#locker essentials

[jadeannbyrne]

Walgreens: Plan B for When Plan A is Live Streaming

Walgreens: Plan B for When Plan A is Live Streaming On Saturday, August 31st, I clocked out of Walgreens for the final time, closing a chapter that started in April 2018. For 6.5 years, Walgreens was there—my safety net, my “Plan B for Plan B”—whenever the demands of streaming, creative projects, and on-screen time got too hectic. It wasn’t just a job; it became part of my rhythm. But let me be…

[saltoncity]

im that friend thats too feminist or woke or whatever because every time someone says “THIS is what boys will be boys means” about men doing something silly or goofy i want to attack them with hammers. oh so you think only men are capable of being funny you don’t think women can do ridiculous and do things for the bit. death by one thousand blades.

[mars-ipan]

nothing like a good cry to cure anticipatory anxiety

[kitnita]

towards the end of last season i told myself that i'd start working on a tydel/wyjo primer once ty signed his next contract (lol) (lmao even) but since then i've only gotten more insane about ty dellandrea so i might just make a solo primer about him since i have all the links compiled anyway & would just need to commit to writing it all out

[azurecatboy]

man I legitimately can't tell if I slept worse last night or the night before

ready to sleep in my own bed later

[thanatos-girl]

Yk i get incorrectly assumed to be transmasc with some regularity, especially in queer spaces, and let me tell you the culture is rotted from the inside out. When this happens it absolutely feels like being the only woman in a men's locker room and when I do out myself, both literally as a transfem, and as someone who cares about defending other trans women; the mood always sours, and suddenly I find im not welcome anymore because I won't join in on transmisogynist "jokes" and sexual harassment or cosign their bio-essentialism when they wax poetic about their lesbianism

[skipppppy]

This is such a minor and specific pet peeve but is anybody else midly incensed anytime this site labels doing fun shit out in nature as “boys stuff.” Like idk how to explain exactly but anytime I see a video of a guy pushing a giant boulder off a cliff to watch it break or digging a massive hole in the sand at the beach or throwing rocks in the water to hear it splash and people caption it shit like “for my male audience” or “wholesome boys will be boys” like…why are we forever burdened by gender essentialism. Do they think women are not also consumed by the desire to dig tunnels and run in the mud and make potions in puddles. I know it’s just a small part of a larger needless gender binary of internet memes a la “girl dinner” and “boys locker room” and “i bet he’s thinking about cheating on me” and whatever but maybe bc I was a little girl who used to love doing all that shit but was routinely told I couldn’t because I had to be pretty and ladylike it just makes me mad sometimes

[cheralith]

— all i breathe in is your life. feat. itoshi sae || wc: 1.1k contains: gn!reader, no pronouns used, secret relationship, just pure fluff :P

sae doesn't really tell people things about himself.

he thinks he doesn't need to—unless it involves soccer, he sees no use in people attempting to pry at his personal self other than to just scratch the surface level of itoshi sae, professional soccer player. all the masses need to know is that he's a midfielder, he's from japan, and itoshi rin is his little brother.

so shock comes as a severe understatement to his team when they find out that he's married after one of them overhears sae telling their coach he can't make to a press conference because he'll be celebrating his wedding anniversary.

sae understandably gets bombarded the moment he enters the locker room to his disdain. many of his teammates have coupled up with celebrities, models, and influencers—per modern athlete fashion—so they provoke him with who this mystery person is.

"none of your business," he snaps, clearly irritated.

some of them think it's a fluke, just his way to get out of dealing with the media, as sae bears no ring on his left ringer and has never been seen wearing it in public (though, arguably, sae is a hard figure to catch outside the field anyways). but all sae has to do is roll his eyes, take out a travel-sized jewelry holder, and put on his wedding ring to flash at them.

"well shit, man," one of his younger teammates, a notoriety amongst the media for being a bit of a playboy, laugh. "how long have you been chained down for?"

the phrase irks him a bit. to view marriage as a prison seems contemptuous to him—no wonder this guy can't hold down a relationship.

sae shuts his locker door, eyes still bored as ever as he makes his way to the exit.

"four years going on five," he mutters, a smidgen of entertainment for them just to shut them up for good. "you're lucky if your career ever lasts as long."

he gawks at him, ready to fire back an insult, but sae's already disappeared through the door. sae makes his way to the lobby of his team's training facility, where he sees you, their assistant manager, sitting patiently at one of the tables nearest to the window.

"ah, sae," you greet with a friendly smile, tablet with his stats on hand. "there you are."

he only gives you a silent nod of acknowledgement in return, sparing nothing for you but an ear to listen as you read off his comments given to them by their coach as you always do with each member. there's nothing much to improve on, seeing as how he's essentially the definition of perfection in regards to soccer, but he still clutches onto the occasional whisper of criticism to help him improve.

he bids you goodbye, reminding you that he won't be at the press conference this evening and to have a nice evening, before he exits out the doors and makes his way to his car. the silence that bestows upon him when he enters it makes him feel at peace... until his phone rings.

an audible groan escapes him; sae swipes at his phone, ready to curse out what was probably his teammate he insulted earlier or his coach, but the annoyance within him disappears the moment he sees a familiar name.

he picks it up carefully, staring straight ahead of him into the lobby of the facility.

a well-known greets him first. "hi there."

"hey," he mutters softly... a hint of affection in his voice.

"so, apparently the restaurant is all booked for tonight," you whisper into the phone, sae watching your lips move in sync from inside the safety of his car. "i got us this other restaurant near roppongi, is that okay?"

sae nods, hoping that you can see it through the lobby. "that's fine. what time should i start leaving the house to meet you there after the conference?"

a sweet, thoughtful hum passes through. "how 'bout 7:00? meet there at 7:30? conference ends at 6:30, but i'll leave a bit early to catch a cab and beat traffic."

disapproval seeps into his sigh. "i still think it's better if i pick you up."

"haha, no way. and risk being caught?" you laugh, giggling when you see sae's scrunched face through the window of the lobby from his car.

"i just don't like the thought of you being in a car alone with a stranger," he says, his tone droll as ever but you've known him long enough to detect that subtle worry in his voice.

"i appreciate the thought, my darling husband," you remark as you gaze upon your five-year-old wedding ring sae gave you. "but we've worked this hard to keep it under wraps. one cab ride won't kill me. it's just so that we don't have to take two cars home."

sae doesn't enjoy the feeling of defeat, but all his ego comes to humble itself whenever you were the one that bestowed it upon him. only the person he stood across the altar from half a decade ago would only be able to do such to itoshi sae.

"fine..." he grumbles, watching as you grin rather stupidly your gain. "send over the address. and don't be late."

"yessir," you give him a childish salute from the lobby, one that he has to fight cracking a smile at, your playfulness never once fading at the slightest from the moment he met you.

though he does admit it's hard trying to keep your relationship behind closed doors, especially since you're a non-celebrity, but it's all worth it when he gets to wake up to your face and kiss it right before he falls into a deep slumber, your body intertwined his with a tenderness being connected with his—a silent murmur of "i love you" to end off another day with you.

just before he ends the call, your voice reaches him once more.

"sae?"

he blinks, removing his hovering finger over the red button to let your words reach him, not wanting to waste any word that comes out of your lips go uncherished.

"yeah?"

you turn to face him directly from where you were in the lobby, only the window of it and the window of the his car being your only barriers between each other. affection spreads upon your features, one that makes sae mimic on his own.

"happy anniversary, my love," you profess tenderly to him. "i love you."

a warmth embeds itself within him when he admires you from his car. five years may not necessarily be the longest of time to some people, but to think that you and him have lasted this long together brings about a peace that he treasures on the daily and will continue to do so forevermore if you're by his side.

his eyes soften, staring at you in pure devotion.

"i love you too," sae confesses. "happy anniversary."

[deadsetobsessions]

I just really like the trope of Danny getting summoned, alright?

——

After he shoved Pariah Dark in his coffin shaped locker what what Danny hoped to be for all of eternity, the half unfortunately inherited all of Pariah’s responsibilities.

“What was it again? With great powers comes great responsibilities?” Danny let his head hit the table with an audible thunk. He’s in his “office,” the ghost zone’s approximation of where he might be able to do work seriously. The house- the extension of his haunt- had added the room right next to his bedroom. Danny had to lift all of the paperwork from Pariah’s castle (that’s now also a part of what’s considered Danny’s but he doesn’t think about that) and move it to his main haunt.

He prayed to the universe at large to let him off. Danny hated doing homework- science not withstanding because at least he understood that- let alone an asshole’s centuries worth of work. Danny bemoaned the fact that he was elected the King. He didn’t even defeat Pariah all by himself, so why couldn’t the others do it?!

Like a wave of merciful fate, the beginning tugs of a summoning pulled at his core.

“Thank Ancients!”

Danny scrambled to grab a sticky note, unfortunately glowing green as things tended to in the Ghost Zone, and scribbled down that he’s been summoned and to not look for him until his vacation work was done.

With that note done, Danny decided to bring his A game to the summoning. Allowing his secondary form to wash over him, Danny quickly checked the mirror to make sure he was presentable. A bright glowing ice crown- not the crown of fire, because it was essentially useless without the ring and Danny wasn’t keen on being a king, let alone a near infinitely powerful one- settled across his brow showed his status. A cape, this form’s best feature, made of an expanse of galaxies, nebulae, and frost cling at the end was swept over his shoulders and pinned together with a cloak pin made of clusters of black holes.

A couple of additions to his normal hazmat suit and his trusty thermos at his side, Danny all but dove into the summoning magic with an excited whoop of glee.

As Danny got closer to the magic-made portal, he could hear the whispers of the living presences beyond it.

His summoners! Hopefully it’s not a cult again, even if he thought they were pretty funny trying to summon the king of the dead to kill more people. Not funny “haha,” funny weird.

How should he do this…? Scary? Funny? Oh! Or maybe he should ditch the crown!

Danny grinned, waving his hand to dispel the crown of ice. It was nice, but he was in a dungeon critter mood today.

“Oh, this is going to be gooood.”

