#yeah anyway if i sound like a high school physics teacher trying too hard to get their students invested

[saphira-approves]

Does anyone else do math when they’re bored? Specifically fandom math?

I know I’ve done it before on this blog with Murtagh Maths, so today I present a topic already debated that I decided to start from scratch… atomic physics!

So, fun thing about existence, matter can be converted into energy. Really neat trick! The thing is, when matter is converted into energy, it’s a LOT of energy. Ever heard of a little formula e=mc^2?

Yeah, so, obviously, e is energy, m is matter, and uh… c is the stand in for the speed of light. You know, real biiiiig number. And it’s squared.

BIIIIIIIIIIIIIG number.

So the energy from this equation is equal to the mass of the object MULTIPLIED by the SQUARE of the SPEED. OF. LIGHT.

oh god. that’s an even bigger number.

But! What does this have to do with our near and dear Inheritance Cycle?

Well, before I actually address that, let me bring in one more idea. Fans of FMA will be familiar with the concept of Equivalent Exchange, which is very similar to some of the laws of physics: matter and energy cannot be created from nothing, and neither can they be destroyed. Matter can be converted into energy, energy can be converted into matter, but you cannot unmake matter or energy.

Now, anyone remember that terrifying spell that was Galbatorix’s last act, waíse niatt? Be not? Essentially, he destroyed himself—he stopped existing as solid matter.

But wait! We just covered that matter cannot be destroyed!

Instead of being destroyed, Galbatorix stopped existing as solid matter—and his matter was converted into energy.

Oh.

Uh.

Oh no.

So, assuming that Galbatorix, being apparently very buff, weighs a chunk more than the USA average of 80kg (~180lbs), let’s put him right at 100kg (~220lbs). Plug that into our neat little equation from before: e=220c^2=1.977x10^19 joules.

If you’re not familiar with scientific notation, 1.977x10^19 can be written out as 19,770,000,000,000,000,000, or nineteen quintillion seven hundred seventy quadrillion.

For reference, a single joule (a unit of energy) is about enough energy to lift an apple one meter. A single ton of TNT is equivalent to about four million joules.

The atom bomb that was dropped on Hiroshima detonated with about eighteen trillion joules of energy.

Of course, the spell might not entirely convert all of Galbatorix’s mass to energy; there could be some Dustatorix particles floating around the destroyed throne room. Alternatively, the spell itself could have been so massive an undertaking that it drew its power directly from the energy it created, claiming an enormous chunk of destructive power to fuel a little arson. Whatever the case, Mr. Paolini Sir, the numbers! are! terrifying!

Anyway. I’m gonna go to bed now.

[itsallyscorner]

Being a High School Student on A Marvel Set

Pairing: Marvel cast x teen!reader

Warnings: none, does crying over a math question count?

💭.

You were one of the younger actresses on set.

Though you were just a few years younger than Tom Holland.

Being a high school student and balancing your acting career was pretty difficult, not gonna lie.

Your days would consist of schooling in the morning on set, by mid afternoon you would have lunch, film your scenes for the day, take a break and do some homework, and then shoot some other scenes before calling it a day.

Everyone was aware that you had school from 8am till 1pm, so the cast made sure to not bother you around those times or make too much noise near the area you were having school.

Everyone except Robert followed that rule, but for a good reason. He would check in around 12pm and bring you some little snacks.

“Hi, sorry, she hasn’t eaten since breakfast.” He would say to the teacher that came to set everyday.

“Gotta make sure she’s got enough fuel in her body, don’t mind me.”

Oh yeah, Robert made sure you had a space on set just for your schooling. It was like the Downey Village tent but smaller. He even had a box full of school supplies in case you ran out.

The tent had windows so sometimes the other cast members, (Evans, Mackie, and Hemsworth) would peek in and make silly faces at you or wave. The gesture would make you giggle and it definitely made your schooling hours more fun.

When you’re done with school everyone would greet you.

“About time you joined!”

“How was school, kid?”

“Did you have a good day at school?”

The cast would make sure you’re not stressing over school so much. If you’ve been cooped up in the tent all day, someone would ask you to accompany them to craft service or a walk around the set so you could have some fresh air. Also for a mental break.

It would usually be Sebastian, Elizabeth, or Scarlett. They always made sure you were taking care of yourself mentally and physically.

If Benedict or Tom Hiddleston were on set they would mediate with you. I just feel like they would like meditating, Robert too.

One day they found you face planted into your Geometry textbook, sniffling and they heard you whimper.

“(Y/n), sweetheart what’s wrong?” Evans and Mackie were the ones to find you.

You removed your head from the textbook and wiped your tears with your sleeves.

“The math question. I’ve been doing it over and over again and it’s WRONG every time.”

“You’re crying over a math question?”

“I DON’T GET IT AT ALL”

“Why do I need geometry anyway? It’s not like I’m going to find the angle of my pizza before eating it.”

Anthony would shut your textbook and the two men would take a seat on either side of you.

They would calm you down before opening the textbook again and helping you.

“It’s ok to not get it on the first try. You’ve just learned this, don’t be so hard on yourself.” Chris comforted you.

“You could ask any of us for help, all of us are willing to help you.”

Chris would volunteer to help you on math questions. He was actually good at math, apparently it was one of his favorite subjects in school.

When he would get questions correct in a row he would mumble, “Nailed that one too, I still got it.”

Anthony would try to help you as well helping Chris explain the questions, “I told y’all, I studied math in high school.”

Whoever was free would help you to the best of their abilities.

You would turn to Benedict or Hiddleston to help you with essays so they would sound proper.

They were amazed to see how organized you were when it came to your work and being on top of things.

You would take naps on set. Sometimes on your chair. Most of the time it was on someone’s shoulder or lap.

Since you’re on set, you couldn’t go to prom. You didn’t even have a prom.

Tom (Holland) heard how upset you were about not having a prom and mentioned it to the others.

They surprised you with your own prom on set after a short day of filming (Which were purposely short, because the Russos were in on the surprise.)

Scarlett and Elizabeth had a dress ready for you to wear.

Tom gave you your corsage since he was the one who gave the idea of throwing you your own prom.

Everyone was dressed nicely, including the crew on set.

It wasn’t something you expected and you ended up crying.

“NO DON’T CRY!”

“Aww honey, you look beautiful!”

“Group hug!”

You danced with everyone. The moment made you realize how much you were thankful for your Marvel family.

They even threw your graduation ceremony and party.

Like it was literally a full on ceremony, led by the man himself, RDJ, and had appearances from Samuel L. Jackson, Kevin Feige, and the Russos.

Everyone was taking pictures of you and your diploma, they were a bunch of proud aunties and uncles.

As a surprise they flew your family out to see you.

Again, you cried. You’ve missed them so much. They thanked everyone on the cast and crew for helping you graduated and being there for you.

Of course the cast brushed it off because they would do anything for you. You were family and their baby.

When you enter college (IF you wanna go to college) they would do it all over again.

Because they loved you:)

This shit made me soft I want to cry.

[writingssummit]

Hi I just read you’re tsukishima story and it was so cute omg but I have an idea

Let’s say y/n has a huge crush on tsukishima since they were children right. But tsukishima never rlly liked y/n in that way. So he would always like be kinda aggressive but like not in the physical way, like he would be cold to her whenever y/n would constantly say something abt them dating. In reality he did like her but he didn’t realize it. Then suddenly a new guy shows up, he’s like really handsome and he’s in a small band, he plays the bass. Y/n actually listens to that band and she was so excited so the two of them click really easy, that’s when she starts being distant with tsukishima and stops the talks abt them dating, tsukishima starts to miss everything y/n would say to him and he wanted to get y/n back, but when he tries he sees y/n and the guy sharing a peck 😔‼️ sorry if this was longgggg ugh

a/n: ahhh! I’m glad you thought so, haha! don’t worry about the length, specifics are always welcome! <3 this is a really good idea! i think it ended up on the longer side, but yk, more content is good? i also ended up naming him, so it’s easier to refer to him. i keep holding on to highschool settings i’m sorry LMAO- i haven’t finished season 4 and i’m not reading the manga yet :( but anyways, here’s a bit of angst/unrequited love to balance out my recent fluff posts !

asks/requests: open !

word count: 2.6k

warnings?: some angst/unrequited love

worth a try.

- TSUKISHIMA KEI -

growing up with tsukishima had been a whirlwind of experiences. ever since you had moved and transferred to his school the last year of primary school, you’d been drawn to him. the tall, blonde kid with glasses. you found his pride in volleyball admirable, and you even found him to be so much cooler than you ever would be.

you originally didn’t know anybody when you first moved, but you fit right in with both tsukishima and his own friend. it was a strange combination, but it worked somehow. while tsukishima was rude, and yamaguchi timid, you were loud and energetic. you were lively. you challenged him just for the fun of it, you poked and prodded, just having fun being around him.

you were his self-declared best friend.

looking back on it, you probably always had feelings for tsukishima. back in those days when you tried to get into volleyball yourself. wanting to be like him, you tried your best, but you weren’t all that good. he would make fun of you for it, but you weren’t bothered by settling for being supportive of him and your freckled friend. You were just as passionate as they were about it.

you were even there when that passion jaded. watched as he stared at his brother from across the game.

it was when you started junior high, that you came to the conclusion that you were in love with your friend. but unlike most people, you did nothing to hide it. why would you? you were always open, always honest and straight to the point. you just weren’t one to hide that.

“go out with me, tsukki!” you poked his side with a cheeky grin, your eyes bright. your friend wasted no time in rejecting you.

“no.”

“aw, you sure?”

“i would never date somebody so stupidly annoying.” you shook off the blatant insult, laughing instead with your hand on your neck. a small thing you picked up from your other friend. yamaguchi.

“you’ll come around one day!”

“i doubt that.”

it went on like that all throughout your remaining years until high school. a constant back and forth that became a schedule at that point.

it was decided that tsukishima would be going to karasuno, as would yamaguchi. and so would you. you would go where they go, you’d never thought about leaving them both. you’d stay with them as long as possible, holding on to their friendship like it was your lifeline..

and holding onto tsukishima even more so.

you were there with them on the first day, when they joined volleyball club. that first practice match against aoba johsai.

you weren’t always watching their practices, since you had your own club duties to attend to of course. but you always made sure to stop by the clubroom while the boys were getting ready, just to say hi to everyone and to a certain someone.

“hey, hey!” you poked your head from around the door, waving a hand. the team greeted you cheerfully enough, minus tsukishima. who looked annoyed to no end.

“tsukki, wanna go grab something to eat after your practice? i know a really great spot!”

he didn’t even look at you, only giving you the middle finger.

you laughed, shrugging. “worth a try.”

the first time the team had witnessed your very forward approach to asking the extremely salty and crude boy out, they were surprised. the way he turned you down so effortlessly too, threw them off. the added shock of anybody even liking him was the cherry on top.

“is this normal?” sugawara asked, a chuckle falling from his lips. asahi was beside him, sweatdropping at the sight of your affectionate display, and tsukishima’s obvious lack of reciprocation.

yamaguchi smiled awkwardly, nodding. “well- yeah, actually. It’s been happening for years.”

“i’d kill to have somebody all over me like that! lucky bastard!” tanaka held his fist up dramatically, as if clenching his heart in it. he even had a tear in the corner of his eye.

“well then, i’ll be on my way! good practice, everyone!” you chirped, finally leaving them.

“l/n’s got some serious determination.” tanaka whistled.

“misplaced determination. they won’t shut up about dating, it’s annoying.” tsukishima didn’t sound as impressed as his loud senpai was.

yamaguchi tilted his head to the side. “really? i would’ve thought tha-”

“shut up.”

a small laugh. “sorry, tsukki.”

it would forever continue, it seemed like. you never thought you’d give it up, you always knew that you liked tsukishima. your heart would pound, your stomach would feel fluttery. but even though you’ve been with him since you were children, it didn’t seem like he’d grown to feel the same. it would get you down sometimes, his mean and harsh words whenever you’d bring it up. either casually, or intentionally.

you couldn’t help being so hopelessly whipped!

you were walking down the sidewalk with yamaguchi and tsukishima, humming along to a new song that had been dropped recently. you were so into it, strumming your fingers like you were the one playing in the recording. tsukishima watched you with critical eyes, but yamaguchi watched as if this was entertaining.

“new song, l/n?” yamaguchi asked you, and you paused the music. you nodded right away, grinning.

“yeah! there’s this kind of new band I found a bit ago, i think around the time you guys met nekoma for that first practice match? their music is so cool!” you could go on and on about them, to be honest. they may be small, and very underground, but you liked them anyways.

“wahh, they sound cool- right, tsukki?” yamaguchi and you both looked behind at him, faces expecting the same sentiment.

he only scoffed.

you roll your eyes playfully, sidling up to him for the first time today. “you want to go get some ice cream, tsukki?” you wished, hoped for him to just say yes for once. your heart was begging at this point.

“get out of my face, l/n.” he said coldly.

with a defeated sigh, you walked a few steps quicker, before unpausing the music. the humming resumed, and yamaguchi glanced back and forth between you both with a weary expression.

“you could try to be a bit nicer, tsukki-”

“they can’t take a damn hint, it’s not my job to be nice about it.” He said stubbornly.

yamaguchi sighed himself, nodding along. there wasn’t a point in continuing the topic; he always shut it down whenever yamaguchi brought it up. he’s never been so aggressive about something before.

interhigh had come, taking up your friend’s time with it. you were upset that they’d be so busy now, but with the new tournament coming, came a new student.

he was friendly, and cheerful, and honestly probably one of the most charming people you’ve ever met in your life. he even looked familiar to you, like you’ve seen him somewhere before. you couldn’t figure it out, so you just opted to the conclusion you must have just passed him down the street at some point. or some strange case of deja vu? either way, he was in your class now.

you were just coming back from the bathroom, your earbuds plugged into your ears like they usually were nowadays.

“l/n, please take your earbuds out, it’s class time.” iour teacher scolded you gently, and you pouted a little. It was just getting to a good part-

you had tugged on them a little too hard, and instead of just getting them out of your ears, they came out of the headphone jack completely.

you were embarrassed as your new favorite band’s music started blasting out of the phone’s speakers, and you hurried to turn it off. You were blushing, laughing at yourself as you went to go sit back down.

ahh, dang! everyone heard that! you were just laughing at yourself in your head now.

there was a tap on your desk, and you turned your face towards the hand. it was the new kid, and his face looked bright.

“you listen to my band’s music?” he whispered to you, his face beaming, and you gasped quietly.

“is this you?” you pointed at your pocket, where your phone rested. he nodded.

“that’s so- wow, i go to school with one of the people in my favo-”

“l/n, do you have something to say about the lecture?”

you shook your head violently, holding back a huge grin. “n-no, miss!” your teacher sighed, and continued past the interruption.

the looks you both shared didn’t go unnoticed by tsukishima.

everyday now, you were hanging around the new kid. you had come to learn his name, which was ishiwaka teruo. you both had hit it off instantly, it was like you guys had known each other forever, and not just a few weeks. it was almost like some crazy twist of fate, or luck. you guys were both alike in a lot of ways, held similar passions, too.

“see you, ishi!” you waved a hand, grinning as he waved a goodbye back. you guys didn’t take the same way home, so he ended up leaving the opposite direction, while you walked with tsukishima and yamaguchi. you were humming again, one of ishiwaka’s band’s songs.

“you seem pretty happy, l/n.” yamaguchi chuckled, watching as you danced a little. 

“oh yeah, you bet! ishi actually invited me to sit in for one of his practices, isn’t that so cool? he plays the bass, and he even offered to teach me a few chords. i don’t really mess with instruments, but-”

“can you shut up about him? all you do is just yap on and on about this guy, hanging out with him isn’t enough for you? what’s so special anyways?” his tone was harsh, and condescending. “if you’re just going to talk about him all the time, i’m not walking with you guys anymore.” your eyes widened as soon as you heard what tsukishima had just said. your heart was pounding, like it had been caught in the act of something terrible. you even felt slightly ashamed.

“wow, nice, tsukki. sorry for being excited about something.” you muttered, clutching your bag straps tight. what did you expect at this point? he didn’t like you as much as you thought, if he was so ready to just leave you behind. yamaguchi sensed the tension between you both, which made him uncomfortable.

you were all quiet for the rest of the way home.

interhigh came and went, the loss against aoba johsai stung the volleyball team, leaving their spirits broken, and cracked. you hadn’t been to the game that day, busy with a certain band member. and your missing presence hadn’t been looked over.

“where were you?” tsukishima had confronted you in the hallways, while you were walking with ishiwaka to the water fountain. it was break, which meant he could freely talk to you now.

you looked away from him, a nervous air around you that wasn’t like you at all.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t make it, tsukki- i heard that you guys lost, and i’m really sorry i couldn’t have been there!” your words were careful and slow, like you were thinking on how to say the right thing to him.

the blonde closed his eyes, and looked off to the side. he didn’t look pleased in the slightest. “were you with your precious band member? like some kind of groupie.” 

ishiwaka raised an eyebrow, and you just shook your head. tsukishima was really doing this right now? you said sorry, what else were you supposed to say?

“you know what, yeah. i was with him. it’s not like..it’s not like i have to be around you or yamaguchi every second of the day, okay?” you sighed. “look, i’ll make it to your next practice, and skip my club activities. is that fine?”

he hesitated, before giving you a curt nod. you smiled in relief. “great! i’ll see you then. now, about that specific measure-”

you had left him behind, and tsukishima had been hit with a realization.

you hadn’t mentioned going on a date at all. not today, not even within the past few weeks. was something wrong with you? he’d gotten so used to that, but now even that wasn’t a constant.

it was like you were slipping away from him, day by day.

and he realized that he didn’t like that.

as the days went on, thoughts about this ran rampant through his mind. it was maddening, he was trying to focus on school, and now, as he was walking to the clubroom, volleyball. he was scarily silent, and yamaguchi caught onto it right away.

“tsukki?” he asked quietly, not wanting to push. but he wanted to know. ever since tsukishima had come back from break that day, he’d been acting strange. he was even saltier, if that was possible.

“am i not enough for l/n?” he spit out the question, like it was a disease.

taken aback, the freckled boy could only blink. the two stopped walking, looking right at each other now. “what?”

tsukishima barked out a laugh, running a hand over his face in frustration. “you heard me, yamaguchi.”

yamaguchi’s jaw dropped. “do you miss them?” was he for real? was this jealousy actually coming from tsukishima?

“hell if i know.” he muttered. but he knew the answer, and that’s what upset him.

“i knew it. tsukki, why did it have to be now, though?” he shook his head in disbelief. at the utter obliviousness of this boy. yamaguchi knew himself that there was something there in tsukishima, something resembling feelings for you. but of course it was when you were no longer always around that he saw it.

“what?”

“l/n isn’t a puppy anymore, they’re not following after you. if you haven’t noticed, they’ve given up. you need to do this yourself, and fix it.” yamaguchi stated. he wouldn’t be lying if he said that he’d been frustrated with the back and forth between you both, it was so obvious to him, but apparently not obvious to tsukishima. or you, for that matter.

“i know that.” he muttered. he would have to confront you about this. was he stupid? why didn’t he get this before? 

“then do something about it.”

tsukishima was quiet.

it was decided by him that he’d catch you outside of practice, since you said you’d be coming to watch. it was a quick, and impulsive decision from him, but he needed this to be figured out. his head was at it’s most unclear, and that was affecting him.

you were affecting him.

he looked around the outside of the gym, trying to see if he could spot you coming. it took a minute, before he saw a figure off to the side. it was you, he could tell by that bag anywhere. he stepped out, only to be met with the full picture.

you were with ishiwaka, and you were kissing him.

tsukishima hurried back into the gym with a stone-cold expression. oh. so this is where he stood now.

no longer at the top of your list, no longer important.

you walked into the gym, beaming. it angered tsukishima, more than he should have been. he yanked your arm, and held you by them with a vice grip. you looked up at your friend with nervous, maybe even scared eyes. you hadn’t seen tsukishima like this before.

“what is he to you?”

you blinked. “wh-what?”

“who is he to you? that little bass player.” his eyes were searching yours, for anything, anything that he could hold on to. you didn’t respond, only looking away from his intense stare.

your eyes didn’t hold that same look that they used to whenever you looked at him. 

he had his answer. and he didn’t like it. so he let go of you, maybe for real this time. things had changed so much, right under his nose. and he had let it happen.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Rain Check

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: 2860

Warnings: Lots of sexual tension and pining and ~heated glances~ or whatever but no actual sexy times. Author plays fast and loose with the canonical details of Spencer’s teaching sabbatical, as well as the logistics of grad school. There’s a teacher-student thing going on, but no weird age gap or whatever. Excessive objectification of Spencer’s hands, because really, what else do you expect from me? 

A/N: For the “mutual pining” square on my @cmbingo​ card! 

You trail off. Spencer’s staring like he’s waiting for you to say something else, even though you’ve been rambling for a while now. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. 

“For what?” 

“You probably didn’t need to know all of that.”

He blinks, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. 

Something about him makes you want to open up; it’s been almost an hour of nonstop conversation, and you haven’t told him what you’re studying or even where you’re studying, but you feel like you’ve known him for years. You’ve talked about your favorite books and assorted high school traumas. He keeps insisting he’s not good at small talk anyway. 

“I really like listening to you talk,” he says, soft and sweet. “I just… I like watching you talk, too. I noticed your eyelashes and — and I got distracted.” 

Your cheeks feel hot, suddenly. You know the feeling. 

“Oh,” you manage.

There’s something about his hands; they’re just very fucking distracting, and every time he tucks his hair behind his ears, you lose your train of thought. It doesn’t help that he keeps absently-mindedly twirling a pen as he talks, long dexterous fingers moving with precise little movements, and — yeah. Distracting is putting it mildly. There’s this constant low flicker of want in your gut. 

“It’s been a long time since I enjoyed myself this much in a bar,” he admits, with a self-conscious little half-smile. 

“Me too.” 

Probably helps you’re not actually inside the bar. You’re tucked in the corner of the deck, leaning on the railing, and even though it’s crowded, you’ve barely noticed your surroundings. Every time you look at him, the rest of the world feels distant, like one of those perfect movie moments where the crowd parts and the hero and heroine walk toward each other in slow motion, meeting in a spotlight as everything else fades away. 

It’s just… those moments don’t happen, not in real life and certainly not to you. It’s never as simple as that: see — want — have. 

You can’t help but hope that this time might be different. 

Spencer’s smiling, and the way he looks at you with those big soft eyes makes you feel like you’re standing in a spotlight. It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. It’s just unusual, this jittery, excited, not-exactly-stage-fright thing happening in your chest. 

You have to remind yourself to breathe. 

The pause stretches a bit too long, and in an effort to fill the silence you blurt out, “What are you thinking about?” 

He hesitates, and his tongue slides along his lower lip, drawing your attention to his plush pink mouth as he says, “I was thinking—”

“Spence! There you are!” someone says loudly, and you’d be embarrassed by the way you jump, startled, if Spencer didn’t do the exact same thing. 

“Hey. Emily. Um… what’s up?” His voice cracks. He looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar; it’s flattering and oddly endearing. 

“We have a case.” The woman seems to be holding back a smile as she glances apologetically at you. “Meet you up front.” 

Spencer is visibly disappointed as he turns back to you. He gives you a helpless sort of shrug, and for a second, neither of you say anything. 

Your throat feels tight as your eyes lock on Spencer’s parted lips again. It’s been such a long time since you felt this drawn to a person; his closeness feels hypnotic. 

“I’d like to see you again,” he says shyly. “I — can you—” 

“Phone number?” you supply. His hands flutter and his eyebrows rise, like he forgot, for a second, that cell phones exist. Then he pats his pockets, pulls his out, and passes it to you. Once your number is saved, you give it back with a small smile. 

“I’ll probably be out of town for a few days, and then — maybe next weekend,” he says. 

“I’d really like that,” you admit, trying to make yourself take a step back. “This was — yeah. I’m glad I met you.” 

“Spencer!” someone says, from the door, and he waves them off without turning to look. 

“Earlier, when you asked—” He pauses, frowning, shifting his weight like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “I was thinking about how much I’d like to kiss you.” 

His voice is soft and husky, and it cracks on the last word like maybe his throat is tight too. You feel hot all over. 

You never even shook hands; there’s been no physical contact whatsoever between the two of you, and now your head is spinning with the urge to reach out, to touch, to get closer... but it feels like you missed your opportunity for that — it doesn’t feel right, not when you know it’d be over much too quickly. You can tell Spencer feels it too. 

Once two magnets snap together, it’s a lot harder to separate them. 

“Rain check on that,” you say breathlessly, and he nods, raising one hand in an awkward wave as he steps back. 

-

This is Spencer, by the way. I’m really glad I met you.

The text comes in just an hour or so later, when you’re sitting in the cab on your way home, and you smile so wide it feels like your cheeks might split with it. 

-

The giddiness lasts until Tuesday morning, when you walk into the first session of your six-week-intensive graduate seminar and see Spencer at the white board, writing down page numbers for your reading assignment. 

Your eyes lock, and there’s another of those moments where you can’t see anything other than him. It’s not so pleasant this time, though. 

Spencer drops his pen, and you promptly forget how to walk, stumbling and spilling coffee down your front. You curse so loudly that the rest of the class turns to stare at you. 

To add insult to injury, the only open seat is directly across from Spencer’s. 

Fantastic. 

You spend the next hour and a half trying very hard to avoid eye contact, and for the most part, you’re successful. He doesn’t seem to want to look at you either. 

You do sneak one glance, though, and he’s just as pretty in the harsh fluorescent light of the classroom as he was in the golden glow of the bar lights. It seems really fucking unfair. 

If it were any other class, you would consider dropping it, but you were lucky to get a spot; this is big for your resume. It’s a special, one-time-only class, and your advisor had described the guest professor as “a genius, and one of the leading names in his field.” 

...fuck. 

Spencer dismisses the class. You start packing hurriedly, convinced he’s going to ask you to stay back, but you get out the door without incident. You’re already halfway down the hall when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. 

Can we talk? 

It’d be so easy to lie, say you have somewhere to be, put the rejection off for another day, but instead you take a deep breath and turn around. 

Spencer is sitting right where he was, except now he’s cross-legged in the chair, twirling a pen and frowning at it like it contains the mysteries of the entire universe. He gives you a twitchy attempt at a smile, eyes wide with worry. 

You move closer, sitting down next to him, trying to ignore those fucking fingers as he plays with the pen. This would be a whole lot easier if he would stop doing that, because it’s just like the bar — the same hot, fluttering sensation low in your belly, no matter how much you try to ignore it now. 

“I thought you worked for the FBI,” you mumble and he lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sigh. 

“I do,” he says ruefully. “I just — also teach, sometimes?” 

“Yeah. I got that.” 

His tongue does that slow swipe across his lower lip. You bite your own lip, trying not to stare, and Spencer drops the pen with a clatter. 

“Sorry,” he says, shoving both hands through his hair. “I’m so sorry if I — if this is — is this going to make you uncomfortable?” 

You frown, looking at him blankly for a second, because that was so not the reaction you expected. “Uncomfortable?” 

“Knowing that I — that I’m attracted to you? I’m aware of the power imbalance inherent in the situation and I promise I would never—” 

“Present tense?” you blurt out, and Spencer stops, blinking at you. 

