left with?"

You were finally within reach of the last port and pushed the wire into it. "Sounds like you already have the right answer, so why don't you stop teasing me and just say it?" you called up to him.

"I...I didn't mean to sound like I was teasing."

You could hear the apology in his voice, how truly caught off guard he was to hear that you had perceived his attempts at a friendly debate, a conversation, as mocking or disrespectful. Your stomach knotted up in guilt, making your journey to wiggle back out of the wall a little more difficult.

"I'm sorry, Tech," you said through a grunt as you tried to push yourself back. "I didn't mean to sound rude. I just don't know the answer."

You felt his arms snake around your middle, pulling you the last of the way out. You came to rest on your knees, breathing heavily at the sudden increase in air supply. Tech was crouched alongside you, his chest against part of your back, his arms still holding you.

"I honestly don't know the answer, either," he blinked down at you, speaking quietly. "I don't know what criteria would constitute the most important scientific achievement. I thought maybe we could figure it out if we kept discussing it."

You craned your neck around to look at him, unconcerned about the discomfort it took to do so. You needed to face him fully. "Or... maybe we don't need to figure it out? I mean, does there need to be one achievement labeled more important than any other? Can they not all be valued equally?"

"I suppose..." he relented. But only a little. "It is a fun thought exercise, though."

You smiled at that, and it made your heart flutter a little to see him return the expression. There were a few seconds between you where you sat pleasantly in each other's arms... before the realization hit that you were in each other's arms.

"Uh," Tech stuttered first. His eyes looked about frantically as if the more he saw of you practically sitting in his lap, the more he would know what to do about it.

Your face was hot and your heart thumped forcefully in your chest. But you weren't panicking. Even though you'd been around the Bad Batch for a while now, this was the first time you'd gotten physically close to any of them, especially this dorky genius, who made you feel just a little better about life than the others did. You hadn't been sure why, not until this moment, your face being mere inches away from his own. Now it clicked.

His arms had removed themselves from your frame and he was starting to crawl backward on the floor. You quickly grasped his shoulder to stop him.

"Tech, wait."

He froze, looking at you with wide, apprehensive eyes. His shoulder was tense so you relaxed your grasp and simply let your hand rest on it gently. You gave him a small smile. Thankfully these little gestures were enough encouragement for him to lean back to you. He still looked at you timidly, but he wasn't pulling away anymore. It seemed like maybe he had been feeling the same things about you.

"Yes?"

He was waiting for you to make the next move.

"So, this project," you stalled, needing just a little more time to work up the courage. "What is it again? Why did I just crawl into the bowels of the ship?"

Your face was creeping closer to his, breath gently fanning across each other, warm but refreshing.

"I... I..." Tech seemed to be short-circuiting. "I was just, uh, re... redecorating."

Your nose had just brushed his when you suddenly frowned and moved back to look at him questioningly. "Redecorating... wires?"

You were very amused at how flustered he seemed to be in this situation. But then the tables turned as Tech rolled with it.

"Yeah, I didn't like the way they looked in there. Wanted to change things up. You know me."

The smile on our face spread as he talked and you couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. You bent forward, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck while your body convulsed with giggles. Tech laughed along, bringing his arms back around you to hold you in place. When you finally looked up at him and the shit-eating grin he had plastered on his face, you knew you'd finally found your courage.

"Oh, Tech..." you chided, pressing your smiling lips against his own.

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

Let It Be Me

Hello all! It’s finally time to post my Novigrad Exchange fic! Big thanks to @ohnomybreadsticks and @jaskiersvalley for taking the time to organize this! <3 And of course thanks again to Socks for the beta help <3 <3 

This is for the incredibly talented @journeythroughunknownlands

Geralt overdoses on potions and the most efficient way to burn them off is with an orgasm (or two... or more). Queue Jaskier, loyal best friend who is always willing to lend a helping hand (or other body part 😏). Seasoned with a hearty sprinkle of pining.

This will be cross posted on AO3 later today. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: frottage, blow jobs, anal sex, bottom Geralt, multiple orgasms, pining, requited feelings, happy/hopeful ending

3.9k words

-

Geralt felt the potions burning their way through his veins, lighting him on fire; he had taken too many. The endrega colony was much smaller than anticipated and the fight was much shorter than it would have been otherwise, far too short of a fight to help him burn off the toxins in his blood.

His skin felt pulled tight, and he knew just what he would look like. His paler than normal complexion would be marred with black veins, his eyes would look like pots of ink, the color of ichor, he would look every bit of the monster humans thought him to be.

Fuck, if he didn’t find a good way to let off some steam and work this out of his system, this would take hours to wear off. He was out of White Honey and didn’t have any honey suckle on hand to make more, and he doubted he would be able to find any.

Looking around the clearing he was in, he quickly dismissed the idea of getting himself off. He was painfully hard in his trousers, and a quick wank would be the most efficient way to burn through the toxins, but this wasn’t the place for it. There was far too much noise in this particular forest, making him wonder what curious creatures would come to investigate. He also didn’t bring any of his… toys with him. He didn’t need them, of course, but they made things a bit more enjoyable and typically sped up the process. No, he needed to get back to town and figure something else out. It was unlikely he would be able to find a whore willing to lay with him, no matter the coin offered, and he really didn’t have much to offer.

He could always try to sleep through it or take care of himself back in his room where his toys were, though that would mean making his way through the inn looking like he did, if the innkeep would even let him up to his room.

Sighing and deciding that he really had no good option, he turned, his trophies in hand, and began the trek through the dense trees back to town.

-

Geralt really should have stayed in the forest. He had known better but ignored the small voice in the back of his head trying to talk sense into him. Instead, he allowed himself to return to town despite everything he ever learned at Kaer Morhen, despite every bit of real-life experience reminding him that exposing himself to humans in this state was an awful idea.

If the toxins in his blood felt like fire, the horrified stares were even worse, like daggers stabbing into his already sensitive skin.

Thankfully, he managed to get to the inn without incident, despite the stares, despite the hatred and fear he could smell emanating from everyone he passed. And despite the shocking waves of pain and pleasure shooting through him as he walked with his erection straining against his trousers. The silence in the inn was unsettling though, all speech coming to a halt as he stepped through the door, and he had to push down a wave of embarrassment, knowing that everyone would be able to see his erection. Silence, though, meant he wasn’t being kicked out and allowed him to make his way up the stairs and to his room.

His room that he was sharing with Jaskier.

Fuck.

He hadn’t thought about it until he opened the door, it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Jaskier’s presence had become such a normal and routine part of his life that he hadn’t even thought about the bard being there, about having to deal with Jaskier in this state.

There was no way he would be able to stay in the room like this. He had to fight back his arousal for the bard in the best of times, and this couldn’t be called the best of anything. The bard’s scent was already one that intoxicated him, and now with all of his senses heightened, there would be no way he could stay in the room with him, it would be pure torture if he tried. Quickly making up his mind as Jaskier stared at him in surprise, Geralt stomped across the room to grab his bag of toys, there was no chance he would be able to ride this out with Jaskier not even ten feet away, smelling and looking the way he did.

Geralt could hear Jaskier’s voice clearly, though his racing mind couldn’t parse out the words. He could smell the bard’s confusion, hear it in the tone of his voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to even grunt out an explanation as he made his way back to the door. All Geralt could focus on was the sudden need to go back out to the woods and take care of himself. It had been a long while since he had last gotten the opportunity to use some of his favorite toys, so he might as well make the best of an awful situation.

As he reached for the knob on the door, he felt a sudden tug on the bag in his hand and he spun around just as it ripped, the contents spilling on the floor. Geralt couldn’t think of a time in which he had more desperately wished it was true what they say about witchers, that they felt no emotions. Geralt let out a frustrated growl, the absolute mortification within him warring with the anger he was feeling at Jaskier for trying to stop him just led to more desperation for a fix to his situation. He had just wanted to escape the inn and take care of himself, solve the problem in the relative privacy of the woods, but no, nothing ever went that simply for him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice was tentative in a way that it normally wasn’t, far more hesitant than the rather direct bard ever bothered being. Geralt’s eyes snapped up to meet Jaskier’s as the witcher willed himself to remain calm. He was sure his face would be turning red from embarrassment if it wasn’t for the poison affecting his complexion and he sent off a silent thanks to whoever was listening that at least he was spared from that.

“Geralt? Are you okay?”

Geralt wasn’t sure he understood what Jaskier was asking. He had expected Jaskier to be more afraid of him in this state, having never seen his reaction to taking potions before, and far more concerned by the toys now scattered across the floor, rather than if he was okay.

“Fine,” he finally grunted out, hoping Jaskier would stop looking at him with such concern. It wasn’t a look that he needed directed at him, he would be fine if he could just leave.

“Fine?” Jaskier squeaked, “You don’t look fine! You look like you’re dying! Geralt, are you poisoned? Are you dying? Can I help? What do I need to do?”

Taking a deep breath and nearly choking on the scent of the bard, even more overwhelming this close, Geralt finally managed to motion to the floor, littered with his rather extensive collection, “Potions. Those… help.” There was no way he would be able to say more, not about this subject, not in his current state. Possibly not ever. 

He watched as Jaskier stared at him consideringly before looking down at the floor, and then back up at Geralt. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, but Geralt didn’t know how to explain it any better.

Jaskier reached up, touching at Geralt’s face hesitantly, “This is because of your potions?” Geralt nodded, leaning into the touch. It was just this side of too much but it felt so good.

Humming softly, Jaskier glanced back at the floor, “And those… help?”

Geralt nodded again, still relishing in the contact of Jaskier’s hand pressing gently against his face. There were so many feelings thrumming through him, embarrassment and worry and arousal but Jaskier’s touch seemed to almost calm them. Unfortunately, it seemed that it couldn’t last and Jaskier pulled away, making Geralt whimper at the loss.

“How do they help?” Jaskier asked as he knelt down in front of Geralt. The witcher watched in horror as Jaskier meticulously gathered the contents of the now destroyed bag before placing them on the small table in their room. “Is it something about the toys themselves? Or is it just the… result.”

Geralt could feel his throat closing up as he choked out, “Result.”

Watching Geralt closely, Jaskier made his way back across the room, concern still written clearly across his features, “Where were you going?”

“Woods.”