Danny cracked his knuckles and put on the most dead-inside-and-outside expression he could manage, modeling it off of the Nasty Burger workers during closing shift. The halfa stepped through the portal.

——

“The ritual is completed! You will all face the might of Pariah Dark, the eternal king of the dead!” The villain of the week cackled as his cult cheered. Wonder Woman, scuffed and injured from the magical bolts these magic users had shot at her earlier, grimaced and raised her sword.

“We will defeat Pariah Dark,” she proclaimed. Her allies rallied at her proclamation and readied themselves for another fight. “This world will not bow to the likes of you!”

“We are all but mere ants before the king of the dead! Pariah Dark will bring forth the reckoning this shitty world deserves!”

“Actually, Pariah Dark’s kind of busy, so you’re gonna have to leave a message.”

Green Arrow’s arrow jerked towards the new voice. Batman paused, hand holding batarangs at the ready. He, out of all of them, knew better than to underestimate a young voice.

A gloved hand shoved through the green portal, using the edges like a door frame to heave itself through. A humanoid shape, with sharp ears all but crawled out of the Lazarus green portal. Batman wondered if this was what Jason saw when he came back to life.

"Lord Pariah Dark is busy?!"

The figure- a boyish not-human- heaved a sigh. "Do you people seriously think that the High King of the Infinite Realms isn't swamped with work?"

"And who are you supposed to be? His secretary?" Hal asked, Ring glowing and at the ready. Wonder Woman tensed and mentally struck Hal away from the list of people to consider for diplomatic missions.

"Me? I'm a glorified paper pusher." The being turned back to the cultists, his cape containing the universe swished behind him. "Did you have a message for Pariah Dark?"

"He was meant to rain down death and destruction!"

"Okay, first of all, I feel like you guys are missing a really important point." The being pointed at the cult leader. “It’s not called the King of the Dead for no reason, you know. Death comes for everyone eventually. Also, I have to do a seriously giant amount of paperwork every time one of you fruitloops gets the bright idea to cause an influx of deaths.”

Danny stomped across the circle, grabbed the collar of the cultist leader’s cloak and yanked him down. He shook him. “Do you people have any idea how annoying it is?! Huh?! Do you know how long the A-354 Form is?! Stop trying to get Pariah to kill people! I’m sick of the paperwork, dammit!”

"How- how did you get out of the circle?!"

The cultists and the heroes squared up, ready to fight the possible common enemy: Danny.

Danny is having the best time of his half life. Screw kingly dignity, Danny’s gotta de-stress somehow! He had a whole bag of complaints!

"You wrote the circle wrong, idiots! Ancients, are you people even literate? What even are those scribbles?" Danny kept shaking the cultist. Wow, what an amazing stress ball!

“Uh- hey, he looks kind of sick…” The Flash said, trying to be a good hero and mediate before escalating. Danny snarled and Flash held up his hands, gulping in fear as Danny’s eyes narrowed at him. “Did I… do something?”

“You,” Danny hissed. “You mother- fruitloop! Stop screwing with the timeline, you giant red-! Do you know how annoying it is to readjust the death count every time one of you little merry red jesters takes a jaunt through time and space?! Do you even know how many complaints I had to field?! Oh, boy you’re all going to regret summoning me today, because I’ve had a long time to think about what I’d do to everyone who made me work overtime!”

Danny bared his teeth, eyes sparkling with mirth as he froze the cultists.

"We're not letting you take over the world," Hawk-Woman said, raising her mace that pulsed with electricity.

Danny snorted to hide his wince. "I'm not interested. Just let me punch him once. Just once." Danny pointed at the Flash.

"Honestly, I can't even blame you," Black Canary muttered, fists raised.

"Wha-! Canary! That's so rude! You traitor!"

"Shouldn't have put skittles in my shoes then. Those hurt, Flash."

"Enough." Everyone shut up at the sound of Batman's command. "What do you mean they wrote the circle wrong."

Danny, who was watching the byplay with interest, shrugged. "They wanted to summon the Ghost King, right? We've had a... change of leaders recently."

"Who is the leader now?"

Danny waggled a finger at Batman. "Nuh-uh. I'm gonna collect my over-time compensation, which is punching the Flash, and then we can negotiate for information."

"Flash."

"I don't want to get punched, Bats!"

"The alternative is that I let the current Ghost King have a go at you."

"Flash."

"Oh my god, just get punched, Barry!" Danny heard Green Lantern Hal Jordan whisper.

"Ugh, fine. No one video this."

Immediately, three phones go up to record the Flash getting decked by a teenage looking ghost. Danny floated closer and wound his fist back, letting loose some of the ghost strength he normally keeps restrained. "This is for my overtime and for Clockwork, you jerk."

The halfa slammed his fist straight into the Flash's face, knocking him clear into the air. Superman catches him but Danny no longer paid attention to the Flash, petty vengeance enacted.

"Honestly, I don't have a problem with you as a person. You're kind of cool. Break the timeline again in the next three months, though, and you're on my shit-list."

"What do you want in exchange for information?"

Danny hummed. "Depending on the level of information, and I reserve the right to not answer any questions. For the name of the current Ghost King..."

He did want that new gaming console. And Jazz could use some help with her rent.

"I want $5,000 and a plate of really good spaghetti."

"I have cash."

Danny nodded at the Dark Knight. "You just carry $5,000 in cash on you? Who does that?"

"I like to be prepared."

"And he's rich," Superman chimed in.

The Flash reappeared with a plate of spaghetti from an Italian place he teleported to. "Here you go. Fresh, and pleasedon'tscrewwithmyafterlife."

Danny shoveled the spaghetti into his mouth, jaw unhinging like a particularly disturbing snake right before he dumped the whole thing- plate and all- down his throat. "Thanks! The food didn't even try to kill me this time! You're good."

"Does your food try to kill you all of the time?!" The Flash- Barry, apparently- asked.

Danny nodded as he took the cash from Batman's gloved hands. "Totally. It sucks."

"Identity." Batman demanded.

"Oh, yeah. The current ghost king is me."

"...What."

"You have been swindled. Bamboozled. Outwitted and outsmarted," Danny snickered, shoving the bundle of cash in his chest. "But seriously, I'm the king. We got rid of Pariah a while ago."

The crown of ice materialized.

"You said you were a glorified paper pusher!" Hawk-Woman chortled.

"I am! I'm pushing so many papers across my desk, it's unending, I swear!"

Batman growled. "You tricked us."

Danny smirked, "You got tricked." Red Robin, in the corner, snorted quietly. "Anyways, if you've got more interesting things around here, I'll considering busying myself with that instead of sentencing you to an afterlife of paperwork."

The adults straightened, grimacing. "Beast Boy is green," Hal offered up.

"Hey!" Beast Boy shouted, offended at the easy way Hal offered him up. He turned to Danny. "But have you ever seen a green chinchilla? Super cute. Watch!"

"Woah!" Danny clapped. Yes, he'll hang out with them before dragging himself back.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Different Nervousness

Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

✰ In your previous job as a waitress, your trust was betrayed by a boss who sexually harassed you. Now, your TO Tim Bradford makes you nervous. When Tim finds out why you distance yourself from him, he has a few thoughts he's willing to share.

✰ angst to fluff, mentions of past sexual harassment/assault, protective!Tim, protective!Lucy makes an appearance, fluff and comfort at the end, platonic/pre-romantic pairing, 3.8k+ words

✰ ⦇Pictures from Pinterest ⦈

✰ A/N: @nevereclipse , your Tim ideas never fail to impress me and make me run for the nearest keyboard🤍 (you mentioned CEO!Bucky and if I thought I could do his character justice, I would write a novella with him and this dynamic)

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Entering the roll call room of Los Angeles’s Mid-Wilshire police station, you take a deep breath, glance down to check your uniform is neat and tidy, then keep your head down and walk to the front row. You’re the only rookie from your academy class at this station, and the overwhelming sense of being alone and vulnerable hits harder than you expected.

What if this is worse than before? Am I a quitter for moving on the second something bad happened?

You attempt to push the negative thoughts out of your mind, but your first-day jitters stem from something more. As the room fills with officers ready to receive their assignments and start the day, you review a few procedural rules in your mind and then recite your name and badge number. Being prepared is essential for this job, but for you, it’s also a way to stay alive, remain safe and alert, and ensure that what brought you here can never happen again.

Then why do you look over every time someone new comes in? Think it’s him? Someone worse?

“Good morning,” Sergeant Grey calls as he enters. “Hollywood and Studio City got first picks of the academy graduates, but they went for quantity, not quality.” He smiles at you, his look welcoming and comforting before he asks you to stand and introduce yourself.

You stand, straighten your uniform, then smile as you say your name and badge number. “I’m incredibly thankful for the opportunity and am eager to apply what I’ve learned and keep growing.”

Grey nods as you sit, and you take a few shaky breaths as he goes over announcements. The room is mostly comprised of male officers, with a few females scattered throughout. You met Officer Lopez in the locker room this morning, and while she seems great, she already confided in you that she’s not working as a TO while you’re here. After you received your station assignment, you looked up some of the officers. Your options for who will train you seem limited, especially with a small academy class.

Tim Bradford is sitting beside Lopez. His arms are crossed over his chest, he glared at you during your introduction like he was trying to draw a murder confession from you, and beneath that intimidating exterior, you saw something like disinterest in his eyes. There are horror stories about him at the academy - plain clothes day washouts, people who gave up on law enforcement careers after the first week, and even a rookie who was arrested for using his badge to lure women home with him. He’s apparently a good teacher if you make it far enough to learn anything. You cross your fingers under the table, hoping you get assigned anyone else as a TO.

But it’s never that easy. Is it? What will I do if I have to spend the first months of my career with someone who makes me nervous? Someone with power over me? What if it’s just like before?

“Last but not least,” Wade continues, “our new rookie will be riding with Officer Bradford.”

“Good luck!” someone jibes from the back of the room.

You bite your lower lip and smile at Grey. Maybe Tim will see your character is good and understand you’re a hard worker, and decide to take it easier on you. As you stand, he’s already shaking his head and looking at his watch.