“Well… yes. I thought that was obvious. I meant it, you know; I don’t just meet people like that,” he says, agitated. “It’s usually difficult for me to talk to strangers, and you’re — you’re just — yes. I’m attracted to you.” 

“I figured you would think I was immature, and — I mean, it’s such a fucking cliche,” you laugh, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. “I usually try to avoid modeling my life on Van Halen songs.” He gives you a blank look and you add hastily, “Never mind. Point is, a student with a crush, throwing themselves at a professor? Seems like a recipe for embarrassment.” 

“Oh,” he says, as a smile spreads across his face. “So… maybe after the class is over, we could—” 

“Yeah?”  

Spencer is blushing. Jesus pogo-jumping Christ, you want to kiss him. 

“It’s just six weeks. We’ll keep it strictly professional — appropriate — for six weeks.” The words are quiet, all husky and promising, and you can’t tell whether it’s intentional or not, but something about that tone sounds very fucking inappropriate. “And then… we’ll take that rain check.” 

You nod and clear your throat. “You’re on.” 

SIx weeks, two classes a week, ninety minutes per class. Easy enough. 

-

It’s not easy. Not in the fucking slightest. 

Part of you wishes he could be a bad teacher, or something. If he was boring — if he had an obnoxious laugh — something. Instead, every goddamn minute spent in his classroom seems like another reason to fall for this guy. 

And yeah, sure, he’s pretty. You catch yourself staring, sometimes: his long lashes, the hint of gold in his eyes, the sharp angles of his jawline, the messy hair… and you’re not the only one. It seems like the entire class is crushing on him by the end of the second meeting, boys and girls alike, and maybe you would make fun of the Indiana Jones-style lash-fluttering that’s aimed his way if you weren’t guilty of doing the same thing yourself. 

Once word gets around that there’s a cute new professor in the criminology department, rumors start to fly left and right. You’ve heard other students talking about him, speculating about the apparently “way more badass than you’d think” Doctor Reid. You hear stories about how he got shot once — was kidnapped and tortured — overdosed on heroin — saved a train full of people by talking down a lunatic with a gun — hooked up with a movie star — went to jail for murder — you name it, every story more far-fetched than the last. 

Well, he did mention getting shot one time, but you’re pretty sure the rest are too absurd to be true. 

Either way, it’s not the looks or the legends that have you hopelessly head-over-heels. 

It’s the way he lights up when he gets started on a subject that interests him. It’s the joy in his expression when a student asks a good question, or when they draw the right conclusion; his smile is bright and brilliant every time. 

The first time one of those smiles is aimed in your direction, along with a half-shouted, “Correct!” and an excited wave of his pen, you’re just about blinded. It quickly becomes one of the driving goals of your day-to-day life: make Spencer smile. 

He’s beautiful, in those moments when he’s grinning and enthusiastic, but the quiet moments are even worse. 

Sometimes he stares as you work your way through a train of thought, eyes glinting as he fixes them on you with a breathtaking intensity and this fierce pride. Sometimes, his voice is firm and sharp, and sometimes when he says things like, “Yes, exactly like that,” it sounds so much dirtier than it should. 

Sometimes — sometimes — once or twice or a dozen times — you fantasize about that voice. You’re only human. 

You never realized there was such a thing as a “praise kink,” but… yeah. That about sums it up. 

At first you worry that he’ll lose interest: that you’ll say something stupid or he’ll find someone else, because in your experience with men, they don’t wait around for six hours, let alone six weeks, once they’ve realized they can’t immediately have what they want. Instead, it only gets worse as the weeks pass. 

It’s nothing obvious, nothing that could be labeled as inappropriate — you still haven’t touched Spencer, not so much as an accidental brush of his hand against yours when he passes back a graded essay. It’s just that his gaze lingers, whenever he looks in your direction, just a moment longer than it would on anyone else. Every time your eyes meet, you have a hard time remembering that the rest of the world exists. It might as well just be the two of you. There’s this heat between you, this crackling electricity, like touching a live wire every single time, like you can’t pull yourself away to break the current. 

It’s the longest six weeks of your life. 

-

“That’s our time,” Spencer says, glancing at his watch. “I’ll get your essays marked and returned to you before break, and on Sunday evening, I’ll submit your final grades, at which point—” His eyes flick to you, and you bite your lip. “— my responsibilities as your professor are complete. It’s been a pleasure.” 

-

“Hi,” Spencer says, without preamble, when you pick up the phone on Saturday evening. “This is — um. This is Spencer?” 

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning so hard you can barely say, “Yeah, I know.” 

“Right. Um… where are you?”

“Just dropped off a few library books.” 

“I got grades done a little early,” he says hesitantly. “Do you want to… meet me at my office, maybe? We could go out for dinner?” 

You’ve never been there before, but you know where it is. Open office hours with Spencer always seemed like a disaster waiting to happen, because your self-control only goes so far.

“Sounds good,” you say, voice strained, heart racing. “Be there soon.” 

You walk fast. 

The building is mostly deserted, at this hour, and as you walk quickly down the hall, the catch and release of breath in your lungs seems too loud for your quiet surroundings. 

You might be panicking a little bit. There’s still a part of you that’s just waiting for him to change his mind, to realize how dorky and awkward you are, to find someone more polished or accomplished or… something — fuck, this seems to good to be true. 

Spencer has one of the old, cramped temporary offices used by visiting professors, and even though he’s only been here for a month and a half, he’s amassed quite a collection of books in the small space. When you step through the open door, he’s got his sleeves rolled up as he places a couple books gently in a box. He runs his hands through his hair with a sigh, making it even more hopelessly touseled. 

“Hey,” you say, and he turns around, wide-eyed and nervous for a moment before a smile — one of the brilliant too-bright ones you’ve become so fond of — transforms his face. 

“Hi! Um, I’ll come back tomorrow to finish cleaning, I was just — we could go out, I don’t have to — dinner? Are you hungry?” He picks up a pen from the cluttered desk, twirling it like he just really needs something to do with his hands; he seems just as anxious as you feel. It’s comforting, for some reason. At least you’re both awkward dorks. 

“Not hungry,” you say shyly. You close the door, slow and deliberate. 

Spencer’s eyes widen and then go dark, all heavy-lidded and heated. 

He drops the pen, closes the distance between you in two long strides, and cups your face in his hands before kissing you, deep and urgent, dizzyingly perfect. It’s desperate, after all this time, all that pent-up longing and suppressed electricity surging through you all at once, making you gasp at the sharp incredible sting of his teeth nipping your lower lip. 

It’s one hundred percent worth the wait. 

You’re both breathless when he breaks the kiss, but you sway closer anyway, trying to follow his mouth, and blink like you’re coming out of a trance. His lips are red and swollen. 

���Rain check on dinner?” he asks. His voice is suggestive and smoky — there’s nothing appropriate about it. 

When you nod, he just reaches behind you and locks the door. 

.

.

Smutty bit is now here!

.

More CM fic here! 

[nightowlfandom]

Bully! Park Jimin- I’m Your Devil (DIRRRRTTYY)

So...I got a new computer and I have no clue how to screenshot on it as of now...and tbh I don’t feel like figuring out how. SO I’m gonna be experimenting with some layouts but until then you just have these annoying announcements.

Anyways, ANON ASKS  🧑🏿‍🎤  🧑🏿‍🎤  🧑🏿‍🎤 (you know who you are wink wink)

may I request a really aggressive schoolbully!jimin / sadistic!jimin smut inspired by the songs daddy issues, into it, and the hills :) 

Y’all some masochists but I ain’t mad.

Just know ya worth and if anyone treats you like this in real life, punch them in the balls. That being said, This is also LOOOONG. I didn’t plan for it to be but yeah. ALSO I GOT YOUR OTHER ASK SO I GOT CHU. I’m not sure if this is good but I hope I did you justice.

Reader who isn’t a virgin, really mean bully man, more foreplay than actual smut lol sorry, touch of diet-angst

Leggo.

...

“Okay class, what do you think the author was trying to say when she was describing her relationship with Damien?”

You sat at your desk, chin propped up in your hand as you gazed off longingly into space. This was one of the rare times you decided to pay attention because your class was reading your favorite book. “The Young Devil” (Completely made up lol). 

“She’s obviously a broken woman if she thinks Damien is ever gonna change his ways. She’s a stiff.” a comment made you practically fall forward. You turned your head to find the culprit of who said such a thing about your favorite character. “Anyways, she’s too safe. She couldn’t handle his issues.”

“Well maybe if Damien made an effort to open himself up, Belle wouldn’t have to pry so hard.” another girl rolled her eyes. “Men always think women can’t handle what they throw when in reality we take the heat for your dumb asses.”

“Interesting conversation. Y/N, what do you think?” the teacher took note that you were paying more attention and turned her sights on you. “What do you think about the dynamic between Damien and Belle?”

You cursed yourself for looking too interested. You hated speaking. “I...Um.” you opened your mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say. “I think Damien’s refusal to allow Belle to see the other side of him not only puts their mental connection at risk, but physical as well.” you replied. 

“What do you mean physical?” she egged you on to elaborate. “As in sex?”

“W-well, yes and no.” you shrugged. “Belle prides herself on building connection through touch. She can’t have sex with Damien because she doesn’t feel loved by him. To him sex is just a thing you do. He gets his pleasure from bullying her, that’s his high.” you explained. “She claims she doesn’t care but if she didn’t, she wouldn’t spend her time wishing he was different...or something.” you played with your hands, staring down at your fingers.

The teacher stared at you before a smile broke out on her face. “Excellent analysis, Y/N!” she clapped her hands together. You returned the smile with the tiny bit of confidence that built up inside you. “Yes, Jimin did you have something you wanted to add?”

You turned your head to find the always mouthy Park Jimin lazily raising his hand. “She likes being bullied by him.” he said as if it was a matter of fact. 

“Excuse you?” you couldn’t help but speak out. Suddenly the entire class was quiet. They had never heard you speak so abruptly before. “What the hell do you mean she likes it.”

“She wouldn’t put up with it if she didn’t like it.” he raised an eyebrow. “She could just tell him to leave her alone, get lost or something.”

“How in the hell would Belle enjoy someone like Damien embarrassing her every minute he gets. Are we reading the same book?” you sat up straight crossing your arms. 

“Now this is getting interesting.” the teacher mumbled.

“You can tell by her actions. The rush of her blood when she blushes, the way she stammers over her words, the way she listens to his every word...much like you are right now, princess.” he winked. His smug grin alone made your blood boil.

“Oh and I suppose his possessive ways are warranted in your eyes too aren’t they.” you scoffed.

“Maybe, I mean she even says herself she feels cared about.” he shrugged.

“Because Damien is a manipulative dickhead!” you snapped. “He obviously wants her around because she’s the only girl who gives a shit about his life and he’d feel lost without her.” you snarled. “Then again I would expect this point of view from a man who changes bitches like he changes his underwear.” (A/N we don’t hate women here).

“Language Miss. L/N.” the teacher spoke. You rolled your eyes, glaring at Jimin one last time before facing forward. The whole class was silent.

“Nice one Y/N” a girl on your opposite side nudges you.

“Not bad for a quiet girl.” a boy piped up.

...

As classes were let out for the day you wordlessly avoided the looks you got from your other classmates. You walked down the halls, holding your books tightly to your chest. 

“Oi, Hey L/N!” 

You weren’t sure if the sound of Jimin’s voice made you wanna speed up or slow down. It didn’t matter because he went as far as to run and stop right in front of you. 

“Um..What?” you looked up at him.

“Oh, not excited to see me?” he scoffed with a sadistic smile. You didn’t know what he was planning but you didn’t like it. “Way to try and debate me in class today, who knew you had a mouth on you.”

“I was just answering the teachers question..I don’t want any trouble..” you clutched your books even tighter. Before he could reply a girl ran up, practically attaching herself to him. 

“JIMMY YOU HAVE DANCE PRACTICE!” she practically screeched. “Why are you talking to her?”

“Oh...Y/N here was-” he paused. “Just confessing her undying love for me!”

“What! No I wasn’t!” you tried to deny, but it was too late. Everyone who was around heard him. “I don’t have a crush on you!” You felt your face heart up.

“Oh Y/N, You don’t have to hide it! Why else would you speak to me passionately in class today.” his sick grin never left his face. You could tell this was his revenge for embarrassing him in class. “You were telling me all about how you couldn’t sleep another night without telling me. How you want me in more ways than one.”

He spoke loud enough so others could hear.

“That’s not true!” you snapped. You were trembling. Humiliation filled your body and was overflowing, much like the tears of embarrassment you couldn’t fight anymore. “I’m not in love with you.”

“Oh Y/N, you don’t have to hide it anymore. I know everything. The love letters, the staring-”

“What?!”

But it was too late, people were already giggling and staring at you with pity. You took one last look at Jimin, who was already walking away, gleefully accepting the high fives from the pigs who dared to say ‘Nice score.’

“Are you alright, Y/N?’ a girl came up to you, putting her hand on your shoulder. “Should we go to the headmaster?” 

You didn’t answer, you just ran. You ran out the school, unknowingly into the pouring rain. It seemed the sky matched your mood today. You let out all the tears, not caring who saw or who looked at you as if you had lost your mind. Your house was far, but you didn’t care about that either. In that moment you felt as helpless as the character you loved dearly, Belle. 

...

You ignored everyone the next day, even your small group of lunch buddies. You worked alone, you sat alone at lunch, and by the time free period had rolled around, you had opted to hide. However, just as you prepared yourself to leave, who else but Jimin to stopped you in the middle of the halls. 

“Well if it isn’t my little admirer!” Jimin spoke loud enough to capture the attention of those around you. He ‘accidentally’ slapped your books out of your hands. “Oh, I’m sorry Y/N...Go ahead, pick those up.”

Without another word you knelt down, only to have him kick one of your books to the side. “What’s this! A diary!” 

A brown and black leather bound hardcover book sat at his feet. You instantly scrambled to get it, but he had managed to get his hands on it. “Isn’t this interesting!” 

“Jimin please don’t-!” you stood up, forgetting about your textbooks.

“Dear friend,-” he cleared his throat dramatically as he flipped through the pages of your diary.

Dear journal,

My life is nothing like stories I read about all the time. Each and every night I’d wish for my handsome devil to come. Come and take me away from here, away from the hate, away from the commotion, away from Park fucking Jimin. I don’t know what I’ve done to make him hate me the way he does. I just wish he’d be nice to me...just once. But that is one wish I know won’t come true. He’s just a sadistic asshole who bullies me because he knows I won’t say a word.

So why do i-

You snatched the book out of his hands before he could read any more, this time you were seething with rage. “If you EVER touch my property again I will- I’ll-”

“You’ll do what princess?” he smiled cheekily. “You won’t do a thing to me and we both know it...you’re just like that Belle chick. That handsome devil of yours is just a fever dream, get over it-.”

“Maybe, but I’d rather live in a dream than talk to Satan himself.” you snapped. “You’re just the devil.” you whimpered. “Why do I even put up with you?” you sighed. Jimin suddenly stepped forward. You mentally prepared yourself for the worst.

You felt his lips touch the side of your mouth, had you moved just a bit more, he would have been on your lips. “Because you love me.”

....

“For this project, I will be assigning you partners

Oh shit...please no. God, no. Dear lord if anyone can hear-

“Alex and Jackson. Lisa and Mark, Y/N and Jimin-”

“Fuck.” you mouthed. You dared looked next to you. Jimin was playfully leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand. He winked at you, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“You will be doing book reports on The Young Devil. You choose the topic, this is due in two weeks. I recommend you get together outside of school.”

As class let out, Jimin followed you. “Sooo, partner! When am I coming over?”

“When pigs fly.” you answered sourly.

“Saturday at 7:00 you said? I’ll be there!” he threw an arm around your waist. “See you there, babe.”

“You don’t even know my address!” you called after him as he walked off. That probably wasn’t the best idea because everyone was staring at you again. “NO! BECAUSE WE HAVE A PROJECT....Nevermind.” you groaned. 

... (Saturday 7:30 PM)

“You’re late.” you seethed as you pulled open the door. Jimin sauntered in and you slammed the door.

Soon it was silent between you two. Before he could open his mouth, you left him standing there to bolt up the stairs. Jimin, being himself followed you. To be honest, you were already starting without him.

“Do you live alone?” he asked, noticing how empty your home was.

“I do.” you replied curtly. “My parents travel around a lot, so I never see them.” you shrugged. “They help me out though.”

“So mommy and daddy take care of everything-”

“You don’t know me.” you cut him off. You sat down at your desk and pulled up your notes, proceeding to work. “They help me because they care...unlike some people.” you scoffed.  “Shut up so I can concentrate.”

“I thought this was a partner thing.” you heard your bed creak. “I think we should put out minds...maybe bodies together and think of a concept.”

“I already have one.” you cut him off.

“Enlighten me.”

“If Damien hadn’t changed by the end of the book, would Belle still be with him.” you mused aloud.

“Probably.”

“....” you didn’t reply, because you didn’t want to admit he was right. Probably the only time you’d ever agree with him on anything. 

“What? Still mad at me for reading your little diary?” he asked. Once again, you ignored him. Suddenly, your chair was turned around abruptly and you were now staring at a red faced Jimin. “I don’t like being ignored, doll.”

He was so close, your noses were practically touching. You froze up, afraid to move. 

“Why are you so mean?” you found yourself asking. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Other than refuse to drop that good girl act of yours? We’re a dysfunctional two peas in a pod. I’m an asshole and you’re too much of a stiff to stop me.”

“Act?” you looked confused. “I don’t have an act.” you attempted to defend yourself. 

“Hm...that face you make is kind of hot.” he smirked. He slid his fingertips under your chin. Your vision went blurry, unable to process everything. You absent-mindedly began playing with the hem of your sweater.

(SMUT AHEAD, PROCEED WITH CAUTION)

“What is your deal!?” you found yourself getting angry as you stood up. Jimin stepped back looking startled. “You’re messing with my fucking head and I’ve had enough! Jimin what did I ever do to you?” you felt it again. Humiliation. “I’m not asking you to be my friend but the least you could do is be nice to me!”

“I don’t do nice, sweetheart. Like you said, I’m the devil.” he walked up to you. “Your blush is like a drug to me.” he laughed. “It’s cute.” he rested his hands on either side of your face. “Fuck, I kinda wanna kiss you right now. Do you wanna kiss me?”

YES!

“Yes, I mean no! I mean yes- I mean maybe, I mean fuck!”

Not even a second later, Jimin’s lips were over yours. Despite his bullying, his kiss was gentle. You practically melted. He protectively wrapped an arm around your waist. Your thoughts on the project were long gone. Jimin couldn’t figure out why he felt so protective of you all of a sudden, but thoughts ran through his head. Thoughts that if anyone else kissed you, touched, you even looked your way...he’d go ballistic.

And fuck, you were a great kisser. He held the back of your head with his free hand, guiding you into his touch, which you followed perfectly. His tongue slid through the gap in your mouth, yearning to taste you more. You felt lightheaded as if your heart was about to give out. He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Maybe I’m so cruel because I don’t know how to act around you.” he whispered. “Maybe I’m trying to be the devil you want so bad.” you could see a flash of sadness in his eyes, which was quickly replaced with lust. “I wanna be your devil, Y/N...”

He kissed you again, this time his warm hands slithered under your clothes. You were by no means a virgin, but the way you felt made you feel shy and exposed. Jimin walked you back towards your bed and practically threw you on the plush surface while he rid himself of his shirt. Your bodies practically melted together, bodies meeting in a sweaty mass of limbs that explored one another. 

Be fumbled with your pants, almost tearing them off you. He gave you a sadistic smile before ghosting his lips over both your thighs. Your legs shook, trying to keep them steady. 

“Have you ever...done anything with anyone?” he asked.

“Once, but nothing special.” you admitted. “It was straight to the point.” you shrugged.

“Then I guess I have nothing to compete against.” he bit his lips. “You smell so good here.” he shuddered. “I wanna-”

He yanked down your panties next. His lips ghosted over your slit, pressing feather light kisses against you. 

You held your breath, unable to register what was going on. His fingers met your clit, sliding his fingers through your slickness. Before you could say another word, Jimin licked a stripe up your slit. You bucked your hips, only to be held down. He sucked harshly at your clit before playing with your little bud with his tongue. 

“F-fuh-” you couldn’t even muster up the words as Jimin played with you. 

“Fuck Y/N.” he groaned. You felt his fingers slid inside of you, coating his fingers in your water. “I don’t know what’s hotter, the look on your face or the way your-”

“D-don’t say it!” you cut him off. “I’m warning you!”

“What?” you could just see she shit-eating grin on his face. “You mean pussy? The way this pussy takes my fingers so well?” (Now from the top, make it drop- I’ll shut up)

He abruptly removed his fingers which made your back arch and lurch upwards. You sat up on his elbows only to witness Jimin rid himself on his pants and boxers. Your eyes widened when you saw his hardness. You couldn’t look away. 

“See something you like?” his voice made you snap out of it. He bit his lip with a grin. He grabbed your legs and aligned himself with you, teasing the hell out of your entrance, just barely touching you with his length. “Am I your devil, Y/N?”

“God, yes.” you couldn’t fight it anymore. 

Slowly, he slid in, groaning at the feel of you around his dick. “Shit Y/N...How the hell am I gonna move when you’re so t-tight. I won’t last 10 seconds.” he whimpered. He slowly thrust again, your juices creating a deep echo in the room. “Hah...Ungh...f-fu” he planted his hands on the bed, one either side of your head. “Y/N...You don’t know what you do to me.”

“J-jimin.” you mirrored his voice, wrapping your arms around his neck. “P-please?”

That was all the motivation he needed to start moving. 

Your moans and yells echoes through the room, the clapping sound of flesh hitting flesh bounced off the walls. Sweat kept your bodies practically glues together. His fingers moved everywhere. Grabbing your sweater that for some reason was still on, grabbing your legs to pull you back into him. Your face to move your hair out of the way so he could witness the euphoria written shamelessly on your face. His jaw went slack and he felt himself getting to that part, and he could tell you were close too.

You were first, practically convulsing under him, screams of his name escaping your lungs.

“ARGH, FUCK!” He followed suit and immediately removed himself from you, only to spray himself...all over your sweater and legs. He felt forward, practically shaking against you. He messily kissed you, not bothering to think about neatness as his tongue invaded your mouth for the umpteenth time.

“Mind if I crash here tonight?” he laughed as he plopped next to you. 

“Sure.” you breathlessly replied. “Project can wait till tomorrow.”

As you drifted off to sleep, Jimin shimmied out of bed and walked over to the open window. He felt the breeze on his skin and closed his eyes. “Please.” He whispered. “I want to treat her well...don’t let me fuck it up.” He silently wished before joining you in bed again, protectively wrapping his arms around you. “I’ll do anything for you, Y/N...I’m your devil....”

...

Cheesy ending I know but what did ya think?! 

[dadsbongos]

I see you are seeking Shinsou asks :3

Can I get some angst with fluff at the end? Like really hurt me... but then kiss my boo boo after kinda shit.

😗😗😗

sorry if the angst is lackluster :( i just got very into the idea of shinso hating a todo girl

Request for: Hitoshi Shinso Warnings: mentions of child abuse(?) it’s endeavor being awful but it isn’t vivid physical abuse, female pronouns are used ~~~

Shoto sighed quietly, peeking over the heads he could at the gala, “I thought Midoriya would be here.”

“It’s family strictly, Sho, Deku wouldn’t be allowed in,” (Y/n) murmured, swirling her beverage - nonalcoholic on strict order - of the night within her flute, “He’s not All Might’s son.”

“Nephew then.”

“No, Sho,” (Y/n) sighed, shaking her head, staring down at her drink glumly, “It’s so boring since Fuyumi and Nat stopped coming.”

“And Touya- “

“How’s the hero course going?” she interrupted, still not looking up from her glass, “Dad talks about you and those two boys a lot. A lot, a lot.”

Enji never spoke of anything else, especially when his daughter - his weak daughter in the general education department of U.A - was listening.

“It’s fine,” the heterochromatic boy shrugged, “What about general studies? Any hard projects coming up?”

“Nothing like having to go out with proheroes and stop a mega-villain, no,” (Y/n) swallowed down the lump in her throat, “I am tutoring a few kids though. Nothing major, but my teacher said I was doing a good job.”

“Sounds fun,” Shoto awkwardly bit.

It was bad enough you didn’t know how to talk to your twin sister let alone when you two had none of the same interests.

“Thanks.”

“For?”

“Sticking by me…” she gestured vaguely around the room, to all the heroes, to all the fancy tables, “During these parties. You don’t have to, and now that you actually know some of these people you have even less reason to.”

To be honest, he’d never thought of leaving (y/n) at their father’s parties. It simply never occurred to him to leave her standing at one of the walls by herself.

“Sure.”

Silence festered between the twins once again, neither part particularly sure of how to carry a dead conversation.

The doors opened, oddly quiet - as if the person behind them was intentionally trying to be silent. In walked class 1-A’s teacher, famous for nothing and even more infamous for hating the spotlight, which included the number one hero’s lavish ‘gatherings’.

Behind him was a boy with heavy eye bags and wild hair, recognizable as the one who almost took out Midoriya, Izuku, from the sports festival.

“He’s trying to get into the hero course,” Shoto nudged his sister, “You two share a class, correct?”

“Yeah, Shinso. He’s…” she pursed her lips, “okay.”

“Okay? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just a little standoffish,” (y/n) continued, refraining from adding on ‘kinda like you’, “Can’t really get to know him.”

Hitoshi caught eyes with his classmate, brows furrowing at her presence. As if he didn’t know who her father was.

But he did.

And to be quite frank, that was the entire problem.

His fists clenched, eyes narrowing, disdain thrumming through his veins. 

Hitoshi hated her, he was sure of it. He hated her power. Her wealth. Her Quirk. Her family. Her name.

She had everything at her fingertips and used none of it.

“He’s staring at you.”

“He does that a lot.”

“Want me to make him stop?”

“Fight your teacher’s son? Yeah, smart.”

“I never said I’d fight him,” Shoto shook his head, frowning at his sister.

“Shinso’s someone who makes it hard to not fight him.”

“Unlucky.”

“Yeah.”

Another beat of silence rang between the siblings, both willing themselves to ignore the heated glare beating off of Hitoshi at (y/n).

“I- “ Shoto paused, hesitance burning at his tongue, “I have something to discuss with Aizawa.”

Nodding slightly, (y/n) watched as her brother left for his teacher. Her eyes drifted once Shoto was no longer in sight, flitting to the large man of the hour. Her father.

Enji had a thing for bragging. It was why he was a hero. It was why he bought a large house. It was why he threw large parties. It was why he had a powerful son. It was what he wished for his youngest daughter. He must’ve known, somehow, that (y/n) didn’t have a plan for high school let alone the rest of her life.

It must be why he taunts her with Shoto’s accomplishments. With Shoto’s greatness.

“Your father’s the number one hero and you’re in the general studies class,” a new presence sidled up to (y/n). Hitoshi gently pressed the back of his head to the wall, “Is that not embarrassing?”

“I just like general studies more than I’d like the hero course,” (y/n) muttered, taking a sip of her drink, “I don’t want to be a hero.”

“It’s so easy for you to say, isn’t it?” he hissed, shaking his head, “You have your father’s power, a great Quirk, money - and you just get to decide whether you want to be a hero or not.”