“Do you… normally take care of this in the woods?”

“Yes,” Geralt felt just as weak as his voice sounded suddenly, he felt exposed like a raw nerve and it hurt.

“Can I help you?”

Geralt felt his entire body seize up as his mind slowly caught up with Jaskier’s question. Letting out a whine, he found himself reaching out for Jaskier before he even knew what he was doing, before he had even made a conscious decision.

Jaskier stepped closer, allowing himself to be wrapped in Geralt’s arms as the witcher buried his face in Jaskier’s neck. The bard smelled so fucking good and Geralt wanted this so badly, had wanted it for years. But Jaskier didn’t, surely. Geralt should let go.

But Jaskier’s hands were suddenly trailing up and down Geralt’s back comfortingly, and Geralt couldn’t let go, it felt amazing, like nothing he had ever allowed himself to experience before, and he couldn’t give it up. With any luck, the bard wouldn’t hate him for his actions tomorrow.

Inhaling deeply and letting the bard’s scent wash over him, Geralt made up his mind. He would get whatever he could from Jaskier tonight and then spend the rest of his life making it up to the bard.

He felt Jaskier start to pull back and he only gripped harder, clenching Jaskier’s doublet in his hands. Jaskier made a soft sound, “Hey, it’s okay, but we should take this over to the bed, okay?”

Geralt could hear the logic in Jaskier’s words, but he didn’t want to let go. Instead, he shuffled forward slowly, his face still buried in Jaskier’s neck, until he could feel the impact as the back of Jaskier’s knees hit the mattress. He urged Jaskier back on the bed, settling himself into Jaskier’s side, still hiding his face.

Jaskier’s hands began running through Geralt’s hair, making the witcher let out a purr and Jaskier chuckle, “I always knew you liked your hair played with. Is this what you want, darling? To lay here and cuddle until you feel better? Or do you want more?” Geralt didn’t think he would ever want to let go, but he needed more. As nice as this felt, he could still feel his cock, hard and heavy and uncomfortably pressed against his pants.

Whispering his answer, Geralt practically begged for more.

Suddenly, Geralt found himself on his back, Jaskier hovering over him. The bard’s scent was now tinged heavily with his own arousal and Geralt couldn’t hold back another whine as he bucked his hips, seeking friction. Jaskier smirked down at him, lowering his body until they were pressed against each other. Geralt could feel Jaskier’s own hardness pressed against his and he groaned out at the sensation. How many nights had he dreamed of this same thing? Of being pressed up underneath Jaskier, desperate for pleasure to be wrung from him, at the mercy of Jaskier’s talented hands.

And mouth.

Gods, he’d had so many fantasies about the bard’s mouth, taking him apart, bringing him damn near to tears. And now here he was, with all of those fantasies in arms reach. His lust had completely fogged his brain, completely overpowering the potion-induced fire in his veins, replacing it with an even more powerful burn.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jaskier asked, his voice low.

All Geralt could do was nod, his hips still grinding up desperately into Jaskier’s. The fire was raging inside him now, completely overwhelming him. He wasn’t sure exactly how Jaskier managed to get both of their clothes off, but the next thing he knew they were pressed together, skin to skin. Geralt was crying out from the sensations, both too much and not enough, as Jaskier kept talking to him. The whispered words doused the fire just for a moment until Jaskier’s lips chased his words, reigniting the fire to burn even brighter. Geralt had never understood poets when they said they had found themselves out of their mind with pleasure but then again, he had never experienced this.

He was unbelievably hard, his cock ached and throbbed where it lay, pressed between him and Jaskier. It could have been seconds or hours that he spent rocking against Jaskier for friction before he found himself so very close to the edge of orgasm.

Jaskier licked a stripe up Geralt’s neck to nip at his ear, “That’s right, Geralt, take what you need. You look so beautiful like this, just take what you need.” It was Jaskier’s words, whispered like a filthy secret in his ear, that finally tipped him over just as he asked, “Are you going to cum for me?”

Geralt let out a mewl as his body shook under Jaskier, his orgasm hot and intense, feeling as though it may never end. He felt hazy almost, the once intense fire settling down to a manageable smolder even as Jaskier trailed kisses down his body. Watching closely, Geralt found himself enraptured at the man above him, groaning as Jaskier continued down, licking up Geralt’s spend as he went. 

“Fuck, Jask,” he gasped out as the bard continued on, his tongue lapping at Geralt’s still hard cock.

The bard smirked, “Ready for another round so soon?”

“The… potions. They keep me… excited.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to work them out of your system.”

Any response Geralt might have thought of was lost as Jaskier promptly wrapped his lips around the head of Geralt’s cock. Geralt could barely stop himself from thrusting forward, fucking into Jaskier’s mouth. It looks so pretty, stretched obscenely around Geralt as he bobbed up and down.

Geralt gasped as he felt a finger probing at his hole, circling it slowly, applying a slight pressure but never pushing in. Just as suddenly as the contact had started, it stopped, Jaskier pulling his mouth away as well, making him keen, his arms already reaching toward the bard, desperate. “It’s okay, darling. Let me just get some oil, okay? This will be much more enjoyable that way.”

Oil. Right. If he was going to be fucked, then oil would make it better. That made perfect sense to Geralt, but still he followed Jaskier’s form greedily and he hurried over to the odds and ends now strewn across the table in their room, picking up a small bottle, and heading back over to the bed, a small smile on his face as he positioned himself between Geralt’s legs.

Geralt made a satisfied noise as Jaskier set a hand on his thigh, stroking up and down, “Is this what you want darling, what you need? Want me to fuck you?”

“Please.” The plea was ripped from Geralt’s throat almost as if it weren’t him speaking. But it was him and he had never before felt so desperate. He wanted Jaskier fucking into him, wanted their bodies writhing together. He wanted the best kind of fire back, lust and passion burning his veins as he looked into Jaskier’s eyes. Fuck.

Thankfully, Jaskier needed nothing more from Geralt, and wasted no time, slicking his fingers and going back to toying with him, “Look at you, so needy for this, I bet I could slip right into you with no prep.”

Fuck, Geralt couldn’t help but groan, “Please, anything, please.”

“Shh it’s okay, soon. I want to make this good for you,” Jaskier’s voice was soft as he leaned forward, locking his lips with Geralt’s as he pushed a finger inside. He hadn’t been wrong, Geralt took the finger easily, more than ready for the feeling. Rocking his hips, Geralt searched for more.

Pulling back and smiling at Geralt, Jaskier’s eyes crinkled up at the corners in the way that always made Geralt want to smile with him. “Are you feeling good? Ready for more?”

Geralt tried to speak, he really did, but all that came out was a needy sound as he ground down on Jaskier’s hand.

“I’ve got you, darling, I’ve got you.” Soon after, Jaskier was pressing another finger inside him, thrusting in and out and it was so good Geralt could do nothing but pant and whine as he moved in time with Jaskier, seeking his own pleasure.

It was so good but it was still just a tease of what was to come.

“Jaskier, please, fuck. Fuck me.”

“Okay, just one last thing.” Before Geralt could even register the sentence, Jaskier had leaned down, wrapping his lips around Geralt’s cock again, just as he curled his fingers, pressing against that spot inside him.

Geralt cried out, his body shaking as he came so hard he saw stars. Relaxing back onto the bed, Geralt whimpered helplessly as Jaskier released him, his fingers slipping from his hole.

“Do you still want more?”

Opening his eyes was a struggle but he managed after a moment, shooting a glare at Jaskier, “Fuck me.”

Jaskier chuckled, “Alright, alright, I’ll get on with it, then.”

Geralt watched in a daze as Jaskier pumped his own cock, covering it with slick. The man was large and it would certainly be a stretch. His own cock was already hard again, twitching as he thought about how good that would feel inside of him. Moving forward, Jaskier lined up and began to push in, gasping as he did so.

It had been so long since Geralt had been fucked. Typically when he was out wandering the continent, all he had with him to relieve this particular want was his bag of toys, and fuck it felt so much better when it was the real thing.

Geralt watched as Jaskier sunk into him, their hips meeting softly as Jaskier panted above him. The stretch was amazing, just the right amount of pressure to make it overwhelmingly good. Geralt tried to stay still, he did, but after a while he had to move. The roll of his hips pulled a grunt from Jaskier as he threw his head back in pleasure.

“Just a moment, fuck, you’re tight.” Jaskier was breathless, gasping out his words, sweat beading on his brow.

Geralt had never seen him look more amazing.

Jaskier began thrusting in and out of him slowly, the burn of the stretch and the feeling of fullness sending sparks of pleasure through Geralt. It wasn’t long before Jaskier sped up, shifting more until finally, he moved just right, drawing a yelp out of Geralt as he hit his prostate. A smirk lit up Jaskier’s face as he pulled out and thrust back in, his aim precise as he once again hit that same spot again and again. The bard kept going, sending Geralt into a frenzy of begging and crying out. The fingers of Geralt’s hand were threaded with Jaskier’s, held down above his head. Geralt’s other hand was gripping at Jaskier’s back, his fingers digging into the soft skin as Jaskier kept thrusting.

“Won't- last,” Jaskier gasped, his free hand coming up to wrap around Geralt’s cock.

It was likely only seconds but it felt like hours when finally he felt himself falling again, his orgasm rushing through him, his body relaxing into a boneless mess as Jaskier thrust once, twice more, freezing his motions and shaking as he spent inside of Geralt, finally collapsing on top of him.

“I don’t know if I can move,” Jaskier said, his voice muffled from where he had buried his head in Geralt’s chest.

“Mmm. Don’t.”

“Okay.”

And then Geralt was asleep.

-

The first thing Geralt noticed was how dry his mouth was. It wasn’t unusual, not after a hunt. His potions would have that effect on him most of the time, particularly if he struggled with burning them off. He went to shift, suddenly noticing the heavy weight on top of him. Opening his eyes, Geralt couldn’t see anything but a mop of brown hair. Inhaling deeply as he tried to gain awareness of his surroundings, he was assaulted with the scent of Jaskier and himself and sex.

Oh fuck.

Geralt shifted slightly under Jaskier, making the bard startle awake on top of him. Jaskier seemed to gain awareness quickly, rolling off of Geralt quickly, his cheeks blooming a brilliant red on his otherwise pale face.