It’s going to be a long day.

“I don’t get it,” Tim says, breaking the tense silence in the shop.

“Get what, sir?” you reply softly, watching your surroundings.

“You were a waitress, right?”

“I was.” You press your lips together nervously, wondering where this is going.

“What made you decide to make the change from that to police work? I mean, we’ve had people working in blue collar jobs decide they needed to do something with more purpose, military guys desperate for the structure… but a part-time job as a waitress doesn’t typically lead to law enforcement.”

“I didn’t want to be a waitress,” you point out. “It made ends meet, but it wasn’t a career.”

Tim tips his head to the side, but you can tell there’s more he wants to know, to say.

Instead, he asks, “So, why do you want to be a cop?”

“To help the people who need it most,” you reply. “To be there, to fight for those who can’t.”

Tim raises one brow as he glances over at you, and you fight the urge not to sink into your seat. He’s not a huge guy, but he’s not small, either. His attitude makes him seem unapproachable, but if he decided to do something to you, you couldn’t stop him. Sitting in the shop together, you’re less than a foot apart, and even as you try to lean inconspicuously toward the door, you watch his hands warily, internally hoping that they stay on the steering wheel.

“Is that it?” Tim asks. “I expected you to trauma dump or add ‘I want to be the person I needed.’”

Swallowing, you nod. It’s not untrue; given the chance, you will be the person you needed, but you were on this path when you needed someone, so it didn’t change anything. Yet it simultaneously changed everything.

“I worked at the diner to pay rent and buy groceries while I was in the academy,” you confide.

“You were self-supported?” Tim clarifies. “I thought LAPD sponsored the whole class this year.”

“Not me,” you murmur. “The second I got my assignment I called and quit.”

Tim nods, then slams on the brakes in the middle of the street. He turns toward you, and you dig your fingers into the seat, your hands tucked beneath your legs.

“Boot, we’re being ambushed!” he exclaims.

He doesn’t notice how hard you flinch at his raised voice. Or if he does, he doesn’t care.

��Where are we?” Tim demands. “Less than a minute ‘til we’re both dead unless you radio.”

“Cochran Avenue between West 8th and 9th streets, southwest of La Brea and Wilshire,” you answer, focusing on keeping your voice level more than the panic threatening to send you into fight or flight.

“Good enough,” Tim mumbles as he turns back toward the road.

He props his elbow on the console between you, and you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep yourself from crying. He’s close, and Tim Bradford is starting to scare you, making you more nervous than the threat of failing at what you’ve always dreamed of. Nervous of him not as a TO, but as a man.

“Hey,” Lucy Chen greets you in the locker room at the end of your first day.

She was one of Tim’s rookies, you remember. Somehow, she turned out fine.

“A few friends and I are going out for dinner,” she says. “Do you want to come? Celebrate your first day?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I can’t,” you say. There’s no reason to turn the invitation down, but you aren’t sure how much longer you can hold on. You need a hot shower and maybe a good cry, and then you can think about what the best thing to do is.

“Okay,” Lucy replies, smiling kindly. “Let me know when you’re free, and we’ll try again. Maybe the end of the week?”

“That might work. I’ll let you know. Thank you.”

“Of course. We’re a family, okay? Don’t forget that, even when Tim tests you.”

She pats your back as she passes you, and you stiffen. The last time someone told you a workforce was a family and laid their hand on you, it didn’t end well. As those memories resurface, you close your locker and hurry through the station, desperate to be alone.

In the safety and solitude of your apartment, you turn the shower on as hot as you can tolerate, then stand motionless under the spray. You can’t tell which drops on your cheeks are water and which are tears, but it doesn’t matter. With one hand braced against the shower wall, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Part of you wants to scrub this experience away and move on, but being a police officer is what you’ve dreamed of and worked toward for years. It’s what gave you the motivation and the strength to push through the hardest times. Now, as you think about riding with Tim again tomorrow, you wonder if it was a sign all along - a sign you’re not strong enough, not good enough, not worthy enough. You shake your head and begin humming your favorite song to distract yourself. Your eyes remain closed as you wash your body because you don’t want to face the fear that Tim might see what he saw.

Somehow - a miracle, perseverance, plain luck - you make it to the end of your first week as a rookie. Every second spent with Tim feels like an hour, but he’s a good teacher. You’re still wary of being alone with him, always vigilant of where you are and what he could do. He doesn’t speak to you much; when he does, he asks questions, poses hypotheticals, and encourages you to say what you’re thinking. The last offer is turned down every time because what you’re thinking is dangerous enough for yourself without telling your training officer that he makes you nervous. You spent the week on edge, waiting to be ‘tested’ like Lucy said. Yet, as you close your locker on Friday night, you feel like a student who’s been sitting quietly and taking thorough notes, unaware that the test will come when she least expects it and be different just because the teacher calls the shots.

“Hey, you’re still coming, right?” Lucy checks as she heads for the shower.

You nod, smiling as she cheers. It took three days before you were comfortable enough to shower at the station before heading home. Yet, as you lean over the sink to reapply your lipgloss, you smile at the progress you’ve made. Even if you can’t look Tim in the eye.

You step out of the station behind Angela and Lucy. Stopping when you see Tim leaning against his truck, you curl your hand into a fist at your side to channel your energy into something other than the urge to run.

“You invited a rookie?” Tim asks flatly.

“Yes,” Angela replies. “Because she’s a human. Which means-“

“It was a question, not a ticket to your TED talk,” Tim deadpans. He pushes off the tailgate of his truck and looks at you to ask, “Need a ride?”

“Way ahead of you,” Lucy interrupts, tossing her arm over your shoulder. “We’re going to talk about you all the way to the restaurant.”

“Your personal lives must be horrifying if I’m the best topic of conversation you have.”

“You’re really annoying.”

Tim smiles at her, and you release your hand. If every other woman here can trust Tim, why can’t you?

Because your friends trusted him too.

You and Lucy are the last to arrive at the restaurant, but you’re smiling when you walk in with her. She complains about the parking as you tell the hostess who you’re meeting. When the table comes into view, your breath catches. There are two open seats: one beside Angela and one by Tim. Lucy goes straight to Angela’s side, already talking to Nolan by the time you step toward Tim.

Lost in your thoughts about where you would be comfortable sitting, you don’t notice Angela Lopez watching you. She notices how your eyes skip over Tim, completely ignorant of how he stares at you with poorly concealed concern in his eyes. You can’t see it; most people can’t, but she’s been around Tim long enough to know that he’s not as annoyed with you as he constantly leads you to believe. She’s also seen enough to realize that there is more going on in your head than pondering the ethical implications of having dinner seated beside your TO.

“Take this seat,” Angela offers as she stands. “I can’t hear anything over Nolan anyway.”

“You asked for the story!” he argues, raising his hand from the table.

Angela winks at you, and you sigh in relief as you whisper to thank her. Tim’s jaw tightens as she sinks into the seat beside him. He doesn’t say a word to you for the rest of the night. For some reason, that makes you nervous, too.

You freeze when Tim yells your last name. With your hand on the door handle of your Uber, you take a measured breath before you turn back toward him. He walks toward you with his steps heavy and purposeful. Every muscle in your body tenses as your mind races.

“What was that, boot?” he demands, stopping at least three steps away from you.

“Hey, do you want to get another ride?” the driver asks through the rolled-down window.

“Yes, she does,” Tim answers for you, leaning forward to see the woman. “Thanks.”

The woman nods quickly, then pulls away from the curb.

“That wasn’t your choice,” you argue weakly.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Tim replies tiredly.

Absolutely not.

“So, what was that about?” he repeats.

“What was what about?”

Tim lifts his brows slightly, and you sigh as you look down at your feet.

“I wanted to talk to Lucy and Nolan about their experience as rookies,” you lie.

“You didn’t. I’m not sure you said anything other than your order.”

Was he watching me? You take a step back as you swallow, looking around to see if any of your other friends (or almost friends) are still around. You’re alone. Again.

“If you have a problem with me, I need to know,” Tim snaps.

“I… I don’t have a problem with you, Officer Bradford,” you assure him.

“Then what is going on?” he exclaims, moving his right hand up in question. “We place our lives in each other’s hands daily, and I’m not going to be able to trust you with other officers if you can’t be honest with me about one simple question.”

“I don’t have a problem with you,” you repeat, moving back another inch. “It’s just…” You make me nervous? Saying that would almost surely get you fired. “I have a bad habit of overthinking things in my personal life, and I didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing.”

Tim shakes his head, clearly not believing you. Still, he says, “I’ll accept that for now. Eventually, you’ll have to trust someone enough to tell them. If not me, Grey or Lopez. But letting that fear control you is not going to end well.”

You have no idea.

“Come on,” Tim sighs. “I’m parked over here.”

“I’ll just get another Uber,” you reply. “I don’t want to put you out. I live kind of out of the way.”

Tim opens his mouth to argue, then seems to rethink it. “Okay. Be careful,” he says before he turns and leaves.

“7-Adam-19,” dispatch radios, “Officer Chen has requested backup – diner at La Brea and Melrose.”

Tim flips the switch for the lights and sirens, and you press your hands against your thighs. The diner where you used to work is at La Brea and Melrose. It’s a popular area, so there’s no shortage of restaurants in that quarter-mile strip of asphalt. Yet, your breaths grow shallow. Tim speaks, but his voice is distorted and distant.

“Boot!” he snaps, drawing your attention.

“Sorry,” you murmur, blinking as your mind returns to the present.

“If Chen gives you a command that contradicts any of mine, listen to her, okay? She was first on scene, which means she has a better understanding of what’s going on.”

“Right. Yes, sir.”

Tim turns into a small parking lot and parks beside Lucy’s shop. You focus on the job, on each second, on each step, anything except how familiar it is to step onto the old tile as the bell chimes above you. In the weeks since you left, the diner hasn’t changed any. The brawl taking place between the booths doesn’t even surprise you.