“Everyone does, Shinso. You’re leaving the class, you chose to be a hero. It’s not that deep.”

It was.

“I didn’t get to choose my class. I have to work my ass off just for a chance to be where I want, you got put in there,” Hitoshi grit his teeth.

“Well I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault,” (y/n) huffed, “You’re the one picking a fight, I’m just trying to suffer through a party.”

“Suffer, this party is literally being thrown by the number one hero - your dad - who’s incredibly rich- “

“You don’t know anything about my dad,” (y/n) snapped, turning her head to finally look Hitoshi in the eyes, “You don’t know me. You don’t know my brother. You don’t know my dad. I’m not looking to spill my guts but hey, maybe shut the fuck up before you assume someone’s childhood is peachy because their dad’s rich.”

Hitoshi shook his head, “Just saying. You’re the daughter of Endeavor and willingly put yourself in a bullshit class.”

“Fuck off.”

“Gladly.”

~~

It wasn’t two days later when Shinso, Hitoshi, said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Hitoshi rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “That shit I said at the party. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, why?” (Y/n) quirked a brow, “You seemed pretty confident then.”

Denki hissed through his teeth, “Yeah… Endeavor’s an ass. Apparently, he was like… uber harsh during training with Todoroki. I didn’t get the whole story but turns out he’s got major anger issues. I wouldn’t be surprised if he… you know. Was abusive. It’s awful, I wish I was closer with Todoroki so I could talk to him about it. He looks like he needs some support. I hope his sister’s okay too. Couldn’t have been easy in that house, ya know?”

“Just thought it over,” Hitoshi shrugged, hands jammed in his uniform pants’ pockets, “Was pretty dickish of me to say.”

“Yeah,” (Y/n) nodded before releasing a heavy sigh, “Well, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Enji glared down at the young girl, “The general studies course? You think you’ll accomplish anything there? Look at your brother, Shoto!” he twisted a hand in her hair, forcefully turning her head to look at her twin, “He’ll be a better hero than you could ever be, don’t you have aspirations? Don’t you want to do something good?”

She’d heard worse anyway.

Hitoshi bit his lip nervously, looking at his shoes before tossing his pride to the side, “Want to meet up sometime? For studying. This exam’s gonna kick my ass and you have high marks.”

“Sure,” (Y/n) smiled slightly, she knows she should’ve held the grudge longer - but it was hard to hold something against Hitoshi when he never knew her, “There’s a cafe nearby, I can show you the way?”

“That sounds good.”

“Good.”

“Sorry, again.”

“Seriously, Shinso,” (Y/n) shook her head, “You’re fine.”

Hitoshi hesitantly nodded, giving the girl a soft smile in return, “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

[heyiwrotesomethings]

You Laugh, You Lose (But Really You Win)

Emi Fukukado (Ms Joke) x They/Them Reader

A/N: Prepare to get Rickrolled in the most loving way possible! Your quirk is Compulsive Competitiveness. It pushes your body past its limits to achieve any goal as long as it's presented as a competition. Unfortunately, it can’t work if the competition is physically impossible to do. However, you could find loopholes. For instance, if Hawks challenged you to a flying competition you could try your luck piloting an airplane! Like with any quirk, this one has its drawbacks. Overexhaustion will cause fever and intense drowsiness! Hope you like it! Word Count: 1,665

(Y/n) had been diligently grading papers in the Ketsubutsu Academy teacher’s office when they heard a distinct peel of laughter coming from somewhere down the hall. They rolled their eyes and smiled, turning to the next page of the paper they were currently grading, fully aware that they would soon have their hands too full to continue. Sure enough, a few moments later the door slid open and Fukukado Emi slipped inside. She snickered and waved to the students laughing in the hall before fully entering and closing the door behind her. She didn’t take long to notice the other teacher in the room and quickly made herself at home by sitting on the edge of their desk. She kicked her feet out playfully and beamed down at the other teacher who had yet to look up from their papers.

“Hey there sugar plum! Do you like raisins?” Emi asked, completely unprompted.

“Good afternoon, Emi. Did you get Shindou You’s recommendation letter for that internship done yet?” (Y/n) asked, their eyes still scanning the paper before them.

“Aw, come on (Y/n),” Emi whined, poking at her colleague’s head, “Answer the question!”

“I don’t know,” (Y/n) shrugged, finally looking up from their papers. “They’re tolerable I guess. I don’t go out of my way to eat them.”

“Okay, how do you- how do—“ Emi fought to speak through her own giggles and (Y/n) had to bite the inside of their lip to keep from doing the same, “how do you feel about a date?” Emi finally got out before breaking down into full on laughter, a light blue aura rolling off her skin.

(Y/n) snorted unable to control themself. Their hand reached to cover their mouth as their own laughter escaped to join Ms. Joke’s. “Emi,” they tried to admonish, “that wasn’t fair! Using your quirk to make me laugh at some cheesy pickup line that probably took you two seconds to find on the internet! Have you no honor?!”

“Hey, what are you talking about? That was totally hilarious!” Emi pressed her hand dramatically to her chest, a dazzling smile over her lips as the blue aura receded.

“It doesn’t count and you know it.” (Y/n) spoke with finality. “If you want a date, you have to make me laugh without using your quirk. That was the deal remember?”

“Why did I agree to such a thing?” Emi moaned and slouched over (Y/n)’s papers, laying across the desk with her arms crossed over her chest.

“You’re the one that came up with it.” (Y/n) deadpanned. “If you proposed a date like a normal person I would have said yes two weeks ago.”

“Why not just laugh then?” Emi asked, booping (Y/n)’s nose with a gloved finger.

“Because I’m compulsively competitive. You should have considered my quirk before making that wager.” (Y/n) reminded, swatting Emi’s hand away.

“Just you wait, (Y/n)! You better find something nice to wear this weekend because I’m going to catch you off guard before the week is out!”

“That’s what you said last week,” (Y/n) smirked, “and the week before that.”

“I mean it this time! Prepare yourself!” Emi clenched her fist righteously.

“Alright,” (Y/n)’s smirk softened, “now, could you get off my desk please?”

“Oh yeah, sure!”

(Y/n) pinched the bridge of their nose as they watched Emi purposefully remove herself from the desk in the most exaggerated way possible. It was going to be a long week.

***

(Y/n)’s quirk, while not as flashy as other hero quirks, was not one to be taken lightly. Their compulsively competitive quirk allowed them to push themself passed their limits physically and mentally as long as it was a task posed as a competition and wasn’t too outside of the realm of possibility. No contests to see who could breathe the most powerful fire ball if you can’t breathe fire in the first place. However, their quirk did help them achieve the highest grades when they were in school and even when faced with stronger opponents they managed to come out on top more often than not.

Of course it didn’t come without drawbacks, a high fever and dizzying fatigue could be quick to follow depending on the intensity of the competitive event. And although Ms. Joke’s little game came with very minimal risk and required little effort on (Y/n)’s part, weeks of steeling themself, preparing for any quip or improvisation, was starting to take its toll. Even though (Y/n) would love to just give in and go out with Emi, their quirk was not one that could simply be turned off whenever they wished. There had to be an outcome.

“You okay, Sensei?” A concerned student asked once (Y/n) trailed off for the third time in their lesson.

“Hm? Oh yeah, sorry everyone. I’m just not feeling well today.” (Y/n) admitted. “Where was I?”

“Search and rescue in rural settings. Are you sure you’re okay, teach?” Another student asked, watching (Y/n) lean heavily against the podium.

“I’ll be okay. It’s just that Fukukado-sensei has been really testing my limits these last few days.” (Y/n) explained. They didn’t bother to omit the reason for their condition since Emi had been anything but subtle in her attempts. Many of them had been grand public jests anyway. It would be hard to find a single student who didn’t know what was going on between the two teachers.

“Yeah, I thought she had you for sure when Fatgum came in as a guest speaker and she followed him around with a tuba all day.” One student recalled.

“Or when she climbed to the top of the flagpole at the school entrance and the back of her pants got caught so the fire department had to come get her down.” A student from the back giggled.

“Let’s not forget that failed bend and snap attempt when she almost threw out her back trying to seductively pick up a pen.” Someone else added.

“Yes, yes. Hilarious. She’s lucky Fatgum is such a good sport,” (Y/n) sighed, fighting themself internally not to laugh at all the shenanigans their colleague had gotten into, “Now, back on the topic of— wait, do you guys hear something?”

Sure enough, somewhere down the hall, muffled music could be heard steadily growing louder and more clear as the seconds progressed. Before (Y/n) could get to the door and see what was going on, the door slid open and Emi stormed in with a large boom box over her shoulder and a microphone in her hand with a long chord that was attached to nothing dragging along the ground.

(Y/n) bit the inside of their lip hard as they took in the ridiculous outfit Emi was wearing that made her look like a poorly put together hammerhead shark. Emi wobbled into the classroom as best she could with her legs confined in the fabric of her outfit and rose her flipper holding the mic to her lips to join in with the song playing over her shoulder.

“We’rno strangers t’ looooove, ya know derruuules n’so do I. A f’ll cermmitment's whert’m thenkin’ ooooof. You wouldn' gettis frem any otter my!” Emi sang loudly, horribly off key and changed the words just enough that the song was still familiar but sounded like complete nonsense. As she continued on she waddled closer to (Y/n), occasionally tripping but somehow managing to save herself as she continued to ‘sing’.

The students in the classroom were howling with laughter and (Y/n) could feel their skin growing hotter as they fought not to join in. They couldn’t hold for much longer, but they sure as hell were going to try.

“Ner gonn give oo erp, ner gonn lert oo derrrn, ner gon rune arund n’ dezert you. Ner gonn merk moo my, ner gonn smay smoosmy, ner gonn tellalie n’ dirt coup!”

(Y/n) could taste blood in their mouth from biting their lip so hard. They covered their mouth tightly with one hand and the other braced tightly against the podium as their quirk pushed them passed their limits until- they couldn’t hold it in anymore!

(Y/n) laughed so hard that tears fell from their cheeks. Emi saw this and smiled brightly, continuing to ‘sing’ as she basked in her victory until (Y/n) spoke between bouts of wheezing laughter.

“Cah—catch me.”

“Huh? Oh!” Emi dropped her boom box and mic to the ground with little care and caught (Y/n) in her shark fins before they collapsed to the ground. “Are you okay?” She asked, all previous cheer replaced by worry.

“I’ll be okay. My quirk over exhausted me,” (Y/n) explained between deep breaths, “I hope you don’t mind waiting until next week to collect your winnings because I’m a little too sick to function in public right now.”

“I’ve waited this long. What’s one more week?” Emi smiled, “Although I do feel bad. This is kind of my fault after all.”

“You could come by my place and make me soup and grade my tests while I sleep, that would make me feel better.”

“Way to take advantage.” Emi huffed, “Alright, not really the kind of date I had in mind, but it’s a start!” Emi hoisted (Y/n) into her arms to fully carry them and addressed the waiting students, “Okay guys free period, go nuts.” (Y/n) gave Emi a tired, warning glare, “Okay, well, don’t go nuts, but do whatever you want... within reason. See you Monday!” Emi then awkwardly shimmied out the door. One of her hammerhead eyestalks caught the doorframe on the way out which earned another round of subdued giggles from the class. As she made her way to the nurse’s office, Emi smiled down at the sleeping teacher in her arms, excited to see where their relationship would go.

Bonus:

“Oh shit!” Emi cursed as she tripped forward, unable to regain her balance with the added weight in her arms. (Y/n) jolted awake as they came in contact with the cold, unforgiving floor.

“Emi!”

“Sorry!”

[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM Parallel School Series: Junior High School Student Saitama

Translated by @vibhavm with additional help from Redditors /u/graywords and /u/lucci85.

As part of the drama CDs from 2017, ONE didn’t just write stories set in the canonical story.  He also penned lighter-hearted alternative universe stories, set in a high school... with predictable hijinks.

Audio link: https://soundcloud.com/vibhav-745976766/parallel-school-series-junior

We start:

Saitama (Sa): In this universe, there exists another world different from our world, a parallel world. This is another me, another Saitama, who lives in that parallel world.

Sonic (So): And I, Speed o' Sound Sonic, who went out of my way to transfer to Z Municipal Peace Middle School to settle my dispute with this Saitama!

Sa: (Well, there he is.)

Sa: (What's with the attitude?)

So: On the blood-covered battlefield known as the Sports Festival, in truth I was not really motivated for it, but I was unconsciously beginning to display my true abilities as the strongest ninja, and would unexpectedly become the star of the Sports Festival!

Sa: (It's just at a regular middle school sports festival.)

Sa: (I guess there are guys like that, who pretend they aren't motivated but are actually super excited.)

Sa: (Huh, so you really participated that much?)

So: This... is the lightning-speed sports documentary that recorded my heroism!

So: It’s the day before the Sports Festival.

So: To do image training for the bread eating contest, I was running to school eating a piece of bread.

Sa: You are fully motivated, aren’t you. I haven’t seen a guy like that.

So: Well now, Speed-o’-Sound Sonic, this is the last lap and I’m on one last straight line. It’s the last spot!

So: Fast! Fast! Crazy speed! Now, overtake Saitama running in front of you! Eh, seriously?!

Boom

So: Why the hell were you there on the last straight line?!

Sai: Huh? You tripped and fell on your own, what are you talking about?

So: gasp Hmph, you’ve got the wrong idea.

So: Running to school eating a piece of bread to do image training for the bread eating contest...

So: ...I was doing nothing of the sort! Not at all!

Sa: We don't even have a bread eating contest at our Sports Festival.

So: Eh… Anyway, tomorrow's sports day, be prepared for it! I’ll beat you up until you can’t stand, without fail!

So: I’ll turn the sports day into a bloodbath!

Sai: Uhh, you and I are on the same go-home club team.

So: Eh.. Uh… Hmph…

Music and fireworks

PPP: Sooo, let’s start this year’s Z-City Peace Junior High School Sports Day.

PPP: A physical festival, where muscles will clash with muscles!

PPP: I’m Puri Puri Prisoner, the speaker, i’m very fond of young boys.

PPP: And for the commentator… the well-known first-year junior high school student, Sweet Mask chan is joining us!

SM: Thank you for having me.

PPP: Well then, Amai Mask chan, you hold your annual winning streak with your Student Council team: what’s your outlook for this year?

AM: It goes without saying. This year too, my Student Council team will win without fa-

So: Hehehehehhehe. You’re pretty foolish, Student Council.

AM: Huh! You are…

So: chuckles

AM: Who are you?

PPP: This month a new student was transferred in this school for an exchange draft, B-group, attendance number 8. You’re Speed-o’-Sound Sonic-chan! You prefer a 40-degree temperature for your baths, and you enter the bathtub from the right. And apparently you don’t sleep in a bed but in a futon.

So: Ugh, why do you know so much about me!

PPP: It’s natural for teachers to keep the profile of their cutest students.

So: Anyway! This year's "go-home club team", teamed up with me, Speed o' Sound Sonic, their Golden Rookie, will be on a completely different level than before!

SM: Hmph. So the number of small fries increased by one-

So: I’m not alone.

So: The only man I consider a rival, Saitama! His gofer, the cyborg Genos! Furthermore, the strongest man, King is also here!

So: With those three, everything should be treated very seriously!

PPP: Are you talking about those 3 hurriedly eating over there?

Genos (Ge): Captain Saitama, what would you like as ingredients for the rice balls?

Sai: Salmon for me.

Ge: And you King senpai?

King (K): Tuna.

So: Hey! What are you doing relaxing! The fight is about to start!

Sa: Hm? Mmm..mmm… You wanna eat too? gulp Genos’s Fried Rice Balls are pretty tasty.

So: Mm, well now, let me see.

So: Mmmh, the sweet savoury smell of soy sauce with barley rice flour is- HEY YOU ALL!

Ge: Hmph. The Rice Balls weren't for you in the first place.

So: Tch, this guy.

AM: Did you already fall out with your friends? You can’t challenge our strongest student council team in such a mess.

AM: You should know your social standing. You’re an eyesore. It’s best if you quickly run home.

So: Such a way of talking…

So: You all! Aren’t you annoyed by how he’s talking to us!

Sa: Genos, grab me a barley tea?

King: Yeah, me too!

Ge: Ah, yes!

So: These guys are hopeless. They don’t listen at all…

AM: Heh, good luck with that. It’s going to be useless though. Hahahaha.

So: Tch, you bastards! You’ve acted like this all the time！

Ge: It’s according to plan. With this, the student council has let their guard down.

So: What?!

So: That means, could it be… their lax behaviour up until now…

Ge: Hmph, obviously. It was a fake in order to fool the opponent. Right, Captain Saitama?

Sa: Mh? What did you say?

Ge: Sonic, was it? How can’t you understand that even though you say you’re a ninja?

So: Uh...

So: I don't like your tone of voice, but....

So: I see. As expected of Saitama. I don’t see you as my rival for nothing.

PPP: And noooow, the first event, the mock cavalry battle is starting.

PPP: All contestants, please reach your friends!

Ge: Now then, Captain Saitama, King Senpai, let’s head into battle!

Sai: Ehhh, I'm full from overeating Rice Balls. Is it necessary to have four people? What a drag.

So: This isn’t a strategy at all is it!

SM: After all, the mock cavalry battle finished and naturally our student council team’s victory was secured. The home team was totally unfocused. But I won’t talk about it, because it was quite an embarrassing sight.

So: What a way of talking…

PPP: Well, apparently the Student Council Team is overwhelmingly above the others and leads the chart as of now.

AM: It seems the match is settled.

So: The student council team is 1280 points ahead huh. But there’s one last match.

So: The opposition club activities relay is left!

King: That's right, I believe the team that wins the relay gets 9 times the points.

Sa: Wait, that's way too many.

Ge: I see. If we win the relay, that means we can win by 8,999,999,998,720 points, then.

Sa: Huh. Did we really need that calculation?

So: Anyway! The game starts now! Just you watch, Student Council!

AM: Hahahaha, I could say the same to you from the horrible state you seem to be in.

AM: Everyone! They may be in last place, but the Go-Home Team is desperately trying hard, so please give them a round of applause!

AM: However, I, Amai Mask, pledge that my Student Council team will win the final opposition club activities relay, and achieve complete overall victory.

crowd applauding

So: Tch, what an unpleasant guy.

AM: Good luck to you all, even though I think you’re hopeless.

So: You all, despite being made such a fool of, you’re still-

Ge: All according to plan, this time for sure the Student Council has let their guard down.

So: gasp

So: So you mean... this pathetically slow start... I can't believe it!

Ge: Obviously, this is the final event that will decide everything.

Ge: It was a strategy to retain stamina until the opposition club activities relay. Right, captain Saitama?

Saitama: Man, I'm gettin' sleepy now.

So: I see, to deceive your opponents, you must first start with your allies. I was completely deceived.

So: Alright! Well then, let’s decide on our running order immediately!

Ge: Captain Saitama, what number would you like?

Saitama snoring

K: He’s having a sound nap.

So: This definitely isn’t a strategy at all is it!

PPP: Ok, time for the final event! The activity is the relay fight! The winning team will not only receive 9 times the points, but also a prize of 50 thousand yen!

So: Eh!?

K: Oh, you woke up.

So: So basically, I’ll be running for all 3 people?!

Sa: Well, what number do you want me to run in, Sonic?

So: Saitama…

Ge: Captain…

PPP: Well then, starting off with our first runners -- for the Student Council, their secretary, Drive Knight Chan!

DK: At last, it’s my turn…

PPP: And the go-home team self proclaimed vice captain, Genos-chan!

Ge: For the sake of the Go-Home club, I cannot lose!

PPP: Everyone is ready for the start...

mechanical sound

PPP: Wow, Drive Knight-chan! The lower half of his mechanical body transformed into a horse-shaped one!

PPP: Amai Mask chan, isn’t this foul play?

AM: Obviously, this is not foul play. As the opponent is also a cyborg.

PPP: That’s true…

DK: Genos-kun… This is the latest model lower body I prepared for this Sports Festival. The likelihood of you winning again such equipment is next to zero.

Ge: hmph, next to zero you say?

DK: That’s right. Therefo-

Ge: So you mean, it’s not zero, right.

mechanical noise

PPP: The race finally begins! Drive Knight chan and Genos chan, the two advance at a speed that far surpasses human expectations!

running and trotting noise

PPP: Oh, as expected, the performance is different. Drive Knight chan is leading.

DK: Of course...

Ge: I see. Naturally, I can’t best him in leg power. However…

mechanical sound

Ge: Incineration cannon!

Explosions noise

PPP: Ah, what was that?! Drive Knight-chan was blown away by Genos-chan’s Incineration cannon and went out of bounds! And in that moment, Genos-chan has pulled ahead!

AM: That damn Go-home team…

AM: The use of weapons is against the rules!

So: What an idiot! That’s nowhere in the Sports Festival’s guidebook!

AM: Son of a... If it's come to this, I'll just use my position in the Student Council to mark this as a loss for the Go-Home Club due to foul play...

DK: There is no need for that.

AM: Drive Knight!?

DK: I told you, didn’t I? My equipment is the latest model.

DK: If you are going to come at me with weapons, I will counter-attack with even stronger weapons.

DK: Tactical Transformation: Sports Festival Special.

PPP: Oh, Drive Knight-chan’s horse part transformed again! This time it transformed into a missile!

PPP: Ah, look out Genos chan!

Shit ton of noise

PPP: The missile shot by Drive Knight-chan landed! Genos-chan’s body is in pieces. I feel so sorry, Genos-chan! Drive Knight-chan goes right past him!

DK: Sorry, Genos-kun. However, this is reality.

PPP: How can you call this a sports festival anymore?! The other runners have lost their fighting spirit and are falling apart one after another!

AM: As expected of Drive Knight. This match is already over.

G: I wonder about that.

AM: Hah! Genos-kun, with that broken down body, what can-

G: Rocket Punch!

AM?: What?!

Genos’s theme playing

PPP: Oh! Genos’s right hand holding the baton is flying off at even faster speed!

DK: Huh, impossible.

PPP: In a blink of an eye, the second place runner flies past Drive Knight to Sonic-chan!

G: Even if my body is broken and scattered into pieces, I will definitely pass the baton! That is the spirit of the going-home club team!

So: Hmph. Good performance for someone who’s Saitama’s errand-boy.

So: Now it’s up to me, Speed o’ Sound Sonic!

PPP: Wow! The Go-Home team takes the lead, and right after that, the baton of the Student Council team goes to its second player, Flashy Flash-chan!

DK: Forgive me, Flash. It’s up to you now.

Flash (FF): Leave it to me.

So: I’m gonna win this by a landslide！

PPP: Now; it’s a match between Speed o’ Sound Sonic chan and Flashy Flash chan!

PPP: Both have the cute face and speed I love so much. So, so fast!

So: That Student Council guy, he’s not bad…

So: Still, can you actually follow me like this?

FF: Seems like a good runner for the Go-Home team...

FF: still, don’t think you can win against me in speed!

PPP: They both fast, Fast, FAST!! I mean, they’re so fast I can't see them at all! I can’t see anything, it’s all enveloped in a cloud of dust!

So: Alright, take it, Saitama!

Sa: Eh? Where?

Sa: I got dust in my eyes, I can’t see a thing.

So: WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? QUICKLY TAKE THE BATON!

FF: Take it, Zombieman!

Zombieman (ZM): Right, nice job Flash!

So: Hey, carry across the baton Saitama!

Sa: I can’t remove the dust in my eyes…

So: JUST RUN SAITAMA!!!

PPP: Anyway, I couldn’t see anything at all, but it seems like the third runners, Saitama-chan and Zombieman-chan started at almost the exact same time!

So: It seems that everyone has had a chance to see Sonic at the speed of sound!！

PPP: Nope, I didn't see you at all, Sonic chan.

So: What?

PPP: Nobody could see it, too bad.

So: Eh…?

FF: Hey, are you alright? You look like you’re on the brink of death.

PPP: Meanwhile, Saitama is nowhere to be seen!

So: Huh, what did you say!?

PPP: Saitama chan, where did you go off to?

sound effect

Sa: Huh, wait a sec. This scenery is a bit unfamiliar-

BOOM Tropical music

Sa: Eh? Where am I…?

Sa: Ah by any chance, did I take the wrong course? Crap…

Sa: I was running without seeing anything because of the dust...

Sa: Hey this is a jungle…

Sa: Crap, I need to get back quickly.

animal roaring

Sa: Hmm? Something about the animals...

Boom Weird laugh/cry

Sa: Are you… a monster?

Monster (M): That’s right.

I’m a poacher that was monsterfied after a trip to the jungle! With my overwhelming physical ability that was trained to perfection in the jungle, and my hunting instincts, I now reign at the pinnacle of this jungle's ecosystem. As the ultimate invasive species, I will tear people like you, who don the mantle of civilization and allow your physical abilities to devolve, limb from pale civilized limb--

BOOM

Sa: Oops… I should have asked that monster now about which way to Z-City.

Sa: Ah well, it’s probably that way-

Boom

PPP: While Saitama-chan is absent, Zombiman is still running alone!

ZM: Why can’t I see anybody, is this not the sports festival? What am I even racing against? Can I just keep running like this?

AM: Don’t think about it Zombieman, just keep running like that.

ZM: All- Alright, Amai Mask.

So: Damn it, where did Saitama go off to! Hey Genos!

Ge: There’s only one possibility I can think of.

So: What is it?

Ge: He might have gone home.

So: What!? Why in the absolute hell would anyone go home at a time like this!?

Ge: How Naive. You still don’t know anything about the go-home club.

AM: Hmph, looks like this time the match is over.

So: NNGHHHH

Beeping-like sounds

Genos: I sense something, it’s coming!

AM: What!?

PPP: Oh, he’s finally back here, Saitama-chan!

Seigi Shikkou playing

Sa: Sorry, sorry. I went the wrong way…

So: What were you doing, you idiot!

Sa: It’s your fault for spreading dust clouds everywhere.

PPP: However, Zombieman-chan is a long way away in the lead now.

AM: You’re too late.

So: Well, I wonder about that!

AM: What?

Sa: Alrighty, this time I won’t make a mistake.

BWOOSH

PPP: Fa- fa- fast!

Ge: As expected, Captain! His eyes have gone red, probably because money is on the line!

PPP: Saitama chan easily passed Zombieman chan!

ZM: Fast, way too fast!

PPP: And he’s rapidly gaining a wide lead.

AM: Impossible! That plain looking faced guy can’t be this fast!-

Crunch

PPP: Ohh… Amai Mask chan crushed his microphone…

PPP: Mr. Saitama gets ready and passes the baton to King-chan, the anchor!

Sa: I leave the rest to you.

K: Yeah…

PPP: On the other hand the Student Council Team, Zombieman is still far away back.

Ge: As expected Captain Saitama!

So: With this, the match is over.

AM: Nope, you’re pretty naive huh Go-Home team.

So: Huh?

AM: Have a look at our final runner. Can you still say that?

OST: Dark Energy

So: What did you say?

Tatsumaki (T): Hey, why are you running so sluggish! Hurry up and bring the baton to me!

Ge: Tha… That is…

AM: That’s right. The student council vice president. Tornado of Terror!

T: Ugh, I can’t wait anymore!

splash sound

PPP: AAAAAAH! Tatsumaki burst Zombieman’s body into tiny pieces with her Psychokinesis!

PPP: Aaaaand, the baton was passed on to Tatumaki-chan as if it were being carried by water.