“Ah,” Jaskier cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the room, “good morning. I trust you’re feeling better.”

Geralt nodded, sitting up and reaching for the pitcher beside the bed, drinking straight from it. He felt some of the water spill out, dripping down his naked chest, but paid it no mind as he tried to wash the dryness from his throat.

Fuck. He really came back to the inn with potions burning through him and let himself fuck Jaskier. Well, let himself be fucked by Jaskier. Well… begged to be fucked by Jaskier.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Putting down the now empty pitcher, Geralt shot a furtive look at Jaskier, feeling the guilt pooling in his stomach. Jaskier was loyal to a fault, something Geralt had taken for granted for so long, and now here he was, after a night of going out of his way doing something he had no interest in doing, looking at Geralt with nothing but concern for the witcher. Jaskier was too good for Geralt, he didn’t deserve to have to deal with situations like this.

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier looked taken aback, “For what?”

“Making you feel like you had to help me last night. I appreciate it but… I’m sorry.”

“I… Geralt I offered to help. I never felt obligated and you never did anything to make me.”

It couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it? Geralt’s needs had been far more than anyone could be expected to help with. Jaskier should have sent him on his way and spared himself the trouble.

“Geralt?” Jaskier said softly, moving closer and reaching up to cup Geralt’s cheek, “Thank you for trusting me with this. I’m glad I could help you.”

Whether it was the earnest sound of Jaskier’s voice or maybe just Geralt’s need to believe that someone really did want to be there for him, he was unsure. All he knew was that he never wanted to break Jaskier’s gaze. His eyes were so incredibly blue, bright pools of crystal clear water begging for someone to dive in and Geralt found himself ready to jump. 

Before he noticed what was happening, Geralt had already leaned into Jaskier, making his eyes widen, surprise written across his face. But he didn’t pull back. No, Jaskier’s eyes flicked down to Geralt’s lips before once again meeting Geralt’s gaze. Geralt wasn’t sure if it was him or Jaskier that initiated the all encompassing kiss that followed, all he knew was it was something he had wanted for so long and felt so right.

Maybe, next time potions were burning through his veins and he wanted to crawl out of his skin, Jaskier would meet him and apply this affection like a balm, soothing Geralt in a way he had never before experienced. Maybe from this moment forward, he wouldn’t wait for Jaskier to realize he deserved better and move on. Maybe, just maybe, Geralt had really found happiness.

-

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[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Go Go Karasuno: An Old Rival (Pt 1)

THIS FIC IS 18+ 

Warnings: swearing, light teasing 

Word Counts: 7,000+

Flasback

"Keishin you asshole" you shout for the end of the court. God how you despised Ukai Keishin! The man was the bane of your existence at Karasuno High. He was always one upping you. Always one step ahead. He always got the praise while you remained in his shadow.

"Calm down Y/N! I'm just teasing you. I promise I'll be quiet during your serve this time" Keishin says as he smirks at you through the net.

"You say that every time asshole, yet we continue to have this discussion" you say with a huff.

 You are annoyed and honestly just fed with with him. You didn't even want this practice match but of course, a lot of the girls had crushes on the boys team so you felt like you had to join. Even thought you couldn't stand Keishin’s big ego clogging up your breathing room.

"Just serve Y/N. Ignore him" one of your teammates shout.

 You take a deep breath, tossing the ball up to serve.

Serving required the utmost concentration for you. You didn't know how people could effortlessly serve with background noise and people cheering. You hated that. You're teammates knew it and so did your coaches. Most of the time you didn't have to worry about noise, but when you were playing the boys team, you knew you always had to worry about something.

"Just do it already" you hear a voice shout as your hand smacks the ball in front of you causing it to barrel towards the net.

"Aye net ball" Keishin yelled from the other side of the court as he snickered at you.

"I'm seriously gonna kick your-" you start to say as your teammates gather ground to stop you from commit a felony.

"Alright that's enough" Coach yells from the sidelines "lets wrap it up."

You sigh as the boys high five each other, celebrating their victory. You line up with your team as you prepare to thank the boys team and shake hands.

You approach the net, extending your hand to Keishin while looking down.

 "Better luck next time Y/N. But hey I can see the improvement. Just try getting it over the net next time" he smiles shaking you hand as you continue to stare at the floor.

Anger. You are so mad that he beat you again.

You sulk to the sidelines as you begin to dry off with a towel and drink your water.

"Will I ever be as good as him?"

Flashback ends

8 years. 

8 whole years have passed since you last seen Keishin or any of the Karasuno Alumni. Now you find yourself standing at the gates wondering how fate brought you here.

It wasn't like your memories of High School were awful. You got good grades, played volleyball. You were even the captain of the girls team your 3rd year. For all intensive purposes, you loved High school. 

 You just hated Ukai Keishin with a passion. Sure you realized your teenage hatred of the man was petty. Of course it was. It was almost 10 years ago but yet you couldn't forget the man. There was just something that irked you to no end about him and you were glad your past 8 years had been Keishin-free.

After high school, you traveled to Toyko for school. After graduating you worked in Tokyo in a corporate office. You loved the job a lot. The city life was right up your alley. The people, the shopping, the nightlife. Everything. Not that you necessarily partook in those activities but you enjoyed the options. You had friends, your whole life was in Tokyo.

It's not like you wanted to be back in Miyagi. It wasn't by choice you were here.

 You're parents had left after you graduated high school, following you to the cities. Unfortunately, when your grandfather got sick, you were the only one who could help. 

Your parents both had prior commitments with work and you didn't have family in the area. You're job allowed you to work remotely. It was both a blessing and a curse. You were only going to be in town for a few weeks. Just to get your grandfather and grandmother settled in a senior living center. 

 Your parents had offered them to move in with them in Toyko but your grandfather would have none of it. He was as stubborn as they come. He hated the idea of "the big city". Your grandmother didn't really mind anyway but she wasn't going to leave your grandfather as long as he was living so you just gave up.

So how does that bring you back to Karasuno you ask? 

Well a few of your fellow alumni had found out you were back in town. I'm talking Takinoue Yūsuke and Shimada Makoto, both former classmates as well as former volleyball players. You knew they were friends with Keishin but you never minded them. They were always nice to you and treated you kindly. Sure they joked around with you but they never pressed you like Keishin did. So imagine your surprise when you showed up to Shimada Mart with your grandma in toe only to find Makoto stocking shelves.

To say you were shocked wouldn't be entirely accurate, I mean his name is on the store. You just figured he had moved on. When he invited you for drinks with Yusuke, you accepted. 

 Not once did the conversation turn to Keishin which you appreciated. The men knew of your rivalry well. It almost seemed like neither of you had moved on from one another.

They had talked about the boys team and how amazing they were. You still enjoyed volleyball talk and even played on a small team in Toyko on the occasional weekends. They told you about their neighborhood association and how they were playing a match with the boys of Karasuno. They mentioned needing a setter to which you immediately perked up. You didn't ask questions, not even thinking about why they needed a setter.

You figured since the conversation avoided Keishin that he was no longer in the area. You knew of his families store but also knew that he probably didn't live around here. You offered your services as a setter for a practice game. The men looked at one another, nodding in agreement. You figured what could be the harm. You got to play volleyball and kick some kids asses.

It would be a lot of fun.

Keishin finished up his shift at his family store leaving it to his mother to tend while he attended practice. He hadn't thought much high-school since he graduated honestly. He was happy in his life.

He had good friends, a solid family support system and of course, he was the head coach of the Karasuno boys volleyball team. He walked to practice as he's thoughts drifted. They often did. He'd light a cigarette, think about things and by the time he finished, he was at the gates to Karasuno. He had scheduled a practice match tonight. He knew the neighborhood association lacked members but the Karasuno boys were always willing to fill in. 

For some ungodly reason, his thoughts drifted to you. He hadn't thought about you in years.

That was a lie. A complete lie.

He actually thought about you often and how he was a complete and utter jerk in high school. He would never admit he had a crush on you back then but he did enjoy your little rivalry the two of you had. He always thought you were a great setter but he always strived to be better. It was just how he was. He knew his little crush would never amount to anything. You were way smarter and way more attractive. You had life goals and he strived to stay on the volleyball team. He hadn't dreamt of leaving Miyagi. He knew he wasn't college bound. He knew he'd always be here but you, you always dreamed of more and he admired that.

He thought you were probably some rich lady by now with a husband and a family. He laughed because he imagined your husband staying home while you worked because that's just how you were. You were strong and independent. You never settled.

Keishin entered the gym where the Karasuno boys were practicing.

"The neighborhood association will be here in 10 minutes" he yelled.

"Yes coach" the boys yelled in return as they continued to warm up for their practice game.

"Suga I'm going to need you to set for the association again tonight" he said. Sugawara Koushi nodded as he went back to warming up with the spikers. Takada Ittetsu, Karasuno’s faculty advisor and other coach, soon came bounding into the gym as he often did. He was always racing around it seemed like. 

 He had meetings, papers to grade and other things teachers worried about. Keishin laughed at how different him and Takeda were yet they made a great coaching team.

"Alright guys the show is here" a voice shouted from the doors as they were thrown open.

Keishin sighed, placing his head in his hand. 

"Takinoue you talk to much" Shimada rolled his eyes as he smacked Takinoue on the shoulder walking over to Keishin.

"I've got Suga warming up for you guys" Keishin said to Makoto.

"Ahh no need tonight man, we've got a setter" Shimada said as he rested his hand on Keishin’s shoulder.

"Huh?" Keishin questions and the doors flew open. His eyes and the eyes of the rest of the teams eyes flew to the door.

Keishin froze

"Damn I see they still haven't fixed these God forsaken doors. It's been like 10 years damn" you said as you switched from your street shoes.

Everyone was staring at you.

"Hello everyone" you smile as you wave, still not noticing the long blonde hair coach on the sidelines staring holes in your head.

The boys bowed to you as you smiled.

 You turned your body to walk to Shimada as you begin to speak "you should have told me-" you stop making direct eye contract with Keishin, your mouth dropping open.

"Keishin?" You say shockingly

"Y/N?" Keishin said equally as shocked.

"Oh whoops" Takinoue looks at you laughing awkwardly "I guess we forgot to mention the little detail that Keishin is the Karasuno teams coach ha ha"

Shimada's eyes went wide as he waited for you to speak.