“Bradford, you wanna try?” Lucy asks. “I’ve tried verbal commands but they’re not listening to me, and I’m not getting in the middle of that.”

Tim nods. He takes a step toward the group of men screaming and throwing punches; some are upright, others spread on the floor. Turning, he unplugs the jukebox and plunges the diner into relative quiet.

“You’re all going to jail if you don’t start complying!” Tim yells, punctuated by bringing his baton down on a nearby laminate table.

The men slow down and stop yelling, but don’t stop.

“That’s our window,” Tim says. “Chen, get the guy off the floor. Boot, the apron.”

It’s a job. You’re not alone. Cuff him and don’t listen to a word he says.

You pull the diner employee out of the group, pushing him onto a booth seat to cuff his hands behind his back. It goes smoothly as Tim and Lucy apprehend their respective suspects, but then the man before you realizes who you are.

He pushes back against you, but you’ve already cuffed him. When he realizes he can’t do what he wants, he turns and hooks his ankle around yours.

“You’re all under arrest,” Tim says, watching the other men. “The rest of you grab a table and keep your heads up.”

The men amble to the other side of the diner, lean against the shaky tables, and glare at one another as Lucy secures zip-tie restraints around their wrists.

“Remember what I told you about uniforms?” the man beside you murmurs, trailing his eyes up and down your body.

You push him back against the booth, turning him so his face is down toward the worn red pleather upholstery.

Tim turns quickly, his eyes narrowing as he looks at the cuffed man. “You two know each other?” he asks.

“Oh, you have no idea. Unless you do; I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Tim glances at you, but you’re now watching the other men to ensure Lucy is safe. You shake your head slightly, trying to ignore him.

“I see,” Tim murmurs. “Which makes you?”

“She didn’t tell you she worked here? I was her boss… in and out of work,” he brags.

“I think I’ve heard enough,” Tim decides, his voice even and low. “What do you think, Chen?”

“More than enough,” she replies, turning with disgust evident on her face.

You didn’t even know she was listening. Six patrol cars arrive outside as your former boss smirks at Lucy.

“One more word,” Tim dares. “To either of them.”

“Honestly, I’d love to see you do it,” Lucy adds.

“I think I’d like a lawyer,” he mumbles, shrinking into the booth.

“Officer Janssen,” Tim says when the door opens. “Take this one into custody right away, and maybe let the nice folks looking into fraud and workplace safety know that the boss of this establishment has some interesting business tactics.”

Janssen nods, then leads him out of the diner. You release a breath, then straighten your spine and wait for your next instructions. Tim and Lucy don’t move, watching you as the other men are led to the waiting shops.

“Are you alright?” Lucy asks when the door closes behind the last officer.

“I’m fine,” you answer, sending her a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Do you need anything?”

You shake your head, glancing at Tim. His hands are curled into tight fists, but his eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen.

“Come on,” he says, tipping his head toward the door. “Chen, we’re going Code 7 for a bit.”

“I’ll let dispatch know,” she replies. “Call me later for anything, okay?”

You nod, wringing your fingers together as she moves toward the door. Ready to get out of the diner and away from all the reminders of your past, you follow her. Tim hesitates briefly, then trails you back to the shop. In your seats, he turns off his body camera and instructs you to do the same. Wordlessly, he drives to a restaurant and orders your favorite drink, then parks in an empty area behind a strip mall.

It's a good time to be honest. And Tim stood up for you, so maybe – just maybe – he’ll understand that he was never the problem.

“You made me nervous,” you admit softly, looking at the lid of your drink.

Tim turns his head toward you but doesn’t reply.

“I don’t know why. Maybe it was just that you seemed annoyed with me from the beginning. Or it’s been a long time since I could trust someone so close to me.” You shrug and move your straw. “I-“

“I get it,” Tim interrupts. “He abused your trust.”

“Not all he abused,” you mumble.

Tim’s voice changes. Harder and laced with anger, he asks, “What?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yes, it does. Listen to me, whatever he did didn’t change you and no one is going to blame you for the scars it left.”

“It started when we were working a graveyard shift alone,” you confess. Finally looking up at Tim, you add, “It got worse until I quit.”

“Did he…” Tim trails off, watching you with an unfamiliar look in his eyes.

“He didn’t do anything I could prove,” you answer. “Grabbed me over my clothes, lewd comments, threatened to go farther. He said he’d cut my uniform to get me more tips, and he- he said if I was lucky and he was right about what was underneath, he’d give me more than that.”

“I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows at Tim’s apology.

“No one should have to deal with that,” he continues. “And I should have realized that you weren’t comfortable when I got close to you.”

“I don’t mind,” you murmur. “Not anymore.”

“And I appreciate the trust, but it’s not enough.”

“Sir?”

“I will work for your trust; make you see that I’m not just taking it. I respect you, but even if you were still working as a waitress, taking back your life and getting what you deserve is your right.”

You nod as Tim shifts into drive. The moment seems to have passed, but you don’t mind when your hand bumps against Tim's when you reach for the cupholders at the same time.

“You didn’t have to threaten him,” you say, smiling at Tim as you replace your body cams.

“I’m going to do more than that,” Tim murmurs.

“Sir?”

“I also think we should get a redo on dinner, but that’s up to you.”

You lean back against the seat and smile. Tim might have made you nervous before, but now that you can realize he saw past your fear and the marks your past left, you’re glad he’s on your team. And the idea of dinner with him sparks something similar yet completely different than the nervousness you felt before.

[drudinn]

bet.

Kenji Sato (Ultraman Rising) x F!Reader 

Synopsis: How will the infamous baseball star react when you make a bet with him before his game?

Content: MDNI established relationship, cocky!ken, no use of y/n (second person pov) pet names, swearing | smut, unprotected, praise, rough, ch0king, oral (fem!receiving), dirty talk, fingering, dom!ken, br33ding, overstimulation

Word Count: 2704

A/N: The Ken Sato show is on replay in my head 24/7 and this fic is to feed my fixation. First fic I've ever written be nice </3. Pls let me know if you wanna see more! (asks open hehe)

MASTERLIST

Being engaged to the baseball superstar Ken Sato has its pros and cons. Pros being, having a loving partner, a lavish lifestyle, and essentially anything you wanted. Whereas, the cons were Kenji’s competitive temperament. Which to be fair, had its perks in itself; One of which was being able to push his buttons just so he could put you in his place. 

౨ৎ°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Upon entering the Tokyo Dome, your ears were met with the roars of the stadium and the soft chants of your fiance's name, “Sato! Sato! Sato!”. This was his highly anticipated debut game for the Yomiuri Giants, and every fan in the stadium was looking forward to seeing him. You felt a sense of admiration as you took in the sight of thousands of dedicated fans. You then quickly turned your attention to the section of the stadium that housed the players locker rooms.

Before heading to the vip section of the stadium, you made the decision to see Kenji and give him some motivation before his game. You tidied yourself up, brushing off the specks of dust on your dress. This was a big day for Kenji, the least you can do is look the utmost best for him.

Your knuckles met the hard wood of the large double doors that led to the locker room, and you paused before inviting yourself in.

“Kenji?” You called out into the seemingly empty locker room. 

Kenji perked up upon hearing your voice and walked over to the locker room entrance. “What are you doing here, baby?” he said as he leaned on the wall, giving you a warm smile. You couldn’t help but admire him. He was in the middle of changing into his uniform, his jet black hair disheveled from his baseball helmet. Seeing this soft, yet sexy side of him riled you up. You glanced down and noticed the buttons on his jersey that read ‘GIANTS’ across it, were yet to be buttoned up.

You approached him, pressing a soft peck on his cheek as you reached towards the buttons of his jersey. You carefully buttoned it up for him, your touch soft and precise.

As you buttoned up the last button, your lips formed into a sweet smile as you smoothed out the jersey, “Just wanted to see you before you stepped out onto the field.”

Kenji’s hands carefully wrap around your waist as he pulls you in closer. He hums satisfied with your soft gesture. “Mm, how thoughtful of you baby.” he whispers to you softly.

You press your cheek to his chest and smile. “Kenji,” you say in a low and mischievous tone.

“Wanna make a bet?”

Kenji looked down at you suspiciously. He knew that tone, he knew your antics. He raised his brow at you, a small grin forming on his face. “What do you have in mind?”

Your arms snaked up his figure to wrap around his neck and press a kiss to his jaw. Kenji’s breath hitched and his hands traveled down your ass to give it a playful squeeze. 

You pulled him close and in a low and sultry voice said, “If you score a homerun tonight, you get to rip this dress off me after your game.” Kenji smirked at your deal and cocked his eyebrow amused. “Just one sweetheart? You doubtin’ me?” He shook his head before meeting your gaze. “And if I don’t?” 

You giggled low in his ear. “No sex for the next three days.” 

Kenji pulled away to look at you in mock offense. He recollected himself and let out a breathless chuckle. “We can’t have that, can we?” he said with a cocky grin. 

You shook your head and grabbed him by his collar to press a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away. Kenji whined as he felt you break the kiss and walk back to the door. He followed you over to open the door for you, a pout present on his face as he watched you walk out. You turned around to give him a wink, and mouthed a loving “good luck” before, turning back around and making your way to the stands. 

You took your seat and watched as the players took their spots on the field, you watched awaiting for Kenji’s arrival. The Jumbotron flashed Kenji’s face as he walked out onto the field and the stadium roared at his presence.

“Sato! Sato! Sato!”

 Kenji felt his adrenaline pumping as the crowd's chant echoed through the stadium. He always loved the thrill of being cheered for, the feeling of everyone's eyes on him as he walked up to home plate. This time around it was extra special knowing you were in the crowd cheering for him alongside everyone else. His eyes roamed the stadium until he found your gaze and flashed you a smile. He gripped his bat tightly, a sly grin on his face as he eyed the pitchers mound.

Once he stepped up to the plate, the crowd's chant became louder and more intense. He breathed in the energy of the stadium, and even still the only thought that lingered in his mind was that little bet of yours and the image of you helpless under him. He repositioned his hold on his bat, his muscles tense with anticipation. The tension in the stadium was palpable, as fans held their breath waiting for the first pitch.