So: Gah! In order to win… she even killed her ally!

ZM: No, I’m fine. Since I'm immortal.

Sa: Ah, is that so? I’m glad you’re okay.

ZM: Excuse me, but could you please gather the pieces of flesh scattered over there.

Sa: Sure. Though are you really fine?

AM: Now then, go Tatsumaki, show the power of our student council team!

T: I'll go without you having to say a damn thing, moron! Don't you dare boss me around and give me orders while your useless ass is just sitting back and relaxing in the commentator's seat! You disgust me. Why don't you just go on home with the Go-Home Club?!

PPP: Whoa! Tatsumaki-chan unexpectedly beat the Go-Home Club to the punch by telling him (AM) to go home!

PPP: Amai Mask-chan, is there anything you wish to say towards Tatsumaki-chan?

AM: Fufu

PPP: Amai Mask-chan is just barely able to maintain his smile, but it is at maximum twitching! As usual, today Tatsumaki-chan is emanating an aura of range in all directions!

T: Every last one of them, they can’t do anything without me. Here I go!

wind sfx

crowd panic

PPP: Aaah Tatsumaki-chan’s extremely powerful psychokinesis! There’s an actual tornado invading the campus!

PPP: The students --gagh, and even the tent we’re in, are getting blown away--gaah!

T: HAAAAAAAAAA!

winds intensify

PPP: King-chan.. Where is King-chan!

Sa: Ah, there right?

PPP: The object being blown away with tremendous force… K.. King chan!?

Ge: No, he’s not being blown away...

So: He’s riding the wind!

Sound of something lowering down

Tatsumaki: Huh?

PPP?: WHAT!?

PPP: With tremendous force King chan has wooooooooon!

PPP: The winner is the go-home club team!

cheers

K: Hm, what happened to me?

Sa: You did it, King!

Ge: As expected, King-senpai!

So: This is the world’s strongest man’s power…

T: You’re the one I lost to, it can’t be helped…

Amai: Cheers to you...

PPP: Congratulations, the MVP is King!

Crows woos

Saitama: Nice, let’s eat barbecue with the prize money.

King: Yeah. Though before that… I’m gonna swing by the infirmary.

[tbzhours]

be my christmassy

kevin x you x eric, high school au, fluff 

[summary] the Christmassy dance is coming up and with both having a crush on you, eric and kevin try to show their love for you. who will you choose? [words] 5.4k  [a/n] are you still feeling christmassy? ♡ i didn’t know who you should end up with so there are two endings for this fic! also, there’s a lot of college talks in here so bare with me; enjoy! 

It’s usually exciting during this time of the school year because of the annual Christmassy dance. you would hear cheers randomly throughout the week of successful proposals for current and new couples. You honestly loved it, except the glittery decorations around the school that tend to stick onto you and your stuff. Other than that, it also meant that a lot of things are going to happen unexpectedly, like the snacks that keep appearing on your desk since the announcement of the dance. 

You and Eric had the same homeroom when another cheer was heard from the door. You were on your way to the class when you got stuck from the crowd. It was probably the fifth time this morning that you took a sigh then you made a detour, taking the longer way. 

“So, have you thought about who you wanted to ask to the dance?” Hyunjae started after their gaming discussions after hearing the cheer. He smiled excitedly at them then Juyeon answered him. 

“I’m asking my girlfriend out today. My teammates are helping on the field.” Juyeon revealed but Hyunjae slapped his shoulder. 

“At the game?” Hyunjae was surprised when he argued. “Dude, you don’t even need to do that. She can already assume you would go with her to the dance.” 

Jacob shook his head, looking at him without an expression, which slowly turned into a sweet smile. “You don’t know love at all, Hyunjae.” 

Eric wasn’t listening when they bickered, whispering a few names of potential dates then Hyunjae called Eric out, who was caught off guard thinking how he should ask you to the dance. All eyes were on him as he had his mouth open, trying to find words to say. 

“I have someone in mind. Not really sure yet.” Eric didn’t sound promising when he looked up and tapped on his chin. His friends shook their heads. 

“Anyway, if you can help out later, the surprise will be during halftime.” Juyeon mentioned then he pointed at them. “Don’t be late.” 

That was when you walked in, face full of annoyance like you went through a lot trying to get through all of the people in the hall from that successful confession. Eric’s eyes widened as if there was a bubble in his mind when he saw you.  

Eric walked away from the group to the empty seat next to you and sat down when he slid into it. It was a smooth move when you noticed him there. 

“Hey (Y/N), you wanna come watch our team play today?” Eric asked, almost whispering. You thought it was odd because obviously the whole school would go see them. He was on the football team like Juyeon so before you could greet him like the usual, you chuckled. 

“Of course I am. Everyone will.” You turned away from him to see the snack on your desk. You smiled and set it away inside your bag with a whisper of “I’m gonna eat that later”. You didn’t realize Eric heard it and it made him blush. His smile got smaller as he wondered if he got caught staring when you looked back at him. “You’re playing tonight?” 

“Yeah! All because of you.” Eric straightened up from his seat and his fingers fiddle in gratitude. “Thanks for helping me with physics.” 

“I’m glad.” You remembered how hard that class was but you did pretty well in it so you didn’t mind helping Eric study all week last week during your lunch time. “It would suck to not see you on that field.” 

“Thanks for always coming to our games too.” He, once again, felt the need to appreciate you for all of the things you’ve done for him even though it was just a favor. 

“Hey, I’m not the only one supporting our school team. The whole school is going to go see the game tonight.” You chuckled. “We have to win.” 

Eric nodded with a smile. His cheeks were burning up when he repeated your words, “We have to win.” 

You showed your fist to him and he was confused. “For good luck.” 

Eric pounded back at you then you got your textbook out to check the reading for one of your classes today. He admired how cool you were as his friends watched the whole scene and knew who he was going to ask to the dance. 

One of your classes after homeroom was a beginners piano class. Kevin was an student assistant for the class since he knew how to play the piano and took all of the advance classes already. 

There was about four minutes left until the bell rings when you came into the class early. Kevin turned to you from the teacher’s piano at the front of the class and he waved a hand at you. 

“Hey (Y/N), you’re early again.” He sneaked a smile, watching you set your things down at your assigned chair then you walked up to him. 

“Yes, I need to be here early so I can practice for a minute.” You sounded like you were out of breath. You sat down beside him and smiled. “The new melody last week.” 

“You want to try it again?” He asked and you nodded. He motioned his head to the keyboard for you to give it a go. “Go ahead.” 

You focused hard as you played the melody, though it was slower than it should be. His head nodded along each note. 

“By the way, do you need practice for the upcoming test?” He asked, his nod still complimenting at how your fingers pressed against each key. 

“I might, depending on how well this melody sounds to you.” You smiled, trying to not laugh because you could feel how long you were stretching the sound. Seconds later, you finally finished playing and you gave Kevin the side look. “Well?” 

“You’re a fast learner.” He started but you covered your laugh with your closed mouth so there were muffling breaths coming through your nose. “What? I think you did great!” He blurted out, almost laughing. 

“How so?” You asked with curiosity. 

“I’m just surprised at how fast you memorized the melody.” He had a cocky look on his face but it was a pleasant one. 

“Of course I am, I can recite all of my essays for the college applications right now.” 

Kevin held his palm at your boldness. “Hold your horses, I don’t want to think about that when we’re gonna have a test on Friday.” 

“Christmassy day!” You cheered with thrill. “Besides, you’re going to ace it anyways.”

“No, it’s going to be hard to grade everyone.” Kevin cried. You forgot he wasn’t taking the course and you giggled quietly to yourself as if you face-palmed yourself. He sighed and complained, “And all of this Christmassy fun is getting in my head. I just want it to be Friday already.”

“Same.” You agreed. “Except for that test.” 

You both laughed together as the room filled up with students and the bell rang. 

Later that night, you went to go watch Eric’s game with your friends. It was a little chilly but you had a warm coat and winter necessities as you followed your friends though the seating bleachers. It was already dark as the floodlights through the field lit up. The cheers were loud and in unison. When you found your seat, you saw Kevin with his friends, who were sitting in front of you. 

“Didn’t know you’d be here.” You said before you sat down. 

“Same?” Kevin had a judging look on his face, still turned back to you. 

“I watch the game every year.” 

“Uh, I knew that.” 

“Sure.” 

You bursted a laugh when he turned to the front and it got quiet after your nonchalant bickering. He was smiling after hearing you then he turned back to you. 

“This is going to be fun.” Kevin gushed, keeping his hands inside his coat pockets.

“Right. We’re playing against our rival school.” You explained. “Interesting how we get to see them play for our last year.” 

“I have a feeling our team will win.” Kevin smiled. “We got a good team this year.” 

He was right. Once the game started, your school team already scored more points than the opponent. You noticed that Eric was a really good runner. He was always near each end to get ready for a catch. Sometimes, you caught him looking at you after the ball touched the ground. You admired how well your team always played every year because you could tell they put their every ounce of sweat from practice into the game. Maybe that’s why you always go watch the winter game. 

Halftime quickly came as both crowds chanted in unison. Then all of a sudden, some of your school’s team members walked onto the running track in front of your school bleachers. They all had balloons and flowers, and you didn’t see Eric until you saw that he was holding onto a big teddy bear. Juyeon suddenly popped out behind them with a big ‘Will you be my sunshine?’ sign and sunflowers in his hands. 

Juyeon shouted his girlfriend’s name and asked, “Will you be my sunshine at Christmassy?!” 

Everyone looked around, asking where she was. Juyeon shouted her name again then when she came down, all of the crowd cheered. Juyeon walked up to her as they hugged and kissed in front of everyone and the cheers got louder.  

“I thought they’re already dating?” Kevin’s eyebrow rosed, smiling when he looked back at you. 

You shrugged. “I guess it makes it a little more special that way.” 

“I want that.” He suddenly confessed then he saw your judging face. “What?” 

“You want someone to ask you to the dance like that?” 

“I have big dreams.” Kevin chuckled. “I wouldn’t mind all of the balloons and cute stuff, except with an audience this big. Gives me chills.” 

Kevin shivered and you did the same. “I agree.” 

You both shared smiles before he asked you, “You want some hot chocolate after this?” 

“That sounds nice.” 

Eric saw you on the bleachers as he headed toward the bench where his team was at. He waved with his whole arm at you with the teddy bear still in his other arm. Your smile bloomed bigger as you waved back. 

“I never knew about this place.” You were amazed after you and Kevin sat down in the cafe. 

“You can almost say, it’s my secret place to go to.” Kevin chuckled, fixing his long strand of hair. He ordered the hot chocolate and turned back to you. You took a last glance at the antique wall behind the barista before you turned to meet his eyes. 

“The music’s nice.” You commented and he watched how your lips curled into a grin. “And it’s really calm in here.” 

“That’s why I love it here.” He smiled then he groaned. “It just sucks that I might not be able to come back here after we graduate.” 

“That’s right. The closest music school is like two hours away.” You recalled as you chuckled. “That really does suck.” 

“Right?” Kevin sighed then he gave a tiny glare at you jokingly. “I’m still mad at you for only taking piano just to fill an elective credit.” 

“Hey, I’m enjoying the class.” You argued back, still grinning. You rested your chin onto your fist as you set your elbow on the table. “Besides, I think I’m getting better at playing than you.”

“Yeah, and that’s stressing me more over all of these applications.” 

“How is that going for you?” You genuinely asked when the hot cocoa was served. You both thanked the barista and you looked back at him with a smile. 

“Applied for a few music schools already. Still have a few left before acceptances come through.” Kevin held onto his hot cocoa and smiled cheekily at you. “You?” 

“I’m on the same boat.” You sighed and took a sip of your drink. Luckily, it wasn’t too hot so you could drink it warmly. 

Kevin remembered about how stressful it was for you already about applying for colleges because it was about choosing your dream of studying out of the country or staying and finding a new dream. He assured you, “Whatever you choose, I’ll support you.” 

He took a sip of his drink and chuckled when he saw the foam on your upper lips. 

“You want to be santa so bad, huh?” Kevin tried not to drip any hot cocoa from his mouth when wiped your lips with a napkin. 

Later that night, you were getting ready to sleep. As you rested on your bed with the lamp on by your desk, you scrolled through your feed before looking at the stories at the top. You watched Juyeon’s story and saw how he proposed with sunflowers for his girlfriend like how you saw at the game. You smiled at how sweet it was before Eric appeared on Juyeon’s next story. Eric was seen practicing his lines to ask someone out for the dance while his team were taking a break from the game. You chuckled and turned to your side. You thought it was kinda cute as you sent the story to Eric. 

You set your phone down and went to sleep. 

The next morning, you drove a little late to school because you didn’t hear your alarm. You were rushing to school, trying to drive fast and luckily, you made it in time but you still ran as if you were late. 

You caught Eric by your locker but when you tried to come through the crowd, he stopped you by the wrist. He was gentle as he came close to your face to whisper. “Sorry you can’t use your locker yet.”

Eric smirked then he pulled you into the crowd to see the whole scene. 

Younghoon, someone you knew from all of your math classes, asked someone from your homeroom out to the dance so you had to wait. He was your math study buddy after you both unexpectedly took the same classes during your first year together. He was always talking smart so it was funny to see him standing by the lockers next to the formula letters of + U = <3, in which he was the letter I at the left. 

You didn’t know he would have such a big crush on one of your classmates. 

Your classmate came by and the two were obviously in love. They didn’t hesitate with their answer and hugged him right away. 

You cheered with the crowd, not realizing how Eric’s been holding your hand ever since he pulled you into it. Once the crowd scattered and Younghoon and his date walked away, you made your way to your locker quickly. You opened it, letting the + sign stay stuck on the door of your locker as you set some things away. 

Eric was watching your every move after leaning onto the locker on his back beside you. He tried not to laugh when he asked. “Why are you in such a rush?”

“I woke up late so I feel like I’m gonna be late to everything.” You confessed, still scrambling your things back and forth. 

“Well, you look fine, except this.” He fixed your hair to the side and smiled. It must have been from running too much. “There.” 

Your eyes met and you found yourself blushing a little. 

Eric’s eyes bloomed before he grabbed something from his pockets and handed it to you. “And here.” 

You gave him a laugh and took the snack from his hand. “So you’re the one who’s been giving me all of these snacks?” 

“Uhh did I get caught?” He tilted his head then you nodded at him. He quickly changed the subject, talking too fast that you couldn’t stop grinning. Eric started to walk backwards as he suggested. “Do you perhaps want some hot cocoa? I heard Younghoon’s homeroom teacher is making it for his class. They have marshmallows too. The big ones. Yes? Okay, I got you. I’ll be right back.” 

You could see his rosy cheeks before he turned and ran through the crowd. You shook your head and focused back onto your locker. You set his snack down on the top shelf and smiled as you shut it. 

During lunch, your friends asked if you were planning to go to the dance. It was already tomorrow and they were shocked that you didn’t have a date yet because it’s your last year already. 

“You should make it the best.” One of them said. 

Then another added, “I thought you were the one who’s always asking first.” 

You didn’t feel like joining in the conversation but if you had to explain, it was because you had one potential date last year. It’s funny because this year, you have two people in mind. You weren’t sure who you wanted to go with since you are pretty close to the two. For a second, you thought this was harder than doing your applications. 

“Well, at least you’ll get a card tomorrow, from I know who.” One of them teased. 

Ah yes, tomorrow was the day where a card and a chocolate rose get sent to people from their secret admirer by the student council. It was going to happen during your class before lunch. That was when you knew how loud the cafeteria was going to get with the guessing game tomorrow. 

You shrugged after getting playful eyes from your friends. 

You were walking alone in the hall after your teacher asked you to do an errand for them since you were done with your in-class assignment. Kevin was there but you didn’t see him because you were lost in your head while the printer was going. 

“(Y/N)?” You heard Kevin by the front desk. 

You looked to your side and almost jumped. “Did you have your head down or something? I forgot you have library duties.” 

You both chuckled softly in the silent room. Kevin stood up as you picked up the papers and walked to him. You set the papers down on the table between you both when you continued. 

“Must be nice to be in here where there’s no chaos.” You joked. Then you looked at the space in front of the computer screen he was sitting in front of. “What are you working on?” 

“Nothing.” Kevin’s lips twisted to the side with his eyes panicking where you were looking at. He shuffled the papers and tried to explain. “Uhh, it’s more like... I’m just making cards for some of the teachers before the break.” 

“I should do that too.” You nodded as you didn’t see the beads and strings under the cards. Your lips bloomed when you continued, “Anyway, aren’t you excited for tomorrow?” 

“I am.” He mused. “I can’t believe it’s going to be our last dance before we go to college.” 

“Same.” You sighed, “Time goes by too fast.” 

Kevin shrugged with a cheeky smile. “Next thing you know, we’re gonna be walking down with our gowns.”

“Noooo~” You groaned with your head down then you quickly got up. “Wait, I mean yes because you owe me a homemade cake.” 

“You still remember that?” Kevin was surprised because he made one for your older brother, who was also his friend. He graduated last year and Kevin dropped by your place to congratulate him with it. 

“Duh,” you pretended to be annoyed but you smiled after. You remember fighting with your brother just to get a taste of it. “I can still remember the taste. It was that good.” 

“Then I won’t forget to do that for you when we graduate.” 

“Thanks. I’ll let my brother know you're still a baker and you’re doing great.” You let him know then it got quiet with just your smiles. A few seconds went by before you picked up the papers and chuckled awkwardly. “I better get going.” 

Kevin grabbed some things on the table and handed them to you before you could make it to the door. “Here take some chocolate, just in case we don’t get any tomorrow.” 

Your eyebrow heightened as you assured him. “I’m sure you’ll have at least one secret admirer.” 

Yeah, you too.” You both exchanged smiles and before you walked out of the door, you turned back just in case. “Good luck tomorrow.” Kevin whispered, “With the test.” 

You could almost see him winking before you walked out. 

Right then, you saw Eric in the hallway quietly, as if he didn’t want to get caught skipping class. 

He didn’t even see you until the door of the library opened. His eyes widened. Good thing you didn’t open two seconds later because he would have hit the door. You shut it as he slowed down. 

“Where are you going, Eric?” You asked. You joined his walk while he tried to avoid your eyes. 

“I-I’m just helping Haknyeon with his date. You know, for the dance.” He chuckled awkwardly. 

“You’re always the wingman.” You laughed along and turned to him. “Will you ever do an event for your own date?” 

Eric blushed nervously and he hummed a weird sound. “O-of course. It just hadn’t happened yet.” 

“Well then, good luck with it.” You smiled at him when you stopped by the door of your class. It was just down the hall from the library. “Have fun being a wingman again.” 

“Thanks.” Eric smiled as you walked into your class. 

When you got home, you were conflicted over who to ask to the dance that you had decided it would be fun to go to the dance with your friends instead. 

You set some things back into your bag when the night got deep. You check one of the side pockets after remembering about the chocolate Kevin gave you, then you realized he gave you a bracelet too, as promised from a while back when he got into making bead bracelets. You remembered him making some for his friends and since your older brother got one, you wanted one too. You quickly sent a text of it after getting ready to sleep and thanked him for remembering. 

When you went back to your feed, you saw that both Eric and Kevin made a post. 

You liked both posts then you set your phone down and closed your eyes to sleep. Your heart was beating so fast that you didn’t know what tomorrow would be like. For sure, it was going to be a busy day. 

It was the day of the dance and the school was festive with all of the cheers and sweet giving and exchanges throughout the hall and classrooms as your heart was still rushed in excitement. 

You briefly saw Eric in homeroom but he left early to be another wingman for a friend’s proposal. He made sure to meet eyes with you with a smile before he left the room. 

As for Kevin, he seemed super nervous during your piano test. You gave him a big pat on the back when you both walked out of the class and complimented how great he did. 

“You still look nervous.” You commented, you peeked at him. 

“I do?” He moved his head back and scoffed with a confident smile. “Well, I’m not.” 

“I believe you.” You smiled, trying not to laugh at how funny he looked. “See you later. Hope you get something.” 

The secret admirer cards. Kevin just remembered. Actually, it’s been on his mind all morning. It’s just that he was one of your secret admirers and you were standing right in front of him where you both needed to part ways in the hall. He nervously smiled. “Right. You too.” 

You both parted, smiling away and when you got to your locker with only a minute left to get to your next class before lunch, Eric came by, shouting your name. A few students looked and some shook their head from being used to him shouting with his friends. 

“What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be in class already?” Your eyes were wide and your lips were opened in surprise. You couldn’t help to chuckle at how nervous he looked.

“I know. I just forgot to um…” He tried to think of something and blurted out, “Say hi to you.”

“Hi~” You played along then you rushed your locker exchanges and closed it quickly. “Better get going. I’m gonna be late to my class too.” 

“Take a run! You’ll get there in no time!” 

You didn’t know why he was encouraging you to run in school because it wasn’t allowed but you played along with a laugh. You took off and waved your hand at him. “You too! Bye!” 

You finally got to class right when the bell rang. Once you sat down, the announcement came on about the secret admirer cards. It was taking a while since the deliverers had to stop by each classroom. You tried to stay focused in class but it was really hard to, and when there was a knock on the door, your teacher walked to it and started to pass the cards to the correct receivers. 

For you, you got two.

card 1 i adore  how your mind speaks how your eyes shine, and especially how passionate your dream beats against your heart. if there’s room for more, will you be my christmassy?

card 2 roses are red violets are blue how about christmassy? at your side i shall be. (meet me at the parking lot at lunch?)

                           who stole your heart? 

                              card 1   /   card 2

[nicknellie]

@sunset-reggie requested: A fic based off Reggie getting electrocuted that was mentioned in Snap.

Physics is my joint worst subject at school so for the purposes of this I might have made up my own rules for electricity? Maybe, I don’t really know. The issue was that in the US the mains voltage is 120V which won’t really do a lot (here in England it’s 230V but again you’ll probably be fine) so I made some shit up and I’m pretending I know what I’m talking about. I did research taking care of electric shock patients but sorry for anything that’s wrong. Still, thank you for the prompt, it was a lot of fun!!

Zap

Some nights, Reggie Peters would sleep like a log. The moment his head hit the pillow, he would be out cold, not waking up the whole night through and feeling happy and refreshed in the morning. Those good nights usually followed good days – days spent jamming in the studio with the band, days helping out at the rescue shelter and playing with his favourite animals, days he would hang out with his friends and laugh until their sides hurt and they couldn’t breathe. After a good day, the night was peaceful.

This was not one of those nights.

It hadn’t been a good day. In fact, it had been a decidedly bad day. When Reggie had woken up that morning, it hadn’t been to the sound of his alarm but to the echo of shouting from downstairs. He had guessed immediately that it was his parents fighting yet again – sighing haggardly, he had pulled a pillow over his face and pressed it hard against his ears, trying to block out the noise, but to no avail. Well and truly awake, he had grudgingly got out of bed and started his day.

School had been dreadful. In biology, the teacher had surprised them with a test. Reggie was a naturally high achiever, good in biology as he was in all his subjects, but that day luck wasn’t on his side. He hadn’t done any revision and his head was swimming with addled thoughts, cluttered and unfocused, and he could not for the life of him remember the different stages of meiosis. Throughout the whole test he had sat there, scratching his head, trying to remember that one little detail that was on the tip of his tongue, but before he knew it time had run out and he had only answered three questions. It had stuck him in that bad mood for the rest of the day.

He had thought that band practise would cheer him up like it usually did. For a while, he was right. In the Molinas garage, plucking the strings of his bass, Reggie felt his dark mood brighten. Perhaps the start of the day hadn’t been one for the history books, but he could salvage it by relaxing and playing his music with his wonderful friends.

“Let’s take it from the second verse,” Julie declared halfway through their run-through of Stand Tall, scribbling a note to herself on the bottom of her sheet music. “Reggie, can you up your bass a bit? I can’t hear it but your line is really great here and I think we should showcase it a little.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Reggie said, saluting. He fiddled with his amp for a moment (twisting the dial harder when it got stuck) to up the volume and struck a long, low note. Julie nodded, satisfied, and they picked the song up again.

It didn’t take long for things to start going downhill. At first, Reggie thought he was imagining the smell of smoke; after all, candles had been banned from the studio long ago after an incident with Luke and one of Alex’s favourite hoodies, so there shouldn’t have been anything burning. But after a moment, Julie’s face scrunched up in disgust and her singing dropped away as she glanced around the studio.

“Luke,” she said, reproachfully. He shot her an innocent look. “Did you bring in another scented candle? Even after what happened last time?”

“I never did get that replacement hoodie,” Alex grumbled.

Luke shook his head, sniffing the air like a dog. “It’s not me! I don’t know where that’s coming from.”

“It has to be something,” Reggie said, looking around. It smelled almost overwhelmingly strong near him – the others, whether they realised they were doing it or not, were all heading in his direction, sniffing the air for the source of the smell.

It was Alex who noticed.

“Reg, you’re smoking!”

Reggie shrugged. “I know I was kinda killing it, so thanks, but I think we have more important things to worry about right now.”

“No, no,” Julie said, eyes wide, pointing to Reggie. “Reggie, you’re smoking! You’re on fire!”

“Okay, I get it, thank you both, but we should focus on–”

“Reggie,” Luke all but yelled, “you are smoking! As in, there is smoke coming from you. Dude, do something!”

Reggie looked down at himself, immediately swatting at his clothes. It was weird – he didn’t feel like he was engulfed in flames. In fact, it didn’t look like he was either. Reggie was decidedly not on fire. But his bandmates had been correct about the smoke; it was rising around them, looping through the air and collating in a thick black cloud right above their heads.

It was then that Reggie had a horrible thought. If the smoke was coming from behind him, then it might have looked to his friends as if he were the one on fire. Slowly, dreading what he might see, he turned around and was met with a catastrophe.

It was his amp, sparking through the speakers, harsh smoke swirling into the air from its every crevice, cutting void-like black lines across the studio up to the ceiling.

“Not me,” he said, stricken, “it’s my amp. My brand-new amp. It’s broken.”

“What happened to it?” Julie asked, edging slightly closer. She placed a gentle hand on Reggie’s upper arm but he remained stiff. He barely even registered the touch.

“How can it have broken so fast?” Luke added, leaning probably too close and inspecting the amp. He jumped back and ducked behind Julie with a little yelp when a spark leapt at him. “You just got it two weeks ago.”

Alex pushed to the front, wafted his hand back and forth to clear the smoke, and squinted at the amp. For a moment there was an anticipatory silence, and then Alex said, “Ah. I see.”

“What?” Reggie prompted. “What went wrong?”

“What went wrong?” Alex echoed, straightening up and raising a condescending eyebrow. “I don’t know, Reg, maybe it was the fact that you tried to turn it up to a volume that doesn’t exist.”

Baffled, Reggie took Alex’s position, waving the smoke out of the way. He had been careful when Julie asked him to turn the volume up, he could have sworn that he hadn’t cranked it up any higher than ten. But lo and behold, the volume dial was twisted further than its highest volume, almost back at one.

“How did that happen?” Reggie wondered aloud. “All I did was turn it up, then it got kind of stiff, so I turned it harder and– oh.”

“I think when it went stiff it was because it wasn’t supposed to turn any more than it had,” Julie said quietly. She tugged Reggie away from the amp as a spark flew uncomfortably close to his face.

“Would that really do so much damage?” Luke asked sceptically, eyes narrowed.