"Yes you forgot to mention that LITTLE detail" you speak sharply as you whip your head to both Shimada and Takinoue.

Keishin is still frozen.

You're here? Why? How? And your setting for the Neighborhood association? Oh dear God!

"Long time no see Keishin" you speak directly as you look at him.

He thought you were beautiful then but now you looked spectacular! His brain and heart were thinking and beating at 1000 miles per hour yet no words were formed from his mouth.

Gosh this was awkward.

Shimada and Tokinoue watched in wonder.

 Everyone did.

 The Karasuno team could sense the tension between you two.

"What's with coach I've never seen him this quiet" Tanaka Ryunosuke whispers to Nishinoya Yu.

"No clue but it's making me nervous" Noya said in response.

You wanted for Keishin to speak only to be met with silence

"Well ok then" you clap your hands together "I'm here to set so let's get this show on the road."

You walk towards the practice jerseys as you slip one on. Everyone seems stunned but nobody says anything. You look back at everyone as they awkwardly go back to their tasks.

Takinoue walks up to you as you start stretching. You glare at him.

"This is all your fault" you say sharply as he puts on a practice jersey.

"Don’t expect any sets today" you growl as you walk to the sidelines talking with your new team for the evening.

The boys welcome you with open arms. Ennoshita Chikara, one of Karasuno's wing spikers greats you with a bow.

"Umm miss would you mind if we practice a few sets before the game starts?" He asks pleasantly.

"Oh please call me Y/N! And of course! I'm a new setter to you so I totally understand wanting to get comfortable" you smile as you walk towards the net.

Keishin is still staring. You're sure his eyes dried out by now from not blinking.

Ennoshita describes his ideal setup to you as you are mental notes. You remember a teammate who had a similar style so you try to adjust what you can.

 Ennoshita throws a ball to you as you set perfectly for a kill.

"Nice kill" you say with a smile. Ennoshita blushes.

"That was a great set Y/N! I don’t think I've hit a ball that confidently in a long time" he says with a smile as he rubs the back of his head.

"Well thank you but I'm a bit rusty. The ball drifted a bit too much towards the net for my liking. I'll adjust" you say with a smile as the next teammate tosses to you.

“She hasn't changed a bit” Keishin thinks to himself.

He always thought you were too hard on yourself in high school. He admired you but you were always trying to do more. He knew you didn't really like him but he didn't actually know the reason. He just thought you found him to be annoying.

Keishin snaps out of his thoughts as he blows the whistle. Everyone lines up, thanking each other for the game as they proceed to their spots.

The game goes on for a while. You see Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shoyo’s quick and your eyes sparkle. You knew that move had to be a shocker to almost anyone playing against them. You learned to never underestimate a player. You knew the smallest players were out the most dangerous. But you had to admit that even the quickness and trust the duo displayed was phenomenal.

During a break, Kageyama asked if you'd observe his technique. You felt honored as you knew the boy was a prodigy. He was a quick thinker on the court and adapted well. You could also tell he was a lot like you were. He was hard on himself and always strived to do better. You observed the infamous "falling toss" that just stopped mid air. It was amazing to see. You'd never even dream of being able to pull something off like that.

Honestly it seemed like a “Keishin” move to you. You laughed as you thought about all the times you rolled your eyes at his ridiculous sets. He was always trying to outrun the blockers. Always trying to open the paths for his spikers.

"That tosses was phenomenal boys" you smile as you applaud their efforts. They both bow as they disperse and continue their training. 

Your eyes met Keishins again.

Honestly we're you really going to ignore him this whole time?

“It's been almost 10 years Y/N he's probably matured” you think to yourself as you gather the courage to approach the coach. Then again this was Ukai Keishin we were talking about. The asshole who constantly made it a mission to get under your nerves in high school.

When the second practice match started, you were you to serve. Keishin smiled to himself thinking about the cute look you got on your face as you prepared to serve. It made his hard warm. You didn't fail to notice his smile but you're thoughts automatically drifted back to high school. You hated that smile so much.

You prepared to serve as suddenly you heard someone clear their throat. You missed the serve completely, hitting a net ball. Keishin snickered to himself.

“Man you really hadn't changed all that much” he thought as he was thinking about how much you hated missing serves.

Your neck snaps to him as you glare "I know you did that on purpose" you spit at him.

Keishin just smiles "Y/N you really think I'm out here to mess your serves up?"

You definitely hadn't changed.

You huffed as you glared at Keishin as he smirked.

Shimada and Takinoue looked at each other. Part of them was hoping they would see you chuck a ball at Keishin while a part of them wondered how you two had managed to ignore your feelings for each other for so long.

The game ended as the boys cleaned the gym and thanked you for the game.

Keishin watched as you took off the practice jersey. Your shirt lifting, exposing your tummy bit to reveal your smooth skin. It was now or never .

"Umm hey Y/N, thanks for helping out" he says as he approaches you

You continue to wipe the sweat from your forehead as you take a drink of water. "No problem. It's a great team you have here" you say while avoiding eye contact.

Keishin wished you'd just look at him. You really didn't still hate him did you?

"Well I’m off" you say as you wave and smile to the team and the association. You quickly move to the gym doors, replacing your shoes and walking away.

"You sure blew that one" Shimada snickers behind Keishin.

"She really had no clue I was the coach?" Keishin looks at Shimada.

"Not one clue" he says in return "besides this provided so much entertainment." He throws his head back laughing as he walking towards the gym doors.

“Wyou blew this one Keishin” he thinks to himself as he sighs taking a seat in a folding chair.

He really did blow this one.

taglist: @axoxtxhxh​

[b0rista]

— 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄, 𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍, & 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐎 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐃. ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: language, because i can't form sentences without using "fuck" every other word JDJD.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: i only made this modern because i desperately wanted to include marco to the fullest leave me aloneEffsg. gn! reader, and i went pretty lengthy on this one so beneath the cut is where the headcanons start :)

𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓: bearbrickjia on instagram!

by far, the best friend group to have. everyone balances one another out, and it's a perfectly imperfect mesh of teenagers.

there's jean, the group's centerpiece. he's the alpha of the posse, usually working as their own personal line leader whenever they're caught doing something as a group. he'll never admit it, but he's also the dad friend. of course, he's more of a "i wish i never gave birth to you oh my god please leave me alone also i love you" type than the stereotypical dad friend.

there's marco, the glue holding the group together. unsurprisingly, he's the calm, kindhearted support system that balances out the cokeheads, keeping them all sturdy. without a doubt, the group would fall apart without him. they need him, okay!! and by "them," i mean jean and yourself. marco, never change.

following up, there's connie & sasha, the wonder twins. their roles are pretty self explanatory, given their natural rambunctiousness. they're the two that hang out outside of the group the most, for obvious reasons. they're the crackhead siblings that bring life to the group, despite the hot water they typically land the others in. through their antics and their comic relief, they're irreplaceable. still, it's easy to want to strangle them sometimes.

next, there's you! because you're the reader, i won't name any specifics, but you're greatly cherished. you mark your place in the crew through various ways, having a unique relationship with each and every member. when he's in need of a breather outside of his typical nest (AKA marco), jean hits your line. if you're needing any kind of assistance with literally anything ever, marco's there to help. craving some chaos? bitch, connie & sasha have GOT YOU.

the main hangout spot is jean's house, 100%. not only has his mom practically adopted the whole squad, but there's only two people living there, so it isn't crowded. connie banned literally all four of you from his place, lmao. there was too many people there, and his family lives to humiliate him.

the group has this one policy, set down by yourself and jean: four piece maximum. this is directed solely towards sasha, of course, considering her tendency to raid her friends' fridges entirely of any food. if she's ever caught rummaging through a fridge for longer than necessary, it's the home owner's duty to shout, "four piece minimum!"

^ it never fails to startle her 😭. one time, she hit her head so hard on the fridge ceiling at jean's house she had to use a bag of frozen peas to soothe the swelling.

then, she proceeded to eat the thawed out peas. jean gagged.

the inside jokes? endless. all it takes is one word from a single event, and the five of you are losing your shit. it's cute, to be honest, how overzealous you all get from a single instance from months ago.

"ha. heh. hee."

"what is it?"

"ngGhh,, chEDDAR TIDDIES-"

"AHHHHHAGAGSHHDJF-"

if there are any inside jokes formed between two group members that isn't shared with the rest of them, there will be immediate bitterness. one time, you and sasha were giggling to yourselves over some druggie named jerry who'd tried selling baskets of rotten cherries to the two of you during a gas station haul— the boys were not having it. what the fuck were you doing without them, "friends"?

right before starting your guys' senior year of highschool, the five of you were on a group facetime when you all sent your schedules into group chat. due to the scarceness of your soon-to-be-majors, absolutely none of you had any classes together. you had a single lunch period with connie while marco had one with jean, but that was about it. it was,, a dramatic discovery. sasha fucking screamed.

"i have nothing with nobody!"

"calm down, sash-"

"you have lunch with y/n! LUNCH! that's my place, lunch. this is despicable, this is evil, this is a braus hate crime-"

yeah, she didn't take it that well. it's okay, doe. the four of you made a special effort during your passing periods, giving sasha enough of a fix for her to make it through each and every day.

it isn't like the five of you don't hang out outside of the classroom, either!! if you hadn't already made plans during that week, the weekend is where you absolutely thrive as a group. study sessions that always shift into exclusive house parties, lunches spent at your favorite places, the occasional visit to the movie theater, and so on. with a mini crowd like that, it's hard for any of you to get bored.

jean's hopeless crush on mikasa is a big factor in your friendship. when everyone minus marco (because he's an angel) isn't mercilessly teasing him, you're all trying to actually help the fucker score the girl. from talking him up obnoxiously enough whereas she'll hear, or flat out telling her to give him a chance, it's an actual effort. though, it's unfortunately all to no avail. shawty's too smitten with eren to even consider her options.