The pitcher threw the ball at Kenji and you leaned in with hyperfocus as you watched Kenji slam his bat into the ball with perfect precision. Time slowed as you watched the ball fly into the stands, and the crowd erupted with excitement. “A beautiful home run from Ken Sato!” The announcer exclaimed. 

You looked at the jumbo-tron and saw his face on the screen, his name flashing in bright orange letters. He ran the bases with a charming smile and pointed at the camera with a wink you knew was for you. He won the bet; simple as that. 

The game goes on, with Kenji dominating the field and hitting amazing shots left and right. The fans go wild with every strike, and the atmosphere is electric. He has a shit eating grin the entire time and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his ego that you secretly loved so much. You knew what was waiting for you once the game ended and you squeezed your thighs together in anticipation. 

The opposing team was struggling to keep up, and their pitcher was starting to look dejected. Kenji's teammates pat him on the back and cheer every time he makes it back to the dugout. During the final stretch of the game Kenji hits the game-winning homerun. 

Confetti flutters down from the ceiling like a shower of colorful rain, creating a beautiful celebration. Kenji's teammates mob him on the field, cheering and congratulating him on his performance. 

The fans are ecstatic, chanting "Sato! Sato! Sato!" as they celebrate another Giants' victory. Kenji looks up at you with that same cocky smile he gave you in the locker room. He tilts his head at you and you know the meaning it holds, it stood as a warning more than anything. 

He won, and god he was not planning on holding back when claiming his reward.

Kenji found you waiting for him outside the locker room and it took everything in him not to take you right then and there. You practically purred at his touch. “Congratulations baby.” 

“Thanks for the motivation.” He mumbled as he dug his lips into the crook of your neck. 

Shit he needed to get you home now. He practically dragged you to his car and sped his way through the streets of tokyo. One look at you through his rearview mirror had him clutching the steering wheel tighter. You met his gaze in the rearview mirror and spread your legs teasingly. He clenched his teeth at the sight as his pants grew tighter and patience grew thin. “Keep that attitude up, sweet girl.” He parked the car in front of his house and upon entering he wasted no time sinking his teeth in your neck as he threw you on the couch. You landed on the plush sofa and before you could you react, Kenji was clawing at your dress like an animal. He ripped the dress off of you in one swift motion, paying no mind as it landed somewhere in the distance.

 He groaned at the sight of your naked body as he toyed with the hem of your underwear.

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me, baby.” He pressed a soft kiss to your collar and your body shuddered at the contact. His fingers hooked around your underwear as he pulled them off with ease. 

“Kenji.” You breathed out helplessly. He was right where he wanted you and he was just getting started. He peppered small kisses from your neck to your chest as his hands roamed your body, memorizing every curve. Your whines only egged him on as he moved to squeeze your chest. You let out a soft moan at the feeling and your body ignited.

 He shifted his weight as he moved lower down your body. His big hands traveled down your thighs and spread them to reveal your wet throbbing cunt. He got on his knees as he pulled you towards the edge of the couch to leave teasing kisses across your thighs. His kisses trailed dangerously close to your entrance, but never made contact, making you squirm. You buck your hips at the sensitivity and he lets out a low chuckle. “So needy.” He runs his tongue along your thigh and just as you open your mouth to complain, he takes your pussy into his mouth. 

You throw your head back as he licks slow circles around your clit. Your needy whines are all he needs to hear as he sucks on your clit and licks a long strip through your folds. You taste better than any dessert he’s ever had, and he's sure he could stay in between your thighs for hours. Your fingers tug at his soft black locks, as his tongue fucks your sopping cunt. He dips a finger into your entrance and you feel your eyes roll back. “Oh my god Kenji-” 

He curls his fingers and you scream as he makes contact with the spot that's sure to throw you over the edge. He thrusts his long fingers in and out at a relentless pace as his tongue laps up your sweet juices. He looks up at you with half lidded eyes and smiles against your pussy when he sees your exasperated expression. Seeing you so fucked out and helpless under him does something to his ego he couldn’t explain. 

“Can’t get enough of this sweet lil cunt.” He drawls. The overstimulation of his tongue and fingers plunging deep into your tight cunt drives you to the edge embarrassingly fast. 

“Ngh- fuck kenji. M’close” 

He feels you squeeze around him and he hums satisfied. “Cum f’me. Let go, sweet girl.” He sucks harder and you swear you see stars as your orgasm hits you like a wave. You’re arching your back and tugging at his hair, as Kenji’s fingers fuck you through your high. 

“Goood fuckin slut.” he grins as you grind against his mouth, greedily soaking in the pleasure. He smiles as your chest heaves up and down after you finish. He looks down at your splayed and exhausted figure with a chuckle. He reached his hand down to brush the hair from your sweaty forehead and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“Look so pretty like this baby.” He says with a smile before taking his shirt off and unbuckling his belt to strip his pants and boxers off. He pushed his erection against your heat teasingly and throbbed when he heard you whimper.

 He pulled you up, flipped you onto your stomach and pressed your face into the couch. You yelped at the sudden change in position, but played along as you arched your back presenting your ass to him on full display. He growled as his palm made contact with your cheek, the noise of the slap ricocheting off the room along with your moans.

“Fuck.”

 He pulled you flush against him and without warning sunk his cock into your cunt. He let out a guttural moan as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy. He grabs a fistful of your hair as he pulls out, only to slam his thick cock back inside. 

“So. fuckin. tight.” He snarls with each thrust, not once letting his pace falter. His length splits you apart, and as you lose yourself in the pleasure, part of you begins to second guess if you should’ve made such an easy bet in the first place. Kenji relishes in the way you arch so beautifully against him and lets out a moan. “So perfect.” he praises under his breath as his hands roam your body shamelessly. 

He pulls you up, and fucks you at a deeper angle, hitting a delicious spot inside of you that makes you mewl. His fingers wrap around the base of your neck as he squeezes softly to remind you who exactly is responsible for the reason you’re a mess right now. His breath is strained against your ear as you clamp mercilessly around his cock. He sucks at the skin on your neck, that's sure to leave a mark. He didn’t care, at least everyone would know you were his. 

The sound of your slick and the slapping of skin fill the noise of the living room. 

You sob at the intensity of his thrusts, “Hah- shit Kenji, d-don’t stop”. 

He indulges in your sweet moans and rocks his hips into you faster and sloppier. “Takin’ me so well.” 

He groans in your ear as he pulls out to reposition you on your side. You looked like a fucking masterpiece to him, and if he could burn this sight into his head he would. He smiles feverishly as he pounds into your poor pussy, your cervix sure to be bruised. You practically whine at the feeling as you feel your orgasm approach you. You babble on and on about how close you are, and Kenji only grips your thighs tighter in response. You scream as you come undone on his cock and he groans when he feels you squeeze him impossibly tighter.

 “Atta fuckin’ girl.” Despite your soft cries and desperate pleas that you were sensitive and overstimulated he doesn’t stop.

 He sucks in a breath of air as he presses his body against you, and you wrap your legs around his torso. He huffs in your ear as his rhythm gets sloppier and you know he's close, “It’s like you're made for me.” 

Kenji was drunk off your pussy and god was he close. You squeeze your legs around him tighter, a silent plea for him to fill your sweet cunt up with his seed. He doesn’t hesitate as he bucks his hips into you, and with a final thrust cums deep inside your cunt. You whine as you feel his warm seed fill you up. He pulls out hesitantly as he catches his breath and watches as his cum seeps out of your pussy. He gathers your slick with his fingers and shoves it back inside with a smile. 

“Good girl.” He pats your thigh lovingly before he walks off to get a towel and clean you up. He returns and presses a sweet kiss to your forehead before cleaning up the mess in between your thighs. Kenji props himself up next to you on the couch and opens his arms for you to get comfortable in his embrace. You cuddle up close to him and he wraps his arms around you as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

 “That bet was too easy,” He jibes at you as you roll your eyes.

 “Whatever,” You mumble back, careful not to inflate his already high ego. He giggles at your remark and holds you closer to whisper in your ear. 

“Let’s make another bet, baby.”

[lovelake]

In which you find out who the person leaving you continuous love letters is and return the gesture

solivan brugmansia x gn!reader | 1.7k wc, fluff, reader is friendly, awkwardness, nervousness, hyugo’s very involved, deryl and geo (briefly, just in the background), tiny implication of masturbation if you squint

note: i felt a little iffy writing about lockers because they’re uni students but that’s how it is in the game so (ᵕ—ᴗ—) this was supposed to be out while most people were still in college (because i think people in the semester system are already out for break) but i didn’t make it in time </3 as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated

masterlist read on ao3

Lately, your existence has been put on the same pedestal as that of everything beautiful in the world.

You’ve been getting love letter after love letter ever since Valentine’s Day. At first, you thought it was some sort of misunderstanding—they got the wrong locker. It wasn’t until certain details in them were specific to you that you finally got the message across. This secret admirer really was yours.

You picked up on quirks in the handwriting after rereading them so many times. Separated letters frequently molded into random strings of cursive. The horizontal lines on the t’s are low, they look like upside down crosses. 

If the writing itself wasn’t sweet enough, there were also doodles left on the margins and corners. Flowers, hearts, and oddly enough, pumpkins. 

Life was more fun with romantic secrecy in the air.

Sometimes it was embarrassing, though. You’d trip, drop a paper, or miss a shot of a wrapper to a trash can—and your mind would immediately go to, did they see that?

The question hovered over your head for months like a cloud. Who are they? 

—

“Don’t eat so close to me,” Sol mumbled to Hyugo, angling himself away as he continued writing. He didn’t want the wind to blow any crumbs onto his paper.

“Another letter? You’re so romantic, Sunny! It almost makes me lose my appetite.”

Yes and no. It was a letter for you, but essentially, it was just a draft for now.

“Do you think it’s working?” Sol asked with a sigh, vulnerability in his question.

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t. Have you seen their reaction to finding one in their locker?”

“A couple times.”

“And?”