Alex shrugged. “Looks like it.” He put a consoling hand on Reggie’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay, Reg. With the money we make from our next gig we can get you a new one, right?”

Reggie sighed heavily. After the nightmarish day he’d had, with this as the icing on the cake, he felt as if he’d had his very heart ripped from his chest. There was a weight there, a hefty, immovable boulder settled right where his heart should have been. He shrugged Alex’s and Julie’s hands from his arms, fed up and tired.

“I guess,” he mumbled, “but unless I’ve got an amp I can’t play that gig anyway, so you’ll be without a bassist.”

“I’m sure it’s fixable,” Julie reasoned, forced hope in her voice. They watched the amp cough out another jet of black smoke. Julie’s smile faltered. “Like, eighty percent sure.”

Alex checked the time and then patted Reggie on the shoulder. “It’s late anyway, we should stop now, get home. I’m sure we can get it fixed before our next rehearsal, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, and Reggie,” Luke added, swinging an arm around his shoulders, “don’t feel too bad, okay? If worse comes to worst we can just borrow an amp at the venue. It might not be as good as yours but it’ll be something.”

Reggie nodded. “Sure,” he said, “thanks.”

He checked the time for himself as the other three began to move about the studio, packing up their bits and pieces. It was almost ten o’clock – he hadn’t realised they’d been going on so long. He was exhausted, his limbs heavy with emotion and his head swimming with nothing much at all. No part of him thought he’d be able to walk himself home and on a day like this he didn’t want to take his chances in a car being driven by Luke.

“Hey Julie,” he said, tapping her on the shoulder. She smiled up at him as she put her microphone stand away. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Of course,” she said as if it should have been obvious. “I’ll make up the couch inside–”

He shook his head. He wanted to stay in the studio – that was where the most comfort was. “No, no, in here is fine. Thank you, Julie.”

“Any time,” she said, beaming.

Not long later, Reggie and Julie said their goodbyes to Alex and Luke, who clambered into Luke’s beat-up car and sped away, over the speed limit by an amount that made Reggie’s head spin. Reggie waited in the studio while Julie went to get some pillows and blankets for him, his mind turning with thoughts of his parents and his bad school day and his amp that was still smoking in the corner of the studio.

Hence, tonight was not a good night for Reggie.

Eventually, Julie came back down, helped him make up the couch, and then they said their goodnights. When she left, Reggie shucked off his jacket and his jeans, then burrowed himself into the covers, clamping his eyes tight shut in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to catch sleep by surprise.

It didn’t work. He lay there for what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, tossing and turning, switching which end of the couch his head was at, sticking various limbs out from under the blanket, trying to find some magic position that would get him to sleep. But nothing worked, and eventually he gave up.

The smell of smoke was enough to drive him insane. He didn’t want to have to wait to get the amp fixed – he wanted it fixed now, he wished it had never broken in the first place. Or rather, he wished he’d never broken it. He could have kicked himself; in hindsight, it was obvious that when the dial stopped moving the volume couldn’t be altered anymore – Reggie cursed himself for forcing it.

A thought struck him then. A crazy, stupid, reckless thought that Alex, if he were there, would have immediately forbidden. But Reggie thought that if it was his mistake then he should be the one to fix it, and the amp was right there, and he couldn’t sleep anyway, so he might as well…

He swung himself out from under the covers, flicked the studio light on and made his way over to the amp. It was still emitting a steady stream of smoke, sparks flying now and then. He inspected it a little more closely, yanking off the front to see the mechanics inside. He could see where the damage was and some cocky part of his brain decided that he could definitely fix it.

Lost in his thoughts, he was brought back to Earth by the grounding sound of rain falling on the flat roof of the studio. It was soothing and soft – Reggie had always liked rain, always found it calming. He wanted nothing more than to be outside right then, soaked to the skin, relaxed and carefree.

So his crazy, stupid, reckless thought developed and before he knew it Reggie was wheeling the amp from the safety of the studio to the wet and windy outside.

It was freezing and he regretted not bringing his jacket from the studio, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back inside now. The rain had him drenched within seconds, the amp too, and Reggie finally felt some of the tension in his muscles drain away.

He began to work.

Now, Reggie wasn’t to know that the amp was still plugged into the mains back in the studio. And he wasn’t to know that a power station half a mile away had just malfunctioned, letting a surge of electricity course through its wires, overwhelming every system and sending far too much electricity to every house in the nearby area. And he wasn’t to know that if he hadn’t been touching the amp then he would likely have been absolutely fine.

But the power surged through the mains, through the studio, through the amp, was worsened by the rain, and reached Reggie as he clutched the wires.

Zap.

Reggie was flung back with the force of the current, landing in a heap in the studio, finally asleep (if not in the way he’d intended to be).

*

He woke up. That was a good sign. His head was spinning as he tried to ease himself into a sitting position, raising a hand to his throbbing temple, but something pushed him back down. Reggie peeled his eyes open, but blinked at the harsh, too bright light and closed them again.

“Dad,” came Julie’s voice from somewhere above him, “he’s woken up!”

“That’s good,” called Ray’s voice from somewhere indeterminable, “is he okay? I’m still on the phone with the doctor.”

Reggie tried again to open his eyes and managed it, just barely. He was back on the couch in the studio, the lights were on but it was still pitch-black outside. He had been tucked into the blanket so tightly that he could hardly move, and perched on the edge of the sofa, clutching his hand like she was superglued to him, was Julie.

“Reggie,” she said gently, reaching out and brushing a lock of his dark hair away from his forehead. Her fingers were cool against his skin, soothing his headache that little bit. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” he croaked. Just those two words felt like they were ripping his vocal chords out. He cleared his throat a little as Julie sent him a sympathetic, sad smile.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked.

Reggie thought for a moment but found that it hurt his head to do so. He shrugged, then said, “I wanted to try and fix my amp so I took it outside and then… I don’t know.”

Julie gave him an exasperated smile. “In the pouring rain? Did no one ever tell you that water and electricity don’t mix?”

“Well, I know that now,” he grumbled.

“If it’s any consolation, you probably wouldn’t have been too hurt if the power station hadn’t gone wrong at the same time. The current was way bigger than it should have been – my dad’s talking to the doctors right now to see if we should take you to the hospital.”

“How long was I unconscious?” Reggie asked her, closing his eyes again.

“Well, when the power surge happened, I saw this massive flash outside my window and heard what sounded a lot like a teenage boy being thrown off his feet across a garage,” she told him matter-of-factly. “So, I came down to check on you and you were unconscious, so I got dad. But the whole thing hasn’t been more than twenty minutes. Does your head hurt?”

Reggie nodded, then winced. The movement ached.

Julie frowned. “That doesn’t seem like a good sign.”

At that moment, Reggie heard Ray say to the phone, “Okay, thank you very much for your help.” A moment later, he was crouched down beside Reggie, his kind face streaked with worry.

“You doing okay, kiddo?” he asked quietly.

Reggie sighed. “No. Everything hurts. Do I need to go to the hospital?”

“Well,” Ray began, “I just spoke to a very lovely doctor. She said that seeing as you weren’t in contact with the source for too long, and luckily the mishap with the power station wasn’t too bad, your situation could be a lot worse than it is. But we do have to keep an eye on you because it was an alternating current, which is more dangerous than direct.”

Reggie shuffled a little bit, trying to pull his blanket tighter around him for comfort. He felt Julie place a hand on his chest comfortingly, and he would have smiled if smiling didn’t hurt so much.

“Oh, and she gave me a list of things to ask you about,” Ray said, fishing a scrap of paper out of his pocket. “I wrote it down here, see. Loss of consciousness – obviously. Muscle spasms?”

Reggie should his head and Ray gave him an encouraging smile.

“That’s good,” he continued. “Any numbness or tingling anywhere? Or any breathing problems, or a headache?”

Reggie paid attention to his body for a minute. His legs felt numb, like they wouldn’t support him if he tried to stand up. And he had what was probably the worst headache of his entire life. But his breathing seemed fine to him. He reported his findings back to Ray, who made a few checks on his list.

“Problems with vision or hearing?”

“No,” Reggie said, “none.”

“Good. We checked you for burns and luckily there’s none. Seizures, well, we’ll have to keep an eye on you. Irregular heartbeat – Julie?”

It was only then that Reggie realised that Julie’s hand placed on his chest had been to check his heart. Slowly, he moved his hand out from under the blanket and covered Julie’s with it, wanting to keep the comfort close, stop her from leaving him. She smiled down at him gently, and put her other hand over his too.

“His heartbeat’s fine,” she said. “Normal speed, regular.”

Ray nodded, making a final check. “Excellent, excellent. Okay, Reggie, I’m going to call your parents, let them know what’s happened. It’s not a good idea to move you around too much; do you mind staying here for a few days?”

The thought almost made Reggie smile. The studio (and the rest of the Molinas’ house) was like a second home to him – he felt comfortable and at-home there like nowhere else. He had countless memories surrounding him, a thousand things to keep him preoccupied, even if that was just being lost in his own head.

“That’s fine by me,” Reggie said, trying to smile.

Ray beamed, then gently tousled Reggie’s hair as he stood up. “Good. Great. Okay, I’m going to make a call to your parents, you just let me know if you need anything. Night, Reggie.”

“Goodnight, Ray,” Reggie called after him as he left the studio. “Thank you.”

As Ray closed the door behind him, Julie stood up and made her way to the back of the studio where they kept all their equipment when they weren’t using it for rehearsal. Reggie watched in fascination as Julie dug around for a moment and then pulled out a TV on a wheeled stand, incredibly old and outdated. She blew a thick layer of dust off it then coughed when it flew right back in her face.

“When Carlos and I were little,” she began, tugging the stand closer to Reggie, “my mom used to watch old tapes on this with us. Mainly it was old home videos, or sometimes the tape of her and dad’s wedding, but we should still have some actual movies somewhere. I’ll find the DVD player and set it up, we can watch something together.”

Reggie was a little confused. “You’re not going up to bed?”

Julie looked offended at the suggestion. Reggie shrank back a bit from her glare. “Of course not! I’m staying down here with you for as long as you need me. I don’t want to leave you alone, Reggie, especially not when you’re like this.”

She rummaged about in the back of the studio for a little while longer. Reggie watched her collect an ancient DVD player and a stack of DVD cases, sorting through them and selecting a few. He knew he wasn’t alone in loving Julie – after all, she was an angel on Earth and it was hard not to love her – but right that moment he felt he couldn’t have treasured his sister any more. Just the fact that she was willing to forgo sleep to make sure he was safe meant more than he could describe. The moment she had finished setting up the DVD player and had put on Kung Fu Panda (knowing it was one of Reggie’s all-time favourites), she came to sit in front of the couch on the floor, and Reggie looped his arms around her neck in a weak hug. She held his hand tightly as the movie’s opening scene began to play.

*

Julie was truly a blessing. She stayed with him all night, not getting a wink of sleep herself because she wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to Reggie while he slept, and the next day she took turns with Ray and Carlos to keep an eye on him, waiting on his every beck and call. Reggie felt bad asking them for things so tried to do it as little as possible, only occasionally asking for a glass of water or another painkiller. But Julie, being Julie, seemed to know exactly what he didn’t want to ask for at all times and was more than happy to fetch anything.

Eventually, she had needed a break. Not by her own choice, but by Reggie’s.

“You’ve done so much,” he said at about midday, just as Julie came in to take over from Carlos again. “I’ll be fine by myself for a little, it’s not like anything that bad can happen.”

She shook her head. “You heard what my dad said. Something bad could happen, so someone needs to make sure you’re alright.”

“It doesn’t need to be you,” Reggie reasoned. “No offence, but you look worse than me right now. And you’re not the one who was electrocuted twelve hours ago.”

It was true – Julie didn’t function well on a lack of sleep, her eyes were heavy and she was teetering from side to side slightly as if she was going to fall over. She rolled her eyes at him but couldn’t deny what he’d said. She pulled her phone from her pocket with a sigh.

“Fine,” she said grudgingly. “Dad’s just taking Carlos to Little League, so it can’t be one of them. I’ll call Alex. Hopefully, he’ll be able to get here soon.”

Reggie listened to the one-sided conversation as Julie spoke to Alex. She sighed with relief, thanked him, and then said to Reggie, “He says he’ll be here in ten minutes. Do you need anything until then?”

Reggie thought for a moment, then let a grin split his face apart. “Can you sing for me?”

Julie huffed a laugh. “Really? That’s all you want?”

“Yes please,” Reggie returned, shuffling over to look at her, giving her his full attention. “Can you sing something by Johnny Cash?”

“Of course,” she replied with an easy smile. Reggie was privately proud of himself – he was the only reason Julie knew any of Johnny Cash’s country classics. She picked up Luke’s acoustic guitar (which he had forgotten to take back to his house the last fifteen times he’d been at the studio) and struck the first chord. “Love is a burning thing…”

Ten minutes later (or three performances of Ring of Fire, because it was the only Johnny Cash song that Julie knew the whole way through) Alex shouldered the door to the studio open, letting in a blast of cold air but also a delightful smell that Reggie would recognise anywhere. It was the aroma of Alex’s famous triple chocolate cookies, the kind he only made for special occasions like birthdays; it seemed that electrocution counted as a special occasion too.

He let the door fall shut behind him, shook his shaggy hair out of his eyes, and held a large Tupperware container aloft triumphantly.

“I brought cookies,” he announced.

He sat himself down at the end of the couch by Reggie’s feet and opened up the box. The already gorgeous smell doubled and Reggie groaned hungrily. Alex smiled, holding the box out towards him – Reggie took three cookies and tried to shove them all into his mouth at once.

“Alex,” he said around a mouthful of chocolate. “Have I ever told you that you’re the best cook I know?”

“Every time I make you food,” Alex replied. He extended the container to Julie who took one cookie, a lot less greedily than Reggie.

“Well, he’s right,” Julie said, beaming. “This smells amazing, Alex.”

“Tastes it, too,” Reggie added, licking the crumbs off his fingers.

Julie laughed, but then poorly stifled a yawn. Reggie ordered her to bed again, and with a tired little wave she left the studio. Settling down further on the sofa, Alex took one of his own cookies.

“I hope you weren’t doing anything important,” Reggie said, poking Alex’s side with his feet.

Alex shrugged and looked away, suddenly so interested in the studio’s ceiling that it was suspicious.

“What?” Reggie prompted, narrowing his eyes. “What were you doing?”

Alex seemed to be trying his hardest to act casual but wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Avoiding eye contact, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, Alex said, “I was hanging with Willie, actually. But this is more important.”

Reggie felt his mouth fall open. He smacked Alex’s arm. “Dude,” he exclaimed. “That is way more important than me!”

“My love life is more important than your near-death experience,” he deadpanned, frowning disbelievingly.

“Yes!”

“No.”

“Come on, man,” Reggie said, prodding him with his feet again. He still couldn’t feel his legs so he wasn’t sure that his way of getting Alex to talk by nudging him was really working, but judging by the way Alex shifted away from him he was doing a good job. “Tell me everything!”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Alex said, raising his hands in something like surrender. But when he lowered them again, he shrugged and said much quieter, “He kissed me, though.”

“Nothing to tell?!” Reggie almost yelled. “Dude!”

Alex had a dopey smile on his face, a blush creeping across his cheeks. He ducked his head abashedly, his smile growing. “Okay, maybe there’s a little to tell.”

Reggie was about to press him a little more, get him to open up about what he’d been up to with Willie (the two of them had only made it official a week or so ago and Reggie would be lying if he said he wasn’t extremely invested in their relationship – Alex deserved someone who made him truly happy and Willie seemed to do exactly that) but all of a sudden he felt his abdomen contract and shake painfully. He doubled over, clutching at his stomach as the muscles squeezed, rapidly relaxing and pulling taut again.

Alex stood up abruptly. “Reg? What’s happening, what do you need?”

Reggie couldn’t answer. The pain had stopped (it had been brief yet sharp) but he was out of breath, breathing hard and fast. He shook his head, dreading another burst of pain, and tried to get a hold of himself.

Alex crouched down beside him and grabbed his hand. “Reggie, listen to me, alright? I’m going to try and get your breathing back to normal, okay? Breathe with me – in for four. One, two, three, four. Out for six. One, two, three, four, five, six. Great job, let’s go again, buddy.”

Reggie breathed in tandem with Alex, feeling grateful that he had such an amazing friend by his side. Alex didn’t let go of his hand once, getting his breathing back to something steady and safe. When he finally felt relaxed again, Reggie opened his eyes (he hadn’t realised how tightly he’d had them scrunched up and they watered when he opened them) and smiled smally at Alex.

“Thank you,” he said, “I’m okay.”

“What was that?” Alex asked, sitting back a little.

“Ray said something about muscle spasms,” Reggie explained, thinking back to the list Ray had mentioned before. “I guess that was one. It felt like someone was trying to shove my organs into a tin can.”

Alex nodded, though his expression said he had no idea what Reggie was talking about. “Okay. Was that the first time it’s happened?”

“Yeah. Hopefully, the only time it happens too.”

“You need anything?”

Reggie’s throat felt dry. He could feel it like sandpaper every time he swallowed. “Could you get me a glass of water, please?”

“You got it,” Alex said, hopping up. “I won’t be long. Have another cookie, you deserve one.”

Reggie took another cookie and silently thanked Alex for being so helpful. Alex had always been the most collected and resourceful of the group, so Reggie was glad it had been him there for this scary new side effect.

When Alex got back Reggie thanked him out loud, but he waved it away, saying it was what he had to do, no biggie. Reggie sat himself up and swung himself around, leaning against Alex and hugging him tightly. Alex rolled his eyes, but Reggie didn’t miss the way he smiled and hugged him back.

*

That evening, Luke arrived unannounced. He was in a complete and utter panic – it seemed that in all the chaos, nobody had actually told him about Reggie’s accident. When nobody had shown up to the busking session they’d planned down by the pier he had called Julie to find out what was going on and then made a mad dash to her house.

“I’ll take it from here, Alex,” Luke declared, marching into the studio, yanking Alex from his seat and shoving him out the door, shutting it behind him. Through the small window, Reggie could see Alex looking through, utterly bewildered. When Luke locked the door, Alex shrugged defeatedly, waved goodbye to Reggie, and left.

“Buddy,” Luke said to Reggie, sitting on the edge of the couch. “Reggie, dude. Bro. What happened to you, man?”

“Got electrocuted,” Reggie returned simply.

Luke rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, I know that now. Julie told me. Eventually. Did you at least manage to fix your amp?”

Reggie sighed. Luke’s arrival had brightened his mood, but the mention of the accident and his amp had kind of ruined it. “No. Julie and Ray checked earlier but I think I made it worse. It’s beyond help.”

“That’s great!” Luke exclaimed. Reggie furrowed his brows, confused.

“No,” he said, “it’s not.”

Luke shook his head. “No, it’s fine. After I called Julie and she told me what happened, I mentioned it to my parents. And they immediately went online and ordered a new one, an even better model than the one you broke!”

“What?” Reggie said incredulously. “For real?”

“For real!”

“But they hate the band,” Reggie countered. It didn’t make any sense – the amount of times Emily and Mitch had explained to Luke and the others that they didn’t think the band was worth it didn’t exactly line up with this act of generosity.

Luke shrugged. “I know. But they felt bad, and they didn’t want us to spend all our money on getting a new one for you. Bro, you’re going to sound out of this world!”

Luke raved on and on about the new amp. Reggie made a mental note to give Emily and Mitch the biggest thank you and the tightest hug the next time he saw them. The amp he had broken hadn’t been cheap and he hated to think how much they were spending to get him an even better model.

But eventually, there was something else on his mind.

“Reggie,” Luke said, cutting off his own rant about a new song he was working on. “You okay? You look weird.”

Reggie grimaced. “I have to pee.”

“There’s a bathroom right over there,” Luke said with a shrug, pointing to the little door on the other side of the studio. Reggie just frowned deeper. Luke’s face fell as some sort of realisation dawned on him. “Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”

Reggie said it anyway: “I think you might have to take me.”

Luke groaned and fell back, covering his face with his hands. “Dude. Why?”

“I still can’t feel my legs,” Reggie explained, slightly desperately. If he didn’t get to a toilet soon he was sure there’d be an accident – and Luke would have to be the one to clear that up too, something Reggie was sure he wouldn’t like the sound of. “I’m not going to be able to walk without support!”

“What if you rolled across the floor instead?” Luke suggested.

“But then how would I get up to pee?”

Luke took a deep breath, steeling himself, then nodded and stood up. He swung his arms back and forth by his side then said resolutely, “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Reggie threw an arm around Luke’s shoulders, swung his dead legs off the couch and let Luke pull him to his feet. He couldn’t feel where his feet touched the ground and was letting Luke do practically everything movement-wise. Unsteadily, Reggie dug his fingers into the thin fabric of Luke’s shirt.

They entered the bathroom and Luke grimaced. “How do you want to do this?”

“Titanic-style,” Reggie decided.

Luke gave him a flat look. “What?”

“Like that scene in the Titanic,” Reggie explained. “You know, when Jack and Rose are on the bow of the ship and Jack holds her waist and she throws her arms out and–”

“How is this at all similar to me helping you pee?” Luke interrupted.

“You’ve gotta hold my waist and make sure I stay stood up,” Reggie said. Luke nodded and positioned himself behind Reggie as he did what he needed to do.

When he was done, Luke helped him limp to the sink to wash his hands, again clutching his waist to stop him from crumpling to the ground, and then they hobbled back to the couch in the main studio. Luke gently laid Reggie down and tucked him back under the blanket.

“I hope you never electrocute yourself again,” Luke said distastefully. “I don’t want to do that a second time.”

Reggie raised an eyebrow. “That’s the only reason you never want me to electrocute myself again?”

Luke shrugged. “Of course, bro. And, you know, the fact that you’re in horrible pain.”

Reggie laughed. It was the first time he had done that properly since he’d been shocked. It made sense – if anyone could tease a laugh from him then it had to be Luke. He raised his hand for a fist-bump and Luke indulged him with that tiny teasing smile.

*

Two weeks later, Reggie was back on his feet, everything back to normal. He had never counted himself so lucky to have such wonderful friends. Julie, who put him miles before herself; Alex, who had ditched all his other responsibilities and helped Reggie when it mattered most; and Luke, who had proved that he really would do anything for Reggie.

Perhaps the whole situation had been born out of a bad day, but Reggie had his friends there to remind him that things would always be okay in the end.

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt 3 (Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 4, Pt 5)

-----

There were two things in life that Peter was unequivocally certain were true.

Number one was that Monday mornings were a universally despised, unpleasant experience that no weekend could ever ease the pain of having to endure.

And number two: Sit-ups were a specific and profound mechanism of torture that no person should ever be required to engage in, recreationally or mandated.

Of course, it would be just his luck that the two were combined on this very Monday morning.

It was cruel and unusual is what it was, Peter thought, hands curled at his temples as he pushes himself into a sitting position, falling back onto the dewy grass with a thud that steals the breath from his chest.

Bucky, holding his ankles, encourages him to complete his set.

“I can’t,” Peter gasps, his stomach trembling as he pulls himself up again. “I - oh fuck - I hate this. I hate exercise.”

Bucky squeezes his ankles tighter. “C’mon, Parker, only three more. You can do it.”

Peter shakes his head, even as he pulls himself up again with a pained groan.

“No, I can’t. Make it stop.”

“Two more. You got it. Sit-ups are not the boss of you.”

“Yes - ahh - they are!”

“One more!”

Sweat pours down his neck and his muscles protest as he pulls himself up for the last time. He gets probably only most of the way up before his gravity slams to the ground.

Bucky slaps his bare calf encouragingly as Peter stares up into the glaring morning sun, arms splayed out, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Oh, god. Never again. That was the worst. 

Covering his eyes with his quivering arms he wonders if maybe coach will indulge him just this once. Maybe he can stay here until training is over, perhaps curl up into a ball and try to blend in with the grass so that no one sees him or subjects him to any more exercise. 

Except Coach Danvers is already yelling at him to get off the ground and get moving.

He smacks his hands over his ears but it’s no use.

“Get up Parker, last warning!”

“Respite!” He yells back pleadingly, curling in tighter upon himself. “Please!”

Her whistle pierces the air.

“Now!”

Coach has been on edge all morning. Her harsh has turned razor edged in the face of their upcoming match against Kingston this Thursday, reminding the team of her expectations, tolerating nothing other than complete dedication.

Which, whatever.

Peter’s dedicated, okay? It’s Monday. He dragged his ass out of bed to be here at an unholy hour, exhausted and bloated from his indulgent weekend, didn’t he?

Erring on the margin of spite towards Danvers and self motivation, which he suspects is her aim, he pushes himself back up. Taking each of Bucky’s ankles in his grip, he starts counting as Bucky begins his set. 

Not that he needs the assistance, Bucky proves his strength by ripping through the set like a bull stampeding through a brick wall. He doesn’t even break a sweat. Dude’s crazy athletic.

It’s really not fair.

As he mentally counts the reps, Peter thinks Bucky’s the kind of fit that Peter both hoped and never hoped to be. He’s effortlessly capable at any physical task, but he works hard for it, harder than Peter would ever dream of working, dedicating hours to gym time and conditioning. Bucky’s not even out of breath when he strikes up conversation. 

“How was your weekend, PP?”

“S’okay. Played Mario Kart with my Aunt all weekend.”

Bucky grins as his upper half rises to meet his knees. “Oh, party animal. She doing okay?”

“Yeah, she’s good,” Peter grins wryly, taking one of his hands from the other’s ankle to push the sweat-damp hair from his eyes. “Kicked my ass though. She always takes Toad.”

“Switch?”

“Nah, GameCube. How was your weekend?”

“Boring. Parents were home all weekend and wanted some ‘family time’.”

“So, you just watched The Voice all weekend?”

“Yup.”

“Nat sneak in after?”

“Yup. How’d it go with Stark on Friday?” Bucky accepts Peter’s hand as he finishes his set. Peter pulls him up and pats him on the back.

The set off in a jog to complete a lap of the field, Coach yells that only five minutes are left, urging them to pick up speed. Peter’s lungs burn when he speaks.

“It was fine.”

Bucky looks at him dubiously, flyaways whipping at his face.

“Well not like, fine-fine, but no bloodshed. See? All limbs intact.” He holds his arms out mid-sprint. 

“Wow, so you’re basically best friends now.”

“No.”

“Did you hold hands and braid each other’s hair?”

Incensed, Peter shoves at Bucky to the sound of his snickering,

“Ew, stop, I just had breakfast. Look, the first experience was painful enough. Can we move on? I really don’t want to talk about it.”

---

“And then he hit on my Aunt,” Peter complains in the showers, soaping up his chest. “Literally right in front of me. Who does that?”

“Did she flirt back?” Bucky asks, dipping his head into the spray. 

“What? No. He said he was just trying to get under my skin,” he puts his head beneath his own shower head, the water pleasantly lukewarm against his heated skin. “I mean, what kind of psychopath does that?”

“Yeah, but your aunt is super hot though,” Wilson says to his right. “Stark’s an asshole, but he’s not crazy.”

There is a general murmur of agreement around the showers. 

“I’m going to need you all to shut up right now,” Peter warns, turning to point at them all. “Keep my aunts name out of your mouth while you’re washing your balls, alright?”

“You heard him, move on,” Rogers cuts in, offering Peter a sympathetic smile. 