^ with that being said, the four of you have to give jean the "there are other fish in the sea" scoop more often than you'd like to admit.

group cuddles. that's that.

because he's the tallest and therfore the longest (probably, depending on your height), everybody has a chosen body part of jean's to latch onto during naps. connie has one leg while you have the other, and sasha keeps her head rested on his shoulder. marco's at the very bottom, entangling his legs in your own. somehow, this is heaven for jean. he'll never admit to it, though. as far as any of you are concerned, he HATES IT.

ranking from #1 as the best and #5 as the worst, these are the rated group therapists: ⇩︎

#1: marco. self explanatory, he's an amazing listener and provides supremely good advice. that, and he'd literally rather die than let any of his friends internalize anything they're dying to let loose.

#2: you. really, you're just a lot better than jean or connie. sasha's okay at it, but she's not the best at rationalizing, leaving you at second best. basically, when marco isn't available, you're where the freak shows go. marco goes to you about things, too.

#3: sasha. again, she's just a loT better than the final two. sasha's a sweetheart! she's empathetic, and nonjudgmental. we love her in this house.

#4: connie. also somewhat of a sweetheart, although not as much as sasha. he'll drop a shit ton of humor into serious conversations, making them just a tad bit more tolerable.

#5: jean. look, he's a great friend! however, he isn't all that empathetic, and he'll have some trouble understanding. still, he would try his hardest to make you or the other three feel better :,)).

in a modern universe, i know damn well connie's a half-assed stoner 30% of the time. he doesn't light up all that often, and he doesn't tell anybody about it, even you guys. mainly because marco will grill him for it DJFK. however, you stumbled upon his mini marijuana stash and he was like ahh, shit. you didn't really care doe, his secret is safe with you. you, however, now have DIRT on him.

matching bracelets that you all made for eachother yEars ago but never wear 🥺🥺.

many, many, many poly relationship jokes. only jokes, though. some people take it too literally, which y'all just laugh at.

there's a miniature rivalry going on between you and another nearby friend group: reiner, bertholdt, annie, ymir, and christa. of course, all of you are friends, it's all fun in games— most of the time, anyway. it's a funny rivalry, and you guys go at it quite a bit.

one of your guys' most intense debates is whether or not marco has freckles on his dick.

he,, refuses to show any of you, or even anSweR you.

"you act like we can't just check whenever we use the urinals, man."

"CONNIE-"

now, marco refuses to go to the bathroom at the same time as any of the boys <\33.

the group band? black eyed peas.

[axwalker]

CREEP 3: You're just like an angel

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC  (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR

Synopsis: Drake is a hurt, angry teenager. After being rejected by Lexie, he spends two years bullying her until he discovers the horrible truth behind her rejection. 

MASTERLIST HERE

In this chapter: Lexie gets to know more about the boy hiding behind the monster. 

A/N: This is Lexie’s POV. We’ll be in Drake’s head in the following chapter. 

A/N 2: Thank you to my beautiful prereader @burnsoslow​

Your suggestions made all the difference! LOVE YOUU ❤️

A/N 3: Thank you to @mskaneko​ for the edit that closes this fic. It’s gorgeous! I love youu ❤️

Words: 5,108 🙈

WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love, abuse, bullying. 

THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express love. 

This is a dark love story. If you think this might trigger you, PLEASE do not read it.  

ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

TAGS ON THE COMMENTS --As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapters. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic; please do not hesitate to ask!!

LEXIE

Watching Drake put my duffel bag on the back of his motorcycle, my pulse is getting out of control on my neck. This is happening. I’m leaving home. I’m getting out, and I’m never coming back. And Drake Walker, my tormentor, is helping me. He actually defended me. The fact that I’m being helped by the person who called me a future trophy wife this morning makes this moment even more surreal. He’s had this tormented expression on his face for the last half an hour that’s stupidly making me want to hug him or make him feel better. For what, though? I don’t know. I don’t owe him anything, and still, I have this pressing need to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him everything will be okay. 

When it comes to Drake, my emotions have never been truly logical. One second I hate him, and the next, I’m whispering his name in the darkness of my room, my fingers sawing against the wet cotton of my panties. My feelings for him are incredibly confusing…but I know asking him to back off was the right move. Even if I secretly miss his presence everywhere I turn. In my unstable world, there was something comforting about knowing he would always be there. Watching me. Hating me. Wanting me. That last part was never in doubt. He’s made that clear many times. That if I wanted, he would “give me a nice long hate-fuck in the back of his trailer.” And he’d always say, “No one has to know, baby,” in that deep, hoarse tone that keeps me up at night. Makes me shove my fingers down the front of my panties and struggle to breathe, sweating through my covers to an orgasm. I’m having those particularly sexual thoughts when he looks over at me, and I don’t quite manage to hide my lust. His movements slow, a dark eyebrow arching as he fixes on my mouth, my breasts. I’m a real hot mess right now. Beaten and bloody, but there’s no denying he’s still attracted. It’s always there in the rise and fall of his chest, the clicking of his jaw. The tenting of his jeans. How many times have I turned in class and—avoiding his gaze—locked eyes with his jeans instead? At least that’s one thing us poor fuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck.

 Well, if I thought sympathy was a strange emotion regarding this boy, jealousy is even more confusing. Why should I care that he’s been with other girls? Obviously, he must have been with hundreds of girls to get good at sex. It’s none of my business, is it? I’m almost rid of him. And I don’t want to be jealous. Still, when he holds out his hand to help me onto the bike, I ignore it with a raise of my chin and climb on myself. You’re almost rid of him, Lexie. Get a ride and say goodbye. Unfortunately, I may have been a little overenthusiastic in asking to be taken to a motel. I’ve never been to one, but I know a credit card is required—and I don’t have one of those. Nor do I have enough cash in my wallet for more than one night. I need to figure out an alternative plan fast. Still looking damned tortured, Drake places his helmet on my head and gently buckles the chinstrap. Swallowing loud enough to hear over the passing cars. Helmetless, he brings the engine to life, the vibration so exhilarating; I wrap my arms around his middle on reflex.

I can feel taking a deep breath. “Lexie…” He can’t see me, so I give in to the impulse to press my cheek to his leather jacket, absorbing the warmth and his smell, earthy and so masculine. 

“Yes?” Drake clears his throat, his voice even more profound. “My dad left me a cabin a few towns over. Near Portavira lake.” He pauses. “It’s very rustic, but I’ve been fixing it, so it’s clean, and it has a bed and some supplies. I could take you there. You’d be safe.” 

It’s dangerous to start accepting more favors from him, but what choice do I have? My father made sure that I’m helpless. He did it with my mother and now me. Isolated us from everyone who might be a friend. I’ll accept his offer, but only because here and now, I promise myself I’ll find a way to help myself in the future. To leave my father and his house of horrors in the past. Maybe it can’t be done entirely alone. Maybe accepting help is the only option. That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting the way he treated me. Yes, I’m attracted to him but I also hate him. He’s made my life miserable for two years and I won’t let him --or myself, forget that. Maybe he’s hiding right now but I know Drake--as my father, has a monster underneath. His monster might not slap me or make me bleed but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. Poisonous words can hurt as much as one well-delivered blow.  

“Okay,” I say, feeling him relax. “Thanks.” I’ll accept his help for now and leave as soon as I can. 

He responds by turning on the engine of the bike again. That’s when I hear my father yelling my name from the back door of the house. His hands are tied behind his back, and he’s limping, blood coming out his nose. 

“Alexis Jade O’Brien! You get your ass back here right now, or you’ll never be allowed back! You’ll be dead to me!” 

He has to be joking; he’s been dead to me since the first time he hit me. I look back at the pathetic old man with every ounce of rebellion I have. Baring my teeth, I give him the middle finger and dismiss him. Forever. 

“Good girl,” Drake murmurs a second before driving away. I don’t look back a single time. We drive for half an hour. After twenty minutes on the highway, the trees grow denser and denser, the road deserted. We don’t pass a single car on the way to the cabin, which comforts me when I should be worried. Shouldn’t I? I can’t allow the last two years of em2otional battle to mean nothing. To melt away in the face of tonight’s act of kindness. I meant what I said. I need Drake to leave me alone. To release the hold he has on me. I’ve cut one negative force out of my life tonight. The last thing I need is a replacement. But as I grow tired against his strong back, his woody and manly scent lulling me, encouraging the trust he doesn’t deserve, I worry leaving him might be easier said than done. Especially when we arrive at the cabin, and he lifts me off the bike, cradling me to his chest like I’m made of crystal, a moment too long before settling me onto my feet. It’s hard giving up his warmth, but I push off his chest, creating distance between us. He watches me back away like I’m breaking his heart. 

“There is a shower inside,” he says quietly. “You can finally get the, uh…” He blows a breath. “…the blood off.” The sun sets as we stand there. It’s nothing like the light of the night we kissed. This time it's brighter, more intense. It must be the higher elevation. 

“You’re not hurting anywhere else?” 

“I’ll be fine.” Why is he breathing so fast? “What’s wrong, Drake?” 

“What’s wrong?” He fights through a humorless laugh, sliding his hand through his hair. “Where do I start? Most urgent is…I know you’re going to want me to leave you here alone, and I don’t think I can. Look, if you want to lock the doors, I’ll sleep outside on the ground, Lexie, but please don’t ask me to go.” 

He’s right. I was going to tell him it’s OK to go back to his trailer. There was a convenience store with a payphone a mile down the road. If there is no working phone in the cabin, I can still make calls, if necessary. I’m not sure what my next move will be, now that I’ve run away from home. But I know I’ll never be able to think with a clear head as long as Drake is around, looking at me like that. “Drake…”

 “It’s just that once I leave, I know that’s it. You’re going to shut me out again. And this time, it’ll be your choice.” He paces away, still raking his fingers through his hair. “I deserve to be cut off. Fuck, I know that. Believe me when I say I hate myself right now, but if there was something I could do to make up the last two years to you, even just a little—” 

I shake my head. Nothing can make up for the two years I spent loving him while he tortured me. There will be nothing between us. 

“I understand.” His fingers rake his hair one last time. “You can go in the cabin. I’ll sleep outside; that way, I’ll be sure your—father won’t be back.”

Despite myself and my better judgment, I worry about him. “Outside? It’s cold and dark; I can go to a motel.” At least for one night, I’ll figure out what I’ll do after tomorrow. 

“No way. Look, I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Just go inside and try to rest; I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”

Used to what? Sleeping outside? “Isn’t there a couch or something?”