“They were smiling.” Sol’s own answer prompted a faint one to form on his face.

Love and commitment wove through each and every word until the end result was practically a written serenade for you, and only you.

—

Whether by sheer luck or fate, you didn’t have to do any snooping to find who your secret admirer is. The answer came to you.

“Pass your homework towards the front of the class.”

Stuck in the very first row, you patiently waited until you were tapped on the shoulder and given a stack of completed homework.

As you were making the stack look presentable, you noticed a familiar looking ‘t’ on the title of the last paper. No way. Was the person sending love letters in this class? They had to be sitting at the very back if so.

Knowing their name wouldn’t help, you didn’t know anybody in this class because group activities weren’t required.

Acting nonchalant, you stretched your back from side to side and took the opportunity to look behind you. But you couldn’t really see because of all the people in your way. 

Next idea. You “accidentally” dropped your pencil and leaned over in your chair to catch a glimpse. 

Their head rested snugly against their forearm, you couldn’t see their face. Black and dark green long sleeves, that’s all you were getting. Okay, you could wait until class ended for the mystery to be revealed.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The clock mocked your excitement for approximately fifty-five torturous minutes. 

Class ended, students scrambled.

After quickly gathering your things into your arms, you (not very discreetly) turned around. There was no reason to, there were two doors and you usually went out the front one since it was close to you.

But only in this way were you able to fully look at the person who’s been making even the shittiest of weeks feel better.

Tall, pierced ears and lips, eyelashes that look long even from a distance…

Your secret admirer is handsome in a pretty sort of way. Even so, he looks like someone who would give his crush a necklace with his blood in it rather than lovey-dovey letters. 

You must’ve been awe-struck for too long, time slowed.

As soon as he caught on to your staring (gawking), he immediately walked out of the room, leaving his friend talking to no one. “…and then–huh? Sunny? Sunny! How rude…”

“No fair. You have long legs, you walk faster than me.” Hyugo eventually caught up to Sol. Their lockers were next to one another’s.

Sol’s body felt hot. You had looked at him with intent for the first time ever, not just an accidental glance or something. He tried to compose himself as he opened his locker to put one of his books away.

Were you finally noticing him? He had so much love to offer, all you had to do was embrace the soul that was so willing to give it to you.

“…I have to use the restroom.” He most certainly does not, at least not in the way it’s intended to be used.

In the midst of being over the moon, he failed to see that you were nearby.

You know where his locker is.

Now there’s only two things left to do.

—

i. WRITE HIM A LETTER

Now back at home, you felt insecure. Just a bit. All his letters were beautiful: nice expensive looking paper, sentences all in pen (somehow he never made a single mistake, there were never any words scribbled out), and lived in envelopes that had pretty dark red wax seals prior to you opening them.

Well. You didn’t have any envelopes. Your paper was college ruled with three holes on the left. Your pen was gel-point and smeared when you wrote too fast. And, you didn’t have any white-out in case you made a mistake.

“This is silly.” You tell yourself, shaking away your doubts and picking the pen back up. 

You didn’t harbor the same feelings that he did to you, how could you, when you barely came to know of his existence? Either way, his letters always left you feeling giddy. And who knows, maybe a potential future relationship awaited you.

So, you got to writing. 

ii. DELIVER IT TO HIS LOCKER (GONE WRONG)

Time passed by ever so slowly the next day, it always did when you had something to look forward to. Butterflies ran rampant in your stomach, concentrating in class was hard, especially the one you shared with him.

You waited until the end of school, the letter already in your hand as you (hesitantly) made your way there. If anything, it looked like you were holding a folded graded assignment with a big giant F on it, nobody would suspect it.

“Hey, maybe that’s another letter for you Geo! Your locker’s full again isn’t it? Have you even gone through them?”

“Be quiet.”

They couldn’t be talking about you. They just couldn’t.

Thankfully, those guys turned a corner. It would’ve been awkward if you all kept walking the same way. And who’s Geo, anyway? Is he really that popular?

You leaned against the wall, your other hand preoccupied by your phone as you waited for the after school crowd to die out. Checking the time, you had a tutoring session upstairs in ten minutes.

Eventually, the only footsteps you could hear were distant. Putting your phone away, you swallowed your nerves and approached his locker.

Well, here goes nothing.

You start slipping it in. 

Somehow, your body flinches before your hearing processes anything.

“Woah! Is that a letter for Sunny?”

Shit. 

Wide-eyed, you looked over. The letter was still in your hands, only the tip of it was rammed into the locker ventilation hole. 

Day one of trying to mimic your secret admirer and you already failed. 

Just your luck, his best friend was here too. Even so, you could only focus on him. His expression matched yours, but his was from being incredibly flustered rather than embarrassment from being caught.

You didn’t know what to say, only one word slipped from your lips.

“…Hi.” 

Hi.

Hi?

Hi?!

“Hi!” Hyugo greeted you back with a grin and wave, catching your attention for a split second. Like the good best friend he was, he nudged Sol your way. 

Looks like he was too stunned to talk, you’d have to break the ice more. All the words he held right now, you were sure you’d already read them all.

You brought the letter back down.

“I may have…figured out that you were the person sending me letters. Unless I’m wrong! And in that case I can leave and…” 

“How’d you figure out it was me?” 

Surprisingly, his voice is soft. 

“Because of your t’s.”

“…My t’s?”

“Yeah. You write them differently. Not differently in a bad way! Just…I’ve never really seen anyone write them the way you do.”

One of his brows raised. You thought you offended him until he smiled. That alone put you at ease.

“This is for you,” you handed the letter to him. His fingertips briefly kissed your skin.

The paper didn’t so much as crinkle in his hold, he was being gentle. You were grateful he wasn’t bold enough to start reading it on the spot, you would die.

He opened his locker with his free hand and fetched a crumpled-looking paper. He stammered a bit over his words as he held it out to you. “It’s…It’s not done yet.”

It was a draft full of scribbles and crossed out words. So, he did make mistakes. Just that he worked on a draft before putting everything onto the fancier paper. Somehow, that just made his gestures all the sweeter. 

“I think this one will be my favorite,” you tell him, no sarcasm present.

You were kind and welcoming, exactly what he needed in a world such as this.

"I love-" Sol's overly strong confession was interrupted by Hyugo elbowing him.

Finding a clock on the wall, you curse under your breath. “I have to go catch a tutoring session but it was nice finally meeting you. What’s your name?”

“You can just call me Sol.”

“See you tomorrow, Sol!” 

You repeated his name under your breath over and over to commit it to memory as you walked away. “Sol, Sol, Sol…” 

He was stuck in place, never taking his gaze off you until you turned the corner. Your voice echoed in his head, a catchy melody he would never tire of. 

See you tomorrow, you said. Like you would be talking to him from now on. Like you wouldn’t be put off by him casually approaching you. Like you were friends now.

Hyugo lightly pinched Sol’s arm, he got no response.

Sol looked down at the letter, he was holding something sacred—you put thought into it, something in your possession (your pen) had touched it, your fingerprints were all over it. Does this count as indirect hand-holding?

He needed to read it, and he would, once in private.

“Let me see, let me see!”

“Touch it and I’ll kill you.” 

“…Jeez, and then who’ll clean up all your messes?”

[teashh]

Adolescence as a show is so incredibly well done. I'm currently working on a master's thesis that's looking at radicalisation of young boys in the era of influencers like Andrew tate. This is dangerous and it's not just because young boys are impressionable but because they're essentially in an echo chamber with no adult challenging their thoughts because adults themselves don't understand the extent of the hold patriarchy has on them.

The way this series shows Jamie's internalised misogyny is outstanding. You see, the fact of the matter is that Jamie is a young boy but the words he's parroting are those of people much more older than him. It's not just his fault. It's also the fault of people around. If Jamie's history teacher Mr Malik had TRIED to make him open up (and he would have opened up because Jamie likes history) If any ONE of the adults had taken notice, talked to him, been vulnerable with him; if any ONE of the older boys had taken a moment to call him out than cyberbullying him, if his father or his mother could have taken a moment of their time to teach him empathy and compassion and educated themselves on the discourses Jamie was being subjected to, this could have been avoided. And I'm not saying Jamie isn't to blame but we're as much a product of our nurture as we are of our nature. And this series shows that.

We need to take a moment, MEN need to take a moment and talk to the other men in their lives. Call them out. Make them take accountability for that they did. Hold your mates accountable. This is not just haha. Your group chat is not just a "safe space", a "locker room", it is a space where your friends are showing you who they are and what you do next, is incredibly important.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x Diner waitress! reader Casual 'relationship', idiots in love, mentions of a shitty ex and a shitty family, fingering, reckless driving. WC:3.2K

A/N: Okay so this was originally supposed to be a part of a potential AU that never panned out. Basically all you need to know is that a disgruntled Steve works for his dad, the crooked CEO in town and everyone is wary of the Harrington's. Except for you.

2.34AM.

You tuck your uniform into your locker, all too relieved to retire the robin's egg blue polyester and starchy white apron for the day. In its stead you pull on a dress. A midnight dark thing that hugged your hips and tended to skim up your thighs no matter how much you discreetly tugged it back down. Not at all suited for the temperature outside.

Doing your best with the little magnetic mirror that stuck to the inside of your locker, you peer into the rectangle bordered by cheap purple plastic, too small to reflect both your face and hair entirely.

Having spent almost a year working at Frank's 24/7 Dine In, you'd gotten used to doing your hair like this after work, angling your head in the tiny mirror every which way to fix your hair in sections. Retouching any makeup that had waned during your shift was a much easier task, thankfully.

You didn't wear much, just enough to help with drawing in more tips. The other waitresses had told you it would help on your first day, adding that some light flirting could serve you well too.

They were right.

From then on you carried a few new essentials with you to work, making sure to curl your lashes before you bat them sweetly at customers you knew to be harmless and applied some light lipstick to draw their eye whenever you laughed at their jokes and called them 'sugar'.