He nods gratefully as conversation quickly turns to girls, grades and the upcoming Thanksgiving holidays. There was a reason why Peter was on Roger’s side all these weeks ago, he thinks, observing how the entire team respects his command without query. The guy was just interested in doing the right thing, and that’s pretty cool.

By the time they’re all dried and dressed, the topic is forgotten, much to Peter’s relief. He’s nearly late to first period though, too busy watching Wilson and Barnes smack each other with wet towels and attempting to tame his unruly curls into something resembling neatness. He’s not proud of the amount of gel it takes, but it’s what he’s got to work with. 

It’s not that he’s obsessed with his appearance or anything, but he has a routine that he sticks to. Gel and lots of it.

Once, in third grade, Flash pulled one of Peter’s tightly coiled ringlet between his fingers, pulled on it and said oink. Peter still had some lingering baby fat at the time and so, as cruel as children can be, Peter was donned Piggy Parker for a time afterwards. Sometimes Porky Parker. They’re friends now, but the oinking and snuffling that followed him around the playground still haunts him.

Anyway.

On the way to first period Rogers walks alongside him down the hall. They have English together, but usually make their way separately. It kind of weirded Peter out for a moment because while they’re team-mates, they’re not really friends. 

“Heard you got paired with Stark for an assignment,” the other boy says, his wry smile caught between amused and sympathetic. “That’s shit luck, Parker.” 

“You’re telling me,” Peter agrees, waving to Ned and Betty as they pass. “Dude’s a freakin’ prick.”

Rogers bumps their shoulders together.

“You said it. Want me to have a word with him, get him to back off?”

“Nah,” Peter shakes his head. “I can handle Stark, he’s just some bored rich kid looking for a fight. Besides,” he gives Rogers a once-over, “pretty sure you’re supposed to keep your distance after your last brawl with him.”

“True,” he concedes, clamping Peter’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze as they stop before their room. “But we’re a team, alright? Just say the word and I’ll encourage some sense into him. Promise to be gentle.”

Peter clamps his hands over his heart with a flair of drama, despite being truly touched. “You’re my hero, Captain Rogers.”

Rogers rolls his eyes and shoves him into the classroom.

“Alright, smartass. Let’s go.”

Inside, he smiles sheepishly at Mrs Perez who glowers at them for their lateness and takes his usual seat between Clint and Shuri. He signs a good morning to the former and smiles at the latter, who is staring down at her desk with disdain.

“What’s wrong?” He nudges her chair with his foot to grab her attention.

“The curriculum.” She raises her head and points to the board miserably. It reads Lord of the Flies.

Oh, great. He could use the nap.

Peter smiles sympathetically, opening his nearly full notebook up to a blank page. “How was your weekend?”

“Meh.”

“Meh?”

“Mmm,” She nods, gesturing airily. “You know, eh. Oh, oh! I heard you spent the weekend getting cosy with Stark,” Shuri follows, pretending to search through their textbook. “Wow, that’s a three-sixty, PP. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What?” Peter hisses, voice lowering when their teacher looks around as roll-call commences. “That’s not -- ”

“Parker!” Perez yells for roll call.

“Present!”

Shuri snickers as Peter’s hand shoots up.

Lucky for him it’s the last he hears of it.

Kinda.

---

His next class is Bio with MJ who, thankfully, says very little through class. She inspects him with bleary eyes when he enters, nursing a coffee in her hands, always earlier than Peter who has to come from the other side of the school.

Peter’s grateful for the reprieve. When she does speak to him, it’s to borrow a pen or to offer him a sip of her coffee. It’s not a lab class today, only note-taking and listening to their teacher drone on about plant anatomy in the same monotone, so he accepts the bitter black coffee without hesitation.

It’s only then that he ventures to initiate conversation.

“So,” he begins precariously, doodling in his notebook, “how was your weekend?”

She shrugs, appearing more awake than earlier. “It was okay. You?”

“It was okay.”

And that was that, he’s relieved to note, companionable silence falling between again as they turn their attention to their teacher again. It’s not until they’re packing up their books at the end of class that MJ speaks to him again.

“See you at lunch?”

“Yeah, dude. Save us a table?”

“You bet. Oh, and by the way, I heard Stark is gonna be your new step-daddy. Congrats.”

Peter groans.

“How do you -- you know what, no,” he says, pulling his backpack over his shoulders and making a x with his arms. “Nope. No more talking about Stark, he is persona non grata. I’m traumatised enough.”

MJ pushes his glasses up after they slipped precariously down his nose during his declaration. “You’re so dramatic, dude.”

He bumps their shoulders together on the way out of the room and shakes his head.

“Why do people keep saying that?”

---

Ned texts him during recess; Peter is taking an extended break in the bathroom despite not needing to be there, but he’s definitely not hiding, nope. He’s just chilling in the cubicle.

< heard stark spent the weekend < lol wtf < plz verify < actually i don’t want to know < no wait i do tell me < dude

< hello?

----

Traitors, all of them.

He wonders if he should leave this school and start anew elsewhere.

---

Here’s the thing.

As much as Peter loves his friends, he has limits to how long he can spend with them before needing a time out.

They’re his motley crew of village idiots. Some he’s known since first grade, like Ned and Flash, others only since he came to the school and subsequently, the football team.

This school headhunted him because of his academic merit. With his pursuit of scholastic excellence - and the fact that some of his best friends would be attending the school, he applied for and was awarded a scholarship. It was a no-brainer - he had big dreams and even bigger expectations of himself to achieve them and he wanted May to be proud of him.

Which was why when it was suggested that he try out for JV, having exhibited some physicality during gym class, he decided to give it a try. It would look great to have on his applications, he was assured.

So he did. Somehow his wiry frame and years of gymnastics was considered an asset and he was promptly recruited by Coach Danvers. At first he deeply regretted the additional commitment -- the early hours, the soreness, adapting to the internal culture within the team. But he’s persevered and he’s glad that he did. 

And for the most part, he copes okay. He can juggle football obligations and after-school activities and the odd tutoring jobs here and there and stay sane, right?

Sort of.

Because as grateful as he was for his broad circle of friends, Peter was still, at heart, an introvert. And right now, his social energy is running on fumes. 

It’s because of this - and nothing to do with the relentless questions about Stark - that Peter retreats to the library at lunch that day. 

Nestled away in the dusty, back corner, near the collection of old encyclopaedias that nobody reads, are an assortment of bean bags. It’s away from the main area, quiet and disregarded by most. It used to be a thriving recreational area way before Peter’s time, but there wasn’t any maintenance to it over the years. Now the bags are old, terribly lumpy and are speckled with suspicious stains, the fabric is thinning and aged. Most people purposefully avoid the old rec area, which is why Peter likes this spot best. It’s his secret hiding space.

He prepares to disassociate for the next forty minutes by getting comfortable on his favorite bean bag and popping his earphones in. 

Next, he retrieves his slightly soggy ham-tomato sandwich from his bag and takes a large bite after unwrapping it. The first burst of tomato hits his tongue at the same time as the music begins. 

Ah, to be alone.

Closing his eyes, he allows his body to sink into the bag and for his thoughts to wander freely.

Of course, because his luck is as poor as he is, his seclusion lasts all of three songs before someone else enters into his space. Well it’s not his space, technically, but it should be. 

When Peter creaks an eye open to see who is intruding he’s surprised to see Thor perched on the bean-chair opposite him. They catch each others stare and smile.

Well, alone time is overrated. 

Maybe his luck isn’t down the drain after all - because this is his opportunity to prove he isn’t a total fumbling loser. He doesn’t know which deity he pleased to be alone in a quiet corner of the library with Thor, but someone up there is clearly looking out for him.

He wants to say something, to strike up a conversation that might make Peter seem cool and only casually interested - something that would make him sound both smart and like, available.

But not too available. 

With little success, Peter wracks his brain for the best opening line but frets because he’s ever been cool or collected a day in his life. And great, now he’s just been sitting there smiling for like two whole minutes like an absolute weirdo. Come on, Parker, say something! 

Thor acts well before Peter has the chance to say anything, pointing at him, his mouth moving with words Peter can’t hear. 

Realising a moment too late that his earphones are still playing music from his phone, Peter hurries to tug them out if his ears, smacking himself in the face in the .

“Sorry, I was --” Peter gestures to his ears, hands shaking, cheeks going hot. God, Thor is talking to him. Him! Peter Parker! “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I said I like your shirt!” Thor replies, way more loudly than what would normally be socially acceptable for a library, but Peter does not care. Thor likes his shirt.

“This?” He asks, gesturing downwards to his shirt where crumbs are dusted at the collar. “You like Nirvana?”

“I do not know Nirvana,” Thor smiles, “but it looks very cool. Peter, right?”

“Uh yeah,” he nods, face positively flaming because again, he knows Peter’s name. Quickly sweeping the crumbs from his shirt, he extends his hand out to the older boy who shakes his hand. Holy shit. Be cool. “I’m Parker -- I mean, Peter. Yes. Nice to be here. I mean, nice to be speaking. To you.”

Even as Peter’s arm is roughly jostled with Thor’s exuberant hand-shaking embarrassment crawls up his neck, and he wants to disintegrate into the bean bag where no one has to witness his persistent, glaring awkwardness. Palms sweating, Peter has to bite his lip to stop himself from commenting on how big Thor’s hands are.

Stop it, he scolds himself, be normal, play it cool.

“Thor, right?” Peter asks, as if he didn’t doodle their initials together in his notebooks. “You were at training last week.”

“Yes, you fell on your face,” Thor nods, gesturing to the yellowed bruising on his jaw, “I saw.”

“Oh, okay, so you saw that! Uhh -- ” Peter waves a hand at his face, laughing nervously. “This? It’s nothing. I’m totally fine.”

“You are clumsy,” Thor states, not unkindly.

“Well, no -- I mean, yes --” Peter tries to come up with an explanation, but falls short. “I’m not always a klutz, promise. Just sometimes.”

“Happens to the best of us. Well, not myself, but you know, generally speaking. In any case, I’m happy to see you’re okay.” 

Thor unzips his backpack then and from within it retrieves a truly gargantuan protein shake, followed by a sub wrapped in foil so large it could be the same size as Peter’s forearm. Sneaking a look down at the remainder of his own lunch, his pickings look pretty slim in comparison. 

“Sorry,” Thor says. “Just peckish for a snack.”

Peter watches, dazed, as the older boy consumes half his sub in a single bite, washing it down with several mouthfuls of his shake.

A snack.

“You’re fine. Anyway, football isn’t really my forte,” he admits after a moment, drawing his knees up. “I mean, I’m okay at it and I like it, but it’s not really what I’m best at, y’know?”

The blond boy nods, “I’m on the varsity team,” he proclaims, wiping his mouth. “Whatever that means.”

His accent is so thick it takes Peter half a moment to figure out what it was that he said. 

He’s not sure if Thor is being serious or not but the one question Peter has is why is he so fucking cute? 

A silence follows, albeit not an awkward one. It gives Peter the opportunity to inspect the older boy, nearly a man at his height and stature, of course helped along by the generous distribution of facial hair across his lower face. 

“Uh, did you play football back at home?” Peter asks, keen to keep conversation going. “Soccer?”

“Oh yes,” the boy nods. “Soccer, tennis, volleyball. Water polo. Badminton.”

“Wow,” Peter blinks, “that’s a lot of sport. You’re like the whole Olympics here.”

He’s awarded with a lazy grin for that comment. Thor, to his credit, doesn’t appear to be boastful about his physicality, seemingly a result of his passions instead of a product of vanity.

“Close enough, I suppose. What else do you play, besides football?”

“Uhh --”

Oh god. How is he supposed to respond to that when the idea of doing additional sports outside of football is abhorrent? He can’t tell Thor that. Surely he can fake a common interest. Think of something, Parker, think, think.

The first bell rings, saving him from having to provide a potentially humiliating answer, seeing as all how all that could think of was chess, or PC. Both of which are true and accurate, but not exactly something he thinks that would make him appear more attractive or endearing.

Thank god for fifth period.

“To be continued?” Peter asks as he picks up his backpack, just a little hopeful.

There’s an awkward bit of shuffling as they rush to get off the sagging bean chairs, moment filled with odd squeaks of polystyrene as they attempt to stand.

Thor nods and to Peter’s surprise, doesn’t immediately rush to get away from him. There’s an awkward bit of shuffling as they rush to get off the sagging bean chairs with, odd squeaks of polystyrene as they stand. Instead, he accompanies Peter all the way out of the library, walking alongside him into the main hallway where a flurry of students are intersecting to get to their next class, walking alongside him.

Heads turn to watch them as they depart the library and enter the halls. For a moment, as kids part like the red sea to make way for them - for Thor - Peter wonders if this is what it’s like to be famous. Or to be on the arm of someone famous. It certainly feels like it, because even though the revere isn’t for Peter specifically, it seems like the weight of everyone’s awe is on them.

He doesn’t like the attention. But he likes Thor.

To his delight, the older boy follows him to his locker. Embarrassingly, it sticks when Peter tries to open it, as it usually does. He struggles with it for long, humiliating moments before Thor opens it with one hand.

“Thanks,” he says, blush creeping back up his neck. “You’re like, crazy strong, dude.”

Thor flexes and inspects his own bicep, as if seeing it for the first time.

“Perhaps,” he concedes, smiling roguishly. “Back at home I used to lift my brother for weight training.”

“You what?”

“A story for another time,” Thor shakes his head, shuffling closer to be heard over the traffic of students. “Anyway, I should be going. But there was something I have been meaning to ask you, if I may take a moment --”

Peter freezes. Oh my god, this is it, he thinks. 

It’s happening.

“-- seeing as you and I have similar interests and we seem compatible, it would please me greatly if you would agree to --”

Heart racing, Peter turns, a fervent yes already on his lips.

It dies when there is a loud call of his name in the hall.

“-- Hey, Parker!”

Whatever Thor was going to say wilts at the interruption, seemingly forgotten as he waves at the intruder. Peter turns to see who called out for him and instantly wishes he didn’t.

Heart dropping to his stomach, he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. 

This is his luck.

Never has he wanted to melt into the floor and die like he does right now as Stark approaches the pair in quick strides.

Hands shoved into his jean pockets, Stark’s wide eyes dart between them inquisitively, a shadow of a smirk crossing his face, disappearing just as quick.

“Well, pardon me. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Tony places a hand on his heart and leans on the locker next to Peters. “Thor, barely a pleasure as always.”

“Stark,” Thor nods.

Tony simpers, smile saccharine sweet and gestures to an uneasy Peter.

“I am just so sorry to intrude, but would you mind if I spoke to my husband here? He’s such a slippery one, aren’t you, sweetums?”

Thor looks between them, head going to and fro like a pendulum.

“He’s not my husband,” Peter rushes to assure, acutely pincered between Thor’s confusion and Tony’s mischief. “I mean he is, but it’s for an assignment. We’re not really -- it’s not real. I don’t like him.”

Tony exhales heavily, looking at Thor with dismay. “That’s not what he said in our wedding vows.”

Peter wants to punch him in the throat.

“I understand,” Thor smiles, patting each of them on the shoulder. He dips his chin and catches Peter’s eye. “To be continued?”

“Y-Yeah,” Peter nods enthusiastically, probably too enthusiastically, he thinks, as his aim is to pretend to be cool and disinterested, but he doesn’t even care because maybe not all is lost after all. “To be continued. See you.”

All of the pomp bleeds away from Tony as Thor walks away, his posture turning into a slump against the locker.

The smile drops from Peter’s face. He sends Tony a heated glare as he retrieves from his books, shoving them into his bag.

“What do you want?” he grumbles, slamming his locker shut. “You have the worst timing, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm,” the other boy shrugs. “What can I say, I’m delightful.”

“You’re deplorable.”

Tony gasps in mock offence. “Deplorable? Good lord, Parker, is that any way to speak to your husband?”

“If the shoe fits,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, I have to go to class. Say what you want or move out of the way.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t be like that. C’mon, what were you and He-Man grunting about, hmm? Grr, me big, you tiny?”

“Unless you have a point,” Peter asks, pointing to the main hall, “I’m leaving.”

Tony puts his hands up in surrender, however the glib expression doesn’t quite leave his face. But at that moment Peter doesn’t have it within him to care, he’s not here to entertain him and sooner they get this over with, the better.

“Alright, alright, buzzkill. Come outside, I have to talk to you about the assignment.”

Peter looks at him, perturbed. 

“I need a smoke,” he explains, tutting at Peter dispiritedly. “Also, don’t lie, I know it’s your free period.”

He doesn’t wait for Peter to respond, heading straight for the double doors that lead to the courtyard at a sedate enough pace for Peter to follow. Nonetheless he jogs a few paces to catch up after debating whether or not it was a good idea to follow or if he should hide in the boys bathroom.

Again.

It’s fairly chilly out, the wind whipping through his clothes. He wishes he had a scarf or gloves or something, opting to shove his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and hooking the hood over his head.

“How do you know it’s my free period?” he queries loud enough to be heard over the wind. 

“Because,” Tony turns to walk backwards, the breeze whistling around them, “it’s also my free period and you always stink up the library so I can’t go there,” he rounds the corner to lead Peter to the shaded area behind the auditorium where a few students are lingering, most of them smoking. 

“And you take the best seat. Personally, I think it’s selfish. I can’t possibly sit there after your ass has warmed it.”

Willing himself to not rise to Tony’s level of pettiness, he crosses his arms over his chest as they come to a stop. The wind is at full force now that the surrounding buildings aren’t taking the brunt of it and it is cold as all hell, although Tony’s in a black t-shirt and doesn’t look affected at all, probably because he’s cold-blooded or warmed by hellfire.

Tony cups his hands over his lighter to protect the flame from the breeze, struggling briefly to light his cigarette. Once the end is properly alight, Tony takes a drag while staring at him. 

His hand comes to rest at his thigh, smoke rising idly from the cigarette. After a moment, he exhales the smoke in Peters direction.

“Wow. You’re disgusting,” he waves his hand in front of his face to dispel the smell. “Don’t you know second-hand smoke can kill?”

"Yes. Do you want a drag to speed up the process?”

“Don’t be a dick,” he says as Tony seems to find himself funny, offering up the cigarette in jest. Peter has half a mind to snatch it out of his hands and stomp on it. “I know that’s hard for you.”

“I’m joking, okay. I thought the wind would redirect the smoke. My bad.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. Anyway, the assignment? Still waiting for whatever was so urgent."

Tony takes another drag, flicking ash to the ground before answering.

“I booked an appointment with a realtor for tomorrow after school.”

That has Peter’s curiosity piqued. “Really? Where?”

“LIC. One of the agents has agreed to be a reference so our domestic nightmare can be officially documented. Yay, go team.”

“Yay,” Peter deadpans. “What time?”

“Appointment’s at four-thirty,” Tony retrieves his phone from his pocket and hands it to Peter. “Give me your number and I’ll send you the details.”

Peter accepts it with a grimace. It’s warm from Tony’s body heat. Ugh.

“And now you can say: ‘thank you for being proactive, Tony, you’re so much better than me, Tony’.”

“Thank you for being proactive, Anthony, even if you’re a self-aggrandizing jerk,” Peter mutters, voice getting progressively more sarcastic. 

A wide smile blooms on Tony’s face, clearly pleased with himself. 

“You’re welcome, Parker.”

He is going to let that one go, Peter decides, feeling magnanimous on spite of the circumstances. He’d never admit it, but he’s kinda surprised by Tony’s apparent initiative, and even genuinely a little grateful that the other boy has arranged this so quickly. Or even that he thought to arrange it at all - field research was one of the highest scoring components on the rubric for this assignment.

Eyes flicking up for a moment, he assesses the other boy. Maybe he’s not as much of a slacker as Peter thought he was.

Tony, slumped against the brick wall, rubs his stomach and burps quietly. 

Or maybe he is.

Nevertheless, Peter types in his details and saves his contact in Tony’s phone as Your Better Half. 

Peter isn’t too much to look at, he knows, but he’s not the weak link here.

Tony accepts the phone back and wipes the touch screen on his shirt before pocketing it. 

“Alright then, meet me after school tomorrow in the parking lot. Don’t be late,” he flicks his cigarette to the ground and steps on it to put it out. Tony bends at the waist then to pick up the stub, clutching it in his fist for later disposal instead of leaving it as litter.

That surprises Peter a little, it’s more thoughtful, conscious a gesture than he would have expected to come from Stark. Not that he’s ever personally seen such behaviour from him, but it wouldn’t be a stretch with his devil-may-care attitude. Would it?

He’s about to make mention of heading back inside when Stark takes two purposeful steps towards Peter, bridging the gap between them. 

Peter freezes on the spot, breath caught in his chest as Tony brings them nose-to-nose.

He flicks his eyes down at Tony’s lips when his solemn expression morphs into an impish smile.

“Dude, what -- ?”

While Peter is distracted, Tony’s hands dart out to grip the strings of Peter’s hoodie, tugging them until the hood shrinks around his face.

“Do me a solid and try to wear something that doesn’t make you look like you’re a step away from lining up at a soup kitchen, okay? Y’know, something nice.”

Peter smacks his hands away furiously, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as Tony backs away, snickering.

“You really get off on being a prized piece of shit, don’t you?” he mutters, somewhat self conscious as he tries to correct the hood. “Poor jokes, that’s real nice. Sorry not all of us were born wearing Balenciaga.”

He continues to struggle with it as they move away and head back towards the main building, pushing it off his head altogether. 

“Calm down, Charlie Brown, it’s not that deep,” Tony says drily, although his flippant demeanour softens significantly. “I have no doubt that you’d still manage to look like a hobo even if you were loaded, okay. You just have that grubby vibe.” Tony claps his hands together. “So, tomorrow. Meet me in the parking lot. Yes?”

Inside, away from the wind, Peter is still helpless to quell the hurricane that is Tony Stark. He gives him a tired thumbs up.

With that Tony sets off in the opposite direction, leaving Peter to wonder what the hell just happened, and what his life has become these last few days. 

“What a jackass,” he says to himself.

Now alone, he rubs his hands up and down his face, fruitlessly attempting to scrub away the memory of Tony close to him, eyes warm with mirth, the heat of his body up close and the smell of nicotine on his breath as he quite literally tugged Peter’s strings. It takes longer than he likes to will the image away and to calm the furious beat of his heart.

Furious; a feeling Peter is becoming progressively more familiar - and uncomfortable with.

Ben used to say that being angry at someone was allowing them to take up space in your head, rent free. He was right, because it never served Peter well to house animosity when acceptance was kinder to his soul and psyche, and to others -- but he can’t help it with this guy. Tony Stark is like an ear worm of the brain. He has this completely obnoxious way of making himself front and centre despite Peter’s best efforts to cast him to the sidelines.

While he’s willing himself to move on his phone vibrates inside his pocket with a new message.

> ur not my better half, loser > why r u like this > nvm i already know lol. > remember, don’t be late 2morrow

Peter, just a little satisfied with himself for getting under Tony’s skin, saves his contact as Tiny Stank and types back quickly, eager to get back to his seat in the library - assuming Stark hasn’t already occupied it - and make the best of his remaining free period.

<  whatever helps u sleep at night < also, plz lose my number after this is over

> way ahead of u, princess > say hi to aunt may for me

Ugh, Peter cringes, pocketing his phone without replying.

That guy is the worst.

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tagging: @bylerboyfriends, @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix

[hetacon]

Prom Queen: Chapter 5

First || Previous || Next

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Word Count: 1,920

Pairings: Endgame Prinxiety, Platonic LAMP, more could be included at a later point

Warning: Swearing, mentions of p*rn, mentions of drugs and underage drug use, slight internal panic attack

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Summary: The popular kids were interesting for sure, they definitely weren’t exactly like Virgil had expected them to be but at the same time they kind of were.

(Make sure you read all the way to the end if you want to hear my thoughts on the chapter, and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, my art, or writing! I hope you guys enjoy!)

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Music blared through Virgil’s headphones as he and Roman sat with the popular kids again. Virgil wasn’t feeling up to talking much with them today so he had out his sketchbook, mindlessly making marks on the page. He was totally spacing out, too occupied by his latest worry of the week.

He very nearly jumped out of his skin as one of his earbuds was pulled out of his ear and he scrambled to pause the My Chemical Romance song that he’d been playing to drown out his thoughts the best he could, putting his phone face down in his lap. Virgil registered the person next to him laughing loudly at his jumpiness and he looked over to see Nick nearly doubling over from how hard he laughed.

‘It really wasn’t that funny, you scared me asshole,’ Virgil thought bitterly to himself before mentally shaking his head. ‘He didn’t do anything rude.. Well, that rude, calm down Virgil, you’re overreacting again. These are Roman’s friends, they’re starting to like you.’

“Sorry dude but that was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen, holy crap,” Nick chuckled, leaning back as he crossed his arms. He looked over to Virgil finally and nodded. “So what was up with that? You looked like you were about to shit yourself.”

Virgil’s brows furrowed. “Force of habit, I guess,” he muttered out.

“Oh yeah? What were you doing, watching porn or some shit?” A grimace came over Virgil’s face as Nick asked but he tried to not look too disgusted.

Quick, what was the appropriate answer? How did people usually talk about that type of stuff? Should he take it seriously? Consider it a joke? Punch him in the arm like the jocks he saw all the time in his physics class?

Luckily, Roman cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow. “Hey, that’s not cool, he’s clearly not comfortable, Nicholas,” he said, giving Nick a leveling look.

Nick put his hands up and shrugged. “Only joking dude, what he does with his time is his business. Wouldn’t blame him if it was though!” Another laugh rang out as one of the other guys sitting next to Nick punched him in the arm, much to Virgil’s satisfaction. At least someone punched him.

“Gross, shut the hell up!” the person who punched Nick told him with an obnoxiously grating laugh. “You’re sick, dude.”

Virgil tried to ignore the conversation but as he tried to put his earbud back in, he noticed Nick had it in his ear. He just couldn’t get away from them could he? He signed up for this admittedly though.

“Sorry, anyways, Virge, why’d you jump like that, for real?” Nick finally asked as he and the other guy stopped spitting insults at each other.

“I have strict parents, they don’t like anything remotely mature. They always call my stuff out if it has language in it so I just don’t let them see any music I listen to anymore,” Virgil found himself explaining, opening his phone to play a popular song that had been making the rounds around school rather than continuing through “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” like he desperately wanted to. Just one more thing Virgil had to be careful of. No more of his own music at school from now on, got it.

“Fuck, strict parents suck! Like, seriously, let me live my fucking life!” Nick scoffed out. “I just want to vape in fucking peace, they don’t need to get all pissy about it. It’s my fucking life right?”

Virgil looked up to Roman for a possible escape from the conversation, Roman knew he wasn’t a huge fan of people even talking about drugs, but Roman was staring down at his phone, texting someone. He looked upset anyways, Virgil probably shouldn’t make him feel worse.

“I mean, I don’t know, my parents aren’t the worst. I know they love me even if they aren’t good at showing it.”

“Nah, parents are assholes, adults are assholes really. They act like they can control you, it blows!” Nick complained.

Virgil only half-listened to the conversation, the other half of his attention going to trying to not have a panic attack. He took a look at the time and put away his sketchbook after making a mental note that he didn’t get very far into the sketch.

“Hey Virge, mind getting something with me real quick?” Roman asked and Virgil’s head snapped up as he nodded quickly.