He shakes his head. “The cabin was in ruins until six months ago when I started working on it. There’s only one bed, but there’s a rug next to the fireplace. Please don’t leave. I—I need to know you’re safe.” 

I know Drake would never abuse me physically. I might be naïve, but I just know he would never do it. And as much as it’s difficult for me to understand why I feel safe with him here. Still, I have to be smart, my instincts tell me to trust him, but my instincts have been wrong about him before. 

“Does the room lock?”

“It does with a bolt that can’t be opened from outside. But you’re safe with me, Lexie. I swear.”

It’s his miserable look that makes me decide. “Okay, if it locks, I can stay here.”

We go inside, and he leads me to his room. When my bag hits the floor next to his bed, I get even more nervous. I just left everything I know behind me and have no idea what’s coming next. School will be over in a few weeks, but I can graduate earlier, thanks to my credits. I’ll need a job, save some money, get an apartment and apply for college in Cordonia. It’s overwhelming. 

I don’t want to cry in front of Drake. I don’t want to show him I feel weak, sad, and pathetic, but something inside of me suddenly breaks, and before I can’t do anything to stop it, I’m sobbing.

Drake is sitting on the bed in a second, and he’s pulling me into his lap, trying to calm me down. “Shh Lexie, it’s okay. Cry all you need to. I’m here. It’s okay,” he repeats in a litany as he rubs my shoulders, kisses my cheek, then my nose. Why do I feel so safe with him? Why, after everything he put me through, do I want to be here with him more than anywhere else? 

“Let it all out, Lex. You’re so strong, baby.” He takes a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and uses it to gently clean my tears. The piece of fabric seems so incongruous in his rough hands that I can’t help but smile a little. 

“Is this yours?”

He shrugs. “My dad collected them. After he died, my mom gave all his stuff away. This handkerchief is the only thing I have left of him. And this cabin.”

“I’m sorry, Drake. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He smiles. “Ruin it? Impossible. If anything, now it's even more special to me.” 

The softness in his eyes looks so sincere it scares the hell out of me. I can’t let myself forget who Drake really is. I stand up from his lap and put my bag on the bed. 

“I’m really tired; I’d better go to bed.��� 

“Okay … can I just look at your wounds?” he asks as he inspects my face. “You have some nasty cuts,” he adds, his fist clenching. 

When I nod, he takes my hand and leads me to his bathroom. The room is as simple and modest as expected. Block walls, no tiles on the floor, no curtain on the shower, and an old toilet. A million years away from the white marble bathrooms in my house. 

He follows my gaze and blushes. “I’m sorry. This is not what you’re used to. I—uhm, I’m slowly putting it together when I have time and some money. I’m good with my hands.” I look at said hands, and there’s no doubt he’s good with them. They look big and calloused. Capable and rough but so gentle with me. I want them all around my body. As if he had listened to my silent demand, he grabs me by my waist and sits me on the counter next to the sink. My legs part on instinct, and he puts himself between them. We don’t talk for two long minutes until he opens the faucet and wets a towel. 

“I just got the water running this week; Come on.” Gently --almost reverently, he washes and cleans every cut, every injury. Softly he brushes his thumbs over my face. He doesn’t speak as he does, but there’s a tension between us. A raw feeling that has always been there. 

“Tell me about yourself,” I blurt out, desperate to break the moment. 

“There’s not much to say. Sorry, Lexie!” he exclaims when I wince. “Does this hurt?”

“A little. I. need a distraction. Why do you live alone? I know your dad is –uhm, gone, but where’s your mom?”

“Gone too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Drake.”

“Don’t be. She was a bitch. She died in a car accident two years ago. She was living in Texas back then.”

“I don’t get it. Two years ago, you were here in Cordonia.” 

“Yeah, she left me after my dad died. Took my sister and left me here. Reminded her too much of my dad, she said.” 

I remember Jackson Walker. Everyone in Portavira does. He was Liam’s dad's bodyguard and died protecting him. But that was five years ago. If his mom left just after his passing, that means Drake has been living by himself since he’s thirteen years old. It can’t be.

Drake turns around and opens a box in the corner of the room. When he turns back, he’s holding a Band-Aid. 

“I keep these around. Construction can get nasty sometimes. Come here, Lex.” He cups my chin with one of his big hands while he cleans a cut next to my eyebrow. His touch is leaving goosebumps all over my skin. I hate to be this affected by him.  

I clear my throat to avoid the embarrassment of talking in a squeaky voice. “So, who were you living with?”

“No one. My aunt got custody when my mom left, but her husband didn’t want kids. He made her choose between him or me, so I’ve been living on my own since I’m thirteen.” My heart breaks then. Not only at the fact that he had to live by himself when he was still a child, but at the way he says it. Matter-of-factly. As if it was the most normal thing in the world that his mother, his aunt, and his uncle abandoned him. As horrible as my dad is, I’ve never had to fend for myself. And my mom loved me so much. If cancer hadn’t taken her away, she’d be here fighting for me. Drake has no one. I can’t help the tears glistening in my eyes. “Hey! Don’t cry, Lexie,” his thumb moves from my eyebrow to my cheek as he wipes the tears off my face. ”I prefer to live by myself than go to a foster house. And Leona checks on me now and then.”

“If your mom died, where’s your sister?”

He takes a deep breath but doesn’t pronounce a single word for a few minutes. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Savvy was with my mom in the car. She died too.” 

I want to say something. Anything. But I can’t. Nothing seems like enough. Sorry is such an empty word—a stupid cliché. I’m horrified at my own muteness, so I do the only thing I can think of. I hug him. At first, he just stands there, his arms hanging at his sides. But soon, I can feel him giving in, his heart beating hard against my chest. He encircles his arms around me, wrapping me in the tightest hug possible. I don’t know who’s comforting whom anymore. I only know that I love being here, and I hope it’s giving him a little solace, this hug.

 It doesn’t mean I’ll forgive or even forget what he put me through, but no one deserves to go through that kind of pain alone. 

“I’ll be outside, Lexie,” he says when he finally lets me go. “If you need anything, anything at all, just call for me, okay?”

“Wait!’ I yell, so he turns around. “Are you really going to sleep on the floor?”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he hesitates as if he’s going to add something important. “Good night, Lexie.” 

“Wait,” I feel my cheeks redden just thinking about what I’m about to propose. “You can sleep here, I-I know you won’t hurt me.”

“Never,” he says, a determined look on his face. “I would never hurt you that way, and you have no idea how much I regret how I’ve treated you in the past. But I’ll be okay sleeping outside. I know you’ll feel better sleeping here by yourself.” 

I can’t deny that. I meant what I said about trusting him not to hurt me, but I can’t forget what he did either. “At least take this pillow and the blanket. I’ll manage with the pillow and the cover left.” He hesitates, so I insist. “Please. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”

After taking them and giving me one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, he closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in the room. I lie on his bed, incapable of sleeping. The pain in his eyes when he told me about his little sister haunts me all night long. 

The following day I toss around in bed, confused and angry at myself. I can’t have feelings for Drake Walker. I can’t forget the insults or the anger in his eyes, the hurt that his words caused me every -single time. I just can’t. I hate what happened to him. I genuinely do, but iI have to think about myself. Denying that I’m attracted to him would be preposterous. Our chemistry is strong and undeniable, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Maybe that’s it. Perhaps I just need one night with him, so I can move on with my life. Get him out of my system.

When I finally leave the bed, I find a note under my door: Went to buy some groceries, be back soon. DW

I go to the room where I assume he’s going to build the kitchen. For now, there’s only a more-than-a-few-years-old microwave and a cooler. I open the cabinets, but there’s barely anything there. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. I feel my heart slamming in my chest; if it’s my father, I have no means of defending myself. I’m about to escape through the back door when a woman’s voice starts yelling.

“Open up, Drake. I’m not in the mood today.” 

I open the door because the voice sounds familiar. I recognize Leona, the principal’s assistant. And I know she’s related to Drake.

Leona arches an eyebrow when she sees me. “Ms. O’Brien, what on earth are you in my nephew’s cabin? Does your father even know where you are?”

“I’m 18. I don’t have to tell my father where I am.” I answer in a much bolder tone than I feel.

She shrugs, clearly uninterested. “Well, I brought this to my nephew. Tell him I want those signed by next week. We’re not going to lose thousands of euros because of some dumb nostalgia.”

She hands me a big manila folder, I take it, but she doesn’t let go. “Maybe you’re the one who can convince him.”

“Convince him about what?”

“His father Jackson left him this piece of land, but it isn’t worth a dime without cattle or money to invest in it. But, a couple of months ago a big company approached us, they wanted to build a landfill here. Drake refuses to sell. He thinks he’s going to honor his dead father by rebuilding this old piece of crap, but he will never have the money to do it.” 

“Never.” The deep voice that comes from the entrance startles us both. “This was my dad’s dream. He wanted a ranch, and one day this place will be one,” Drake says, “I told you already, Leona. I won’t sell; I don’t care how much they’re offering you to convince me.”

“I’ve never denied that they’re offering me a commission for the sale, Drake. But I still think it’s the best move for you.” Leona leaves the papers on the table, turns and leaves the cabin. 

“You love this land?” I’m genuinely curious. 

He slowly nods. “It’s all I have left of my dad. He’s the only person that ever gave two damns about me.”

“That says more about your family than about you, Drake.”

He looks directly at me. His gaze doesn’t leave mine for a long minute. I want to get closer to him, to touch him. Not only to offer some comfort but because my body reacts to him in the wildest way. Just standing next to him in the kitchen, I feel my heart beating faster, my hands trembling harder, my sex getting wetter. The response he gets from me is maddening. And it’s making me insane. There’s no freaking way in hell; I’m going to have feelings for Drake Walker.

“I- I need to take a shower. I’ll eat later.” Without giving him any time to respond, I run to the bathroom and shut the door. I open the shower and get inside, desperate for some release, anything that’ll take my mind off him. His stupid perfect smirk and deep eyes. That voice of his, intense, soft, and deep at the same time. Those big hands, calloused and capable. Hands that I just know would know precisely how to touch me. Before I realize it, I’m coming as quietly as I can. Sadly, my relief only lasts a few minutes, my body needs him --Drake Walker, and no substitute would do. 

When I come out, he’s waiting for me with a hot cup of coffee and a couple of white chocolate-strawberry muffins---my favorite kind. 