But tonight you didn't reach for your usual shade of lipstick, leaving it sitting inside your locker, untouched since the start of your shift. Instead, you swiped on some of that new lipstick you'd bought the other day, a deeper, prettier tone that suited the late hour.

You liked how it enhanced your natural lip color and the way it smelled faintly of vanilla, the same scent that clung to your hair after serving the diner's signature freshly baked vanilla bean cherry pie all day.

Plucking the tube off the display case yesterday, you could feel his breath puffing against your ear all over again as you unscrewed the stopper, the sweet aroma reminding you of his nose in your hair as he relentlessly rut into you from behind.

Fuck, y' smell nice.

It looked just as good on you now as it had when you applied it in your own mirror at home and under better lighting. The new makeup was a marginal change but a noticeable one still.

Too noticeable, you realized and your smile fell.

A few seconds of staring at your reflection and you wipe the lipstick away upon further thought, feeling a little silly that you'd bought the tube in the first place. The feeling only worsened as you stared at the smudged lipstick on the back of your hand, belly swirling when you remembered the other item you had zipped up inside your purse.

He's not your boyfriend. Get a grip.

The dress was one you had long before this all started and so was the sweet daisy perfume you spritzed onto the base of your neck. Your hair had remained the same too, afraid that if you were to change its style or color then you'd have to admit to yourself that you'd done it for him.

You go to close your locker shut, a margin of space remaining before you pause and pull it open again, looking resolute in your reflection.

Taking your place at the counter for the next couple of hours is poor, sweet Maggie, too drowsy to notice you approaching at first. Your dress is hidden under your overcoat but had she been more alert to notice the fresh layer of lipstick you'd reapplied, she would have rounded the corner with her usual chipper energy, gently nudging an elbow into your side before asking you, "so who's the guy?".

The sound of your footsteps eventually jolts her up but you've already got a hand on the front door, directing a friendly wave at her which she returns along with a yawn in your direction.

Steve's parked just beyond the bend, out of sight of the diner so that your coworkers can't see whose car you sometimes get into at the end of a shift. Although, you can rest a little easy knowing that most of them are too busy just trying to stay awake.

The engine kicks on when he sees you approach through the rear view mirror. Hips swaying, hair bouncing with every step, it was enough to make him smirk, letting out a soft, low whistle while you strutted over.

You watch the hand he has draped out the open window snake back inside, a cigarette butt flicked out into the dark a moment later followed by one last billowing exhale of smoke into the chill night air. Walking past the dying orange glint fizzing into ash on the wet grass, you find the passenger side door already unlocked for you.

Your little arrangement is going on five months now, letting him drive you home after your late shift at the diner. Often, he was the only one who came in around that time. He'd eye you discreetly over a cup of coffee when the other waitresses weren't looking, lighting up a cigarette your boss knew better than to tell him to put out. Then he'd leave and wait nearby for you to clock out.

This wasn't a relationship. Just something the two of you fell into to drive the numbness away. At least that's what it was in your case. Ever since your ex skipped town with the money you saved, you were left with no other choice but to work several shitty jobs to put yourself through the rest college. And sometimes that meant that you needed some kind of a release to work through all the stress that came with your many responsibilities. That's where Steve came in.

But when it came to him you could only guess what weighed on his mind although truthfully, you preferred not to find out. The rumors surrounding his family, particularly his father, were enough to make you keep your head down and out of the older Harrington's sight.

You know that getting involved with his son might be one of the riskier things you've done in your life but knowing how little Julian Harrington seemed to care about what his son did outside of managing his father's unscrupulous dealings was a relief. Even if it did make something deep in your chest crack to know how little affection Steve must have received in his life. How could he with a father who viewed everything and everyone in dollar signs and a mother who held more martini's in her jeweled, pristinely manicured hands than she ever held her own son.

Buckling in, it starts sooner than usual.

Your face quickly warms when his hand makes its way on to your knee. It excited you at first, considering it a precursor of sorts for what was to come but you grow to question it only five minutes later. You watch out of the window when instead of slowing down, he passes the dirt road leading to the isolated clearing he always parked at for an hour or more before taking you home.

"Can't stop today. They need me back in twenty", Steve explains before you have a chance to ask. Yet his hand still doesn't leave you. Instead, it slips higher up your thigh, dipping under your dress to rub at damp cotton, still showing no indication that he might stop after all.

"But you're driving..." you feel a little stupid pointing out the obvious, opening yourself up to the opportunity for him to tease you like he sometimes did. Only Steve doesn't resort to it, a silent desperation pumping in his veins, eyes pulling away from the road to drop between your legs.

"Need to feel you" he tells you. Begs you, it almost sounds like, pulling your panties and urging you to lift your hips so he could ease them down your thighs.

Whenever he gets like this you're never made privy to the specifics of what caused his mood, only that it had to do with his work and you knew better than to ask him more about that.

Your seatbelt pulls tight against your chest but as soon as you've managed to get your panties over your shoes and off, you leave them discarded and turned inside out on the footwell for Steve to discover later.

Consider it a present, you thought to yourself, feeling somewhat sorry and like you owed him for whatever's troubling his mind today.

One hand on the steering wheel and the other on you, he pulls your right leg over the console, grip tight on your thigh as he guides you into settling your ankle between his legs, close to his knee.

"Fuck, I can smell you...been waiting all day for this".

You don't reply, remaining silent because the sound of him enjoying you is much more exciting.

To be honest, you're not even sure if he knows that he's doing it.

Steve hums while tracing your wet slit, collecting as much slippery slick on to the pads of his fingertips. Then a soft growl winds its way up his throat while spreading you open to slot his middle finger between your folds, groaning but he doesn't slip it in. Not yet.

You can hear him even with the sound of the running car when his fingertips travel up to find your clit waiting for him just how he likes, all puffy and swollen and most of all, neglected. He rubs at it quickly and not entirely carefully with messy circles that have you sucking in a gasp, shuddering when a bolt of pleasure pulls your back into a pretty arch that has you pushing your chest out too.

The movement has him flicking his eyes to you again. Glancing at the way your seatbelt strains between your tits, looking at it so intensely like he might want to undo the restraint and press his face there instead.

It's easy to lose yourself when he touches you like this.

Almost as if you might lose your balance and slip off some unseen ledge, you clutch at Steve's arm over his jacket, a plush mahogany brown leather that probably cost more than what you made in a month. Sometimes you'd roll your eyes at all the expensive clothes, more than a little tempted to rip at them with your nails or teeth just because you could. Today it feels more like a necessity, so you dig your nails in and anchor yourself to him when you feel your hips begin to twitch.

"Y' know, I parked outside and watched you through the glass before I came in", he drawls, eyes flicking away from the wet, deserted street again and to his wet hand between your legs.

"Saw you watching the door, just waiting for me to walk in...you looked so lonely...rubbing your thighs together like you couldn't help it...poor pretty girl getting all worked up over me, huh?"

You guessed a while back that he liked to be needed.

And having felt the tacky buildup on slick himself, you can't deny having ruined your underwear over him even if you wanted to, all of that wetness just from waiting for that bell to chime and see him walk through those doors.

Steve pulls his fingers away from your cunt and you begin to whine from the loss until you see him taste you, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment before he's focusing on the road again, spit slick fingers finding their way back to your pussy.

Your head's pushed back against the headrest, hips inching forward to meet his digits.

"Put them in", you tell him, maybe a little too demanding because it earns you a slap right on your clit, quick and firm. You yelp and he scoff's playfully, hand cupping your cunt to feel you twitch from the brief impact.

"Please", you add this time, soft and sweet ."Feels so empty".

Steve wants to take it slow. He really wants to savor you but time's ticking tonight as he quickly glances at the flashy silver Rolex wrapped around his wrist. Maybe he'll get to treat you right next time so for now he begins to sink his fingers inside you, his middle and ring fingers smoothing along your walls.

Steve's eyes keep darting from the road and then to you, lips parting when he sees you bucking your hips into his fingers till they start to turn all creamy with you, riding his hand.

"That's it, keep going", he encourages you, curling his fingers enough to press them against that spot that made you gush and squirt during one of your previous hook ups.

"Wanted your cock tonight, Steve", you whined, circling your hips in a nice, fluid motion, working with the way his fingers are dragging inside you.

"Got all dressed up for you and everything..."

His eyes are on the road still as he takes a right but he can practically hear the way your lips have pushed out into a pout.

"I know", he coos. While he might not have made any mention of it, seeing you strutting towards his car in that dress had him fighting off a hard on.

"Make it up to me? please?"

Later, when you're sober and no longer drunk on lust you'll remember back on this as one of those moments where the walls you put up for your own safety crumbled down, too tangled in your building ecstasy to think straight.

He's not your boyfriend. Get a grip.

And yet something makes him set his eyes back on you.

"I promise", uttered softly in a barely there whisper.

It's the first time he's agreed to make any kind of commitment to you outside of hooking up after hours that you have to quickly bite your lip to stop a smile breaking out on your face.

Hearing him say it only makes you careen towards your orgasm much faster, too busy grinding your clit with renewed vigor into the heel of his palm to stop and analyze your own feelings and what they might mean.

"That's it. Don't stop".

You do as he says, hooking your heel in the crook of his Steve's knee when it happens, pleasure erupting deep inside you and spilling out of your pores because it's much too hard to contain.

Steve's BMW skids to a halt at the intersection by your place, no other cars in sight due to the late hour. You've got your eyes squeezed shut but you can still make out the flashing yellow traffic lights colored auburn through your eyelids, putting your whole body into grinding grinding grinding your clit against his palm.

The ache in his wrist is starting to turn hot and his bones click uncomfortably in his arm but he'd sooner let them fracture than pull his hand away while you wring out every little drop of pleasure you can out of his fingers.

You're a sight divine as he watches on. Sweat shines on your neck like a chain of the finest pearls, thighs soft and tight around Steve's hand like velvet, vanilla softly wafting in the air while your body shudders and quivers as you begin to come down from your climax.

Eventually your hips stop rolling, chest heaving while you reach between your legs to gently pull Steve's soaked fingers out from inside you when he makes no move to do it himself, your cheeks blazing at the lewd sound of a wet squelch as his fingers leave you.