The two started to walk off in the direction of their classes, Roman letting out a sigh when they were far enough.

“That wasn’t nice of him, sorry for not really... Doing much. I know you don’t like attention being drawn to you, I didn’t know if you wanted me to step in or not.”

“No, it’s fine! I’m just, you know, getting to know your friends I guess!” Virgil laughed out a little too brightly for his usual attitude. He’d been acting more like that around Roman though lately, Roman barely seemed to notice from what he saw.

“Are you sure..? I know you really don’t like those topics and he was practically steamrolling over any chance for you to stop him. I should’ve stepped in, I’m sorry,” Roman said with a hand rubbing his temple. Virgil watched him closely, noticing the way his shoulders locked up. He clearly looked beyond displeased.

“If it’s just for my comfort, I’m fine. I’d tell you if anything was happening, yeah? It’s what best friends do,” Virgil hummed out with a smile, bumping Roman’s shoulder with his own as they continued walking.

Roman glanced over wearily, a small smile on his face as the bell finally rung, signifying the start of class. “Yeah,” he merely replied, before the two parted ways.

The popular kids were interesting for sure, they definitely weren’t exactly like Virgil had expected them to be but at the same time they kind of were. The group was a bit fluid, some of the people that Virgil and Roman sat with tended to stay every day while others came and went. There wasn’t a super strict clique structure that was upheld but there didn’t seem to be a lot of the nerdier groups represented by the group, it mostly consisted of jocks, preps, and random drifters who tended to throw good parties. All of them had some sense of social standing in the school, many people knew them, and they were generally liked outside of the some of the people in the “lower” social statuses. Virgil definitely fit into at least one of these lower statuses but he seemed to be getting a pass due to being Roman’s friends. Luckily the theater kids were essentially accepted as popular kids even if some would be inclined to disagree.

Most of the conversations they got into wasn’t anything that interested Virgil, it mainly consisted of them complaining over homework and “strict” teachers (Seriously, why the hell would teachers actually let someone vape in the middle of class?) and their parents as well as a shit ton of gossip. There was literally so much gossip. So and so cheated on her boyfriend when he was cheating on her too, someone ended up getting in trouble for a tip-off about drugs in their backpack, these two kids got in a fight over some pointless drama and one ended up shoving off a teacher when they’d attempted to break off the fight. It was way more than Virgil thought was even going on at his school as he tended to stay away from pretty much everyone possible but regardless, it all was just as stupid as he expected. Virgil had no idea how they found any excitement out of talking about how people messed up or were fucked over by someone else. He wasn't sure what he was doing anymore but if nothing else, high school was supposed to be confusing right? That's what everyone always said, no one said anything different.

A sign of progress, if Virgil could even call it that was when one of them decided to sit next to him in his English class. The two of them would chat though Virgil barely managed to understand or be engaged in the conversation half of the time. Virgil definitely hated him when he asked Virgil to make up an excuse for him while he vaped in the bathroom and Virgil barely managed to sputter out that he told Virgil he felt a little nauseous but would be ok. It was insane to see the guy come back and roll with the excuse when the teacher asked if he needed to go to the nurse when he got back. Virgil felt his stomach curl when he shot him a wink with a click of his tongue.

"So hey, I was thinking you guys, we've all been pretty busy lately," Patton said as Logan was driving them out for lunch after school.

"Yeah? What's up Pat?" Roman asked, leaning against Virgil in the backseat. Virgil very slightly leaned in, finally relieved to have it just be the three of his closest friends surrounding him as Dodie played on the radio. This was nice, it seemed more simple like this, Virgil almost forgot all his worries as the conversation started up.

"I was thinking about us doing something over fall break and whatnot! Unless there are family plans and whatnot which is cool but I'm free and so is Logan so we wanted to see if you and Virgil would want to!" Patton grinned to Virgil.

"I dunno, it sounds good to me if you wanted to," Virgil told him, before looking over to Roman. "You in?"

Roman sighed and groaned loudly, running a hand over his face. "I so want to but it might be tricky scheduling, the theater teacher is being a bit of a bitch about rehearsing over break. I can't very well miss it and I don't want to promise I'll be there. But even if I can't find a way around it, you guys can absolutely do so and send me lots of pictures!" He gently nudged Virgil's shoulder and despite the heaviness Virgil felt in his gut, he nudged back, giving a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, it's cool. Pat and Logan and I will hang out, no problem. We'll make sure to make plans for the four of us sometime soon ok?" Virgil told him, the weight coming off of him slightly as Roman let out a relaxed laugh, hugging Virgil close. Virgil felt his face grow exceedingly hot but he tried to push down the feeling.

"Yeah, that sounds awesome, I love you guys so much!"

"Oh, are you guys going to need anyone to paint sets? You know I'm always down," Virgil offered, glad to hear the excitement in Roman's answer.

The conversation kept going, they meandered from that to a new show Roman and Patton had both started watching, Logan gave them some of the details of a new robot he was helping to code. Virgil even showed Roman some of his newly finished sketches in the leather bound book (which was now getting a fair amount of use) even if Roman had already seen them halfway done. It felt easy, it felt nice, and Virgil felt like he could breathe. And that scared him a little.

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It is absolutely so strange to write popular kids, I don’t think it’s going to be the easiest for me! Luckily the next chapter is going to be very popular kid free so I don’t have to worry about that! Honestly, their dialogue is the reason the chapters take so long! I don’t find things like gossip and whatnot interesting, it doesn’t make sense since I’m neurodivergent. I’m trying to not make it too stale, I really hope it’s not stale...

Interestingly enough, I’ve had people mess with me or my friends more than once in regards to stuff like hentai (considering I’m an anime fan) so I actually do have at least two experiences where stuff p*rn-related has been brought up as a way to make fun of the groups I was hanging with.

High school is wild and of the behavior I saw from people much further up on the social ladder than I ever was, they do some really weird stuff. I didn’t even see a whole lot, I just know I definitely didn’t like it.

Be prepared for some Patton and Logan time next chapter, I think Virgil deserves it after all of this!

[colorseeingchick]

Extremities

Summary: A fire alarm kicks you and your classmates outside in the middle of a chilly winter- and all your luck has just about run out. But in the midst of the icy situation, your best friend Kuroo manages to warm your heart. 

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, “unrequited” pining

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: based off something that my good friend used to do in high school, but upon further reflection, was probably MAD sus to everyone else. Anyways hope y’all like it hehe. <3

Why is it that people only manage to start chemical fires in the winter? The blaring of the fire alarm rings in your ears as you carefully hop in the deep footsteps pressed into the snow beneath you- trying very hard to ensure that the snow doesn’t accidentally hit your socks or sink into the soles of your sneakers. The cold was already seeping into your exposed skin, slowly pricking and biting at your arms and cheeks. 

Of all the times for a fire alarm, it just had to be during gym. While everyone else had their winter uniforms on, you were stuck in your gym shirt and shorts.  Just your luck. You bury your hands into your underarms, attempting to cling onto any remaining warmth your body could generate.

If you were going to be stuck out here, might as well be with any friend you could find. Looking for Yaku amidst the herd of tall 3rd years felt like a lost cause, so instead, you look for the beheaded giant that you call your best friend. Finding him never really seemed to be a problem for you. He stuck out for a variety of reasons, but at the moment, his wack hair was the most prominent. 

You hop in footsteps as you make your way towards the spikes of raven black hair, weaving through the other students. Once you’re finally by him, you tug on his sleeve as a form of acknowledgement. He responds by looking at you and smirking (it was supposed to be a smile, but with Kuroo it always ended up looking like a smirk.) 

Before you can say anything you hear a teacher say, “We could be out here for anywhere between 10 to 20 minutes class, so try and hold out until then,” while slipping mittens onto her stiff fingers. 

“Yaku says most of the team is on the other side of the building with him. So I think it’s just gonna be us over here,” Kuroo types away at his phone while informing you. 

You shiver and nod, the skin on the back of your neck begins to tingle as another gush of wind blows in your direction. You let out a deep breath, focusing on the crystallizing vapor that appears like smoke in front of your mouth- trying to distract yourself from the aggravating cold. 

I really struck out in terms of luck, huh. You feel the cold start to climb your exposed legs, making your skin feel hypersensitive. You tried to move around in circles, doing an awkward lil shuffle, to try and keep the cold away.

“Are you waddling in a circle because you wanna be a penguin, or because you enjoy looking dumb?” Kuroo’s snarky voice pulls you out of your own head. 

“Bold of you to assume penguins don’t enjoy looking dumb,” you retort, rolling your eyes. 

“Well yeah, when they do it it’s cute,” he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. 

Are you saying I’m not cute? You don’t ask it. Not out loud. 

“Listen, it’s not my fault there was a fire right when I was in the gym.”

“Aren’t we required to bring our track jackets to gym though?”

“I left it in my locker because I thought I would get too hot…” you know how it sounded as it left your mouth. 

“So you didn’t listen to instructions?”

“...”

“This is your fault then.” 

You scoff, visibly annoyed, which only causes Kuroo’s smirk to widen. That, of course, pisses you off more. He’s right, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying. 

“What class were you in? Chemistry?” you change the subject, still slowly waddling while hugging yourself. 

“Yeah. The fire was from our room.” 

“What even happened?” 

“Someone didn’t clean their beaker correctly so there were remnants of previous chemicals. When we were doing our experiments today, it just so happened to be the wrong combination- so it started the fire.”  

“Don’t be shy, Kuroo. You can tell me you’re the one who started the fire, I won’t judge too hard,” you tease. 

“Tsk, please. I may be an idiot but I’m not that irresponsible…” the faintest of pouts pulls at his lips. 

You hum softly, and quietly say, “I know.” Considering everything that Kuroo was- clumsy and irresponsible wasn’t him. He was one of the most chaotic people you knew- only outdone by Bokuto- but he always took good care of the people around him. You usually witnessed this firsthand as the manager for your school’s volleyball team, watching him in all his captaining glory. He kept it together when they couldn’t. And he definitely kept it together when you couldn’t. Kuroo may not have been clumsy, but you definitely were. 

While you’re lost in your own head, Kuroo hears his name being called out. “Oi, Y/N, I’ll be right back. One of my lab members is calling me over. Don’t freeze to death in that time” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You dismiss him. 

But now in this moment alone with no annoying cat to distract you, the cold starts to overtake you at a faster pace. 

Dizzy from walking in circles, you attempt to shuffle side to side. You did little to pay attention to where you were going, though. Without realizing, you misstep, tripping over your own shoe, left foot digging into a fresh pile of snow when trying to catch yourself- the soft white fluff encasing everything below your ankle. 

Shit. 

The cold that had been nipping at your exterior had suddenly soaked your entire shoe and sock through- permeating through your skin and now racking your entire body with an aggressive wave of iciness. 

********************************4ish minutes later***************************************

Kuroo doesn’t know about this catastrophe on his walk back over. Instead, he’s internally planning on how to continue your teasing banter, his demeanor annoying (it was supposed to be a playful one, but with Kuroo it always just ended up being annoying). 

“Oya, did the cold freeze you stiff or what.” 

Any patience and energy you had left has frozen over.

“I’m fine,” you deadpan. 

Kuroo pauses. ...Oh no, he thinks.

If Bokuto has his emo mode, you have your moody mode. It’s a lot less predictable in comparison to Bokuto, but just as easy to remedy. A little bit of attention or a nice distraction usually does the trick.

“You’re cold,” Kuroo blatantly states.

 “I'm not.” Lie of the century and a dumb answer. But on instinct, you just felt like arguing. 

“I can see you shaking.” You’re indeed shaking like a leaf. 

“Then there’s something wrong with your eyes then...go see an eye doctor or something.” l a m e comeback- but your brain is now freezing up, too. You don’t want to agree with him. If you do, he’d probably just lecture you for not following directions and tell you to own up to it rather than sulk. He would be absolutely correct in saying so, but you really don’t care for logic right now. 

Kuroo huffs, taking a broad step into your little waddle circle and grabbing your shoulders to turn you around so you’re facing him. You shuffle back a bit at the sudden closeness, not that it did much to create distance between you two. It’s at that moment that you also realize the wind is no longer hitting your face- Kuroo’s blocking off the breeze with his back.

“Give me your hands.” Kuroo gently grabs your wrists, which were tucked under your arms. He pulls your hands up to his chest level and then proceeds to wrap his hands around your fingers. 

“Kuroo wh-what are you--” 

“Warming your extremities.”

“Hah?” 

“Your extremities, your fingers.”

“My… what?” 

“When you get cold, most of the heat in your body centralizes to your core to keep your internal organs warm. So that means the extremities of your body, such as your fingers and toes, get the coldest the fastest. They become prone to frostbite as a result and…”

Everything Kuroo says made perfect sense. Probably. You couldn’t really tell because everything also happened to be going in one ear and out the other. Even the sudden bout of irritation you had felt had suddenly disappeared. You can’t focus on anything but his hands. 

They’re markedly bigger than yours. Your fingers feel so tiny in his grasp. They’re calloused from all the volleyball. His grip is strong, unmoving, but it isn’t crushing or tight. Above all, they radiate warmth. Your stiff and numb fingers regain feeling, soothed by the heat of your best friend’s hands. 

You want nothing more than to look at them. You want to just see his hands wrapped around your fingers. But there was no way you were going to let Kuroo in on the fact that the physical contact stole every bit of attention you had. So instead, you just opt to blankly stare at him, pretending to listen to him nerd out. 

“... it’s the most effective way to mitigate the most harmful effects of the cold. We learned all this in biology, don’t you remember?” 

Still completely clueless about what Kuroo's saying, you just hum in agreement. 

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “You didn’t listen to a word I said did you.” He squeezes your fingers slightly to refocus your mind on him speaking, rather than… whatever you were daydreaming about. 

“Oh- uh… yeah. Sorry for spacing out…” you turn your face away from him. Spacing out was a usual occurrence for you, but for some reason when Kuroo brought attention to it this time, it had you feeling a lot more embarrassed. 

He scoffs a little bit, but his voice softens as he says, “You can space out, that’s fine, no need to feel weird about it, y/n.” He squeezes your fingers again while gently stroking the pad of your pointer finger with his thumb. Flustered as it makes you, it's also very calming. Calming enough that you’re able to make stable eye contact again. 

“I’m sorry for getting moody with you, Kuroo…” you murmur, sheepishly gazing up at him. 

His eyes are unreadable. “You don’t have to apologize for everything, y/n. It makes me feel a little weird... Just, like- say thank you instead.” 

You cock your head to the side, confused by his comment. 

He takes a deep breath, the condensation thick in front of his mouth. “You saying sorry all the time, it makes it seem like you think you’re a bother or something. You’re not.” This is getting too serious for his liking. A heart to heart in the middle of a fire drill? Not happening. He has to lighten it up. “ So...instead of putting yourself down, just praise me instead. Trust me, I love every ego boost I can get.” His signature Cheshire grin slowly emerges, prompting you to roll your eyes. “So don’t say, ‘sorry I wasn’t paying attention in biology 2 years ago-’ say, ‘thank you for re-educating me like the great tutor you are, Kuroo-kun~~’” 

He was a great tutor. He’s been helping you with science for 3 years. 

“Or! Or- ‘sorry for letting a volleyball smash into your face,’ you can say, ‘I’m thankful I didn’t damage your gorgeous face-’”

That incident was completely accidental but hilarious anyways. 

 Kuroo’s nonsensical yet insightful rambling continues, and it helps the embarrassment dissipate from within your chest, amusement taking its place.

“Oi! You narcissistic cat.” Kuroo stops his rambling and just stares at you. “Thanks for being there for me… and putting up with me no matter how emotional I can be..” 

Kuroo’s face twists into a smile (yes- a smile! Not a smirk this time) filled with genuine happiness. “No problem. Anything for you.”

Anything, huh. 

“Do you not feel cold anymore?” Kuroo quickly realizes his hands are still enclosed around your fingers, now gently resting against his chest. 

To be honest, your upper body feels like its on fire. Your face is hot and your heart is pounding like you had run 5 miles. By contrast, your lower body is frozen solid. Your skin is probably extremely cracked, and its stinging. Your feet are also blocks of ice, the revolting feeling of soaked sock ever-present. The two extreme sensations leave you feeling really uncomfortable. But your hands don’t feel hot, though. There was just the perfect amount of warmth- a tingly sensation buzzing through them and faintly running up to your heart.

“Uh, not as much. My feet are messed up but my upper body isn’t as bad.”

“Your feet? You mean your legs?” “No, my feet.”

“Heh? I get your legs- ‘cause of your shorts. But what happened to your feet? I thought you were stepping in other footsteps to avoid getting snow in them.”

“I was but uh I- kinda tripped and stepped right into the snow.” 

“...” 

A snort. “Dumbass. How do you even trip over your own feet?”

“...oh shut up, nerd.”

The beeps of a loudspeaker cut off your banter, indicating you could all go back inside. 

“Finally!” You sigh in relief. Although you would never admit it, a part of you didn’t wanna go back in yet. Which is stupid because HELLO you’re gonna get frostbite at this point. But you really didn’t wanna pull your hands away from Kuroo. Not yet.

Physical contact had always been pretty limited to slaps on the backs during the good games and pats on the shoulders during the bad. This type of closeness was a first, but was it also going to be the last?

Regardless, you knew it would be sus if you, the person who was now essentially a walking ice cube, lingered outside longer than literally anyone else. 

So you pull your hands out of his strong, warm, welcoming hold. 

“I’m gonna go pour some hot water on my legs and change my shoes… I’ll see you during practice, yeah?” 

Before he could respond, you turn around and hop away in the deepest footprints you can find.

You don’t seem as off as you were earlier, but now you were acting weird in a different way. Kuroo stands there for a second, but once he realizes that he can’t figure you out, he just sighs. Clueless as ever, he shrugs, stuffs his hands into his pockets, and then heads in. 

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

As you situate yourself in the bathroom and wipe down your legs with a towel soaked in hot water, you let the series of events finally sink into your slowly dethawing head. You aren’t sure if your face is warm to fight the cold or because of embarrassment. 

Pleasant as it was, you knew you couldn’t dwell on the things that just happened with Kuroo. Not for too long, at least. He was one of your closest friends- but just that. So you would have to freeze away whatever wack feelings that were dancing in your chest. It would be better that way for now. 

That’s what you’re gonna tell yourself, at least.

[sleepywinchester]

Fool For You  ⏤ Oscar Díaz.

Summary: You are back in your hometown Freeridge to take care of your sister Jasmine and your father after being away for six years. You left Freeridge looking for a better life but in that process you had to let go of someone you loved. But you’re back and things are not the same but they sure feel like it.

Words: 3,714

Warnings: Angst - Smut-ish - Abusive Ex Mentions

A/N: Hola!!!! I am obsessed with On My Block and of course with papi chulo Oscar ‘Spooky’ Díaz! I’ve spent last week thinking on what to write and finaaally, this came out. I am so happy how this turned out and it’s my first time writing Oscar.

(english is not my first language, might be some typos around)

I really hope you guys like it as much as I do. ❤

The sounds of sirens roamed the air as you woke up for your first official day as a high school teacher in Freeridge. A sigh escaped your lips as you laid in bed. After all these years you were back in the city that made you who you were and made you want more than what you had. Yet you were back in the same block you thought you’d only visit on holidays. Pushing the thoughts away, you prep yourself for the day and head to the school. 

Everything looked, sounded and even smelled the same as it did six years ago. The streets were the same, the tags on the allies and walls were the same. Walking to the school gave you deja-vu vibes, bringing you back to your own high school days. 

“No puede ser,” 

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of the peculiar gruff voice. You were so into your own thoughts that you didn’t notice which house you were walking by. Slowly you looked to your left and saw him, Oscar Diaz alias Spooky. 

It was like your body turned into the body of a teenage girl, your knees slowly getting weak and your heart rate starting to rise. Yet you didn’t show him that, you wore your unbothered mask. Not showing him that just by listening to his voice, made your heart beat so fast. Turning to your right, your eyes found him, sitting widely and without a care in the world on the old couch that was in his front yard. 

Years have passed by and that damn old couch is still there… You thought standing front of his yard. He took a long drag of his joint before slowly standing up from the coach. You breathed in heavily watching him walk towards you with his unique cholo flow. His hands were formed into tight fists and he walked slowly with his shoulders puffed and tight.

Oscar stood a couple steps away from you, “What are you doing in these streets? Looking like a high ass student.” 

“You don’t see me in how many years and that’s your first thought?” 

He glanced to the side and chuckled, “That wasn’t my first thought,” Looking back at you, “It was ‘she looks like a fine ass hyna’ pero no lo dije porque esa ropa threw me off.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “It's called casual professional.”

“Whatever,” he said. You two stayed quiet looking at each other, he looked you up and down, clenching his jaw. “No contestaste la pregunta. ¿Que haces en mis calles?”

You scoffed, “Your streets?”

He nodded once as his expression was serious and his eyes were clouded with what it seemed like rage. You recognized the physical aspects of him, maybe a couple tattoos more like the tear on his cheek but it was like you didn’t know the person looking back at you. “Answer me.”

“I’m back,” you told him and his eyebrow rose for a second. It was the first time you’ve said it outloud. “Got a job at the high school.” 

Instantly he laughed out loud in a high pitched mocking one.“¿Maestra? That’s why you're back?” 

You nodded, re-adjusting your bag, “Among other things but yeah.” 

He formed a small flat smile yet didn’t say a thing. 

A teenage boy walked out of the house, he looked like a small version of Spooky. It didn’t take you long to recognize him. 

“Cesar,” you said with a smile.

He gave you a weird look, obviously not recognizing you. 

“Hey…” he stood next to his brother, “Do I know you?”

“Yeah, you just don’t remember me,” you told him with a small smirk. “I’ve met you since you were this little.” You motion his short kid height with your hand.

“This is Y/N,” Oscar told his brother.

“How do you guys know each other?’

Your eyes met his, “We went to school together.”

“I’ve never seen you around here,” Cesar said - his eyes were still confused. 

“I moved right after high school, now I’m back,” you eyes looked at Oscar for a second and then went back to his brother. “Are you going to school?” Cesar nodded. “Cool, I’ll probably see you in class.” 

Cesar frowned his eyebrows, “You’re a teacher?” 

You nodded and looked back at Oscar, “Te veo, fool.” 

As you walked away from him, you heard Cesar asking how could his brother let a woman call him a fool. The grunt escaping Oscar’s inside made you smirk. 

“Don’t ask and get in the car,” was the last thing you heard Oscar say. 

Oscar drove slowly besides you. 

“Y/N,” he said, “need a ride?” 

You looked down at him, “I’m fine.” 

“Ándale,” he was about to persuade you.

“Te dije que estoy bien,” you told him, “siguelo.” 

He observed you with squinted eyes, “Vale, te veo fool.”

You smirked and continued with your path. As you approached the school area, the more you could see teenagers in the surroundings. Everyone was with their individual cliques and even gangs. After going through security and checking in with the office, you went to your classroom and opened it for the students. Slowly a couple of them began to come in and with those, you recognized César with what seemed his group of friends. 

“Good morning,” you spoke in front of the class. “I’m Y/N Flores D. and I’m your new History teacher.”

The class went relatively smooth and everyone cooperated. You stood in the door as your students walked out.

“Heeeeey hermanaaaaa,” your little sister shouted in the hall.

You chuckled watching her do a little dance.

“Sister?” Ruben looked at you with a cocked eyebrow and disbelief.

Jasmine and you glanced at Ruben.

“Everybodyyyy this is my older sister Y/N! She just came back from New York after-“ 

“Alright Jasmine,” you stopped her from telling everybody your backstory. “We are sisters, can’t wait to get to know you guys.”

Everyone smiled awkwardly before they began to walk away. You grabbed Jasmine’s hand and pulled her into the classroom.

“Sis, I really need you to shut it about me coming back to Freeridge,” you told her. “I don’t want anyone up in my business. La gente es bien chismosa.” 

“Ellos son mis amigos, sis,” Jasmine said. 

You sighed harshly, “Well one of your friends is the little brother of Oscar.”

“You mean Spooky?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t call him that,” you told her. “Anyways, just keep it to yourself. Got it?”

Jasmine nodded, “I got you, sis.” She was about to walk away when she turned, “What’s up with you and Spooky? Why don't you want my friends or him to know why you’re back? It’s not that big of a deal.”

Your sister knew part of the reasons why you were back. Hell she was one of those reasons. She knew what she needed to know but everything else was too hard to talk about.

“It’s a long story, Jas. I buried that shit a long time ago. It’s the past,” you kissed her forehead. “Ahora ve que tengo que prepararme para la otra clase.”

Jasmine knew there was so much you didn’t share and you knew she could find out about everything if she put her mind into it yet she respected your decisions. She smiled and winked before disappearing between all the students. The rest of the day was smoothly, putting aside all the kids that acted superior or just were assholes. 

/ / / / 

You stayed later at school making sure you had everything ready for tomorrow’s classes. The block was oddly silent, not a soul in their porches. Back in the day, by this hour at night there were usual viejitos in their porches talking about their days or their grandsons. Maybe things have changed. You could still listen to las abuelitas in their kitchen and kids playing in their living rooms as you stroll by the humble and colorful houses. Walking back home got you even more exhausted, soon you really needed to get a car. The sound of someone stepping on a branch woke suspiciousness and the feel of someone watching you. Subtly you looked over your shoulder, catching a guy wearing green sneaking into an ally.

The scary feeling of walking by yourself never really left you. You’ve lived in sketchy and semi sketchy hoods all your life. Messed up thing was that you had to learn how to protect yourself. Your heart was beating so fast you could feel it through your chest. You picked up the pace and looked over your shoulder one more time, seeing him again only this time he wasn’t trying to be subtle. 

You looked around and noticed you were in a Santo street but there were none of them in sight. Breathing heavily you put your hands inside your pockets, grabbing something from the inside of it. 

How could that prophet be stupid enough to be around these streets?

Turning around you pulled the taser from your pocket and pressed it on. 

“Come on, cabron!” you shouted, hiding your fear with a tough expression. 

The prophet eyes got wide open when he saw the light from the taser. 

You were about to shout another piece of your mind when a gunshot filled the air. Your body instantly froze last time you heard a gunshot was when you left Freeridge.

“GET THE HELL OUT OF MY STREETS!” Oscar’s voice was full of rage.

The prophet looked at you one last time before running for the hills.

You put the taser inside your pocket and looked up at Oscar. He was already looking at you with a worrisome expression in his face. He clenched his jaw glaring at the empty sides of the street. All you could do was watch him inspect the street with his dull eyes. You were still in shock from what just happened. 

Letting a deep breath out, you thanked him. Oscar didn’t say a word but nodded and looked around one more time before locking his eyes with yours. Noticing how fucking nervous you were. 

“Hey,” he spoke with a soft tone. “Let me take you home.”

If the circumstances were different your answer would have been a straight up no but deep down the fear of crossing with the same prophet made you say yes. Oscar opened the door of his passenger seat, watching you walk by him and get inside his beautiful red Impala.

“You’re staying at your old place?” He asked and you nodded. 

The drive was quiet and quick, given the fact that your house wasn’t far from the spot. He parked the car and the thought of just saying thank you and walking out of that car crossed your mind. Yet you couldn’t just say that and walk away. You looked at him and like always he was already looking at you. 

“I’m staying in the back,” you spoke. “I don’t wanna worry Jasmine.” 