We eat in silence, but I don’t feel the weight of it as I usually do. Ours is a companionable silence. 

After breakfast, we decide to take a hike next to the lake. A bit of exercise and the lake’s breathtaking landscape might be exactly what I need to stop thinking about my father and the confusing feelings I have for Drake. 

“I think I need a job. Do you know how I can get one?” I hate that I’m so spoiled, but I’ve never lifted a finger in my life. I have no idea how I can get a job. 

“Uhm sure. Here in Portavira?”

“Actually, I was thinking of moving to Cordonia city after graduation. “Drake stops walking for a second. “It’s too late to enroll for next semester, but I can get a job and start college next year.”

He finally starts walking again and nods slowly. “What do you want to do?” 

I blush. My dreams don’t include being famous or rich. All I want is a good, quiet life. Falling in love, having a family. Doing a job I’d enjoy and traveling as much as possible -even if it’s on a low budget. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

Drake looks at me. “I swear I won’t, Lexie. There’s nothing you can say that I’ll find dumb. It’s just not possible.”

“I love books. They offer you new worlds. They allow you to escape and be someone else for a few pages. You can never be alone when you’re reading a book. I’d love to have a job where I would be surrounded by books. Maybe become a librarian and then open a bookstore one day.”

Drake nods but doesn’t reply. I knew he would find my dream stupid.

“I know it’s not much-“

He stands in front of me and tilts my chin until our eyes meet. “It’s amazing, Lexie. I was just thinking how great you’d be at it. Remember the top 5 assignment for Mr. Daniels?”

Of course, I do. Mr. Daniels, our English teacher, asked us to make a list of our five favorite books and recommend them to the class. 

I nod. “Yeah”

“Well, I read all the books on your list. I checked them out of the school’s library and fuck, I loved them all. Especially the one from that Krakauer guy.”

“Into the Wild?”

“Yep. I really enjoyed it. The way that guy Christopher reinvented himself spoke to me.” He holds my gaze. “You’d be an awesome librarian, Lex. You would also be an amazing writer. I remember that short story you wrote for Mr. Daniel’s class. The one about the lonely girl and how she traveled through time with her mind. You have no idea how much I loved it.”

I can’t believe he remembers that story. We had that assignment more than a year ago. “I’ve always wanted to write, but my dad thinks my stories aren’t good enough.”

“Your father is a dick. Your stories are amazing.” 

He looks at me in a way that makes my knees weak. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, so I feel it again. The connection with him. The desire. Maybe the only way this would go away is if I give in to it. 

“There is something you can do for me,” I say, surprising myself. As soon as those two words are out of my mouth, though, I know there is something I need from Drake. 

And he’s the only one who can give it to me. “Get you out of my system.” 

He stands still as a statue. “What?” 

“Get yourself out of my system.” It starts to rain, and it makes me speak louder, feel bolder and freer. “For two years, you provoked me, insulted me, stalked me, bullied me…” He makes a frantic sound, his eyes slamming shut. “And yet, I still—I still can’t stop thinking of your hands that night in my garden. How big and warm and rough they were. I can’t stop imagining you taking off my clothes. Even the ugliest things you’ve said to me, I imagine you saying them in my ear while you…while we…” 

Drake falls toward me a step, clutching the center of his chest. “Lexie—” 

“Please, get yourself out of my head. One night together. Okay, Drake? So I can get on with my life knowing fantasy was way better than reality. That I built up some unrealistic idea of what we’d be like together that we can’t possibly live up to.” My throat closes. “Get me on the road to forgetting you. Please.” As we walk, I can see the mixture of devastation and hope in his eyes. 

“And what if reality lives up to the fantasy?” 

“It won’t,” I say fast, with conviction. It couldn’t possibly live up to it. And yet I suck in a nervous breath when he crosses the divide between us, every cell in my body craving him. Fight or flight. In a matter of moments, he’s gone from wounded animal to determined predator, the rain causing his dark hair to hang low over one eye, dripping, his hands ready at his sides. 

“Are you so sure, Lexie?” 

Damn my hesitation. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll prove me right in one night. I can move forward without feeling like I’m leaving something behind.” 

“What if your fantasies come true tonight? Could we ever move forward as…as an us?”

 I can’t believe what he’s suggesting. “There can never be an us, Drake. Not after everything that’s happened. I’ll never change my mind about that.” I shake my head. “How can you think I would?” 

“Maybe I think if I want it hard enough, it’ll come true.” 

“It won’t,” I whisper, starting to ask myself if I’m making a mistake. Opening myself up for even more heartache and pinning for this man than I’ve already lived through. It feels like a lifetime’s worth. “One n-night.” 

“No backing out from this point on?” My heart beats urgently. 

“No backing out.” 

He’s silent so long; I’m not sure he’s going to respond. And then, all at once, he reaches me in two strides and scoops me up into his arms. I realize he’s going to bring me into the cabin, “I’ve been studying you for years, Lexie O’Brien. I’ve been hanging on to your every sigh, every expression, and mood. Years. If you don’t think I’ve obsessed weeks of my life away over how you’d like to be fucked, baby, you’re sorely mistaken.” We reach the house in a matter of minutes, and he doesn’t stop; he just keeps going until we’re in his room. And oh God, I have made a severe miscalculation. Because Drake’s showing me exactly what’s always been in my heart and mind when I thought of us together, it’s my fantasy come to life, the two of us wrapped in the arms of the other. And as he turns me, urging my legs around his waist, his ravenous mouth bearing down on mine, I realize I might never recover from this. 

[kaistarus]

Haikyuu Among Us

Pairs: Nishinoya X Reader

Words: 2.8K

Summary: You're playing Among Us with the Karasuno gang. When you get selected to be the Imposter you're not above doing what it takes to win.

Notes: This is a completely self-indulgent fic for Nishinoya's b-day

Masterlist

"There are too many options. What do you think?”

Nishinoya’s yellow character stood motionless beside the lobby’s computer as he selected between several hats. Your animated crewmate ran circles around him while waiting for him to finish his customizations and for the rest of your friends to load into the game.

“I think the post-it is the most accurate, but the egg is the cutest.” You said mindlessly, smiling when Hinata’s bright orange character hopped off one of the benches at the top of the screen. You left Nishinoya so you could chase around Hinata instead, running circles around each other in excitement over your matching stemmed helmets.

Nishinoya grumbled as he selected the raw-egg to cover his helmet. “Should I buy a child?”

“Are you ready for that?” You asked as more people finally started loading onto the ship. “It’s a lot of responsibility and what if we both die?”

“Oh, you’re right. I’m not ready to be a single father.” Nishinoya left the computer and came to run in the circle with you and Hinata in the center of the lobby.

“You guys are disgusting,” Tsukishima’s condescending voice filtered into your headset. You rolled your eyes and glared at his black spacesuit with the devil horns. So rude.

“Let people be happy, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi said while his dark green character joined your dance circle. You couldn’t explain it, but the wet floor sign felt extremely fitting for his character.

“I’ll help you raise your child if (Y/N) dies Noya!” Hinata said brightly into your headset.

“Thanks, Shoyo!”

“No, I want to help him raise the child!” Tanaka yelled into the mic causing you to jump in your chair. You quickly opened your audio settings to turn his volume down. “I deserve it. I’ve known them the longest.”

“No way, I already called dibs!”

“Guys, you can both help me! The more parents the better!”

“There is no child.” You said, pinching the bridge of your nose,” and stop planning for me to die.”

“Sorry.” They all said in unison.

“But one day…” Hinata added ominously. You blinked at the screen confused and opened your mouth to respond before deciding it better to write that off entirely.

“All right, I’m starting the game,” Yachi said before the countdown appeared at the bottom of the screen.

“Wait, is Kageyama AFK? He hasn’t said anything.” Hinata asked, concerned.

“I just don’t want to talk to you, idiot.”

“Ouch.” Nishinoya snorted.

You muted your mic after a small giggle. The red crewmate appeared to shush everyone and you couldn’t help the wicked grin that crossed your face when ‘Imposter’ appeared in red letters afterward. Beside your character stood your partner in crime, Hinata, his name also bled red for the violence to ensue. You nodded to yourself confidently. Hinata wasn’t the best imposter, but you two were pretty in sync so you weren’t too concerned.

The airship loaded and everyone appeared around the center lunch table in cafeteria. You debated what you should do… maybe hang out with Hinata and attempt a double kill? You two could pull that off. Maybe just try some fun vent kills like you’d seen streamers do recently. Too bad Nishinoya ran over to you and began dancing beside you, clearly trying to get you to follow him to the right side of the map. It would probably be cruel if you slowly garnered his trust to use him as an alibi…

You followed him out of cafeteria. He began a wire task so you pretended to watch the bar go up until he excitedly danced beside you when he was finished, happy he’d cleared himself as an innocent crewmate-not that you hadn’t known that already. You went to fake asteroids, standing beside the chair while hoping to all that was good the green bar would move on time, when it did you leaned your forehead on your desk with a heavy sigh. Nishinoya’s character ran circles around you, likely thrilled that you were both crewmates, before continuing down the gray halls to the oxygen room. You took a moment to feel guilty before shaking it off.

While Nishinoya went to do another task in O2 you noticed Tsukishima running down the hall, alone, so you briefly separated and went to follow him. Unfortunately, Tsukishima decided to go to navigation all alone which left you with absolutely no choice. You strolled up to him and pressed the lit up ‘KILL’ button in the bottom corner of your screen. The animation had you snapping his character in half which you were a little too satisfied with-you could practically hear him raging from across town.

Once complete, his little half body flopped over and you snickered to yourself in your room. Then you remembered Nishinoya probably heading this way and you quickly self-reported the body.

“Naviga--.”

“Somebody killed Tsukki!?” Yamaguchi yelled so loud you had to lift your headphones up.

“Oh no,” Kageyama said, sarcastically. “What a loss.”

“You don’t sound upset…” Yachi pointed out.

“Should I?”

“Yes! He’s our friend and he’s dead!” Yamaguchi yelled.

“He’s not actually dead Yams.” You smirked, propping your elbow onto your desk and leaning into the palm of your hand.

“Sometimes I still hear his voice…” Nishinoya sniffled into his mic and you rolled your eyes fondly.