That too he has no problem licking clean and all you can do is watch and gather yourself, try not to work yourself up again while he sucks you off his fingers.

He's hard. You can see it swelling under his jeans but when you make a move to place your own hand on him he gently takes hold of it and places it back on your lap.

"'s no time", he tells you and you frown. It just didn't feel fair to leave him that way even if he did insist. And it just didn't feel fair to be denied the chance to pleasure him like he did you. Especially given how much you wanted to.

It's silent during the few minutes it takes for him to pull up to your apartment building, all of Hawkins asleep and you wonder how you could possibly rest too after what's happened in Steve's car.

There wasn't usually all that much said when it came time to step out of his car. No proper goodbye. No confirmed promise of when the next time will be. All you could do was wait for your phone to chime with a message from him or wait until he turns up at the diner again.

But this time he surprises you.

Undoing your seatbelt for you, the warmth of Steve's had on your cheek feels too soothing to give up before stepping out into the cold, even if a little strange too. Neither of you are used to this side of him. Hell, neither of you thought he had such a side to him at all.

And you're too entranced to question it, when he pulls you close, his lips connecting with yours.

It isn't like you've never shared a kiss before. It's just that they only usually happened leading up to sex or during sex but tonight, he leaves you with something tender and new.

Pulling back, you see his lips tinted very lightly with your lipstick.

" 's pretty" he mumbles, thumb pulling at your bottom lip, unaware that you've left some of it on him too.

You beam, thinking back on how you almost didn't wear it. Thinking that he wouldn't acknowledge it or care.

You wipe it off his lips with your thumb before any of his business associates have a chance to see it and ask any questions.

And that's when you remember the other reason you were hoping for Steve to take your usual detour tonight. Stepping out on unsteady legs, you fit your hand into your purse, clutching the spare key in your pocket tight before pulling it out and taking a moment to prepare yourself.

"I have the night off tomorrow", you drop the key into the passenger seat through the window, watching it glint under the moonlight.

"If you want...", you trail. No amount of preparation could have readied you for this, you realize.

"I'll be up" you say instead, turning on your heel so you can rush inside before Steve can utter so much as a single word.

---

Waiting for the hours to pass the next day feels near unbearable, nervously pacing around your apartment and distracting yourself with chores when it starts to turn dark.

He's not your boyfriend. Get a grip. Once again makes a home in your head despite how unwelcome it is there. And when 11PM turns to 12AM to 1AM to 2AM again you blink back the sting of new tears, ready to unclad yourself from the lingerie you had on underneath your clothes and wash away the perfume and the make up and-

The front door handle begins to jiggle just then, the distinct sound of a key slipping into the lock follows and you're already smiling before he pulls the door open, flowers in hand.

[baxndaid]

sal fisher x reader 🖇️🎼💍 -- popular!reader headcannons!! + scenario

a/n ; i need him so bad sorry.........idgaf..............pls request more sal

(🎵) - he judged you a little bit a first like he didn’t mean it but it just came naturally since you surrounded yourself with all the bullies, jocks, and standard mean girls

- you were lowkey a mean girl too like you had your little group and you should snicker and laugh whenever sal and his friends walked past

- and while you DID feel a TAD bit bad, you and your friends would make fun of his prosthetic head sometimes </3 it was just for a laugh

- but yes, he didn’t like you very much - with people like travis, he could somewhat understand since travis had home issues and… had no friends 🤓 you? you had everything by the looks of it

- you were popular, pretty, and everyone seemed to gravitate towards you

- overall, you were the cliche mean girl who bullied the quirky main characters (who sal and his friends, ever so graciously, gave themselves the title of)

- speaking of cliche, you two started talking when you both were forced to sit next to each other in math class, and you hated math

- he would help you though, which surprisingly you appreciated, in turn, you would help him with his art class portfolio which he also appreciated

- this didn’t mean you were entirely nice to him either, far from it, but when it was just you two it was a lot more chill and you could visibly see him relax around you when your friends weren’t there

- sal desperately wanted to be able to talk to you confidently without you or your friends shoving him into a locker, he wished you could talk to him as nicely as you did in math class

- because you worked so well in class together, you were often paired together in projects

- sally would be the most excited since that meant more alone time with you, while you were teased by your friends (they told you that you should pack pepper spray before you stepped into his room just in case, how loving!)

- as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was attracted to you, i mean, who wouldn’t be

- he would often space out while his friends spoke amongst themselves, a distant look on his… eye? larry caught on and thought that his best friends strange behaviour came from a girl he liked~ awww

- yeah little did he know 💔 it’s the worst person you know

- larry wouldn’t take it likely knowing that sal has formed a small crush on the person who terrorises him and his friends on the daily

- “dude! you know how bad she can get!”, ashley agrees, sal waves his hand at them dismissively

“it’s fine guys!”

- larry glares at the back of his head as sal walks away, knowing that he has a class with you next

- his friend group thinks your a demon and you’ve possessed him into liking you despite your behaviour

- back to you two, as time passes you get friendlier with sally, the bullying turning into teasing, even with your friends around

- you didn’t miss how sally looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking, he would stutter and look around frantically if you caught him, you thought it was cute

- he wouldn’t show you his face, since you’ve made fun of his prosthetic before and he didn’t want to ruin whatever weird relationship you had built by showing you his disfigured face

- sally is one of the most patient (and slightly pathetic) guys you’ve ever met, so naturally, you form a small crush on him too, but you’d never admit it

- when he walks by you in the corridor, you’d yank his backpack towards you harshly, making his back jolt into your chest

- you’d then wrap your arms around his shoulders, essentially trapping him with his back towards you, and ask him about his day

- sally was a little apprehensive as first, being unable to tell whether you were about to bully him or casually do something sweet and brush it off straight after

- though he soon found that 9 times out of 10, you would be doing something affectionate ❤️

- his friends didn’t like this, obviously, but in due time they’d get used to you, they just wanted to know if sally was being messed with or if you were genuine

- sally would probably have to be the person to confess becuase lord knows your way too stubborn to admit that you actually like the blue haired guy you’ve been bullying just a while prior

- he would be sweating his ass off while shifting in his chair while he found a good time to confess, while you cluelessly played with his cat

- his dad wasn’t home, and he made larry wear a wig and makeup so he could practice his speech (in which todd and ashley recorded without the two knowing)

- but his memory failed him and his mind went blank, so he decided to wing it

- he tapped your thigh, distracting you from gizmo, and you turned to look at him curiously. he looked like he was falling apart as your gaze practically pierced into him

- he gulped silently and turned to you fully, his eye(s) looking down, and told you his feelings (the best he could at least)

- you stare at him for a minute, silent, to be honest he was getting a little upset at the lack of response. he wished you’d say something, anything instead of looking at him like he just killed somebody (💀)

- to his surprise, you leaned in slightly, but stopped and touched the chin of his prosthetic

“can i?”

- he gulped, and nodded his head as he reached for the straps behind his head to take his prosthetic off with ease. he only undid the first one, and only lifted the mask enough for you to reach his lips

- his mouth had a small cleft up to his nose (or whatever was left of it), on the left side of his mouth, his teeth were exposed, scars and missing flesh adorned his face

- despite this, you leaned in fully and managed to close the gap between you, sally’s hand reaching for yours as you kissed, you held each other

[cottonlemonade]

Normally, Atsumu didn’t really care what others said about him, but when Sakusa scoffed “You genuinely are the worst! There is no way in hell someone like y/n would ever be interested in such a whiny little bitch.“ he actually froze. Because what if that disinfectant-worshiping, neon-sneakers-wearing moleface was right?

The first time you met he thought you were cute. The second time he corrected himself to “very cute” and by the third time he was ready to sink to his knees and love on your supremely chubby tummy and thighs.

His obsession crush on MSBY’s new PR manager essentially turned Atsumu into a shy schoolgirl twirling her pigtails whenever you addressed him, so he hadn’t gotten any closer to bringing out a coherent sentence that could possibly indicate he was interested. Interested meaning, he had already decided on a theme for your wedding.

After Sakusa’s comment, he spent a long time in the showers, dramatically resting his hand on the wall in front of him, letting the hot water run over his body. At the bottom of his sports bag lay a card asking you to be his valentine. He had rewritten it about 10 times and carried it with him since New Year’s when you touched his arm at the restaurant and told him with rosy cheeks, colored from one too many cups of sake, that you thought he was really funny. And now he was running out of time. Under no circumstances did he want you to think you were a last resort, asking you so close to the 14th. He shut the water off and wrapped a towel around his waist, traipsing to his locker. His eyes widened when he found a small heart-shaped box of chocolates on top of his crumpled jacket. It was signed by you.

Clutching the box like a lifeline he frantically rummaged through his bag for the card and not bothering with slippers ran out of the locker room, spotted you chatting with Bokuto and Hinata at the entrance, and hurried over.

“Y/n! I- I accept! Here.”, he held out the card to you, “I love ya, too! I meant to give it to ya earlier -“

And just then, he noticed his friends’ puffed cheeks full of chocolates, taken from… similar small heart-shaped boxes in their hands, and a horrible realization slammed into him like one of Bokuto’s missed serves. He cleared his throat.

“Oh… I see. And here I thought I was special for a minute. - Well, if y’all’d excuse me.”

With as much dignity as he could muster he forced out a pressed chuckle, turned, and jogged back to the locker room, holding tight to the towel and ignoring the wolf whistle from Tomas as he passed him in the hallway.

The door closed with a sufficiently heavy thunk, giving Atsumu at least the illusion of safety. He sniffled when he reached for his pants and hoodie.

“Go away!”, he called at the soft knock on the door.

Your muffled voice said, “You didn’t even give me time to reply, you know.”

He almost hit his shin on the bench in the middle of the room as he scuttled to open up and before he could pout or say anything scathingly clever you reached up to cup his cheek and pulled him down for a kiss.

“Get dressed.” You gave him another peck. “Let’s have dinner.”

a/n: thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for helping me edit ✨🫶🏻