Oscar clenched his jaw, “Want me to walk you to your door?”

“Only if you want to,” you said. 

The two got off the car in silence and walked through the back. You heard Jasmine talking in her room as you walked by her window. The door of the small studio in your backyard cracked when you opened it. Strolling inside you looked over your shoulder to see Oscar waiting in the front entrance. He stood there with both hands inside his pockets, the black flannel flowing with the breeze. 

“You gonna stay there or come in?”

He entered slowly unsure of what he was doing, glancing down he noticed all the open and unopened boxes laying on the floor. He wanted to ask when did you come back and why but instead he watched you put your bag on the chair of the small dining set placed to the corner of the studio right next to the kitchen. Then he looked at your messy bed, he couldn’t hide the small smirk reminiscing how you never used to make your bed years ago. 

You took off your shoes and put them next to your old dresser and noticed how Oscar was roaming your place with his eyes. Biting your lower lip you cleared your throat to gain his attention. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Your voice was soft. 

“Got Corona?” He asked, standing next to your small dining set. 

You smirked opening the fridge and taking two Coronas from it. “Te puedes sentar, you won’t get any taller.” You told him as you opened the beers and sliced fresh lemons to squeeze inside. He chuckled lowly and took a seat.

Placing the beer in front of him, you sat down in front of him. “Why so quiet?” 

He pouted glancing to his left side not knowing if he should ask the million questions he had inside his head. You sighed harshly, getting impatient with the awkward silence. 

“Why are you back, Y/N? After 6 years?” Oscar looked into your eyes. 

You took a big sip of your beer, trying to gulp down the nerves. If you told him the real reason for being back, everything would escalate to a level not even God would pull it down. 

“Jasmine,” you half lied. 

“Your sister is kind of crazy,” he said with a small smile, “not offense.”

You rolled your eyes, “I know - she’s something else… Our mom left her and she’s been taking care of my dad all by herself. I couldn’t let my little sister go through all that alone.”

“I heard about your mom,” he swallowed, “I’m sorry she’s back on that shit.”

Your look went down to the corona, feeling the sadness of the whole situation. “Jasmine hid it from me for a whole summer.” You looked back at him, “I-,” you sighed feeling how the lump in your throat got tighter, “I don’t know how she held it down for two whole months.” 

“She might be crazy but she’s strong as hell,” he said. 

You felt proud of your little sister, Oscar was right she was so strong even more than you.

“Why did she hide it from you?” Oscar leaned forward, his focus completely on you. 

Licking your lower lip, you took a deep breath in, searching for the right answer. You didn’t want to tell him but for fucks sake it was Oscar. The man that years ago you could tell everything. He was the person you went to when your life was falling down. Without looking him in the eye, you began to reply with eyes on the corona wrapped by your shaky hands. “She didn’t want to ruin what I had in New York.”

“What you had in NYC? ” He said. 

You were still looking at the beer but you could feel his eyes on you. “I-,” once again you paused to think of your answer. “I had a good job, really loved teaching to the kids,” the corner of your mouth lifted thinking of how much you missed your students. “My apartment was okay-,” 

“How was the gringo?” he cut you off. 

“What?” You cocked an eyebrow.

He leaned backwards, “Te fuiste a NYC para hacer una vida perfecta. ¿No me digas que de una no encontraste al gringo perfecto?” Oscar's tone had some anger in it as his eyes but more than anger was resentment. “Did you find him?”

“I did,” your reply was blunt and hurtful for him.

Oscar’s head roamed as he glanced in the studio before leaning in with frowned brows. “Where is he?” 

You stood up and drank a big sip of the beer. Needing to feel some distance between you and Oscar, you sat on top of your counter. “He wasn’t the charming prince I thought he was.” You had another big sip. “He ended up being a fucking phsycopath.”

Oscar stood up, having a sip of his beer. “Did he do anything to you?” The thought of a man laying a hand on you or hurting you in any way made his blood boil. He continued to get closer to you. 

“He did…” you confessed, “Let’s just say it was a rough two years.”

Suddenly Oscar’s rage features turned soft, knowing that you got hurt, hurted him in so many ways. He placed the beer on the counter, looking you get smaller and look down. 

“Hey,” he touched your cheek tenderly. His touch was so warm and it felt so good, you missed having him so close to your body. He was so close you could listen to his steady breathing. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

You gazed at him, finally being close enough to see his beautiful brown eyes up close again. His eyelashes were so long, a smile grew on your face reminiscing how you used to be so jealous of that. Slowly you caressed his left cheek, caressing his teardrop tattoo. This new tattoo had so much meaning behind it. Things between both of you have changed but being this close to him felt like home. Oscar shuddered at your soft touch. God it’s been so long. So long that you didn’t realize he could still make you feel this way. 

He was standing between your legs, all this time you’ve been observing how stronger he looked but having him this up close changed the perspective. Your heart began to beat faster as he got closer to you even when there was no more space in between.

Your eyes were on his plumped lips for a second, catching how he licked his lower lip and you mimicked the act. His stare was on your lips and his strong big hands on your thighs, pressing into your body. 

Suddenly you didn’t feel the six years that had passed by. In that moment you felt like the teenager that was in love with Oscar. The teenager that would sneak out of her house to see him. 

His lips weren’t kissing you but you wanted it so badly and waited for it urgently. Oscar hand traveled from your thighs to your lower back, gripping softly. He let out a hard and warm breath. 

Letting your heart rule over your head, you pressed your lips against his and if felt like sparks were lit on fire inside you. Oscar continued to kiss you, giving up and doing what he’s been thinking about since the minute he saw you walking down his street. The kiss was long and slow, you took your time to taste his lips. Butterflies you thought were dead and buried began to surfer out the longer you were lost on his lips. Your hands traveled from his chest to the bottom of his flannel, slowly you began to undo the buttons of the shirt. He stopped kissing you for a second, looking down at what your hands were doing. 

Oscar’s eyes went back to yours, watching you catching your breath. “Are you sure?” 

The button of his neck was undone leaving a spot of skin which you pressed a kiss there. You continued leaving a trail of kisses from his neck, traveling to his cross tattoo, and finally meeting his lips. This was the consent he needed to continue what the two were thinking. Your fingers proceed to undo the next buttons until there is none left. He never stopped kissing you as he took his flannel off, he was wearing a black tank that also came off his body. 

He took off the buttons of your white blouse in no time leaving you with only your bra. Moans escaped your lips with every kiss Oscar left on your neck, chest and collar bone. You were giving in the extasis of the moment and you couldn’t wait to travel the galaxy tonight. 

“Hey sis are you ho- HOLY SHIT!” Jasmine screamed. Oscar spooked turned around, her eyes widened as she seemed a ghost. “HOLY FUCKING SHIT!”

“JASMINE!” You shouted, “Get the fuck out!”

She pumped in her inhaling to control the possibly asthma attack this was going to give and ran out of your place.

You rested your head against the wall, watching Oscar looking at your sister run inside her room. He turned to look at you, his eyes dissapeared when he grinned. The two started laughing so hard that your stomach began to hurt. 

The comedic moment was interrupted by his phone ringing. You stayed on the counter watching him pick up. “Que paso compa?” he said to the person on the other side of the line. Oscar’s eyebrows frowned transforming his expression into a serious one. “I’m on my way,” he said before hanging up. 

“Gotta take care of business,” he told you. 

You nodded in understanding, “It ain’t easy being king.” 

He scoffed, shooting you a killer grin, “De veras que no.” He put on his black tank and walked to the door. 

“Oscar,” you called and he turned, “Gracias por lo de hoy. I don’t know what would happen if you didn’t show up.” 

The corner of his lips curved up, “I did nothin’ you already had it handled, mama.” He said before turning completely. “Nos vemos fool,” he almost whispered and that made you smile. 

Your smile didn’t vanish as you took in how good he looked walking away. 

Running your fingers through your long locks you let out a loud sigh, processing what had happened a couple minutes ago. You laughed at yourself thinking how it only took less than seventy two hours of being back to Freeridge and you already were getting involved with Oscar. 

“No vas volver con el Oscar,” you mocked yourself at the pep talk you told yourself on the plane back home. Getting off the counter, you shook your head to the sides. “Eres una pinche pendeja.” 

PART TWO 

____________________

[writersrealmbts]

A Natural: Part 5

Description: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader: You’re a single mom, and your son is your entire world. When you take him to get his first hybrid, his choice is pretty bewildering, until you realize that he was picking out a dad.

Posted: 05/24/2020

Tags: Taehyung, Hybrid Taehyung, Human Reader

Wordcount: 1,906

A/N: Oh look, another series that was never supposed to be a series. And I had to pick a new series gif because it wouldn’t show up. 

Taehyung woke you up gently, pressing kisses to your cheeks, nose and forehead.

You sighed and stretched. “Mmm, what time is it?”

“Seven,” He whispered, tilting your chin slightly so he could kiss your lips. “You said you wanted to get there early.”

You nodded. “It’s his first day of physical therapy. He was scared. Jin send any updates?”

“Haven’t checked. You okay?” He asked, feeling your forehead.

“Just tired. Always tired. I wish there was a miracle cure that I could give him. Or that I could take his pain and he could continue to be my rambunctious baby.” You buried your face in his shoulder, sighing in frustration.

The past three weeks had been exhausting. You couldn’t recall a single night where you felt like you went to bed with some scrap of mental, emotional, or physical strength. They had woken Theo up about a week and a half after he was admitted, and he had taken it well since he was still so groggy. But you hardly left his side for the first three days. The only reason you left on the fourth was because of work. You had to pay for the medical bills somehow. Now they were thinking he was healed enough to start some very minor physical therapy. He didn’t have feeling from about mid-shin down, but his brain had healed well. The doctors didn’t think there was any lasting damage now. He got the casts off of his legs and his collarbone was healed, so they were really happy with how he was recovering so far.

Taehyung spent most of his days at the hospital, and Jin and Jimin alternated nights to help you two out.

Yoongi bought you lunch most days, and visited Theo on the weekends. Bringing movies to binge and board games to play.

Theo always perked up when Yoongi got there on Saturday morning.

Namjoon brought Hoseok whenever the two didn’t have too much work, and he would bring in music stuff—instruments or tracks—to entertain Theo.

Theo loved Namjoon’s music visits, just as he loved music class the most.

Hoseok still had to catch up on some grading, and recovering his class from a week with a substitute teacher on top of his own bit of physical therapy for his leg injury. He still obviously felt guilty, but he also helped Theo learn things he was missing in class. He had told you that the kids would ask after Theo, and they even sent in get-well-soon cards.

Theo kept saying he couldn’t wait to go back to school.

Jimin drew cartoons on Theo’s casts before they were removed and Theo loved them so much that he insisted Jimin teach him how to draw, and now there were drawings everywhere.

Taehyung kissed your collarbone. “Hey, you okay?”

“Just…waking up.” You curled into him.

He chuckled sleepily. “No, you’re not.”

“Are you telling me that you’re awake?”

He gave a sleepy sounding hum. “Not really, but I know we need to get up.”

You nodded, yawning into his chest and then rolling away from him and getting up in one movement.

“Hey, Jimin texted me to call him,” Taehyung said, frowning at his phone.

You sighed. “It probably has something to do with his parents. You better call him.”

He made an almost growling sound at the mention of Jimin’s parents—who had been a continual pain in the ass through this whole process—but he calls Jimin.

You don’t pay attention much while he talks to Jimin, getting ready for the day, and only noticing that something was wrong when Taehyung growls again.

He’s pacing along his side of the bed, not saying anything but there’s a steady growl in his throat. “He starts his therapy today!”

You flinch when he scoffs, and worry fills you at the frown creasing his forehead.

“What am I supposed to tell Y/n, Jiminie?!”

“I’d suggest the truth if you want everyone to live,” You said, eyes narrowed.

He looked up and gulped. “Can I make him explain it?”

You were already in front of him, taking the phone. “What’s going on?”

“My parents…they caused a scene here and the doctors decided to reschedule his physical therapy…since my parents ordered a DNA test.” Jimin sounded apologetic.

“What do they expect to get from a DNA test?” You asked, feeling bile rise in your throat.

“I don’t know, but I’m on top of it, they won’t make a move I don’t know about. I’ll stay with him all day, okay?”

“Jimin, why did they order a DNA test?”

He was quiet, and you heard him huff out a breath. “Because they want to see if he’s actually who we claim and maybe add him to their will if he is,” He said, sounding frustrated.

“Which means they’d try to take him away from me?”

“Possibly. If you didn’t want to comply with their standards.”

“Which I won’t.” You glared at the wall. “Your family sucks.”

“I know. It’s probably better if you stay away, though, that’ll delay things because they need your permission to do the DNA testing.”

You froze. “But—”

“I’ll keep her away,” Tae said, loud enough to be heard, and taking the phone. “Call us if Theo needs her.”

You stared in disbelief as he said goodbye to Jimin and then hung up.

He looked back at you. “It���s for the best, anyway. You’re exhausted.”

“I can’t sleep, not now,” You argued.

“There’s more than just physical exhaustion,” He rebutted, then leaned in and kissed you. “He’s safe with friends. Yoongi will be there later today, with Namjoon and Jimin, just like they planned and they’ll play games with Theo.”

“I barely ever there—”

“You practically live there,” He cut you off with a whine. “Please, I know you’re tired. I know. It’s been a really hard month. But Theo’s being looked after really well. All of the nurses adore him because he’s so sweet and polite. It’s time to take care of yourself.”

You tilted your head, at a loss for words.

He stepped closer, and arms wrapping around your waist after he tossed the phone onto the bed. His lips met yours softly. “It’s time to forget you’re a mom for a few minutes. Just…be you. Be who you were before you were a mom.”

“I don’t know who that is,” You whispered.

“Then just be the person you are with me,” He whispered back, voice low and deep.

You sighed and surrendered to him, allowing him to pull you into a series of lingering kisses.

“Dress up a bit, lets go out.” He murmured, tail swooshing behind him. “Or, well…let’s go for a picnic.”

You stepped back slightly, uncertain.

“Please, Y/n. We both need to let go for a while.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

And you gave in, nodding. “Okay, but…I don’t know…I don’t want to deal with other people.”

“Then we’ll have a picnic in the backyard. You get ready, and I’ll go get things set up and then if you could make us sandwiches?”

You nodded.

“Then we’ll have a nice little date,” He said, grinning at you as his fingers brushed your cheek. Then his shoulders scrunched happily with his face and he practically skipped out of the room. “Remember, wear pretty clothes!”

“O-okay…” You called back, then frowned at your closet door. “I don’t know if I have anything?”

You went into your closet, looking for something pretty that was also middling between casual and Easter Sunday high teas that you used to go to at your grandmother’s senior home while she was alive.

Instead you found frustration and work clothes. Some clothes you might wear to parent-teacher conferences, or to one of the school events.

But the only date-like thing you found in your closet was from before Theo was conceived and you weren’t about to try that on. You knew how your body had changed since then and didn’t need the reminder from your closet. You’d sort of squeezed into it the last time you’d worn it anyway, and you had more hip now.

Sure, you probably had more clothes in that box, but you knew most of the clothes in ther

Taehyung came back when you had been in there for too long. “What’s wrong?”

“No clothes,” You muttered. “Nothing to wear.”

He tilted his head, then came over to look through your clothes. He pulled out a sweater and a skirt, handing them to you. “It’s a little cold outside, so maybe leggings?”

You looked over the outfit and then at him, surprised. “Um…yeah…okay.”

He nodded and walked out. “I’ll make sandwiches!”

You heard your bedroom door close, and started changing. You were surprised at how well he managed to find an outfit for you, but then again, he dressed so well himself, even on a minimal budget.

And it was a nice, casual date outfit.

You did your hair a little, and your makeup a little more. Actually put on earrings and a necklace.

Taehyung was plating sandwiches, making things look nice.

You looked outside in surprise. “It’s raining?”

He looked out as well. “Yeah. It just started. But we can still have a picnic. It’ll just have to be a living room picnic. I already cleared the space and….” He trailed off when he looked at you. His expression softened and he smiled. “Wow, y/n. You look so beautiful.”

You could have blushed, and you might have blushed from the way he was looking at you. “It’s been a while.”

“You always look beautiful,” He added, sincerity in all of his features and gestures. He took your hands in his, tail slowly swishing. “Thank you for agreeing to do this with me.”

You nodded, looking at the ground, unable to meet his gaze.

“Ooh, can I put a fire in the fireplace?”

You nodded again, stealing glanced at him as he excitedly went to turn on the gas fireplace.

Then he dimmed the lights some, and finished arranging blankets and pillows.

“Alright, I think that covers it, sorry we’re only having sandwiches.”

“I can live with sandwiches,” You replied softly, letting him lead you over to sit in the picnic area. You got comfortable while he hurried back to get the plate of sandwiches. You didn’t know your living room could feel so romantic.

He brought over the food and drinks on the bed-tray, setting it down. “It’s just grape juice, but I thought the glasses made it feel more romantic.”

You smiled. “Does. I didn’t even know the living room could look like this.”

He grinned. “We should make it look like this more often.”

You laughed a little.

He kept your laughing a little as the two of you ate, telling you stories and drawing stories of your family out.

You moved the tray and sat beside him, leaning on his shoulder.

He was still for a moment before relaxing into it. He kissed your forehead, then kept telling you about a movie he had seen.

You stared into the fire, listening to his voice. It was so soothing, so wonderfully perfect.

His lips met yours softly, then parted to lightly brush your cheeks. “I love you, y/n.”

You sighed happily, eyes staying shut. “I love you, Taehyung.”

Previous.  Next.

Taehyung Masterpost.  Masterlist.  

Taglist (must comment on taglist to be tagged from now on)

Tagging: @rosita7703, @ephemeral-mindset @forvever-ddaeng  @ncttzuuy @givebuckysomelove @alex--awesome--22  @missmoxxiesworld  @bryvada @knjhe  @i-dont-even-know-fck @young-yellkie @veryuniquenamegoeshere @lottohsehunnie​ @briramirezalipio​ 

Unable to tag: @bunnyboyenthusiast (think you changed to @kthstrawberryshortcake​ please let me know if I’m wrong or right because I have you listed for multiple stories)

[reggies-eyeliner]

Breathe - (Platonic) Alex x stressed out!reader

Summary: (Female Reader, but feel free to request for any and every other gender!) Y/N feels more stressed than usual, trying to balance home life and school life, and her coping skills aren’t going very... well. She gets a little help from a special someone who guides her and helps her live in the present moment.

Warnings: Anxiety, stress, school, cursing, what more can I say? Also the gays because Willie and Alex own my heart lmao

Word count: 1.9k

Requested: Yes! By anon :)

~

Whenever Y/N tried to get an assignment done, it went a little something like this: first she tried to get everything done by creating a small basis of a tool list. She was still feeling bloated, tired, hot, and sticky, but she went with it and continued to waste 10 minutes on making her to-do list aesthetically pleasing. After that, she thought, “Hmm... maybe I do want to take a break,” but she doesn’t anyway, so Y/N gets out her assignments, lays them all out, and just as she’s about to get started: hey, I wonder how many people can relate to me on xyz, and then she’d get distracted on social media.

Y/N would spend an entire 40 minutes on her phone before she remembers, “MY ASSIGNMENT IS DUE,” so she flips it back out, gets started, but can’t seem to get that guilty feeling of not doing her work out of her head, so she slightly uses that as an excuse to take a break. Only, she don’t take a break and end up rolling out of her chair and going on her phone again, and she still feel just as (or even more) exhausted. Then that’s when the guilt really starts seeping in, and Y/N realizes that she has another extra-curricular class so she gets ready for that, but by the time she’s done, there’s only 30 minutes before the due date-- so she start crying and gives up.

And that’s just a short summary of it.

It was dawning the last few weeks of exam months, and Y/N had been cramming all of her assignments over and over again, constantly getting burnt out and not moving up from her seat, even though she wanted to. It was as if she was glued to her chair, unable to move and constantly on the go at the same time. The stress of having to deal with so many things at once was one of the most overwhelming things that she’s ever had to experience, even though she knows those feelings come-and-go at times--- but this, this was so much worse than what she ever thought. And she believed that she was in literal hell.

There was a constant feeling of “I need to do this, I need to do that,” but it wasn’t that she didn’t want to do it-- it was that she physically couldn’t. Y/N knew that she couldn’t blame her brain for not doing the assignments, but sometimes, she felt like she had to. All the time. The constant feeling of overwhelming stress finally got to her when she opened up her classroom page to find yet another technical issue and the entire page crashed, leaving her with a due date within 10 minutes. It was currently a quarter before midnight, and she had been living on caffeine pills and sugar for the past week or so.

“𝟓𝟎𝟐 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐲.”

The assignment was due in less than 20 minutes, and now everything was going wrong. Great.

If I had only not gone on my phone... why did I go on my phone for so long? I should have just stayed put, I can’t believe myself, what am I even doing? This isn’t fair, this isn’t far, but is it fair? I did deserve this, but-- I also feel like I don’t, I worked so hard to get here, but what if I lose it? What will everyone think? No, no, this can’t be happening. I fucked up again. Oh no. No. No.

The thoughts came in like a raging, wild waterfall that was out of control and poured out, overflowing in her brain that pooled her thoughts, with tears that eventually spilled over. In the dorms nearby, Y/N could hear Reggie snoring sound-asleep in this room. Everyone in the band was still asleep like nothing was wrong, and overall, it just... wasn’t fair. How come they were sleeping? Why did they get all of that rest, while you were stuck on this stupid assignment that literally meant nothing to you-?

In frustration, Y/N suddenly wasn’t sure how she was supposed to react. She felt like she couldn’t cry-- more like she wasn’t allowed to cry. Her problems weren’t as bad as other peoples’, so why on Earth was she stressing out? It wasn’t her issue, why was everything always going wrong for her? No matter what she ever did, she always seemed to lose. Y/N pulled her hair and threw the nearest thing onto the floor in the darkness of teh night, when she heard a high-pitched echo from the sound, when she realized she had just smashed her laptop onto the tiled floor.

“Shit-” Y/N cursed under her breath and instantly ran over, her entire body and hands trembling over the cracked screen. In hopes of some sort of miracle, she turned the power button on, because maybe, just maybe it could turn on.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Nothing happened, nothing turned on, and in that moment, Y/N wanted to scream. She wanted to scream because she had so much pent-up frustration and anger, she wanted to scream because no one ever seemed to check in on her, she wanted to scream because she had worked so hard to try her best but every single time nothing ever went well for her. Her head was pounding and her eyes felt like they were being weighed down by boulders.

But she took a deep breath and staggered over to her desk to turn on the lights, and-- wait, why was everything spinning? That’s weird, that’s never happened in the room before. Why is that moon upside-down? What’s going on...

~

“Y/N!” a loudly-whispered voice rang.

Y/N groaned, mumbling under her breath and rolled over. Everything sounded like she was underwater, a weird, gurgling sound. Y/N assumed she was dreaming, so she pulled her hoodie over her head and slumped back.

“Y/N,” the voice exclaimed in a hushed tone.

Another mumble. Couldn’t that voice tell that she was trying to sleep?

“Hey, hey, wake up,” the voice continued. Y/N didn’t respond and groaned slightly. “Y/N?” a little... gentler this time? A softer tone? Who...

Suddenly, nothing sounded weird and the low hum of the heaters powered back on as Y/N tried her best to open an eye. She could tell by the faint smell of rain and cinnamon that she was still in her dorm, but who was there? They sounded gentle, sweeter, more... cautious?

“Hey, Y/N, you awake?”

She rubbed her eyes. “Al-” Y/N choked, launching into a coughing fit. “Alex?”

He laughed slightly. “That’s right. Good to know you’re brain is working,”

Working? Brain? Good?

Oh shit.

Y/N immediately stood up, staggering from moving so quickly and mumbled, “I-I need to finish my assignment, it’s almost, it’s almost done-”

“Woah, woah, slow down, y-you need to get some air,” Alex said, hoisting her by the shoulders with his hands.

“I don’ need air, I needa ‘inish the assignment, it’s due in-” she slurred, but turned into a panicked gasp when she whipped around, asking, “Alex, what time is it?”

“Y/N,” he said gently. “that’s not important, you just passed out, you need-”

“No, no, no, no!” she said, mumbling slightly. “Is-- is my laptop still working? Is it still-”

“Hey, I need you to breathe-”

“Alex, can’t you see that I can’t? I have so many things to do, and they’re all due so soon-- if I don’t ace this, if I can’t finish this music piece and somehow get all this shitty math stuff correct, I need to work hard. I need to be productive. I-”

Alex’s face suddenly softened and he nodded, letting her speak more.

“I also really, really need to get this done! If I don’t get it done, I can’t pass this class with you guys, which means that I can’t get a decent degree, and I also can’t do anything without the constant guilt that you guys moved on without me! I want to, I want to relax, I want to breathe, I want to just stay in someone’s arms forever and they’ll tell me that I’ll be fine-”

In those seconds, in-between her times of rambling, Y/N barely noticed that Alex had pulled her outside to the rooftop (which wasn’t very high) and wrapped his arms around, pulling her into the softest hug.

She stopped mid ramble. “Wh-what... what are you doing?” she choked.

“It’s going to be okay,” Alex said slowly, almost as if he were testing the words out.

“S-say... say that-t... again,” Y/N trembled.

“It’s going to be okay. I need you to breathe, is that alright with you?”

It was almost as if Alex had become an entirely different person as he slowly let go of her, then he grabbed onto her shoulders and said, “breathe with me.”

“Inhale,”

1…

2…

3…

“Hold for four seconds,”

1…

2…

3…

4…

“Exhale for five,”

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

Y/N breathed in and out as they both continued to do that for what seemed like 10 times. Alex also seemed like someone new, not the same out-of-sort and confused guy, but he didn’t seem like a teacher either… like an older brother, someone who guided her no matter what.

“Where… who taught you that method?” Y/N asked, trying to stop her voice from trembling.

Alex immediately broke into a smile so wide that he had smile lines as he stared up into the sky. “Willie taught me,”

Y/N slightly smiled. “He did, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s pretty beautiful,” he continued to nod with that same old dorky expression.

“Beautiful, huh?” she said, trying to match his tone.

“I mean-- uh, pretty good. At that.” Almost instantly, Alex flushed and changed the topic. “A-are… are you feeling better now?”

“Definitely a lot better than before, but... how did you know you had to do that?”

“W-well, when I saw you rambling, I saw myself, so...” Alex shrugged slightly, his eyes undoubtedly playing along the slightest bit. “And since I never really... well, had parents to comfort me while growing up, and Willie was the first to help me, I assumed that you’d might need some help, too.”

Y/N couldn’t believe her ears. How could there be such a sweet, loving, kind and gentle person right in front of her? His smile was genuine as he nodded slowly again.

Y/N grinned gratefully, shifting her weight from toe-to-toe. “Thank you so, so much, but I- I’m just a bit stressed about my laptop, and…”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Alex stopped her before she could continue. “Don’t get caught up in your thoughts (he learned this quote from Willie), just take another deep breath and your head will be clearer. It’ll-- It’ll sort things out. Listen, we can always go to the counselor, she’s on her night shift right now. We can see if we’re allowed to borrow the school’s laptop for now, how does that sound?”

“I…” you nodded. “Thank you… so much, Alex.”

He turned his head and smiled back. “You never have to thank me for anything,” he turned his heel and waved. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up!”