“Where was it?” Hinata asked.

“Navigation.” You said calmly. “Me and Nishinoya were doing tasks. I saw him go down to nav and I wanted to see if he died in the murder zone and he did.”

“Makes sense,” Nishinoya said casually. “So, who else is there that killed him?”

“Makes sense? She literally said she followed him to the murder zone.” Tanaka pointed out. You purse your lips because you did kind of say that, yeah. You should probably phrase things better.

“I saw her do asteroids though and she saw me do other tasks so we’re good.” Nishinoya scoffed at Tanaka’s accusation. “She couldn’t possibly have murdered Tsukishima if she did asteroids.”

“Okay… but what if she faked it?” Tanaka suggested.

“Are you suggesting my girlfriend would lie to me?” Noya said, gasping dramatically. “How could you dude?”

“The absolute disrespect.” You said, narrowing your eyes at Tanaka’s brown character. He knew too much.

“What if they’re both the imposter?” Yachi suggested.

“No way. If Noya was imposter half of us would be dead already.” Hinata said, with a chorus of agreeance following him.

“Well, who else is around here?” You asked.

“I’m almost there,” Kageyama said.

“Almost there or running from the crime?” You asked, excited to bring someone new into suspicion.

“Dun dun dun,” Hinata shouted.

“I don’t know if this means anything, but Hinata was at card swipe for a really long time…” Yachi added quietly.

“I just failed it like ten times, okay?” Hinata said sadly.

“Yeah, that checks out.” Kageyama snorted. “This idiot would fail a card swipe.”

“Let’s just skip, but Kageyama and (Y/N) I’m watching you,” Tanaka said.

“Good,” Kageyama responded.

The round ended with no one being ejected, thankfully, but you were a little concerned about the amount of suspicion being thrown at you. Hopefully, Hinata would keep Kageyama alive, and if the opportunity presents itself Tanaka would be your next target. Until then, you ran around the table to Nishinoya and danced beside him until he was ready to move. It was most important that Nishinoya believed you were innocent. You needed a strong ally, especially now.

As you waited patiently for him to complete another download task you kept the sabotage map open contemplatively before Hinata decided to shut off the lights for you. You tried to stay close enough to Nishinoya that he would see you in his limited visual area while you run to electrical, that is, until you saw Yamaguchi trailing behind you. Once you all entered cafeteria you pulled a quick u-turn under the cover of darkness and stabbed Yamaguchi’s poor unsuspecting crewmate body several times in the back before returning to Nishinoya and helping fix the lights. As if nothing had ever happened.

After fixing lights like the innocent, fake crewmate you were an air horn went off in your ear to signal Yamaguchi’s body being reported. You fell back in your chair with a whine before unmuting your mic.

“All right, this is good,” Tanaka said, a few muffled smacks heard as he excitedly smacked his desk.

“Disrespectful, dude. What did Yams or Yachi ever do to you?” Nishinoya asked. You raised an eyebrow because you hadn’t even noticed Yachi’s crossed off character. “They’re the two nicest people on earth.”

“Yeah, that’s sus.” You said with a smirk.

“Super sus.” Nishinoya agreed.

“What? No. I mean, I was on my way to the button because I literally watched Hinata jump into a vent when I found Yam’s body. Which means we have two pieces of evidence now.”

You cursed internally and glared at Hinata’s bright orange character. He would get caught venting.

“Dude, seriously?” Nishinoya laughed.

“What? I didn’t vent.”

“I watched you.”

“Oh yeah? How can I vent when I’m not even the imposter?” Hinata said confidently. You rolled your eyes.

“Damn, he’s got you there dude.” Nishinoya snorted. “Solid defense Shoyo.”

“Thanks, man!”

“Don’t defend him!” Tanaka yelled. “Unless you really are the second imposter!”

“What? No! Where’s your evidence? Give me proof!”

“Yeah, give him the proof!” Hinata added.

“Where were you when Yamaguchi was killed?”

“How the fuck would I know?” Nishinoya asked, astonished. “We were only in cafeteria when the lights were off and I didn’t see a body.”

“We?” Tanaka sounded deep in thought. “When the lights were off…”

“Are we just forgetting about mister thank god Tsukishima is dead?” You said, pulling attention toward Kageyama. “And last I checked only Noya and I fixed the lights.”

“Oh yeah, where were you, Kageyama?” Nishinoya asked.

“I’m where the boxes are.”

“You gotta learn the room names, man.” Hinata sighed.

“Maybe this is a tactic!” Tanaka shouted.

“Oh, and self-reporting isn’t Tanaka?” You asked.

“I don’t know. Tell me about the last round?” He responded confidently. Oh shit.

“Hang on, we gotta vote. We have like 15 seconds.” Nishinoya pointed out.

“Vote Hinata. He vented.” Tanaka said, repeatedly.

Everyone voted quickly and Nishinoya even apologized to Hinata, so you sighed before going with the majority. You had officially lost your partner. On the bright side, if you could take out Tanaka you could probably convince Nishinoya that Kageyama was the last imposter. You just had to play this last bit safe.

You waited a bit before going in the direction Tanaka had run after, but your last few rounds backfired when Nishinoya trailed after you. You needed to get away from him long enough so you could kill Tanaka without him seeing. You broke away from him for a moment and hopped into the nearest vent, jumping around until you found an area close to where you thought Tanaka had last been running around. When you popped out fear immediately shot into your heart when Kageyama’s dark blue character peaked into the top of the screen.

You weren't sure if he saw you or not, but you couldn’t risk it. He had to die.

You chased after him toward cafeteria and just barely got close enough to hit the kill button when he entered the room. You let out a breath of relief when the kill animation popped onto your screen and you watched your character repeatedly stab Kageyama in the back. You thought you were safe, so when the air horn for a meeting played you shot up in your chair. Apparently, in your tunnel vision, you hadn’t noticed Tanaka lurking nearby.

“It was Tanaka. I watched him kill Kageyama!” You shouted the moment your mic unmuted.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Nishinoya’s voice was filled with genuine confusion and you almost felt guilty. Almost. Maybe after you won.

“No. She chased him down, sawed him in half, then tossed him away like it was nothing. I saw it all.” Tanaka shouted.

“You can’t even saw people.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m so confused,” Nishinoya whined. “It’s not Kageyama? But (Y/N) was with me like the entire game.”

“Exactly, so how could I have killed anyone?” You said excitedly. Nishinoya had no suspicion of you which was perfect. You could definitely win this.

“You were at every place where the bodies were found.” Tanaka pointed out. “She couldn’t have been with you the entire time. Like when she self-reported the first body?”

“I didn’t self-report.”

“Or when the lights went out?”

“I guess not.” Nishinoya said. You hit your desk lightly in stress. “She also wasn’t with me this whole last round...”

“Exactly!” Tanaka shouted. “And she was really adamant about putting suspicion on Kageyama.”

“Cause he was suspicious!” You threw your hands up. Since when was Tanaka so good at this game?

The line was quiet for a moment. “(Y/N) he’s making a lot of sense.”

“Okay, but he also reported Yams' body,” you countered. “Easily could’ve been a self-report there too.”

“That’s true…”

“Dude, why would I have tried so hard to get Hinata out if I was an imposter?” Tanaka asked, exasperated. “It makes no sense. It has to be her.”

“He could’ve lied about seeing Hinata vent!” You shouted, deciding to throw hail mary’s in your moment of demise.

“Why would I do that?”

“My head hurts,” Nishinoya whined. “(Y/N) I don’t know...”

“Okay. You should vote for Tanaka because...” You said while racking your brain for a solid defense. “I… love you.”

Nishinoya blew air into the mic. “Fuck dude, that’s a good defense.”

“No it’s not you--” Tanaka groaned. “Dude, for like five seconds I need you to stop being a simp and just big brain with me here.”

“But she’s saying nice things to me,” Nishinoya whined.

“Dude, c’mon you know who it is.”

Nishinoya groaned into the mic. “Okay, (Y/N) you’d never lie to me, right?”

“Never.”

“Are you imposter?”

“...I love you so much and I’m so happy you’re in my life and--”

“She just fucking admitted to it!” Tanaka screamed in the mic. “Don’t let her get into your brain. You’re better than this.”

After a brief silence, Nishinoya finally voted and you stood out of your chair when it revealed Nishinoya and you beneath Tanaka’s brown character. The mixed shouting in your headset went completely ignored by your own excitement while you celebrated, thanking Nishinoya with loving words.

“You fucking simp!” Tanaka yelled. “I can’t believe you. I trusted you!”

“I’m sorry,” Nishinoya’s groan came muffled in your ears. “I just couldn’t do it.”

“Good job (Y/N)!” Hinata cheered. “I never win as an imposter.”

“Cause you vent in front of people,” Tsukishima said.

“It was an accident! I meant to sabotage doors and I misclicked.”

“Oh well, we still got a victory.” You said proudly while spinning in your chair.

“You used me,” Nishinoya said, disappointed. “For personal gain.”

“I’m sorry, Noya,” you smirked as your characters all slowly hopped off the chairs in the main lobby. You danced around his yellow character as everyone loaded in. “I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When the second game began, you let out a sigh of relief when the light blue confirmed you as merely a crewmate. This time you could legitimately just goof off with Nishinoya and complete tasks together while hopefully avoiding death.

After the map loaded you once again made your way to navigation together, keeping guard while the other was busy, and dancing circles every time you completed a task. When you eventually had entered the murder zone you trusted him to watch your back while you did your last task on the right side of the ship. Your first mistake apparently. You audibly gasped when the kill animation appeared on the screen. Nishinoya’s yellow character snapping your poor little crewmate’s neck in plain sight, leaving its little half body lying there for all to see. It’s poor singular bone popped out and bare.

You stared blankly at the screen while Nishinoya danced around your body for a moment, knowing that your ghost was hovering over it before he went down and hopped into the vent. You flopped back into your chair watching as Tanaka’s character ran into the room, stared at your body, and ran out. You could picture him cackling at the situation from here.

When a meeting was finally called, not even for you but Kageyama, Nishinoya pretended to be upset that “someone dares to kill you” and other bull shit. You crossed your arms and glared at his stupid yellow imposter self.

You supposed you deserved being used as a cover-up from the grave.

He better at least win.